it's raining balls in 2013-2014

Like the balls that you metaphorically juggle, not testicles. Because that would be really, really weird. And gross.

I'm supposed to be studying for my Russian final tomorrow morning, but I can't make myself care that much. I'm almost done with the vocab. I have an A in the class. I need to go over participles and verbal adverbs again, but I feel solid enough that I don't have any urgency. Instead I'm everywhere; I'm looking at messages on Facebook and my mom's surreal announcement of our tentative date (Pi day, because I want pizza and pies) and emails about the wedding and my wedding spreadsheet and weddingweddingwedding. I've gone weeks without opening that spreadsheet, and then I'll vomit an entire weekend on it. I administered the SAT test yesterday and spent all 4.5 hours with a little notebook doing planning things in between readings of you have five minutes remaining in this section and put your pencils down and stop work...

I am so scattered. Either my alarm didn't go off for church this morning, or I crashed straight through it. I couldn't get into Sam's and the traffic made the review session this evening an impossibility. The only thing I accomplished was getting my drink from Sonic.

I have two weeks to the Warrior Dash. I need to train. After my final I'll go hard into that. Inasmuch as one can with two weeks remaining. I need a dogsitter for that weekend. The day after, we have a meeting with the church president about church wedding details. It would be so fucking convenient if I could just be in SC by then. It's not going to happen. I'm probably going to end up paying June rent here. Wonderful.

My parents are considering declaring bankruptcy and my brother's stealing money from them. One of my student loans went delinquent. I spent an hour on the phone with an account manager Thursday night coming up with a new plan for that. These have been very fun phone calls with my parents lately. Oh, and my dad's losing his job, because when it rains, it pours.

It's May 4. I feel like my life is frozen, like I'm waiting on tenterhooks and with bated breath, for the gun to fire so I can move. In the meantime, I'm loathe to spend any money and make any plans. This whole Jesus-faith-patience thing is like crawling uphill with my legs cobbled together.

Sara's wedding is May 31. The rehearsal is May 30. She really needs to know if I can commit to playing flute for her and I feel like a deer in the headlights. Also, like a terrible person because I'm just standing with my eyes huge and mouth open, like that's some sort of valid response.

The race last Saturday went alright. It was really low-budget--it was more of a trail run with the occasional gate, water crossing, and four-foot hay bale. My time was an hour and four minutes for 3.5 miles, just slightly more than a 5k. The longer I can jog, the slower my times get. I don't know if this is a win or not. Blah. I do know I passed a bunch of people from the wave before me, which was 10 minutes lead time, so there's that to be proud of. There was a water slide, and a mud pit, and climbing up a river bank with a rope, but mostly it was just a trail run. I met Tia afterward and she took me to Steak & Shake. It was really weird having run, cooled down, changed, and gone out for brunch by noon. Probably the most noteworthy part of the race was on the final leg, I caught up with some guy and chatted briefly as we walked off a climb and started jogging again. His friend uphill demanded to know why he was slacking, and he used me as justification. It was fun and silly. Also, my knees have some glorious bruises, I guess from my failed vaults over hay bales.

Monday night the weather forecast was slightly terrifying--the official forecaster I talked to from the national service used the word "ominous" in answering my question. After Arkansas got reckoned with and a couple dozen people were dead, I took Sheppy to Charleston for a few days. Because fuck that. He did really well! He fear-pooped inside once initially, then relaxed and chilled on the couch with everyone. He was great with the cat, Ty, although Ty is now using Sheppy's fear and manners to generally be a feline bastard. He has a raging crush on Aaron's brother Micah. Just being in Charleston was wonderful, even if I was completely housebound with Sheppy. We did go around looking at apartments and such and ruled a few out, and I've learned that Sheppy's hips are not too fond of living upstairs, which is really good to know! Wednesday morning, I tried to go back to Athens. It was not to be.

I got up at 6:15 with Aaron, checked the weather, and decided to head back before the afternoon storms set in. I decided to take I-26 up to I-85 and head back south to Athens rather than take I-20 straight west, because it was quite stormy already. I was pretty sulky and fussy and despondent on the drive, because I hadn't gotten called for an interview, and I hate leaving. Just past Columbia the sky started darkening ahead of me, which was expected, because it is kind of rainy. A voice in my head started saying "turn around." I ignored it because I was feeling grumpy and just figured it was wishful thinking/excess caution about the dark sky. It kept going, I kept ignoring. And then I went freaking blind at 70mph. I am not kidding.

Out of nowhere my eyes started burning and closing like I had gotten jalapeno residue on them (which I've done before). I couldn't see out of more than one eye for more than a few seconds at a time. Driving was kind of hazardous. There were tears streaming down my face and then more tears because it hurt. Which obviously led to "AHH I GET IT I GET IT I'LL TURN AROUND I'LL STOP AT THE NEXT EXIT I GET IT I GET IT." I barely made it the next 2 miles to a random exit, and the moment I turned off the ramp, it was better. Magically. No burning, no tears, no blinding, no pain.

I stopped at the gas station and rubbed my face and looked at my swollen, blood-red eyes and seriously reconsidered my sanity. I thought about just going ahead, but then I decided I didn't want to find out what comes after blindness, so I started backing up. But it was hard, because I had inadvertently parked my front wheel in a pothole. As I looked around to find out why backing out needed the gas pedal, I found a bright shiny penny outside my driver's door. When I got out to get the penny and spontaneously started crying (...what), I saw the pothole. Oh. Okay. Is the penny my fish scale? Turns out, the exit for the gas station heads straight back on I-26 eastbound. No turns required. All I literally had to do was let off the brake and roll back to the Interstate.

I hit some nasty almost tropical rain as I re-entered Charleston and Aaron was full of worry, and Penguin had to swim through some street flooding and I'm in love with all wheel drive. I could have been locked out, but as it turns out, his sister was running back from work to iron her shirt before her shift started, and left the door open for me. I am freaking Paul on the road to Damascus. Or crazy. I stewed on it all day, wondering if/when it would be okay to go back and why I was turned around at all. My dad and Aaron both griped at me to stop it, that I was safe and not in any dangerous situation and that's all that matters.

So I went back Thursday afternoon and was in a right depressive funk all day, although not as dark as Wednesday's drive. I hate coming back. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. When I was walking Sheppy to let him stretch his legs after 4.5 hours in a car, I found fourteen cents on the ground in a pile and heard clear as day, I love you. It was a meager comfort. My water bottle, altar, with all the coins I've found on the ground is almost full. The coins are coming up the neck. My mom joked awhile ago that I can move when it's full--well, should I find anything this week, that should be about now. I found another penny on the ground this afternoon.

I have mentally quit on Athens. I have checked out. As much as I try not to 'lean on my own understanding' and all that, it's in one ear and right out the other. C for effort.

We haven't even confirmed the wedding date, but already I'm getting requests for a more "convenient" weekend. I can kind of understand bridezilla-ism sometimes. I want to be accommodating and not a bridezilla, but ugghh, sometimes I just want to be selfish. I grew up with a very high-maintenance younger brother and even my college orientation was more about well when is Joey getting out of bed, and little things like changing weekends and well maybe expanding the guest list are starting to give me an eye-twitch. I don't want to be a 'zilla. I don't. But damn it, as much as I hate attention on feelings, this is about me and Aaron, not someone else. There is a fine line here. I'm really terrible at fine lines.

[googles 'how to throw a wedding for tomboys and people who suck at all things feminine and subtle']

It's 11:30. I guess I'll get back to that vocab.