Sweet and Sour.

I keep a picture of him in my wallet. When I'm frustrated or unhappy I look at it and for some reason I feel better. That feeling fucks me right up.
If he knew that I kept a picture of him, he'd probably be so creeped out he'd never talk to me again and rightfully so. This action puts me borderline pyschotic looney. I justify it to myself by saying its no different than a fourteen-year-old teenie bopper plastering pictures of K-Fed all over her walls. I'm just more discreet about it. I'm just much more ashamed about it. I'm just much more pathetic about it.

I spoke to him last night and my heart broke all over again.

I don't know why I like him. I don't know why I'm so overly upset that I cannot have him. I don't like owning the realisation that Andrew doesn't seem so bad when I'm not thinking of him. I don't know if this is normal, or if this is the twisted product of a mental girl.
What I do know is that I crave his attention. I highly doubt that I will ever be in his presence again for an extended period of time and that makes me extraordinarily sad. All I want is to be near him and I suppose that's a giant reason as to why I'm so fucked up over moving because I got, 'it' fucking bad.

I've got it fucking bad. Is this what it is like to be in love? Or is this what it's like to be a pyscho?

I can't remember what he looks like unless I look at his photograph.

I'm fucked.

I keep telling myself, 'Thanksgiving, you'll see him at Thanksgiving." And then I remember, no I won't, 'cause Thanksgiving is Thanksgiving and I'll be home.
These feelings need to go away fast.

***

I had my first day of real school today. Math was yesterday. Math is not real school. Its an annoyance that I have to put up with. I do not know how to find the sum of A if the equation is GxT = ABT and I shouldn't have to. No one should have to, 'cause MATH is about NUMBERS and when am I ever going to have to find the sum of A to measure 850 grams of soft flour?

NEVER.

But I got to play with a giant kitchen aide mixer today that was worth more than my tuition. The paddle for it was as big as my fucking head. One can only imagine how many wonderful cookies could be made with such a piece of equipment.
My professor (don't ask me what his name is, I can't remember yet) seems alright. He taught us how to make pastry bags today and I do believe I still have mine for the sake of scrapbooking (kidding).
We were told that we would have to pair up with someone else in the class, which does not sit well with me at all, but what can you do? My class is full of really prissy girls, small oriental boys and one East Indian fellow that smells exceptionally awful. I scanned the class carefully for a partner and then ultimately decided on a girl named Katie 'cause she seems hardcore and I have no desire to have my grades drop 'cause some nattering air head can't keep her mouth shut during lab. I'm happy with my decision.

I quit Wal Mart last night and so now I feel a thousand times lighter.
There was always something dreadful about going to school and then having to come home to go to work. I hated it in higschool and I imagine that I still will. I will however, still get a part time job. I can't rely on Andrew for things and I shouldn't for obvious reasons. I just couldn't handle Wal Mart.

I finished a resume and submitted it yesterday to the art store as well. They called me the same night for an interview. Monday at noon, the fate of my part time career could be decided very quickly.