I am finally, finally, FINALLY online in my own goddamned mothereffing room! On my own computer! With my own stuff in the memory! With my own music on my own speakers hooked up to my own computer! Hallefuckinglujah!!!!

Defeat!

I lost Outlook while working towards the above victory! Fuck me. Now I STILL can't get my mail off the friggin net and onto my damned hard drive. Kill me. And I can't find the Office disk, which I think is still with DD. Damnit all to hell, there. But! Hey! Victory! And my speakers are now hooked up, too! Wahoo!

In other news, there are still papers to grade, which is driving me nuts, and there is a failing, teary-eyed student coming to meet me at school today at 11, so I can't just sit around here all morning. I gots to shower and get outta here, papers in hand, so I can grade them while waiting for her. Then off to another meeting down there for, like, an hour, before rushing back here for my class-that's-not-a-class at the pool. Must speak with DD about having a 3-child minimum to keep a class open, since I'm basically giving these two kids a lesson for a ridiculously small amount of money. I have better things to do with my time. Like sleep!

In other, more personal news, I went to the bookstore yesterday and bought the book Sue told me I had to get and start working through. It's this theory/exercise/meditation book for people who don't know what they want out of relationships and who can't hang onto it once they find it. Clearly something I could use, though I've never been real huge into the self-help movement. But! I'm not seeing a therapist, and I'm not on meds for depression, and my love life is completely in the shitter, so I figure I should be doing something to help facilitate reversing that last item, eh? I mean, I'm clearly not getting it done on my own. It's been a year since I last had sex, and that sex was with the Big Gay Nazi...no one can argue that I don't need a little help in this area.

And, along similar lines, there's this boy on the master's team.... A bunch of us were talking after workout last week about the pool project, and this guy reaches in his bag and hands me his card and says, "Well, when you need a civil engineer, I know where you can find a good one...and cheap, too!" with a big grin on his face.

So, okay, I'll admit it: I didn't have the slightest idea what civil engineers do. I mean, I hear civil engineer, and I think building bridges for the Peace Corps. That's about all I know. All this to say I went to DD's that morning and asked, "What does a civil engineer do?"

She got this super evil smirk on her face and replied, "I don't know, why don't you ask him to dinner and find out?"

It hadn't occurred to me that I might not be the only one who had thought for a split second about the possibility of my getting more personal with one of my swimmers. Of course, when I thought about it, I reached an entirely different conclusion (that of course it would look terrible, and regardless of whether we're a masters team, I should not entertain such thoughts), but then here was my sister, joking about it.

There's not a chance in hell that I'd ever ask him out. (Though I wouldn't turn him down if he asked me. Is that weird?) But since that day, I've at least allowed myself to entertain very brief daydreams here and there about what it might be like to go out to coffee with the guy. He is a bit adorable, and he's funny as all get-out. He's smart, fit, and has his own business...and after a little poking around, I now know what he does!

How sad is it that this is my diary, and I'm blushing as I type the above paragraph? I can write a bunch about forays into public places where I go down on guys who are into dominating me, but I can't write about not asking a cute boy out to coffee? What's that about?

See? This is why I probably need that book I just bought. Sue was right. I can't talk about the shit that matters. What's my problem there?

So, okay, he doesn't just build bridges for the Peace Corps in faraway places like Guam and Viet Nam. But for the purposes of this diary, he shall heretofore be dubbed BridgeBoy.

And now I'm going to stop writing about him and get into the shower.

Posted by twids at 7:26 am