Spent all morning on the phone with Geico, towing places, my family (keys were in my aunt's sofa and will be here tomorrow at noon), &c. &c. &c., and Matt and I worked out a game plan for tomorrow so that he'd be able to get me to the mechanic's and home and whatnot. We hung out all day today, and after he dropped me off-- on the way back home-- in walking distance from his house-- his car died too. So now everything is just plain fucked.

I'm so sick of this fucking bullshit motherfucking worst cocksucking birthday ever goddamn fucking shit AAAAAAUGH

couldn't make this up if i tried.

The plan: I was going to drive halfway to Atlanta so that my sister and brother-in-law, who live there, could pick me up on their way to Tennessee to spend the day with my grandma, mom and their family. Around 8pm or so we were going to head back, and they would drop me off at my car on their way home. On Friday Matt and I would drive up to Asheville to spend the rest of the weekend with my dad and his family.

The reality:

For starters, I needed to set my alarm for 7:30 in order to be on the road by 8:10 and meet my sister at 9. Last night, though, my sleepy brain somehow combined these numbers into an alarm time of 8:30. I woke up, freaked out, got ready in a rush and set out at 8:45. No less than 20 minutes later, I was cruising along quite nicely when my car shuddered violently, the engine kicked into high gear and I started to lose power. Immediately I thought of the way Shelia's car had lost power when it'd run out of gas, but I had a full tank. Flooring the gas, with the engine screaming, I managed to putter along highway 316 going about 15 miles an hour with my hazard lights on, cars zooming past me, and finally came to a tiny intersection and pulled over. I trotted across the highway (which was luckily still quiet) to a yellow house on the other side and knocked on the door.

A man in a white t-shirt and red sweatpants answered the door. Before I could say anything, he said, "Hey. Car broke down?" I smiled pathetically and said yes and pleaded to use his phone and he invited me in. His living room was already completely decked out for Christmas, tree included; some of his family puttered around in the kitchen in their pajamas trying hard to ignore me. The guy even offered me something to eat or drink as I called my sister's cel phone, but I was too worked up to have anything. By this point it was around 9:15; I was supposed to have met my sister fifteen minutes ago and was barely outside of Athens, without a car in the world (haha). Jess said she would come and pick me up, then we would head back to Atlanta and from there head on to Sewanee. It would add about an hour and a half to their two-hour drive. I thanked the man profusely, shook his hand and for no real reason asked his name-- Jimmy-- and then went back to my car to wait.

It rained the entire way to Tennessee.

On the way, Jess filled me in on some of the recent family drama. Our dad, who is normally a magnanimous, pragmatic man, pitched a screaming and swearing fit at my sister when he found out we weren't going to be with him for Thanksgiving (apparently despite the fact I planned to drive up the next day). Jess said the highlight was when she said, "Dad, I haven't spent a holiday with Mom in two years," and Dad said, "Well, you know what, whatever. I'm not going to get into a pissing contest with you." Keep in mind our mom was already really upset that we were only going to spend one day with her. Jess appeased them both by inviting them to come visit her and Rudi at their new place in December-- she actually made the offers over a month apart. But of course, yesterday they picked the same weekend to come. There was much screaming and fit-throwing from both our parents until Jess worked out that Mom would come on the 24th and leave the afternoon of the 26th, and Dad and my stepmom would get in that same afternoon and stay for two days themselves. My sister had to orchestrate all this on her own, while both our parents launched tirades about her and the other. It also appears Dad has forgotten that the reason I chose to see Mom now was specifically so I could come up and spend the holiday break with him.

When we finally got to our aunt's, everything actually went pretty well. Dinner was great and by now I'm pretty good at deflecting the usual questions from my aunt's family, all hardcore Christians (my uncle is a minister), along the lines of "So, Aaron, are you seeing anyone?" (I don't like spending Thanksgiving with them because I can't even talk about Matt, let alone bring him, and he's such a huge part of my life.) We spent the rest of the evening with them and then Jess, my brother-in-law and I got back on the road again at 8.

It rained the entire way to Atlanta.

Matt had driven to Atlanta to spend Thanksgiving with his family there. Since Jess wasn't up to driving me all the way back to Athens tonight, and it would be hard for them to take me tomorrow (they're in the process of moving), I really wanted to get home tonight so they wouldn't have to worry about me tomorrow. Obviously, the best option was for Matt to meet us and drive me home. Matt was right there in Atlanta but since I didn't have his relatives' phone number or even their names, we couldn't get ahold of him. By 9pm, when we called him at his home on Jess's cel as we headed back towards Atlanta, he'd only just gotten in a little while earlier. He had to go out again and drive most of the way back to Atlanta in order to pick me up. We estimated we'd meet him at 10:30, so that's when Matt got there. We didn't get there till past 11.

It rained the entire way to Athens.

On the way back Matt managed to make things worse by mentioning a tiny kitten he'd seen at the gas station we'd met him at, foraging for food in the trash and skittering away under the propane tanks whenever a car pulled up. Pondering everything that had happened thus far I spent most of the drive trying to predict the one last nasty stab that the day would have in store. It made sense that there would be one-- and there was. When we got back to my place, I was just about to shut the car door when Matt asked, in a moment that solidified for eternity all my love for him: "Got your keys?" I checked all my pockets and sure enough, I did not. If Matt had not asked this I would have shut the door and he would have driven off and I would have been locked out of my own house, in the rain, without a phone. Right now I do not know where my keys are-- whether they went missing in Jess's car or my aunt's house in Tennessee is anyone's guess. Feel free to make your own predictions. Luckily Matt has a key to my place, so that is how I am in my room typing this at midnight, exhausted and pissed off, with no editing or proofreading. I plan to get my car towed back into Athens tomorrow but I now have no way of unlocking or starting it.

I would post this in my journal, but apparently our connection is down for the first time in months-- the perfect ending to a whiny, bitter e-rant. At least I have my health this year...

I am 22 today!

A week's gone by and nothing to say. The birthday presents I bought for myself are starting to come in, silly things I bought with birthday money from my mom: a new watch, the hardbound X2 book, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon on DVD. Still anxious about my appointment on Friday. Many little things going on not worth the effort of typing out. Sorry, future self.

catch me while i'm sleeping

My first therapy session was pushed back from this Thursday to next Friday. I have mixed feelings about the entire thing, really, to the point that I have a major wedgie from fence-sitting. Maybe this is all in my head and I need to just suck it up and get over it. People did manage to survive before there were therapists. But maybe I really do have some problems that this can help me with. I do not know where I fall on this spectrum. Does seeking therapy make me strong or weak? Brave or cowardly? I'm glad I finally made a step towards working it out, in any case, instead of just moping and whining about it like I've been. Still have to find a way to tell Dad, not that he'll mind. Having problems with myself or anything else always gives me a nagging feeling that I'm letting him down.
Shit. I really do need therapy.

Kitty visited the day before yesterday; no sign of Bertha or Stevie.

Finished Shadow yesterday, which wasn't anything special. Traded in about half my library at the used bookstore over the weekend and got close to $45 in credit. I got A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius and The Crying of Lot 49; I started the former today and already love it.

I developed a sore throat at 3:02 this afternoon. It's that time again.

so come and sing that song for me / just like your favorite singer

Don't understand how it's already Friday (give or take). I finally got up my courage, went by the Health Center and registered for some weekly counseling sessions. My first session is next Thursday at 3, but even the half-hour talk I had with the Counseling Center's director about my reasons for coming felt like a huge help. We discussed the Myers-Briggs test (they really use it), the roots of my passive-aggression and some meditation techniques to help me stop worrying and fall asleep at night. Gonna give it an honest shot tonight.

Finished The Shipping News and Ex Libris and loved them both; started Shadow of the Hegemon today. I always forget how good it feels to be in the middle of a great book unless I actually am in the middle of one. Anne Fadiman's inspired me to start working on cultivating a real library, too, not just the dusty, mishmash collection I've thrown together up to this point. Gonna throw out the Harry Potter shit and the Anne Rice I never bothered finishing and start getting good books-- more Gabriel Garcia Marquez, more Pynchon, more Borges...

Matt and I are going to see The Matrix Revolutions tomorrow; the reviews are all subpar and I have a hunch just from the way people are raving about it that the reviews are right. At least with low standards it'll be either what I expect or a pleasant surprise. Plenty more fall movies I want to see: 21 Grams, Scary Movie 3, Mystic River, American Splendor...

Stevie stopped by for kisses.

Need to realize when my bag starts smelling like banana that, no, it's probably not just a fluke, and, yes, I probably forgot yet again about a banana I put in there that's now getting smashed by textbooks.

everybody's searching for something

Update, update... Coming home today there was a new cat perched on my landing in search of the lerve I am more than happy to supply. I don't know why it's my landing they all come to at least once a week, but it always brightens my day to pet them for a while. This is the third so far, a grey cat with white feet and gold eyes (hereby dubbed "Kitty"); the others are an old, fat black cat with gold eyes ("Bertha") and a spritely calico with green eyes who likes to nibble fingers (Stevie, according to her collar). I still dream (literally) about having a cat every so often. Dan claims to be allergic but I think it's a front. I wonder if he'd be willing to go halfsies on the allergy medication.

I'm in the middle of registering for next semester's classes, but it's difficult planning it through the comfortable haze of apathy I've developed. I can't register for an advanced creative writing class without the permission of the department head, and as it happens, I have a great relationship with her because of all the contact we had while sorting out my scheduling distaster last semester. I spoke with her today and discovered that there is going to be only one prose-based advanced creative writing class next semester, and the professor is classifying it as a "nature-writing class." Which raises the obvious question: what the fuck? Judging from his own books I'm worried it's going to be centered in autobiographical and memoir writing, which I have no interest in other than this blog. I want to write sci-fi and fantasy stories, dammit. Maybe I'll just take an elective...