Jessie's girl

My grandmother died at the end of May. She was brought to the hospital after suffering a heart attack, which brought her into a coma stasis. Those in the family who were capable visited her in the hospital; this included my mother, who's sleep was disturbed from the imagery of my grandmother lying in the hospital bed. Dismally, the aunt of mine who lives in Colorado, Aunt Ashley, did not make it in time to see her before she passed. I am ashamed to say this, but my feelings were conflicted. As a child my grandmother adored me; pictures of me were on every wall and she gave me my own highchair, to the jealousy of my uncles and aunts for the special treatment. As she got older she became selfish and demanding, causing trouble for my parents. I did not visit her often, the same for everyone else in the family. The last time I recall seeing her was at Christmas in 2007 years ago; and before that, Christmas 2006. Having class from 8 until 10am, I was barred from attending the wake. My mother insisted I leave class earlier to see her before the casket was closed, but I resisted, not seeing the importance. We fought, in the end leading to me accuse her of pushing her beliefs onto me, where she submitted. Coming out of class, I drove to Walgreens to meet up with my Mom, who drove us to the church, leaving her car in the store parking lot. With time to spare, we sat in the car until the hearse arrived. Beforehand, my cousin Richard asked my mom to put it forward that he wanted to speak with me. This was intriguing; I inferred earlier that I do not communicate with anyone in the family, so I could think of no reason for him to want to. My hypotheses lacked good intentions, but I endeavored to think otherwise.

Entering the church, both of us headed to the restrooms. Leaving, I had the misfortune of crossing paths with my father, who I had not seen in three months; we spoke no words as I walked by. I was greeted with a legion of hugs from the rest of my family; only one member, my Aunt Josie, commented on the weight I lost. Watching the casket being brought in on a rolling platform, my cousins Joe and Mary, the children of Uncle Mike, both exchanged queer glances at me. My mother and I had planned on sitting in the back of the pews, until my Uncle Mike insisted we sit in the front with the rest of the family. The two of us sat in the second row, along with Sherry, off and on girlfriend my Uncle Sam who passed away in 2003, Aunt Josie and her daughter Susan, who is in her late 20's if not early 30's. In front of my mother and I was Richard, his wife and kids, and his sister Rebbecca, who is the daughter Sherry. Next to her was my father and Uncle Mike; the rest of the family was scattered among the other attendants. Before taking my seat, watching my father take his seat, my entire head twitched. I could not help but move my eyes toward him during the ceremony, but no words left me.

The service was touching and moving. I had never been to a funeral before; in fact, I had not attended a gathering and possibly even entered a church since I was a ye child. My grandmother was Catholic, so the service thus followed the practices of the religion. It consisted of smoke, eating crackers, piano playing, a sermon and most of all, rising and sitting. The entire time Sherry, who sat to my left, was crying. This made me uneasy, unsure if to console her or not; ultimately I patted her on the back. I also felt a slight sadness; I reminisced the time we spent together, the fun we had and the people her death would impact the most. Aunt Ashley had been very close to her, as had my father. What I thought sounded somewhat selfish, Aunt Ashley voiced her concern to Aunt Josie if they would ever see each other again as my grandmother paid her tickets to visit us. Not only that, she paid for her cellphone bill. Aunt Josie assured her they would, whether this was sincere I do not know.Uncle Mike had come to terms easier with her death, realizing her heartache since the passing of her husband and Uncle Sam. Changing this was useless, despite years of effort he had exhausted. As did my mother and I discerned as well, she is in a better place now.

Small talk was made with members of and friends of the family directly after the sermon ended. I was taken aback that a woman surmised I was closer to the age of a sophomore in High school then a sophomore in college when I gave her some information about myself during our introduction. This was the first instance someone conjectured I was younger than my real age; I conceived my facial hair and height were a dead giveaway that I was older then that. In fact, years prior I was told I could pass off as in my late 30's! My mother and I did not stay for the burial; it was my father's mother, we had no right to make him ill at ease at the time of mourning. We headed back to Walgreens where we talked over what I was thinking. To my displeasure, she informed me that Sherry was a drama queen; others in the family are so accustom to her hyperbolic emotions all ignored her. Knowing Richard worked often, I sent him an email instead of a phone call in the following days. After no response, I left a message on his answering machine. I had concluded he would not follow up his request until he responded to my email, establishing he would connect with me in hi available time. As of this writing, nothing has been heard from him. Having guilt for excluding family members from my life, I sent friend requests to Joe, Mary and their mother, Aunt Josie on Facebook. Mary accepted that same day and having showed the woman who misjudged my age my status which read“Wyatt was stunned a woman at the funeral thought he was a 16/17 years old”, left a note on my wall that the woman was sorry about the remark. Aunt Josie was ecstatic; she felt honored that someone my age wanted to include her. My mother radiated customizing her Facebook profile, which she had begun construction on days prior. To my annoyance but without amazement, she called on me several occasions to assist her as I was in the process of completing class assignments.

It ought to be obvious that I call into question the security of my friendship with Sarah. After what transpired close to two weeks ago, I am inching ever so slightly to certainty this relationship will endure. Sarah and I text back and forth, but only at that. One evening I checked my cell phone for new messages to find I had missed a call from Sarah. With my interest piqued, I skipped over the voice mail to return the call. Without any indication of cause, she answered sobbing. She was upset; she regarded those in her hometown were treating her unfairly and was lonely because of her close friends' preoccupation with their boyfriends. On top of this, a friend who lived in Washington, one she had gone into detail about, had been derogating her after learning her innocent intimacy with school mates the past year. The two of them had once been in a distant relationship, but split apart transitioning to college. He decided to end ties with her for months at a time without a stated reason. She regretted telling him this activity, but she presupposed they could only be friends and nothing more. His reaction made it clear he wanted more then she was willing or able to cater at that moment. As I had done with her before, I provided alternative perspectives and solutions, some of which my own. When what was said and done, I checked to see if she was more relaxed, which she responded only a little. I took it upon myself to improve her mood further; I sang along to the song The Best Day Ever by Spongebob Squarepants and recited unfunny jokes from the Internet. I was disappointed in myself for failing, but she appreciated the effort. The day after she assured me being proficient at listening, which she suggested I was, is more then enough.

The extraction of my wisdom teeth went swimmingly. Arriving at 9:30 am, I was fitted with a mask releasing nitrous oxide to loosen me up; I did not notice any difference. A needle injected me with anesthesia, almost immediately putting me to sleep. Awaking from the anesthesia, I was brought home to devote my weekend to resting, doing as little activity as I could. The dentist had kindly provided a Velcro fabric with slots for the insertion of ice pack to rub against my face. To my gratification, very little swelling existed, minimal pain was experienced and dry sockets did not form. The only ache came from a canker sore that had formed on my gums in the back of my mouth, distributing pain when my mouth was opened extensively. It healed soon enough; my only assignment since then has been to remove particles of food from the holes previously filled with the teeth to not hinder the healing process.

One Thursday, a girl I had talked to off and on in Counseling, Jan, was late for class. At the end of class I mentioned I hadn't seen her sneak in which she responded she had been late for class. I judged that the conversation was over, since we talked seldom, so I went on my way. Strolling to the parking lot, I heard someone behind me say "Weren't you talking to him?" with the other person responding yes. Suddenly, the girl scooted up to me, telling me she had still been talking to me. I apologized several times and we chatted on the way to the parking lot; our monologue lasted for approximately 2 and a half hours. Holding conversations of such length has never been my forte, but that looks to have changed without me recognizing it. Then on Monday we walked to the parking lot again and talked for an another 45 minutes. Tuesday we not only talked once again for 40 minutes in the parking lot, but then went to the dairy bar next to the parking lot to grab a bite. Before we separated she asked me if I wanted to work together on the take home exam Wednesday after class. At this point I suspected she has a thing for me, recognizing she carried on proposing activities for us to do together; this along with laughing at a multitudinous of my bad jokes. I am not the only one to point out my confusing sense of humor; Sarah agreed with me. I settled on asking her to go to see a movie with me Wednesday when we were to depart from the library. After class Wednesday we traveled to the Diamond Library where we talked for two hours, making absolutely no progress. It was there that she dropped the bombshell: she's engaged! She had never mentioned it outright in all the time we were together. I was disappointed but I figured she would still be a good friend. Interested, I inquired about her finance, which she informed me that he cheated on her while she was in London, less then a year ago. They didn't have sex, but she was mad she heard it from someone else and not him. The trust had been broken and she became teary eyed, looking away from me. Returning home he proposed to her, which she felt was an attempt to apologize for his action. To her anger, he planned on going on a trip that weekend with the girl he cheated on her with without telling her or offering her to go! When she confronted him about it, he simply sidestepped around it. Recognizing my bias, I said trust is important and suggested going to couple's counseling, which she replied he had refused. After that we went to meet with her friends for lunch and low and behold, there was her finance Jessie, having lunch with another girl. She introduced me to him and then we proceeded to another table; he said nothing more and left once he had finished eating. We went back to the library and got a moderate amount of work done. It was then that I became suspicious and realized I was in an awkward situation. In retrospect, it was awkward for a different reason. Trying to make her finance jealous could not have been her motive, as he didn't appear to give a shit. If she did like me, I knew the situation would not end well if I intervened. Still, I worried if the attention she gave me continued it would sooner or later lead to problems and stress. Ensuing the great than five hours with each other that day, I was bewildered to be messaged by her the instant I logged onto Facebook. Unprepared for the position I was in, I asked a multitude of people their view. The initial responses were to guide her to cut ties with him, which would make me "that guy”. I hated the idea of being “that guy”, although I do agree with the sentiment a “that guy” will come forth if the bond is weak. Further inquiries validated my thoughts; do not touch it with a teen foot pole, as one person said. In an attempt to further communications with my cousin, I asked her, which from her response looked like gratitude for valuing her opinion.

In order to not distance myself from her in reaction to my apprehension, I proposed viewing the latest Pixar movie Up, with her, myself and her friend Kerry. I was soon to discover I had been mistaken; the man I had met with at lunch that day was her friend Jessy, not her finance Jessie. She found the mix up to be humorous. Jessie was socially oblivious, not a jerk; she and her other friends accepted him for who he was. To my credit, having two friends with the same name can be confusing for an outsider, as I explained. I felt silly for allowing my emotions to carry away, but inside my feelings contended. There was a distinct connection with Jan I had never had with another human being. After meditating on it, I conceived that it was within the realm of possibility she had seen this connection. Without comprehension when it happened, flirting took place between us the day spent in the library. It may hold no significance, but I find that hard to believe. As of now, my feeling have subsided and I am content where we stand.

A human becoming

Momentous update incoming; so large that I'm splitting it into two! I've been so swamped with work from my summer courses that I have no remorse for the lack of updates. I passed in my independent study paper at long last. I cannot surmise the quality was to my usual standards, but ultimately I was awarded an A for the class. I am conflicted with this grade on the grounds of knowing I did not exert myself as much as I could have. I received an A- in Research Methods and unfortunately, a C+ in Abnormal Behavior. The C+ caused my Grade Point Average to drop, but not significantly.

Sarah and I continue texting each other. At a few points I speculated she would stop associating with me, yet she continues to do so. One day she was trying to determine how to move her 500 (yes, 500) cellphone pictures onto her computer. Unable to locate the cable included with her cellphone, I advised buying an adapter to read a memory stick she could save her pictures on. I went as far as calling her to talk over her options. She texted me some hours later notifying I was correct. When I expressed my gratification to help, she enlightened me her service provider Verizon had, who she had called because of my poor communication. Sarah time after time has trouble deciphering my lingo for unidentified reasons; the only explanation I have contrived is my habit of mumbling and pressured speech.

As I had yearned for, my nose ceased bleeding in time for my first class on Tuesday. Be that as it may, I still resonated the voice of a person with a cold and my nose prolonged oozing mucus. Gratefully the stints in my nose, which the outward appearance was unknown to me, were extracted two days later to which in great measure reduced both symptoms. I was completely taken aback when my ENT pulled out a 4 inches long by 1 inch wide piece of plastic from each nostril. My nose has extensively stopped bleeding, but I continue to have blood in the mucus I retrieve from the back of my throat. During my appointment with her Monday I will ensure to mention this.

The first week of the summer semester I struggled to be on time for my 8 am class, Counseling. Not only was I leaving late, but on top of that I was being delayed by summer construction. I succumbed and set my alarm a half an hour earlier; I have not waken up at 5:30 am since Freshman year in High School. Gratefully, Counseling is extraordinarily engrossing. There have been two instances in my life that I have gotten wind of a viewpoint considerably much the same as my own. The first occasion took place when I was advocated to give heed to a podcast called Common Sense with Dan Carlin. The show is directed toward news and government from the perspective of the radical, non-partisan host called Dan Carlin. Dan describes his show as being a part of the new media, described as “the emergence of digital, computerized, or networked information and communication technologies in the later part of the 20th century” by Wikipedia. I loathe the mainstream media for the reason that I identify it as entertainment more then news. Journalism today is not as it once was; you don't see journalist getting the inside “scoops”. The media relinquishes former practices in order to maintain connections for future material. At the end of the day, it all comes back to ratings, sales or clicks. Integrity is a thing of the past; now more then ever the news caters to what the audience wants. Many subjects that should be top stories are minor news. Most American citizens want to hear about the latest murders and celebrity going ons more then being told their practices are harmful or will fall on the shoulders of future generations. I am enraged at how proportionally high murders are portrayed on television compared to other crimes and the obvious partisanship displayed. Humans naturally have a “them versus us” attitude and this is reflected in politics; society pressures citizens to identify with a political party, even if citizens don't particularly agree strongly with the party. The podcast is only every other week for 30 – 45 minutes, but the insight is more enlightening then what you would hear from then an entire group of pundits.

Counseling is the second time I've encountered this phenomena. I may confuse what my professor believes in and what Carl Rogers did, but none-the-less the sentiments are of importance. Love is often given conditionally; unconditional love is rare, which can be seen from the most au courant 52% divorce rate. There is no such thing as altruism; people help others to fulfill their own needs. Feeling satisfaction from helping others is providing that pleasant experience. There is not one reality; each person's perspective is a reality. At one point in my life I debated if there was only one reality; two realities, an inner and outer; or a separate reality for each person. While there is no definite answer, I find the last conclusion the most satisfactory. Painful experiences can not be undone, only understood and learned how to be dealt with. Human growth doesn't stop; while our physical growth ends, our mental capacities are always expanding. I am doubtlessly forgetting a heap of conceptions that parallel my way of thinking and of course, there is much more then what I have annotated, but this provides a prelude to the subject matter presented.

Roughly three weeks ago, an acquaintance from High School posted on my Facebook wall asking me why I don't play Warhammer 40,000 with him and his friends. It was completely unpremeditated; having dealt with this person only on a few select occasions, I did not know what to make up of it. When I clued in my friend Melvin, he was hurt he had not been invited seeing he knew those who were playing to a much greater degree then me, but he still encouraged me to attend. Observing his feeling of being left out and ken on him catching cabin fever from being inside his home for the greater part of his time nowadays, I expressed I would request him tagging along, for which he was grateful for. I responded that I was interested along with the supposition, then went along with my usual business. Hours later I returned to Facebook to read the person who invited me, James, had responded affirming Melvin's attendance would be a non-issue and that he needed me to select a race to play as, directing me to Wikipedia. He also sent me a message on AIM while I was away. Electing to get back to him tomorrow, I hooped into bed only to hear my cellphone vibrating. The number was not one I recognized, but I answered it despite this. To my astonishment, James had used my cellphone number posted on Facebook to call me. Our conversation was to the point as I remarked I was lying in my bed when he called. We were to meet at noon Wednesday at a small shop located in downtown Dover.

On Wednesday, having not heard from James, I called him to get directions to the shop due to forgetting the name and being unfamiliar with Dover; he did not pick up his phone. Twenty minutes later he phoned me back, apologizing for being asleep when I rang. He gave me the name of the shop, Elite Hobbies, and it's general location, near the Strand Movie Theater. I printed directions off Google Maps, picked up Melvin and headed on our way. Our travel began smoothly, effectively highway, but once we exited, to no amazement, I achieved losing our way. To use Melvin as a scapegoat, he handled the directions and was in charge of watching for street signs, a task not fitting for someone who can scarcely see from his left eye. After driving in circles for a period of time, we found our way to the Strand Theater. Melvin buzzed James, who had not left Rochester yet. To kill time, Melvin and I ordered pizza at a restaurant across the street. Looking for a parking space at the Strand, I misjudged the depth of a puddle at a spot; stepping out of the car I found it to be several inches deep. Returning to my car, drenching my sneakers further, I recognized I had left my cellphone there. Opening it, I had missed several calls from James, for which he left a handful of messages. I returned his call, confessing I had forgotten my phone my car and that we had grabbed a bite. He and his friend were waiting at the shop which was nearby. Admitting the ease I get lost, I handed the phone to Melvin who directed me. Of course, we still took wrong turns. Frustrated, James ordered us to wait at the Strand, as he would walk over the meet us. I suggested to Melvin we walk over ourselves but he refused out of pure laziness. He appeared 10 minutes later, commanded me to hand over my keys and drove us to the shop, which was 30 seconds away; Melvin and I argued who was to blame until we walked inside. Elite Hobbies is a small shop that caters to a niche demographic along with carrying products involving home repair.

If you are unacquainted with Warhammer 40,000, as I was, it is a franchise that started as a tabletop miniature wargame that has expanded into other mediums. A Tabletop miniature war game is a military focused, turn-based strategy game that incorporates tiny figurines and model terrain. The main appeal for the greater part is customizing the miniature figurines. The other dude there, Tom, who I had English sophomore year with, painted his army as storm troopers from the Stars Wars films. The game itself is astonishingly elaborate: measuring tape is used to calculate distance of movement and fire; plastic utensils that called to mine the type I operated in Geometry class; a large assortment of different types of dice, ranging in size, color and use; and multiple booklets for instructions and stats used for calculations. In spite of having commenced setting up, an additional half an hour or longer was necessary antecedent to playing. I can say without shame that I label myself as a geek. With that said, I still view this as geekness at another level. A commonplace joke is those of us into more non-mainstream hobbies speak a incomprehensible language; this was that precise experience.

We were split into two teams: James and Melvin on one and Tom and myself on the other. Tom and I played as space marines, James used some sort of space elves and lastly, poor Melvin played as the Orks. I show sympathy told Melvin for the army he was dealt with was atrocious; he had the largest army, but their strength was puny so consequentially, Tom was annihilating them. James gave Tom and I a handicapped for the sake of Tom being relatively unfamiliar to the game. Granting it is a strategy game, victory relies more on luck; a role of the dice ultimately clinches a favorable outcome. You role for turns, if units can enter the battlefield, ability to do damage, amount of damage, area of damage, resistance to damage and undeniably more I am not aware of. I indulge in entertainment that luck plays a smaller role in, thus Warhammer was not to my great liking, in particular to my indifference toward customization. What I found more intriguing was how James and Tom treated Melvin; in high school, Melvin stood out like a sore thumb and was often ridiculed and bullied for it. However, by senior year he had joined a semi-clique in Computer Technology class, which I took the first part of two years prior. I was not a part of this clique, but it's presence was evident. I had three friends in the clique, not including Melvin, who I was not friends with at that time, as were James and Tom. I had observed that within this clique Melvin was still moderately mocked, it was in a more friendly fashion. The put downs in Elite Hobbies was less so. Guys like to rag on each other, but as I pointed out to Melvin on our drive home, there is only a certain extent until the person is covering up what they really think as a joke. He was slammed time and time again; unlike myself, he was able to shrug it off. I am far too sensitive to take such abuse without becoming enraged, as Melvin did when I first met him. I am conscience-stricken; I also partook in this to a much smaller extent. The worst was when I recollected the story of Melvin's mom leaving a chore list for him, one task being to untangle the phone cord, which I found to much humor as did others who I repeated it too. Besides that, I almost fell when I went to lean against a wall that was further back then I discerned and two brothers, between the ages of 8 and 10 watched us play for a length of time. I was astounded to find they were well conversant of the game. As a kid that age, I procured no patience for that type of activity.