Enough Already!

As if I don't have enough on my mind.

This weekend was a full one. I kicked off Friday afternoon (thank God for Summer Fridays!) with a "Bitch Session Happy Hour" with co-workers. It relieved a lot of stress and left me in my happy place - full of chips & salsa and tipsy off of house margaritas. I babysat that night, dozing off to re-runs of TNT original programming.

Saturday began nicely enough. I slept in, then headed to an annual bday pool party for a good friend of mine. After a few hours of basking in the sun, I made my way to a separate bday get-together for one of my linesisters. A lot of our other linesisters had made the voyage down from NYC to help her celebrate, and I wanted to be sure I saw everyone before they left. I arrived to her apartment, tan and tipsy. Pleasantries were exchanged. And man, I was genuinely happy to sit around, sipping beer, with such esteemed ladies. Though we were all around the same age, I admired these women so much for their progress in their professional lives, their fashion sense, their humor, their warmth... I had been anxious to finally chat with my college peers about some of the things going on in my life. I knew they'd each be able to relate to the man-drama, the work-drama, the family-drama... and I was 100% confident that SOMEONE would offer me a little tidbit of advice that would help put things in perspective for me. How did each of them endure hardships and remain fly in the process? How did they make the tough times seem so easy?

But instead, we talked mostly on the superficial level about work and our readiness to move on to the "next phase" in our individual lives - whatever that may be... Slightly disappointed about the lack of depth in our conversation (mind you, they were all getting dressed & ready for the club that night) I took it in stride, and continued the glossed-over convo topics until they were ready to go. Beer in hand, I joked to one linesister about twitter and how she had yet to approve my "follow" request. I still don't quite understand why people protect their updates... but okay. It was at that point she said she had a "bone to pick" with me. WTF? Was she serious?

In typical Michele fashion, I racked my brain trying to figure out exactly what - if anything - she could be upset about. She and I hardly ever kept in touch, and saw each other on rare occasions, such as this one, when lots of sorority sisters happened to be in the same place. Come to find out, she was upset over something I supposedly said to her ex-boyfriend in 2006. This was a time in my life when I was devastated over the boy (much like I am now) and found myself at the gym almost every afternoon. From time to time, Anisa would come with, and we'd jog along my alma mater's track in early evening hours. Of course, there were tons of other students and post grads with the same mentality - running/jogging along the track, and playing soccer on the field. So, summer evenings became somewhat of a skit, with everyone half-working-out, half-socializing after work or after class.

My LS's newly ex-boyfriend noticed Anisa and asked me "what her deal was". Knowing that he had just broken up with my LS, I was in somewhat of an awkward position. In honesty, I told him she was single - nothing more. However, when he translated the story back to my LS, it was I who initiated the hook-up, pushing Anisa onto him in a twisted, malicious attempt to somehow ruin... I don't even know. The shit just doesn't even make sense. Anisa wasn't even FEELING him, which make the story all the more preposterous. Whatever.

As if I don't have enough on my mind.

SHE had a BONE to pick with ME?! Sweetheart - you're three years too late. Why didn't you bring this up then and there? We could have nipped it in the bud, and all would be long forgotten. Second - he's LYING. Now, of course you'll believe your man, or ex-man, or whatever he is, before me. I get that. But please believe that meddling like that it not my style (unless the situation pertains directly to me) and I respect(ed) you way too much to ever do something like that. "Water under the bridge," she called it after she'd gotten that off of her chest. Oh. You have no idea. I'm officially over you, and everyone else who even thinks of bringing added drama into my life. I have no space for it.

::Sighs:: On Sunday I volunteered at my church, had brunch with friends, picked up Ruby for two hours of bonding, and then headed to a bday cookout. The time with Ruby was positive but draining. I watched her splash around my apartment pool (begging me repeatedly to get in with her - but to no avail), then fed her ice cream over a few Hannah Montana episodes. I gave her a mini-manicure and made a deal with her that if she read 10 books over the summer, I'd get her an iPod. See. I'm trying to be a good person. The cookout was fun (even though I was SO exhausted). After a few Bacardi-Pineapples I loosened up and chatted with Melanie about even more weekend drama that I hadn't even been aware of. Whenever too many women (esp. sorority sisters) get around each other, there's like a 24-hour threshold before we start plotting to devour one of our own. Sad but true.

Blah, blah, blah. Watched the SATC Movie last night and cried my eyes out. I'm convinced it was a by product of sleeplessness, PMS, and residual sadness regarding the boy. When will I move past him? When will I stop caring about his every move? His every thought? His bear hugs...? Ufck it, I miss him. Okay? Even though he has hurt me again, and broadcasts his every thought of her via gchat, and plasters love song lyrics on his facebook wall (soliciting "thumbs up" and "likes this" comments from HER in every. single. instance)... I'm still curious to know how he's REALLY doing. Does being "strong" mean I will never talk to him again? That seems as much a disservice to me as it is to him. If I call him, does that make me "weak"? Will I even care this time next Monday when Aunt Flow has come and gone?

And how does any of this compare to the health of my mother or grandmother? It doesn't. Where are my priorities?

Who knows. Who cares.

Whatever.