Little dude on the ceiling

2003-01-29 - 10:10 a.m.

I just got an e-mail today saying that one of my good friends from high school is getting married in June. She will be my first friend to get married. I'm really happy for her. We actually went to the same junior high too, and although we had mutual friends there we were never friends. And then in high school we met again through a different mutual friend. We became friends during our sophomore year in high school and were well on our way to becoming best friends when during our junior year her dad passed away. After that she changed. While we were together she was the same person, but when we weren't she did things I considered to be crazy. She got this boyfriend who treated her badly but who she loved anyway. Then she got pregnant. She left our school to go to a school for pregnant teens. To me it was as though she had died. My dad forbade me to see her. He didn't want me hanging around with someone who would be such a bad influence on me. The fact that he didn't trust me to make my own decisions of course pissed me off to no end. But sometimes there is no reasoning with fathers. The only way I could see her was to lie to my parents about where I was going or who would be there. In May of our senior year, on the night before my AP calculus exam, she gave birth to her daughter, and I was there in the waiting room. The boyfriend was in juvie for unrelated reasons. Fortunately, her mother was very supportive and she was able to finish school and now she's majoring in chemical engineering. Her current boyfriend, or I should say fiance, I met once a few months ago. I have to say I approve and she is doing well for herself. I am very happy for her.

Tomorrow is my last day of SGI. The last day I will have to get up at 3:30 in the morning. Last night as I went to bed I looked at my clock. It said seven forty-something. I thought to myself, "There's no way I can sleep, it's not even eight yet." And then I closed my eyes and proved myself wrong. I don't know what I'm doing after SGI. I was supposed to talk about it with the Mole yesterday, but he called in sick. He's here today, though, and he promised to give me a page when he has a free moment to talk about it with me.

Tonight I have another volleyball game. I'm excited, except it's not until 8. I hope I stay awake for the whole thing. I'm also planning on going to the gym before the game. I've been really bad about that lately. I did go on Monday though. I thought I was doing really well. I was running record times. I had run 3.86 miles before I realized I forgot to set the incline so none of it counted. It counted in that I got some exercise, but none of my times count.

I still haven't talked to my parents about the whole Quincy thing. I'm such a scaredy-cat. If I took that job there would be no point in me finishing my residency. I could pull a Thumbtack and quit. But I don't think I would, even if I did take that job. Fluffy has been talking about quitting too. The last three months of this residency he will be out at county. He considers that to be a waste of his time in the extreme. He's going to interview at several hospitals across the country in the next few weeks and he told me if he gets offered a position by them then he's going to ask if they require that he finish this residency. If they don't, then he might quit. So his quitting is based on several ifs. It probably won't happen. The selfish part of me hopes it doesn't happen. Thumbtack has set a precedent. The only one I don't know has considered quitting is Slick. She's still very gung-ho. Good for her.

The cute medical student on my team talked to me today. I don't understand this though. He waited until I was blowing my nose. He watched me set down my stuff, pull a tissue out of the box, and then start to honk my schnozz before he said anything. I couldn't stop what I was doing because I didn't want to risk boogers hanging out of my nose so I waited until I was finished before I answered. And then I was annoyed so I was a bit short with him. Plus he was asking me about something I'm sick and tired of being asked about. Ah well, he's not tall enough for me anyway.