College Dropout.

Managing to narrowly escape an arrest record this over the holiday weekend, I was eager to put my energy into getting settled in to the new Fall semester at City College.  I was looking forward to focusing on my classes and any upcoming school projects that would take my mind off of the fact that my relationship with John was over with absolutely no chance of reconciliation.  The life that I'd become comfortable with was about to change drastically and I was only a sneeze away from finding myself homeless, broke and penniless.  

Just when I thought things couldn't possibly get any worse, it dawned on me.  There would be no possible way that I would get through this semester of school without losing my mind!  Something would have to give.  And that's when it occurred to me.  

I would have to drop out of school.    

After looking forward to starting the new year and surviving the crazy summer months, you can only imagine how angry that piece of news was for me to handle.  But it would have to be done.  I would have to drop out of school.  There was no way around it.  

I was sitting on the floor of the empty vacant condo, after moving most of my things out of our place next door when it occurred to me.  Trying my hardest not to burst into tears about what was about to be reality, I settled into the notion.  I would drop all of my classes this semester, but--I promised myself, I would resume my studies in the spring.  I didn't want to have to drop out of school, believe me, I didn't.  But it was something that I was going to have to do.  

Thankfully, we were out of class on Monday which gave me one extra day before I would have to go down to the campus and speak with an advisor.  In the meantime, I was angry.  I didn't want to have to drop out of school, but I knew that this was the one time when it would be best that I did.  There was no way I would be able to focus on my studies with all the other things that I needed to focus on.  School would simply have to wait.  

I skipped my Tuesday classes, choosing instead to stay home and sulk some more.  I didn't want to see John and I couldn't really call Lucy. How had I allowed all of this to happen?  I kept asking myself over and over.  I loved school and now I was going to have to drop out.  I didn't think I could handle any more.  

Wednesday morning, I jumped on my bike, cranked my iPod up as loud as I could handle, donned my sunglasses and rode down to City.  I didn't want to do it.  I had to do it.  Ten minutes later, I was at City--waiting to speak with an advisor, while at the same time, resisting the urge to bolt out of the office and instead run to my afternoon secondary Algebra class.  

My advisor was a nice man who expressed concern over my sudden deciding to withdraw from my classes.  

"Just know," he informed me.  "That whenever you're ready to resume your studies, you're welcome back here anytime.  I understand that you have more important issues to tend to, but City College will be here."   I thanked him, grabbed my backpack and quickly headed for the exit.  I could feel the sweat starting to run down my face.  

Or was it tears?  Either way, with strength that I managed to muster from deep within, I got out of that office and into the morning sun.  Secure behind the dark lenses of my sunglasses, I headed out of the building, across the quad and back to the bike rack.  

And did nothing to stop the tears that were sliding down my face.

MAD MEN!

When I left off on the last post, the police had showed up to our house.  After speaking with John first, the two officers (normally, I would comment on how attractive they both were, but seeing as this was not the time, I'll digress) wanted to speak with me.  First, I apologized for them having to come out on such a petty matter, but it was out of my hands.  The two men explained to both of us that there really was nothing, in fact that they could do.  No one was in any danger and no one had been assaulted.  

"There's really nothing we can do, but come out and access the situation," the cute blond--I mean, the policeman informed me.  With that and about fifteen minutes wasted, the officers left.  

Still shaken up by this whole dramatic afternoon, I managed to look at John who was seated in his office.  I was angry.  No, I was beyond angry.  I was pissed!  

"That,"  I said to him, pointing my thumb at the door.  "That is so not us.  We're better than that.  We're better than this."  With tears in his eyes, John nodded in agreement.  

With that, I walked away.  

Half an hour after that whole ordeal had finally died down, the doorbell rang.  It was my good friend, Rich.  He was hysterical and could hardly get his words out. 

"Can I come and hang with you?"  He blurted out.  He was crying and he was angry.  

Much like the crazy afternoon that I'd had with John, Rich was going through his own afternoon of madness.  

"Tell me about yours and I'll tell you about mine."  I said, giving my friend a big hug.  

MADNESS!

It was a safe bet to say that all hopes of keeping John's and my break up respectable, civil and cordial went out the window on Sunday afternoon.  What should have been a quiet afternoon with the two of us keeping a respectable distance from one another turned into straight up madness.  And it all started with this simple question.  

"Do you need any help with packing your things?" 

It had been agreed that I would set about packing my things and making preparations to move out of the condo.  While it sounds simple writing it here, you have to understand that I was now expected to find a place to live--all while having no money and no job!  While the situation looked as if it couldn't possibly get any worse, here we were, in the guest bedroom about to push the envelope between rational thinking and downright anger.  

After looking at John for a split second (although, to me, it felt like longer), I finally blurted out, "Where do you expect me to go right now?  And how do you expect me to get there?"  It was those two questions that echoed throughout our conversation while we sat there, trying to once again, be respectful.  

So much for being civil.  

While at no time did we ever raise our voices beyond our normal tone, here we were arguing about--looking back at it now, nothing.  But John wasn't having it.  Against my pleading with him, he made a move that would later prove a ridiculous one and even now as I sit here recalling the incident, I still can't believe he was as daring as he was.  

He threatened to call the police.  

"What are you going to call the police for?"  I asked.  "What do you really expect for them to do?  You're not being threatened.  I haven't assaulted you.  In fact, we're not even yelling at each other, "  I informed him.  "So what do you really expect to happen by calling them?"  

My words fell upon John's deaf ears because he still held his cell phone in hand and was punching the digits.  

I resigned to the fact that our Sunday afternoon quarrel was now about to take an even more dramatic turn now that San Diego's finest was about to intervene.  Whereas normally, I probably would've panicked at the mere thought of the police coming out to our house, I calmly sat on the stairs and listened while John, now downstairs in his office, explained to the dispatcher why we needed police assistance.  So on the stairs I sat until finally, I got up, marched outside, lit a Newport and tried to figure out what to do next.   

Then suddenly, I had an idea!

Buzzing from the nicotine and menthol, I strolled back into the house and into John's office.  He was still on the phone with the dispatcher--only now, he was giving her a play-by-play of my actions.  I held out my hand and asked to speak to her directly.  Hesitant at first, John finally handed me his cell phone and in the most pleasant tone that I could muster, I spoke to the lady who now knew more about us than I'm sure her job required.  

Twenty minutes after John had originally placed the call, the police showed up.  

To be continued...

Friday night gang bang.

Last night was Critical Mass and if there ever was a time that I needed to get out and just ride for a while, it was last night.  Like I'd mentioned before, I've come to look forward to the last Friday of the month.  This evening was no different.  

I'd been feeling kinda down and was starting to get on my own nerves.  By 4 o'clock, I knew that I would be going out to ride.  My friend, Rich invited John and I to dinner at his place and while I normally would pick an evening with him, I declined instead opting for the night bicycle ride.  

A bit after 7, I joined the group of people riding past our building towards the park.  It was turning into a wonderful evening; not too hot and just a small amount of humidity.  At the fountain at Balboa Park, there was a local band performing.  The large group of people--all with their bikes, were sitting and standing around; drinking beers, talking, smoking and riding their bikes in circles.  By 8 o'clock, we were ready to ride, this time choosing the downtown path.   While the group didn't appear to be as large as last month, there was still quite a number of cyclists zipping down Fourth Avenue towards downtown.  

We rode through downtown then over to Little Italy, where the sidewalks were lined with people out for the evening.  Of course, we were a sight to see and a few people snapped photos as over 500 people--all on bicycles whizzed by.  The collective lingered in Little Italy while we waited for the other half of the group to catch up and only then did we begin to track up this steep hill from Little Italy towards the neighborhood of Bankers Hill.  By then, I was drenched in sweat, the threadbare shirt and skinny jeans that I had on, damn near soaked.   

The trip through Bankers Hill was brief and before I knew it we were back in Hillcrest.  But rather than cross University Avenue towards other uptown neighborhoods, we instead headed back west--only this time towards Mission Hills.  Screaming loud, ringing bells & whistles, we zipped through Mission Hills and back down towards downtown. 

We basically came down the hill that we'd agonized over in Bankers Hill--only now we were on the other side!   Nevertheless, we pressed on until eventually we were back downtown.  

I didn't talk to too many people during the ride, instead choosing to crank up my iPod.  I was feeling completely mellow, perhaps because of the pot that I'd smoked before I left the house or maybe the pot that I stopped and smoked while on the ride.  Either way, I was in a good mood and for once was able to think about something other than the shambles that my life has turned into.  

The First Day.

This morning found me alive and full of excitement.  For once, it wasn't a struggle to pull myself out of bed.  I have been looking forward to this day for quite some time. 

It was the first day of school.  

I'd survived to see the first day of the fall semester at San Diego City College and I was ready to charge forward.  Even with everything that's going on in my life these days, I managed somehow to lift my spirits in anticipation of attending my classes.  I was looking forward to seeing my old friends and teachers not to mention, I couldn't wait to see all of the new hot guys that would be strolling around campus.  I would only have to attend one class this afternoon, but I intended to be on campus early enough to walk around and check out all of the newbies even though last year, I was a newbie myself.  

I set about my normal routine of getting ready for school only now there were some slight changes.  Whereas last year, I spent a great deal of money on Starbucks, this year I was making coffee at home.  The 10 minute bike commute hadn't changed and I pedaled my bike as fast as I could down Park Boulevard, iPod blasting in my ears, my head floating from the pot that I smoked before I left the house.  

I love school!  

The City college campus was buzzing with students crossing the quads, heading to their classes.  From the long, blank looks on the faces of the guys and girls that passed me up, I could tell that they weren't as excited as I was.  It was funny actually:  whereas I felt like I could backflip across the courtyard to show how excited I was, these students were sort of dragging their feet, engaged in their text messaging.  

I saw a few familiar faces while I waited for my algebra class to convene.  We all talked about how we were actually ready to get back to school.  I was informed that none of the old gang from my classes last year would be in any of them this year.  It was a bit of a disappointment, but I was able to shrug it off.  

My algebra class, it turns out was crowded with a few of us having to stand outside the classroom.  Of course there were a few students that were crashing the class and a few more who had no idea where they were.  Me, I stood outside in the walkway talking to a new guy who, it turns out, is not only very hot looking, but a nice guy as well.  

This is going to be a great semester.  I can TASTE it! 

Ian Pooley--900 Degrees

Here's the Sunday track.  This one should already be on everybody's playlists.

Bubblegum Jones '08

I mean...you HAVE to admit; it's actually kinda funny & cute.