Conspiracy of One: After Katie

The last few days have been exceedingly dreadful. I had to say goodbye to one of my favorite coworkers as she heads for greener pastures. Aja definitely gave me a lesson in determination. The road may not always be easy, but constant vigilance never fails. With that said, closing and waking early to work is not the best platform for success. Not only that, it’s a bitch on my demeanor.

However, the story begins and ends with a girl I met at work. Her name is Katie, and her drink is quadruple-shot-two-pump-vanilla-latte-on-ice. I really liked her and all that jazz. Best yet, I felt there was a bit of mutual attraction. As a tribute to Aja, I planned to ask Katie out during Sunday’s shift. Unbeknownst to us, fate would not have her pay a visit. I did get my chance yesterday betwixt field trips. She was in Robek’s, and I was picking up coffee. I pulled her out, we made smalltalk, and I recalled the poem I wrote from memory:

Two pumps vanilla
Four shots espresso
One iced latte
Made for someone special
You’re a graphic designer
I make drinks
We could illustrate the perfect date
What do you think?

She thought it was the cutest thing. She also has had a boyfriend for two months. Shot down again, yet it didn’t feel that bad. In fact, I felt nothing afterwards. I guess I had the situation I needed, and it was the luck of the draw. No hard feelings, just a challenge for another aim. On a funnier, scripted note, the song I heard afterwards was “Superman” by Lazlo Bane, cued up to “I can’t do this all on my own.”

On the other end of the spectrum, I’m still single and very inexperienced in having a significant other. A coworker’s Freudian slip reminded me of this situation. I was blindly using the term “fuck buddy” and she stated that’s basically what her relationship with her last boyfriend amounted to in the waning days. It made me pretty sad, knowing that hell, I was there, and would not have been heartless to let a good thing like a decent relationship devolve as such. The luck some people have, while others long for the opportunity. Meh, a challenge for another aim.

Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Lazlo Bane “Superman”


Conspiracy of One: Yearbooks Tell No Lies

Well, I scratched my head after reading some news today about a certain girl I’d fancy for a minute. It turns out she’s married and pregnant now. It comes as no surprise to me, because Jordan and I predicted this a few months ago while landscaping the future of our classmates.

Now, remembering how harshly she described me back then, I find it as moral comeuppance seeing that only being a year removed from school, her life faces a drastic change. Needless to say, it would be a bummer to be her. All I have left to do now is to see the odds of all my other predictions come true. I’m sure I’ll have all the time in the world to see how these cards fall.

On a brighter, less fucked up note, my car is being standardized to Guy specifications. Throwing out the audio system, reconfiguring the alarm, and possibly a car wash. I am almost done installing my vision of vehicular comfort. Sony is supplying the stereo and modulator, while Performance Teknique and Alpine are retained for amplifier/subwoofer purposes. Things are almost perfect. Almost.

Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Ali Tabatabaee & Matty Lewis “His World”

Conspiracy of One: PROMising Revelations

Note to self: never again help out coworkers. It is wrong to leave them to die, but it’s downright brutal to torture yourself for no apparent reason (see: cash). Two hours can feel like hell if the situation presents itself.

After the fiasco that was work (on a Friday…taboo!), I made good on a goal by visiting Eyad in Irvine. Needless to say, it was a tedious drive. I believe I got lost about three times on my voyage. It was refreshing to get acquainted with a new area, which I’ll shortly commit to memory. Either way, details, details…

Eyad’s significant other, Linda, was present. I swear, she must have a high tolerance for dirty jokes and nonsense, because there was plenty of it. I realized Eyad isn’t a comedic foil; he’s a freaking complement. And it worked well. However, it’s time for work at the moment, and this’ll be concluded at a later hour.

And when I said later, I didn’t mean a day later, either.

So again, Irvine, etc., et al, yes. Linda asked me how did I feel about Christine. Why the hell does everyone I encounter ask me that damn question? Do I have lines on my face that say “woe is me, my unrequited love burns like a dying phoenix”? Either way, the answer of course, was yes. I’m not sure if I want a David Beckham white or navy jersey, yet I can answer that question without hesitation. Well, that question, and would I ever like a threesome (again, yes). So, the three of us are playing pool when she brings up that question, and Linda drops a bombshell on me.

I made her jealous while dancing with another girl. Note, I do believe it was Cacie I was dancing with, who also came with a date. I believe we had been friends for three years, so of course, if you see a friend, you just might dance. In my case, it’s a given, because damn it, I’m a dancing machine. It’s funny how I’m hearing all of these revelations now, when I consider myself to be a 12th-level intellect. This revelation means I know jack diddly squat about girls, no matter how fluid my poetry seems.

Either way, this has been very welcome news. Combining this with my wimping out during the last dance, building blocks are becoming more feasible to work with, even…feasible works well. At least there will be one more encounter. Because as the title of my Rascal Flatts “Feels Like Today” cover so blatantly opines, there’s one definite example of one emotion that’s been buried:

Maybe she loved me.

Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Sixpence None the Richer “Trust (Reprise)”

Conspiracy of One: Prelude to Parkside


The school sent my residency instructions today, confirming me to room at Parkside Commons. Well, there’s a degree of fear, because it’s starting over again, this time away from home. Shit. Mildly unnerving. Details to follow soon, but while we’re at it, somebody call the governor…because I have arrived!


Began day by hanging out with Cacie. Must say I need to hang out with her a bit more, because I enjoyed her company. It’s been amazing watching her grow up and mature, because hell, I’ve only grown more sinister. Funny shit that I’m sure will evolve into a rap or poem. It was refreshing that she drove a car that was symbolic of my first love: an early 90s Honda Accord. It was like I became younger for an hour or so.

Camped out at work with mom and Jordan today. Another funny incident ensued, due to Jordan proclaiming “black women are loud.” I refuse to disagree with that sanction, as the majority of black women I’ve met have been quite murderous to my ears. We cooperated on a few jokes, and connected on two especially tender riddles: heaven. After a few dirty comments, my mother asked us about our Prom expectations. Of course, mine were exceeded exponentially, and we delved into my brain for one more memory. Cue dream sequence…

Approximately 11:55 pm PDT, the disc jockey decided that “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” by Aerosmith would be the final song of the evening. My condition, I believe, was rather, blissfully high, though I don’t smoke. While slow dancing, Christine looks at me and asks “are you going to make a move?” Since I’m dazed, I can’t exactly offer anything intelligible, so I decline. I come back to my senses ten seconds later, and a light bulb appears; it told me that a gesture should be made. So I placed a kiss on her right shoulder. She blushed, and said it’s okay.

I kissed her right shoulder.


Another light bulb goes off afterwards. What the hell was I thinking?

Apparently, this was news to Jordan, as he ripped me a new one. My mother was befuddled by my subtle choice as well. I ruined my one chance with the first girl I’ve ever felt true emotion for by playing it safe. The cards were on the table, and I folded. I should’ve kissed her…and not a pansy kiss either.

I reflect on all of my other relationship aspirations, and…I cry. It’s not fair. I shouldn’t be kicking myself, begging God to grant me an opportunity to go back in the past, and rewrite the script. She won’t talk to me, but I can’t let this die. Everytime I figure myself thinking of someone else, Christine remains the only girl that brought a grin to my stubble.

But she won’t talk to me.

I’ve got one year left at Long Beach State if my tentative plans go as I need them. I came there for one reason, and now, it decides whether I find happiness in union, or my life goal and matriculate to Berkeley.

But she won’t talk to me.

I’m not sure how to make this work. I’ve got to start the wheels turning. Happiness could be obtained quite easily with the right artillery.

But she won’t talk to me.

Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Hoobastank “Without a Fight”