Ball Of Confusion

Life seems to be happening at either lightning speeds or crawls by like a snail overdosing on downers. After quitting the less-glamorous job I had, I was feeling pretty good. I have a ton more sleep-in time. More availability for Cute Cafe (which they have already taken full advantage of, and I can't say I'm complaining.) But, of course, as if right on cue, the sneaky little c-word that reality is smacks me right in the face in the middle of my natural high in the shape of Mama Kass wondering out loud when I'm going to leave? What?

(Back story: I'm here in the first place because of my very generous friend I've known since high school offered me the chance to live rent-free for "three months" to get back on my feet after an awful stint in Virginia where my soul and wallet were robbed by a vulture of a man. Scratch that: a vulture of a BOY. Anyway, so here in Sinful City it's me, Mama Kass, my friend Luthor and her sister Hippie Helen. We all get along famously, mostly because I'm the one who does most of the cleaning.)
And from the get-go, I thought that I'd just come here, work so that I'd be able to pay my debts (which, by the way, I just took care of debt#1 out of 4. The rest will be taken care of come payday. Good credit, here I come!) and then I'd join the air force mostly because, ironically, for me it would be the easy way out. A good paycheck, "free" schooling, yada yada. But the thing now is, the more I think about it, and the closer the days get to becoming 3 months, and seeing the money I'm earning is making me realize something.
"Oh my god. I might be able to do this on my own."
Because god knows I do NOT want to join the air force. So at this very moment in time, I am currently in a state of limbo between the air force and independence. It's about time for something good to happen. Anyone know of an inexpensive apartment or condo complex in the Henderson area with air conditioning and a gym? Keep my gay ass posted.

These days, worries aside, I find myself smiling more. Especially at those men that like to frequent Cute Cafe. Especially at the bald-but-sexy professional man that announces he likes the way I smell. Especially at that lagoon-color-eyed man who touches my arm when I set his drinks down. Come on guys, quit leading me on and ask me out for a drink. Or should I be the one to ask them out? Is that breaking some kind of flirt-but-don't-date-the-waiter rule? And if not, should I not ask them out because I'm only 20? I have my genuine-fake (it's genuine because it's real it's just not me. But it works.) But that might be the hugest turn off for them, going out with some boy who has to use a fake. How immature. But the thing is I'm quite the opposite. I feel like I've grown up beyond my years, and it's not fair that Father Time should curse me with such a young age. Oh well. 4 months to go and I'll be alcohol-legal. At which point I'll have my favorite lesbian to take me to some gay joint for some gay cocktails (thanks 2nd person!)

Oh well. What is it with this constant state of waiting-thing? I'll just have to wait and see how things play out. Maybe next time I post, It'll be in a new apartment? Cheers.