I abruptly felt better a week or so ago. I've been waiting to see if something would derail me, but so far, nothing has. And here I was prepared for a long, tortuous, grueling healing process. Isn't that usually the way these things go?

The magical cure was getting a phone call back on my resume. It's not even some perfect, dream job-- although I would love to have this job. And it doesn't even matter whether I get it or not-- although I would love to get the chance to interview. It just sounded a note of hope. A badly needed note of hope.

But how could this fix my relationship angst, you ask? I have no idea. I am sort of sitting around waiting for the backlash. Am I in denial? Are my walls back up? Are my coping mechanisms working? Am I reverting to my natural state? Is it really as simple as I'm okay and I should just accept it? Maybe so. Perhaps so.

The best thing I could do for myself was to reach out to my support system. And I am here to report: I have a hell of a support system.

I talked to Matt and the Useless Shagging Bastard. What is it about ex-boyfriends that is so comforting at these times of stress? Maybe they are there to remind me that I survived and thrived once they were gone, or that more than one person over the course of my life will think I am spectacular.

(Actually, I never doubted that other people would someday find me spectacular. I doubted that I would ever find anyone else to be spectacular. It sounds so hokey, so mawkish, so retarded. But with my whole heart and soul, for about four days, I believed it.)

I got tough love from Tim, love-love from Bruce, and some distracting lesbian drama (reported with love) from my little sister. I got a card in the mail from Charlotte. I got a vibrating toy from Lucy. I had long talks with Katie and Joey, and caught up on their lives. K.T. and Eric sent me a DVD, in honor of "Mo Should Be Happy Day." Love you guys.

Megan took me out drinking. Jen Wade commiserated with my pain and helped me develop Wise Strategies. Trish, Susan and Jenfu drank with me and played board games with me at the Albatross. Janis and I sang Morrissey at work. "I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour, but heaven knows I'm miserable now..." and we couldn't stop laughing. My work friends made me realize how much of a family, ridiculously enough, we really are.

The Inappropriately Young Boy came back to work for the summer, and I intend to make out with him by August. The Photo Shop Dude down the street keeps coming in during my shifts and I have been accused of flirting with him. (Well, I never!) Huck said that people should do whatever I wanted at any time, because I am so beautiful. (He was quite drunk at the time, but I'll take the compliment anyway.) I found out that some of my tutoring students love me and think I'm swell.

I went bike riding on a gorgeous Saturday morning with Michael and Debbi, and then we went out for brunch. I went to my school for a Poetics event, and felt a real sense of connection with my professors and peers. I went for a long walk in the Point Isabel dog park with Ian and his puppy. I spent an evening in Barnes & Noble, reading and writing. I got published in a magazine called Dichotomy.

(Like how I slipped the whole Ian thing right in there? Yeah, so we decided to meet on neutral territory, with a big fluffy dog to be our chaperone. It sort of worked. We're working on it. But the good news is, we're still friends, and I'm not sad.)

Let's see. I went and saw Bend it Like Beckham, which is so good. I tore through The Wings of the Dove, which is indescribably good. I got my diploma in the mail. I lined up my roommates for Journalcon. I got a lot of wonderful email which I have not been yet able to answer, but which I deeply appreciate. I got a magnet at my Weight Watchers meeting for having lost 25 pounds. I went to the post office and mailed off lots of Important Documents. I made plans for my upcoming Ghetto Graduation.

I ate; I drank; I was merry.

Oh, also while I was gone, John Scalzi's book came out, Pamie and her readers started rolling a giant book-shaped snowball, Jenfu got some great news, Ian was on TV, and Kymm (see last paragraph) started smoking crack and decided she wanted to try my adventuresome life.

My hair still sucks.

Anyway, thanks for being patient with my drama. I feel much better now that I am all hiatified. And before I go, here is a Starbucks story for you, because it's just "too too" as my professor used to say:

So this woman comes in and marches up to the counter and says, "Excuse me. Is there a coffee shop around here?" The barista, confused, says, "Well, you're in one." And she gets all aggro, "I realize that I am in Starbucks. I want to know if there's a coffee shop around here." The barista, confused, says, "Uh, there's a Peet's up the street?" The woman, triumphant, her ideological point made, marches out the door. The baristas shrug at each other, then laugh and laugh.

So, in conclusion, customers at Starbucks are still entertaining freaks. "For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?" Also, that's why we keep online journals. And so I'm back.