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Memories and Regrets (Part 4) (standard:non fiction, 2583 words) [4/5] show all parts | |||
Author: Maya | Added: Apr 22 2001 | Views/Reads: 2622/2069 | Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes) |
This is the next part of the continuing story of me. | |||
Time passed as it always does. Day follows night follows day. I worked hard at my job. I became good at it. I was respected and was counted on. My employers new that I would get the job done and done correctly and efficiently. I was pleased to have their respect. It felt good to know that I was needed and that I was useful. Regardless of age or situation in life, humans need to feel needed. We need a reason to get up in the morning. Work was my reason. This is not to say that I particularly enjoyed what I was doing. This is just to say that I was getting enough out of my job that I was able to be proud of who I was and what I was doing. I was a decent, hardworking member of society. I was not longer a kid. I had responsibilities and I took care of them well. Unfortunately, I always felt that I was destined to do something more worthwhile and important with my life. Something that would fulfill my soul. I still feel this way. I tried to think of what I could do with myself that would make my entire being happy and satisfied. Divine inspiration. That’s what I’ve been waiting for. The way I feel about divine anything, I’d better stop waiting soon. When I thought I’d found something that would really make me feel good about myself, I’d start to second guess myself. “I can’t do that.” “What would people think.” “I don’t know what it would take to do that.” “I’m getting too old to start over.” I can do a pretty good job of talking myself out of things that are important to me. I think eventually I’d like to help kids like Curt, like me. Eventually... Maybe one day. Maybe one day it will be too late. Until my day of destiny, I would work hard to be the best person I could be. During this time much happened with Curt. Unfortunately, I only knew what I read. I hadn’t maintained telephone contact with him. I sent him a few letters, but they never got across what I wanted to say. They probably came across quite ridiculous in fact. I didn’t know exactly how his life was going. He sent me a brief letter (all of his letters were brief), but that didn’t say too much. From what I’d read, I know he became an activist. He was eventually given an honorable discharge in December of 1992. He did a lot of campaigning against the ban on gays and lesbians in the military, and he lobbied for civil rights and against various anti-gay initiatives. But that is his story to tell. This is mine. About a year (maybe less) after I first saw Curt on the news someone else from my high school days came into my life. His name was Sean. I knew him from school because at one time he was a really good friend of my brothers when they were in Middle School. He was tall and thin with light brown hair and gray eyes. I saw him in school all the time, but we were never friends. He was just Sean. Extremely shy and a non-conformist by choice. Geek or nerd would have described him had we still been in high school, though I prefer not to label people. He just seemed to be uncomfortable around other people. He was a bit anti-social. He had built his own wall around himself. But here he was. He knew where I worked because he’d been in at least once before. He came up to me, and I used my most business-like voice and demeanor to say “Hi Sean, What can I help you with?” “Well,” he said. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime?” What? I hardly knew this person and he was making the effort to ask me out. Well, let me check my appointment book. Yeah, right. This just did not happen to me. I didn’t know what to say. I guess because I really didn’t know him very well (and because I finally had the chance to revel in this) I asked him to let me think about it. He gave me his number. I gave him mine, and I said I’d call him. I did, too. After I called everyone else I new (all three people) and told them. Ha! Someone asked me out! I was feeling pretty good about myself when he picked me up that Friday. I wore a pink denim skirt and a nice pink flowered shirt. I thought I looked pretty nice. He wore slacks and a nice shirt. He looked pretty nice, too, but I got the impression that he didn’t exactly do this often either. We went to a restaurant called DaVinci’s. It was a really nice restaurant. I don’t know what I ordered, but I probably didn’t eat much. I was too nervous. He was nervous, too. The only thing we Click here to read the rest of this story (149 more lines)
This is part 4 of a total of 5 parts. | ||
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