I started this post yesterday, but had to stop to save Zac from dumping an entire 24 pack of toilet paper on his head. Why the kid is sooooo interested in opening, closing, opening, and throwing out the contents of every bottom cabinet in our apartment is beyond me.
Where was I? Oh, I was going to say that you all were very, very right about Do. We talked again on Monday and he showed himself to be a judgemental asshole. Everything I said he argued with, just to prove to himself how silly and stupid I must really be.
I told him that I was really stressed on Sunday, during the drive back from my parents' house. I STILL haven't heard anything from the organization that I've had two interviews with. I know that they have contacted BOTH of my references (Monday and Tuesday). I called and left a message AGAIN today. They told me that I would know by last Friday. I'm trying to be patient, I really am. I also just submitted all of the work that a second organization asked me to submit to be evaluated for a second interview. Who ever heard of an essay round in the interviewing stage? The work I did took me about eight hours and a lot of research to try and figure out what I should submit.
Anyways, I was stressed out about work and money on Sunday and decided that I wanted to go for a run. I used to run a lot (back in the pre-baby days when my ass didn't hurt to move quickly). In Mongolia, I ran every day to stay in shape and zone out for a while. It's a great stress-reliever (again, if your butt doesn't begin to ache from the skin jiggling on your large arse). I called my neighbor Danny and asked if he could watch Z. for thirty minutes. Danny is great with Zac and absolutely loves (well, loves might be a strong word) but always readily agrees to watch him.
As I was driving into my neighborhood, I realized that I must have temporarily lost my mind to think that I could go running at night in north Houston. I probably shouldn't even try that during the day. When I was on the phone to Do., I told him that story and he immediately started belittling me, saying that I was letting my fear run my life. He said that a group of men drinking beer, hanging out on a street corner at 9:30pm is no more of a threat to me than picking some flowers out of a wild meadow. I ended up getting off the phone with him, very angrily. He wrote me this e-mail in response:
"Don't take this the wrong way, but truthfully speaking, your whole psyche is illogical. Riiiiight, it makes a whole lot of sense to avoid large groups of men who are drinking and almost assuredly harmless, just relaxing after a long day of work and would change your tire for you at the drop of a hat or would beat someone up who was harassing you, or...you can hang out with one guy individually who seems harmless, yet does drugs, drinks, gets you pregnant, isn't there for you when you need him to be, isn't even around for the birth of the baby, and leaves you practically abandoned in a town you're unfamiliar with and in a financial situation that makes it hard for you to get by.
Yes, it's those big groups that'll always get you..."
What a sad state of affairs when both segments of the population he is describing: the large group and the individual, can and frequently do, harass, endanger, and emotionally and physically damage women.
No one has any right to throw my actions back in my face. No one.