Me in all this.

It was a really difficult week. It wasn't all good. It wasn't all bad. It was just hard to go through.

I coped with the new job at the store and my mixed emotions with that, for sometimes it's really cool there and the people are really nice. Other times, I wonder what the hell I'm doing and why the hell I transfered from a familiar place where I know people love me to someplace strange, busy and occasionally frightening. (Aside from the business with management that I've overexplained and my currently aching feet, there are weird moments there. Last night, for instance, a homeless street preacher trying to anger me asked me if I was crippled. Another time, a drunken, gay customer asked me if I needed help getting down some steps and grabbed me hard by the arm and wouldn't let go, even when I told him to. Today, Ernest, a friend of mine from college, was in my line at a cash register; I said hello to him, and Ernest said, "Well, this is awkward," because it was apparently disappointing of me to be a lowly cashier in a bookstore.)

I got in trouble at my main job again, as well, and I'm going to have to work to fix things, which I can do. I believe in myself, even if they don't completely believe in me there for the reasons I've given them, and I know I can survive trouble and change.

My finances will probably get better after this week. I'm relying upon certain things this week to turn my situation there, at least, around. I paid all my utility bills on Friday when I got paid. It felt good to do that.

My brother's engagement made me feel great for him, though it also served to remind me that we're not very close. I heard the news from my parents, and I left him a voicemail. He included me on a group e-mail with a blanket thank-you and dirty joke the next day. I've not spoken to him. If one of my cousins had gotten engaged, I would've at least gotten a phone call. And even though I know his engagement is not about me, my perspective on the situation can't help but notice what feels like a slight.

The engagement also reminds me that I'm now the only one in my immediate family and extended set of cousins to not have a partner. I'm the family's token gay, and I'm the family's token spinster. I feel like Matt the Dateless Gay Guy on "Melrose Place." I'm the Family Gay Eunuch.

The way I'm reacting to all this is probably an indication of why my psyche's not ready for a boyfriend. It's not all about me, and I know that. These feelings, though unreasonable, do exist, though. I have them. It's selfish and dumb and petty to have these feelings, but they're there.

So, saying all that, I must admit that it would've been nice to have someone to come home to this week. It would've been nice to have someone home with me, someone with a real stake in how my life goes, someone with their own set of things to tell me about ... someone who'd help me keep perspective and still help me feel like there was someplace where, when I was rejected everywhere else, I belonged.

I know love's probably not really like that. But, to hear some people talk about it, they say those things. My dad said that about his wife this week, that it's better to have someone than not.

I'm frequently alone and not lonely. I know the difference. This week, sometimes, I got lonely. But I didn't get lonely a lot. I'm not just idly sitting around, waiting for someone to show up and give my life a "purpose" or "meaning."

People around me are moving forward, gathering dependents and accollades. I see them and wonder what I have. My life seems small.

I want all of you with boyfriends or partners or fiancees to remind yourself, if only for a second, of the good things that sort of romance can provide you.

Because I felt safer with my finances and because I was proud of myself for surviving this hellish week, I broke down and bought the "Freaks and Geeks" DVD box set I've eyed for two months. It probably wasn't the most responsible thing to do just yet, but I had my last paycheck from my old bookstore. And it was larger than I thought it was going to be.

It was probably dumb to do it since my birthday's coming up next month, but I felt like, at the end of this week and with most of the bills paid, I could safely enjoy "Freaks and Geeks." (What I've watched of it so far, by the way, has been really, really good.)

This week's been tough. And, though I wasn't entirely admirable, I did survive. And that felt like something to take a small amount of pride in.

I sorta want to cry, nurse my emotional wounds and retreat into my own self-pity.

But I can't. I have stuff to do.

This is just a mood. It'll pass. It's a snapshot of a mixture of feelings.