ahhh, the suckage... i am really, really, obviously shitty about updating this blog on a regular basis. a fact that my editor is totally going to have a cow about (rightfully so. and not my editor. i guess she's the queen bee of our little blogging-for-film enterprise. she's the baddest bitch, y'know?) anyway, yes. i'm still alive. the sickness did not consume me. and in fact, i managed to fully avoid vomiting. which is AWESOME!
cuz vomiting, fucking sucks, yo.
so its march now. the sun is in the sign of pisces. brother's birthday is coming up. as is Steven's. and C's. my life is full of pisces. we are, after all, opposing signs. opposites breed curiosity. and with my brother, they also breed frustration. but what can you do? i've decided that if he doesn't plan on being home with the fam on his birthday, i will totally work that day, and not feel bad about it. it is not my responsibility to be at his beck and call, and ever wait in the wings in case his other plans don't work out, or whatever. fuck that. i'm done.
work continues. i still really enjoy it. i'm getting markably better at it. and i got my official certification in the mail this last tuesday. of course, i forgot to bring it home for reasons i'll get to in a second, but its there, waiting for me. i am now an official barista. as my manager said, "you're a real boy now." yup. there are no strings on me, save my crippling fear and my all-consuming avarice. but other than those, and my inability to trust people, i am completely stringless. free as a bird.
but this tuesday... i was reeeally tired at work. because i finally got to pull ye olde Demon Shift. the one where you close the store one night and finish up at midnight, and then have to be there to open the store up again at five the next morning. the schedule where you wonder whether its even worth sleeping at all, and if you do opt for sleep, you're tempted to just sleep in your clothes so you can roll out of bed and right into your car four hours later. now, i did do this by choice (see the reference to "all-consuming avarice" above), and i figured it was bound to happen eventually, so i decided to just make it happen and get through the first one so i know what i'll be dealing with in the future. and it was rough, but it was fine. the best, the BEST part, though, was tuesday morning, when i was at the register trying to smile and going off of three hours of sleep, and the person who was supposed to get there at seven or so (in time to help the two openers field the morning rush) didn't show.
AWESOME!
but my manager was really pleased with me, which is good, and i'm pleased with myself. i like having a job that forces me to roll with punches and deal with situations that are beyond my control. those are things i'm not great at, and need to practice. and the pleasant thing is, i really don't tend to get mad at this point. so i work four hours without a break. fine. eventually, someone will get there to relieve me. every situation must end, and until then, you simply deal. and it really isn't that bad.
however, there is also another undercurrent of ... stuff ... in my life at the moment, and that's where the title of this post comes into play.
i am really excited to be in a position to make some money right now. and really, if i were ridiculously avaricious, i wouldn't be working at starbucks, because let's face it... they don't pay all that great. scheduling flexibility, benefits, fun times, sure. but i'm not like, hauling it in. which is fine for now. i'm learning things right now. i'm where i need to be. but my sickness of two weeks ago, and my willingness to work the Demon Shift, are also part of my failure to floss regularly for a few months. gross, right? but in truth, all three of these things are about my willingness to balance my greed, or my comfort (i hate flossing...) against doing what is truly best for me.
because money is nice, and nobody likes flossing, but in the end, if you don't take care of yourself, you get sick, spend your salary on doctors, and your teeth fall out of your head. the flossing argument comes from my friend E, who is in a program that is aaaaall about learning to take care of yourself. because some of us aren't good at it, for a variety of reasons, both genetic and behavioral. and E is one of those people, and so am i. E's big thing is flossing her teeth. she hates flossing too. (who doesn't?) but taking care of yourself sometimes means engaging in activities that aren't comfortable or pleasant, or that stand in the way of doing things that parts of you want to do, and think you SHOULD do.
so i flossed tonight. i brushed, i flossed, i brushed again, used the anti-bacterial mouthwash, and then put vaseline on my lips (which is sort of like dessert, because i really like my lips, and i don't take care of them unless i'm flossing). and i also spent the entire day in bed, except for when i went to my yoga class. because that's part of taking care of myself too. i also need to not schedule myself into exhaustion, which leaves me much more open to getting sick and then missing work later on.
its all more of that goddamned, middle-of-the-road bullshit that i hate and am no good at.
its lessons, and processes, and time and effort and energy.
but its something i need to learn, and better now than later.
on that note, i get benefits now! and i am BEYOND excited to start therapy again. it's been a long time coming. and believe me, i need it. because i joke about my unwillingness to trust people, my inability to let down my defenses enough to let any new people in, and my paralyzing fear that leaves me just able to hold down a job at starbucks. but really, i'm not fully a fan of any of those things. i would like to be healthier. i would like to be able to feel more at ease around people. and i would like to feel more at ease with having feelings.
feelings are not easy.
i am not a fan of people who make me feel things. i make things miserable for people who make me love them. because that is such a scraping raw nakedness, to love somebody. its being naked in the tundra, the wind whipping across the frozen waste and rushing ice crystals across you that leave your skin red and burned. loving someone is an abdication of a portion of my well-being to another person. its a surrender to that tundra, or the perpetual potential of that tundra. so i push those that make me feel things away. i say horrible things to them. i ignore them, and then make ridiculous demands of them. i try to push them away away away from me. because the fear of that pain is oh so great...
and i know that this is a way-beyond-rational, over-extreme reaction. but i haven't had great luck with intimacy this lifetime. and i'm not talking just romantic whatevers. i'm saying my models for intimacy, my relationships with my parents, and my parent's relationship to each other, are not great. i'm talking Daddy Issues. i'll just start calling them DIs. i won't. but yeah. and mommy issues too. all the romances are simply copies of those primary relationships. xeroxes where some of the details are fuzzy, and parts look different, but the overall picture is the same.
like i told you, i'm not that healthy.
but i can make a list of things that i am. it recommended i do that in a book i read yesterday; "Toxic Parents: Blah Blah Blah Blah You've Got Issues". or something like that. i'm not fully sure about the second part of the title.
i am funny.
i am smart.
i am compassionate.
i am sensitive, and caring.
i am empathetic.
i am nice, and mean well, and try to see the best in people.
i am a hard worker.
i am a good team player.
i am able to make people laugh, and feel good, just by being my regular old self.
that's probably enough for now. no, i forgot some important ones:
i am a vessel of god.
i am holy.
i am sacred, and profane.
i am human.
now i'm done. for now. ohhh self help books... the things they make me do. this is really an truly embarassing, and that means i totally have to leave it here for anyone who wants to look and see. because its about taking steps towards being vulnerable, and being all right with that.
what, you thought this blog was for you or something?
well yeah, i suppose its for you a little bit too...
cuz i'm nice like that. right?
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Sick
i'm sick.
i'm achy, and cranky, and generally feeling terrible. my gastro-intestinal tract is currently in "delicate" condition. and i can't, fall, asleep.
i'm supposed to open the store tomorrow, but i'm trying to scramble and find someone to take my hours. (so far, no luck, and the calls were made like, over an hour ago. not good.)
my entire brain seems devoted to telling me exactly how my body feels. my skin is super-sensitive; taking off my work shirt and putting on a t-shirt was a painful experience.
and dear sweet god, i just found someone to cover my shift for me. i am so, fucking, happy right now. about that.
i'm not happy that i feel like a lumpy flesh-sack. which is what i feel like. i can't do anything. i can't think well. i can't fall asleep. i can't eat. i can't read. even video-games are beyond me.
being sick, fucking sucks.
and my friend M. went to the emergency room, and i don't know why yet. but she was able to text me, so i'm guessing she's mostly all right.
i hate everything. i'm going to bed now.
i'm achy, and cranky, and generally feeling terrible. my gastro-intestinal tract is currently in "delicate" condition. and i can't, fall, asleep.
i'm supposed to open the store tomorrow, but i'm trying to scramble and find someone to take my hours. (so far, no luck, and the calls were made like, over an hour ago. not good.)
my entire brain seems devoted to telling me exactly how my body feels. my skin is super-sensitive; taking off my work shirt and putting on a t-shirt was a painful experience.
and dear sweet god, i just found someone to cover my shift for me. i am so, fucking, happy right now. about that.
i'm not happy that i feel like a lumpy flesh-sack. which is what i feel like. i can't do anything. i can't think well. i can't fall asleep. i can't eat. i can't read. even video-games are beyond me.
being sick, fucking sucks.
and my friend M. went to the emergency room, and i don't know why yet. but she was able to text me, so i'm guessing she's mostly all right.
i hate everything. i'm going to bed now.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
What We Are Dealing With
i submit to you, my avid readership (hahahahahahahahaha! HA!), the following example of the great mind that is now (hopefully) entertaining you.
*ahem*
How I Woke Up This Morning
my phone started sounding beethoven's "Ode To Joy" at seven-thirty in the a.m. i reached out to get it, and realized it wasn't on my pillow. i tracked the sound to the foot of my bed, and over it into the cat-box (thankfully poop-free) where i'd managed to kick my phone during the night, after forgetting to plug it in to charge. by the time i sniff it a few times and flip it open, whoever is calling has hung up, as the line is silent. i check my recent missed calls, and the latest one is from my father. i hit the send button, and he answers sounding surprised. yes, he called me, but that was on sunday. today is tuesday. he might stop by the store today, but no. he didn't call me. that's when i realize that "Ode To Joy" is my alarm ring-tone. the "Can Can" is my call ring-tone. no one called me. its just time to like, wake up.
this is what you are dealing with.
i am teh genius...
Other Highpoints of the Day include:
brewing coffee, but leaving the urn's spigot open, so the fresh coffee (decaf espresso roast) poured down from the funnel, into the urn, and out the spout onto the catch-plate on the counter. and then, when the plate filled up, onto the counter itself.
also, i think some middle-aged guy noticed the clip in my hair (its at that awkward length. my hair, not the clip.) and got really angry about it. i was totally nice to him, and looked totally respectable, so i'm assuming it was the clip. process of elimination, right? but yeah. no joke, no confusion, just like, "WHAT the FUCK, man?" grr! angry!
I AM ANGRY WHITE MAN! DO NOT CHALLENGE MY PARADIGM!
sucker... i totally fucked with his world-view...
also, i am in love with natalie dee. go to her site. read her comics. buy her shit.
DO IT NOW!!!
www.nataliedee.com
*ahem*
How I Woke Up This Morning
my phone started sounding beethoven's "Ode To Joy" at seven-thirty in the a.m. i reached out to get it, and realized it wasn't on my pillow. i tracked the sound to the foot of my bed, and over it into the cat-box (thankfully poop-free) where i'd managed to kick my phone during the night, after forgetting to plug it in to charge. by the time i sniff it a few times and flip it open, whoever is calling has hung up, as the line is silent. i check my recent missed calls, and the latest one is from my father. i hit the send button, and he answers sounding surprised. yes, he called me, but that was on sunday. today is tuesday. he might stop by the store today, but no. he didn't call me. that's when i realize that "Ode To Joy" is my alarm ring-tone. the "Can Can" is my call ring-tone. no one called me. its just time to like, wake up.
this is what you are dealing with.
i am teh genius...
Other Highpoints of the Day include:
brewing coffee, but leaving the urn's spigot open, so the fresh coffee (decaf espresso roast) poured down from the funnel, into the urn, and out the spout onto the catch-plate on the counter. and then, when the plate filled up, onto the counter itself.
also, i think some middle-aged guy noticed the clip in my hair (its at that awkward length. my hair, not the clip.) and got really angry about it. i was totally nice to him, and looked totally respectable, so i'm assuming it was the clip. process of elimination, right? but yeah. no joke, no confusion, just like, "WHAT the FUCK, man?" grr! angry!
I AM ANGRY WHITE MAN! DO NOT CHALLENGE MY PARADIGM!
sucker... i totally fucked with his world-view...
also, i am in love with natalie dee. go to her site. read her comics. buy her shit.
DO IT NOW!!!
www.nataliedee.com
Monday, February 11, 2008
Shame shame shame...
before i make this revelation, i would ask you to remember that we all have our personal quirks (ye olde "Everybody's got their Something" clause) and that really, i'm so full of awesome that i'm bursting at the seams. so this is really, just, you know... like, a drop in a bucket. only its a creepy drop in teh buckitt of awesome. and win.
anyway, the announcement:
i am sort of vaguely (editor's note: two qualifiers already!) addicted (ahhh...) to watching abscess-draining, boil-lancing, and cyst-popping videos on youtube.
its disgusting, its wrong, and it makes me ill, but it also fills me with awe.
pus is revoltingly awesome...
i guess that's all, for now.
anyway, the announcement:
i am sort of vaguely (editor's note: two qualifiers already!) addicted (ahhh...) to watching abscess-draining, boil-lancing, and cyst-popping videos on youtube.
its disgusting, its wrong, and it makes me ill, but it also fills me with awe.
pus is revoltingly awesome...
i guess that's all, for now.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Hi! We're Your Racist Neighbors!
i'm having an issue.
i'm having a long-standing issue with our (relatively) new neighbors.
i don't know if you remember, but way back in november, our newish neighbors put a sculpture of an "Indian Brave" on the decorative low wall in their front yard. my initial reaction was a general WTF? i mean, its sooo stereotypical, and racist as hell, and it was just suddenly there, like it grew out of the ground one night.
a week later, i realized, "ohhh... its a thanksgiving decoration. a horribly racist thanksgiving decoration." i mean, for fuck's sake... really... you want to put that up as a thanksgiving decoration? all right. i sort of understand. but remind me to get you a copy of "A People's History of the United States," by Howard Zinn.
can i also mention, the matriarch of this family is a school-teacher? public education is great, except for the fact that it exposes one's children to the public... sigh...
anyway, yes. so i tried to let the indian go. not my business. and i let it go throughout december too. i mean, its still the holiday season, and i don't take my decorations down like, ever, if i get around to putting them up. no really, its totally common for people to leave their christmas lights on all year round in my neighborhood. i mean, on the house. you don't light them up at night, unless its like, your birthday or something.
but now we get to the crux of the matter.
the indian is still there.
its february. thanksgiving is long gone, and it was barely an excuse, so far as i'm concerned. christmas is over. mlk day has even passed us by. there is no, fucking, reason to have that thing out there anymore. i still find it really disturbing.
i have fantasies of taking it down at night and leaving it on their stoop, facing the front door and ready to be found in the morning. there'll be a sticky note on its forehead; "Hey! I'm racist!" maybe just put the sticky on and leave it where it is. or maybe just hit it with a baseball bat until it goes away.
its their bad taste, and its their private property, but aren't these the reasons that zoning laws exist? doesn't public opinion (or at least my opinion) carry a certain weight?
i hate that motherfucking indian.
and i would hate to have to do something about it myself.
but sometimes...
i'm having a long-standing issue with our (relatively) new neighbors.
i don't know if you remember, but way back in november, our newish neighbors put a sculpture of an "Indian Brave" on the decorative low wall in their front yard. my initial reaction was a general WTF? i mean, its sooo stereotypical, and racist as hell, and it was just suddenly there, like it grew out of the ground one night.
a week later, i realized, "ohhh... its a thanksgiving decoration. a horribly racist thanksgiving decoration." i mean, for fuck's sake... really... you want to put that up as a thanksgiving decoration? all right. i sort of understand. but remind me to get you a copy of "A People's History of the United States," by Howard Zinn.
can i also mention, the matriarch of this family is a school-teacher? public education is great, except for the fact that it exposes one's children to the public... sigh...
anyway, yes. so i tried to let the indian go. not my business. and i let it go throughout december too. i mean, its still the holiday season, and i don't take my decorations down like, ever, if i get around to putting them up. no really, its totally common for people to leave their christmas lights on all year round in my neighborhood. i mean, on the house. you don't light them up at night, unless its like, your birthday or something.
but now we get to the crux of the matter.
the indian is still there.
its february. thanksgiving is long gone, and it was barely an excuse, so far as i'm concerned. christmas is over. mlk day has even passed us by. there is no, fucking, reason to have that thing out there anymore. i still find it really disturbing.
i have fantasies of taking it down at night and leaving it on their stoop, facing the front door and ready to be found in the morning. there'll be a sticky note on its forehead; "Hey! I'm racist!" maybe just put the sticky on and leave it where it is. or maybe just hit it with a baseball bat until it goes away.
its their bad taste, and its their private property, but aren't these the reasons that zoning laws exist? doesn't public opinion (or at least my opinion) carry a certain weight?
i hate that motherfucking indian.
and i would hate to have to do something about it myself.
but sometimes...
Thursday, February 7, 2008
I May Be an Utter Doofus
things is bad.
today i had to ask someone else if i liked them. because i genuinely didn't know if i liked them.
i don't trust my gut when it comes to quasi-romantic stuff anymore, because i just don't. i'm not getting into it right now.
i don't trust my gut, so i just ignored my first impressions and decided i would keep talking to him. if i liked him, he would grow on me until it became obvious. right?
no. its been a month or two, and i was still confused. so i asked.
he told me, quite honestly, that no, i definitely did not like him, but i would find somebody yet, so don't fret.
the sad thing is, he's completely right. i don't like him. its not a question of him being an acquired taste, or his being a different kind of person than i normally get involved with. i just don't like him.
god bless the internet for making such things possible.
and god bless me for being such a hapless, though lovable (maybe?), twit.
and god bless him, for being honest.
i really need professional help...
today i had to ask someone else if i liked them. because i genuinely didn't know if i liked them.
i don't trust my gut when it comes to quasi-romantic stuff anymore, because i just don't. i'm not getting into it right now.
i don't trust my gut, so i just ignored my first impressions and decided i would keep talking to him. if i liked him, he would grow on me until it became obvious. right?
no. its been a month or two, and i was still confused. so i asked.
he told me, quite honestly, that no, i definitely did not like him, but i would find somebody yet, so don't fret.
the sad thing is, he's completely right. i don't like him. its not a question of him being an acquired taste, or his being a different kind of person than i normally get involved with. i just don't like him.
god bless the internet for making such things possible.
and god bless me for being such a hapless, though lovable (maybe?), twit.
and god bless him, for being honest.
i really need professional help...
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Just For The Record...
if you meet someone, and in the course of conversation, they tell you they are jewish, do not, DO NOT, say:
"oh! i knew that!"
or:
"i would have guessed that!"
or:
"well, that makes sense!"
none of the above are appropriate responses, and even if they are completely, COMPLETELY true, you will sound like a total douche, and your new jewish friend, will more than likely be feeling less friendly.
because they will be asking themselves:
"what stereotype did you buy into that makes you assume i'm jewish!?"
c'mon people. use your fricking heads. we don't go up to people and say, "howdy, you're a mexican, aren't you!"
its RUDE!
same goes for jews. hey big nose; hey kike; hey money-lover; hey neurotic; hey whiner; hey smartie; hey nerd; hey christ-killer. these are what cross our minds when you say, "well of COURSE you're a jew!" i have to stop being a person, interacting with another person (marginal person, perhaps, in your case) and be THE JEW. i have to stop being a complex human being, and wonder exactly what caricature i've been reduced to in your head.
and yes, most people have to go through this to some degree. no. most people who are of minority status have to go through this. and if its a question of "passing" for whatever is normal in the area (white usually, and protestant usually) jews have it easier than many. we're often white, in a way, and religion is usually, USUALLY, a private matter. people who are not white invite judgement just by wearing the skin they were born with.
truly, i shouldn't bitch.
but i do. because i'm pissed off. maybe because i have never met as many people with ass-backwards ideas about jews as i have in texas. maybe because those same people have no desire to be educated about the subject, but are quite happy with their ignorance, thank you very much. maybe because those people are just so happy to share, in a completely good-natured way, their views with me. maybe because i'm just born to bitch; perhaps its my raison d'etre, my purpose in life, what have you.
it makes me want to strike a new deal with the general populace. if you feel the need to tell me just what you think i am, then i will reciprocate in kind. in the most offensive and bigoted way i can imagine.
so when it happens, if it happens, you just drink it down. savor it! you've earned it!
"oh! i knew that!"
or:
"i would have guessed that!"
or:
"well, that makes sense!"
none of the above are appropriate responses, and even if they are completely, COMPLETELY true, you will sound like a total douche, and your new jewish friend, will more than likely be feeling less friendly.
because they will be asking themselves:
"what stereotype did you buy into that makes you assume i'm jewish!?"
c'mon people. use your fricking heads. we don't go up to people and say, "howdy, you're a mexican, aren't you!"
its RUDE!
same goes for jews. hey big nose; hey kike; hey money-lover; hey neurotic; hey whiner; hey smartie; hey nerd; hey christ-killer. these are what cross our minds when you say, "well of COURSE you're a jew!" i have to stop being a person, interacting with another person (marginal person, perhaps, in your case) and be THE JEW. i have to stop being a complex human being, and wonder exactly what caricature i've been reduced to in your head.
and yes, most people have to go through this to some degree. no. most people who are of minority status have to go through this. and if its a question of "passing" for whatever is normal in the area (white usually, and protestant usually) jews have it easier than many. we're often white, in a way, and religion is usually, USUALLY, a private matter. people who are not white invite judgement just by wearing the skin they were born with.
truly, i shouldn't bitch.
but i do. because i'm pissed off. maybe because i have never met as many people with ass-backwards ideas about jews as i have in texas. maybe because those same people have no desire to be educated about the subject, but are quite happy with their ignorance, thank you very much. maybe because those people are just so happy to share, in a completely good-natured way, their views with me. maybe because i'm just born to bitch; perhaps its my raison d'etre, my purpose in life, what have you.
it makes me want to strike a new deal with the general populace. if you feel the need to tell me just what you think i am, then i will reciprocate in kind. in the most offensive and bigoted way i can imagine.
so when it happens, if it happens, you just drink it down. savor it! you've earned it!
Sunday, February 3, 2008
February is for Chumps
it happened on the first day of the month. it happened at work. i was ringing someone up, and looking for an envelope to put their new "Starbucks Card" in. we now have lots of Christmas envelopes that were delivered late. its all right though, they're pretty. but the customer had chosen one of our "hearts! stars! deer! cupids! red! pink! love! whee!" cards, and i actually managed to find a pack of our valentine's day envelopes. and i suddenly remembered.
i fucking hate valentine's day.
i totally have to start swilling my haterade. big time. because i only have a week and a half to fully express just how much i really dislike valentine's day.
and i would like a show of hands by those of you who are actually surprised that i hate this particular craptacular "holiday." hmm. no hands. good. i like when the audience starts getting a sense of who they're dealing with. you all get to live until tomorrow. have fun with that.
the groundhog saw his shadow, which means six more weeks of winter, or, that bill murray and andie macdowell will really hook up for good and break the curse.
my hair is growing out. i'm starting to clip the front strands to the side of my head so they don't explode out into the faces of those i talk to. the clip has gotten a wide range of reactions from co-workers. it also made me burst out laughing because i realized it would be really funny (to me...) to tell everyone, "you know, i've just been fooling you all up until now. i'm actually wearing the clip because i'm the world's ugliest twelve year old girl." its that kind of clip. and truly, if i were a twelve year old girl, offing me would be a mercy killing. twelve year old girls should never look like me; starting with the beard, passing by way of my full six feet and two inches to my size eleven and a half feet, with a quick stop-off at my junk.
junk.
so i've been talking to this guy who lives in houston. and its nice, because i really sort of don't care what he thinks of me. which is liberating. usually, i end up attracted to people who make me so desperate to win their approval that i stutter, fall all over myself, and end up looking exactly like the nervous wreck that i am. this guy, i just talk to. i say horrible things to him. they're all true, these things, but they're horrible. i tell him i like talking to him because he can actually take care of the whole conversation by himself, and i can just kick back and listen. i tell him his accent sort of bothers me. (texas, born and bred, this one) i make my complete ambivalence known.
and he's just fine with it all. and not in the creepy "i like the abuse" way, or the "i like you so much i'll put up with the abuse" way. he just doesn't care what i say, and thinks that i'm only a pretend mean person. that i only say the things i say to try and keep myself safe from people. which a) means he's more perceptive than i've given him credit for, and that leads to b) i might have to destroy him.
but really, the key sentence in the above paragraphs is "i make my complete ambivalence known."
its accurate.
i feel very, very, VERY ambivalent about the whole damn thing. i don't know what i think about him. i don't know how i feel about him. i don't care what he thinks of me, and i give him rough treatment and scathing honesty. as revenge for telling him some personal details about me (nothing dangerous or compromising, you pervs. and he asked, that's why i told him. he asked me to "tell [him] things about [me].") i acted especially callous and aloof the next time we talked, to try and force some distance between us. it didn't really work. he knows what i'm doing, and it amuses him. which is in truth, much much better than someone not seeing what i'm doing, being hurt by my actions, and asking me honestly what's going on and did they do something wrong. i hate those people. i hate them like i hate fat ugly racists.
so anyway, beyond the question of what to do about this houston gentleman (who expects no sex, nor does he actually expect us to meet in real life any time in the near future) lies the greater issue here exposed. i live in extreme, out and out bowel-clenching fear of intimacy. i look upon mutual affection the way most people look upon a hidden nest of cockroaches that they've just pulled the plaster away from and are staring clear in the face. i think feelings are warm and moist and squishy and squelchy, like oozy pond scum that you can't brush off; it just clings to your hand, and then its on your clothes, and soon, you're covered in it.
the threat of love leaves me cold.
i have fantasies of breaking people's hearts, just because its so easy to do, and because it seems like a smarter option than letting myself become entangled with another human being. in my brain, it all reduces to the mother of all power plays, and when i think about it in those terms, i don't want to come to a mutually satisfactory agreement. i want to fucking WIN. i want to navigate out of any such compromising position while giving up a minimum of myself and keeping as inviolable and invulnerable as possible. i'll hurt people to accomplish this. there are no fucking rules when this shit is at stake.
but i'm lonely. so i pull people in, and then push them away. over, and over, and over again. sometimes the same person, sometimes i switch around. but the pattern is always the same. and it isn't, healthy.
there are a lot of things wrapped up in this. there are a lot of reasons why this is the way i am. but that doesn't make it any better. it doesn't excuse me.
i didn't see the movie, but i'm fascinated with the title "A Mighty Heart". i should see the movie. it was supposed to be great. but lets ponder for a second, the phrase "a mighty heart."
what does that phrase bring to your mind?
for me, it presents a vastly different imagining of the heart, and how its currency (love) functions. i go by the conservative, economic model. i'm terrified of giving myself, my love, away. i hoard it. i imagine it can be used up, and that if i spend too freely, one day i will wake up and my heart will be empty. there will be nothing left of me. my secrets will all reside in other people's brains, and other people's hearts. i'll be an empty room, with all the windows open. there will be nothing left of me. nothing left to give. and i will be alone, and loveless.
the phrase "a mighty heart" is a different model entirely. the mighty heart is not a receptacle to be filled and guarded; the mighty heart is a font of love, a producer of love. the mighty heart is not afraid of giving itself away too freely, or of being rebuffed, battered, and treated poorly. it scoffs at the idea of running out of love. for the mighty heart is ever producing more, all on its own. the mighty heart knows that love inevitably brings pain, and suffering. there will always be tears, and sleepless nights. but the mighty heart looks at the balance, the warmth and the light, and the promise of hope, against any resultant pains and betrayals. it looks at the balance, and over and over again, openly, gladly, it says "Yes. Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes!"
the mighty heart invites it all in. and when one experience is over, the mighty heart is full of that experience, every other experience its had, and its own mad, dizzy love that is fueled by its own pumping. the mighty heart understands that love is not best measured on a ledger sheet. love is an endless cycle, and each of us are producers, sellers, buyers, and consumers of love. you can't run out. if your heart is running properly, if it is truly mighty, you are always at least full of your own love, even if you lack that of others.
don't misunderstand. i'm not advocating any sort of brainless acceptance of any and all comers. but it all reminds me of my own final thoughts on my kiersey personality type. i'm more of a feeler than a thinker, but only by the barest of margins, and the two have traded places throughout my life. but my final assessment of this quirk in my makeup, is that i will forever reason and argue myself into positions where i can make a decision based on what will satisfy my logical, rational side, or what will satisfy my intuitive, irrational side. and more often than not, i will choose to satisfy my intuitive, irrational heart, and make my peace with any subsequent cognitive dissonance or hypocrisy.
its like the ladies man eventually says about how he knew his wife was "the one". "yeah, she was beautiful, soulful, intelligent, sophistimicated, and also, i felt it in my pants." all the desirables are there, sure, but with or without the looks, or smarts, or humor, you still have to feel it in your pants. i need to feel my choices in my pants/heart. the have to satisfy my emotional, intuitive, fierce and wild side, or they cannot be satisfying at all.
but this is where i am now; i am not making choices based on what is best for my emotional and spiritual growth. i am not making any decisions. i'm not letting myself be in situations where people and love and relationships present themselves. i've taken my bucket of love, and am burying it deeper and deeper within my heart; deeper with every disappointment and pain that i feel. i keep excavating, looking for the perfect, secure safe-house for my love. and meanwhile, my heart grows colder, and more shriveled and dry, like a comet hurtling through space.
all right. this is getting melodramatic.
suffice it to say, my heart doesn't feel mighty. my heart feels fragile. and it all probably links into my low self-esteem, my issues with loving myself, my parent issues, my previous relationships (if they really merit that title), being a victim of sexual assault, and a host of other things. i know what's going on. but i feel helpless to fix it. i don't know how to begin. i don't know where to start. i need help.
and i am greatly looking forward to the promise of therapy once the benefits from my job kick in.
but my meditation, i think, must be the mighty heart. i desire to have a mighty heart once again. and it will be a while, and it will take work, but it is my goal to once more have a mighty heart.
and i will not fail.
and valentine's day can suck it. it can suck it dry.
i fucking hate valentine's day.
i totally have to start swilling my haterade. big time. because i only have a week and a half to fully express just how much i really dislike valentine's day.
and i would like a show of hands by those of you who are actually surprised that i hate this particular craptacular "holiday." hmm. no hands. good. i like when the audience starts getting a sense of who they're dealing with. you all get to live until tomorrow. have fun with that.
the groundhog saw his shadow, which means six more weeks of winter, or, that bill murray and andie macdowell will really hook up for good and break the curse.
my hair is growing out. i'm starting to clip the front strands to the side of my head so they don't explode out into the faces of those i talk to. the clip has gotten a wide range of reactions from co-workers. it also made me burst out laughing because i realized it would be really funny (to me...) to tell everyone, "you know, i've just been fooling you all up until now. i'm actually wearing the clip because i'm the world's ugliest twelve year old girl." its that kind of clip. and truly, if i were a twelve year old girl, offing me would be a mercy killing. twelve year old girls should never look like me; starting with the beard, passing by way of my full six feet and two inches to my size eleven and a half feet, with a quick stop-off at my junk.
junk.
so i've been talking to this guy who lives in houston. and its nice, because i really sort of don't care what he thinks of me. which is liberating. usually, i end up attracted to people who make me so desperate to win their approval that i stutter, fall all over myself, and end up looking exactly like the nervous wreck that i am. this guy, i just talk to. i say horrible things to him. they're all true, these things, but they're horrible. i tell him i like talking to him because he can actually take care of the whole conversation by himself, and i can just kick back and listen. i tell him his accent sort of bothers me. (texas, born and bred, this one) i make my complete ambivalence known.
and he's just fine with it all. and not in the creepy "i like the abuse" way, or the "i like you so much i'll put up with the abuse" way. he just doesn't care what i say, and thinks that i'm only a pretend mean person. that i only say the things i say to try and keep myself safe from people. which a) means he's more perceptive than i've given him credit for, and that leads to b) i might have to destroy him.
but really, the key sentence in the above paragraphs is "i make my complete ambivalence known."
its accurate.
i feel very, very, VERY ambivalent about the whole damn thing. i don't know what i think about him. i don't know how i feel about him. i don't care what he thinks of me, and i give him rough treatment and scathing honesty. as revenge for telling him some personal details about me (nothing dangerous or compromising, you pervs. and he asked, that's why i told him. he asked me to "tell [him] things about [me].") i acted especially callous and aloof the next time we talked, to try and force some distance between us. it didn't really work. he knows what i'm doing, and it amuses him. which is in truth, much much better than someone not seeing what i'm doing, being hurt by my actions, and asking me honestly what's going on and did they do something wrong. i hate those people. i hate them like i hate fat ugly racists.
so anyway, beyond the question of what to do about this houston gentleman (who expects no sex, nor does he actually expect us to meet in real life any time in the near future) lies the greater issue here exposed. i live in extreme, out and out bowel-clenching fear of intimacy. i look upon mutual affection the way most people look upon a hidden nest of cockroaches that they've just pulled the plaster away from and are staring clear in the face. i think feelings are warm and moist and squishy and squelchy, like oozy pond scum that you can't brush off; it just clings to your hand, and then its on your clothes, and soon, you're covered in it.
the threat of love leaves me cold.
i have fantasies of breaking people's hearts, just because its so easy to do, and because it seems like a smarter option than letting myself become entangled with another human being. in my brain, it all reduces to the mother of all power plays, and when i think about it in those terms, i don't want to come to a mutually satisfactory agreement. i want to fucking WIN. i want to navigate out of any such compromising position while giving up a minimum of myself and keeping as inviolable and invulnerable as possible. i'll hurt people to accomplish this. there are no fucking rules when this shit is at stake.
but i'm lonely. so i pull people in, and then push them away. over, and over, and over again. sometimes the same person, sometimes i switch around. but the pattern is always the same. and it isn't, healthy.
there are a lot of things wrapped up in this. there are a lot of reasons why this is the way i am. but that doesn't make it any better. it doesn't excuse me.
i didn't see the movie, but i'm fascinated with the title "A Mighty Heart". i should see the movie. it was supposed to be great. but lets ponder for a second, the phrase "a mighty heart."
what does that phrase bring to your mind?
for me, it presents a vastly different imagining of the heart, and how its currency (love) functions. i go by the conservative, economic model. i'm terrified of giving myself, my love, away. i hoard it. i imagine it can be used up, and that if i spend too freely, one day i will wake up and my heart will be empty. there will be nothing left of me. my secrets will all reside in other people's brains, and other people's hearts. i'll be an empty room, with all the windows open. there will be nothing left of me. nothing left to give. and i will be alone, and loveless.
the phrase "a mighty heart" is a different model entirely. the mighty heart is not a receptacle to be filled and guarded; the mighty heart is a font of love, a producer of love. the mighty heart is not afraid of giving itself away too freely, or of being rebuffed, battered, and treated poorly. it scoffs at the idea of running out of love. for the mighty heart is ever producing more, all on its own. the mighty heart knows that love inevitably brings pain, and suffering. there will always be tears, and sleepless nights. but the mighty heart looks at the balance, the warmth and the light, and the promise of hope, against any resultant pains and betrayals. it looks at the balance, and over and over again, openly, gladly, it says "Yes. Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes!"
the mighty heart invites it all in. and when one experience is over, the mighty heart is full of that experience, every other experience its had, and its own mad, dizzy love that is fueled by its own pumping. the mighty heart understands that love is not best measured on a ledger sheet. love is an endless cycle, and each of us are producers, sellers, buyers, and consumers of love. you can't run out. if your heart is running properly, if it is truly mighty, you are always at least full of your own love, even if you lack that of others.
don't misunderstand. i'm not advocating any sort of brainless acceptance of any and all comers. but it all reminds me of my own final thoughts on my kiersey personality type. i'm more of a feeler than a thinker, but only by the barest of margins, and the two have traded places throughout my life. but my final assessment of this quirk in my makeup, is that i will forever reason and argue myself into positions where i can make a decision based on what will satisfy my logical, rational side, or what will satisfy my intuitive, irrational side. and more often than not, i will choose to satisfy my intuitive, irrational heart, and make my peace with any subsequent cognitive dissonance or hypocrisy.
its like the ladies man eventually says about how he knew his wife was "the one". "yeah, she was beautiful, soulful, intelligent, sophistimicated, and also, i felt it in my pants." all the desirables are there, sure, but with or without the looks, or smarts, or humor, you still have to feel it in your pants. i need to feel my choices in my pants/heart. the have to satisfy my emotional, intuitive, fierce and wild side, or they cannot be satisfying at all.
but this is where i am now; i am not making choices based on what is best for my emotional and spiritual growth. i am not making any decisions. i'm not letting myself be in situations where people and love and relationships present themselves. i've taken my bucket of love, and am burying it deeper and deeper within my heart; deeper with every disappointment and pain that i feel. i keep excavating, looking for the perfect, secure safe-house for my love. and meanwhile, my heart grows colder, and more shriveled and dry, like a comet hurtling through space.
all right. this is getting melodramatic.
suffice it to say, my heart doesn't feel mighty. my heart feels fragile. and it all probably links into my low self-esteem, my issues with loving myself, my parent issues, my previous relationships (if they really merit that title), being a victim of sexual assault, and a host of other things. i know what's going on. but i feel helpless to fix it. i don't know how to begin. i don't know where to start. i need help.
and i am greatly looking forward to the promise of therapy once the benefits from my job kick in.
but my meditation, i think, must be the mighty heart. i desire to have a mighty heart once again. and it will be a while, and it will take work, but it is my goal to once more have a mighty heart.
and i will not fail.
and valentine's day can suck it. it can suck it dry.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
New Mexico, Amongst Other Things
so i took a trip to new mexico. january 6-9, 2008. it was awesome. let me tell you about it.
i made the plans for this trip way back when, when i was unemployed, and miserable, in the middle of moving back to san antonio, and just not having a lot of fun. so i did something uncharacteristic of me. i said, "Fuck It." i said fuck it to being unhappy, and fuck it not having any fun. i said fuck it to not seeing my friends for years at a time. i said fuck it to not allowing myself to do something that would be good for me, fun for me, healthy for me, pleasant for me.
i booked a round trip flight to albuquerque, and my friend M. did the same. i made plans to rent a car, we made a general plan of what sites we would like to see, and we just fucking went for it.
there is a reason, that not many people tour new mexico in the dead of winter, but we will get to that later. first, some backstory.
i have a passing familiarity with new mexico. during a special year of jew-camp, my bunk went on a bus trip across the southwest. we passed through "The Land of Enchantment" (new mexico's official state motto) and hit up carlsbad caverns (awesome!!!) and white sands (also awesome! totally got heat stroke!) on our way through. later, like, last spring, i scored tests for Harcourt Assessment, which is a standardized testing company. this, by the way, makes me think of Harcourt as a satan-inspired bureaucratic maze, all with the overarching aim of fitting children into tiny boxes. i am not a fan, to put it simply. they are a bad place. they use people up until they are bitter and wasted, shrivelled in mind and body like a prune, and then they cut them loose. they use a lot of temporary labor, so they have the freedom to get rid of anyone who doesn't toe lines fairly easily, with no mention of severance packages, etc. and you can fucking FORGET about benefits and office perks. the best perk they have to offer is if your cubicle is within a five minute walk from the coffee machine.
anyway... so spring 2007, i scored tests at night for them. i was even promoted to team leader! go me! i can excel, even at jobs i motherfucking HATE! yes. i'm that good. but the point is that our tests were from new mexico schools. and i gotta tell ya... if these tests were any indication (and they are) public education in this country is pretty damn effed up. i mean, i sort of knew that already. but now i have actual solid data, and i am relaying my findings to you. a lot of the kids didn't understand the questions. many were practically unable to write, or to string a couple sentences together. there was clearly a breakdown between what they wanted to say, and their ability to say it. and this was like, fifth grade. we're not talking "write a well reasoned post modern critique of latinos in film since 1975," etc. blah blah blah. then again, the vast number of people are not all that intelligent, so i suppose i shouldn't get all broken up about it.
but i do.
but it was clear, at any rate, that the state was poor, an intriguing mix of anglo, hispanic, and american indian cultures. it was clear, furthermore, that it must be pretty damn dry if the state tree is a yucca.
for the uninitiated, a yucca is sort of like a palm tree equipped for desert warfare. it usually has lance-like leaves, tough and leather. it slowly drops the older ones to develop a sort of stubby trunk like affair. it will put out a flower stalk ranging from a few feet to twenty feet, and there you have it. its what the sand people in star wars would grow in their patio garden, IN ORDER TO MAKE IT LOOK LUSH. because your other options are cacti, and SAND.
so M. and i arrive in new mexico, get our rental PT Cruiser (which is an odd off-yellow color...), and drive for the north-west, a land rich in mountains, mesas, pinon trees, indian reservations, and indian casinos. our goal, four corners. lame, but whatever, we're on vacation, and we're already really enjoying each other's company. i haven't seen M. for truly, years. i miss her, terribly. it was so good to see her, and so quickly lapse back into this whole rich friendship that had been on hold. like, all the behaviors, the sayings, the references, the music, the dynamic... it was all so suddenly there, and it all made such perfect sense... its like coming home. its "THIS is what a friendship feels like!" its knowing someone so well, and having them know you... it was good. it was really good. it might have been the best part of the trip, in all truth.
so to try and break this down (because i want to give you a schematic for our travels before i devolve (or evolve?) into stories) i'm going to give a basic list of our activities. as a help to both of us, the predominant activity was driving.
1) drove to town fifteen miles away from four corners. get a motel room. (with wireless, for M.'s computer)
2) retrace steps to indian casino for "Sunday Night Special: Fried Chicken Plate; $5.99!" M. has a bit of a fried chicken fetish.
3) almost get caught in the middle of a fight in which the word "baby-daddy" was tossed around, as were some fists, a table or two, and a well-aimed gob of spit. this after M. asks, "why are there so many security guards in the casino dining room?" well, now we know. we each lose five dollars worth of quarters at the slots. i wonder what people find fun about gambling. we go home and go to sleep.
4) wake up to snow. snow all over north-western new mexico. a family of four, and a couple, are missing. (all six are eventually found, in good health.) plans for four corners are scrapped. next stop on itinerary, Roswell, in the severe south-east of the state.
5) drive. a lot.
6) albuquerque. we eat food. M. takes the wheel for a bit. we head south through mountains, and stop off at a store called "Jackalope." initially, we had high hopes, but it turned out to be a new mexico chain that seems to be aiming at some of pier one's market share. we move on.
7) after M. screaming "PUEB-AH-LOH!" every time we pass a sign for an indian pueblo, we decide to finally visit one. we drive around for five minutes and look at the little houses and buildings, and tribal leadership quarters, and immediately start to feel like stupid american tourists invading a little community. it was voyeuristic, and wrong, and though i doubt anyone much cared, we both apologize for barging in. our bad.
8) M. continues driving through dusk. we head through "Jornada del Muerte," or "The Plains of Death," cross a mesa, and then fly through the "Malpais Lava Flow," which was pretty fucking awesome. and when i say fly, i mean to say that M. managed to get our trusty cruiser up to 100 mph in el Jornada del Muerte. and truthfully, watching the flat, stunted expanse fly by, you couldn't even tell.
9) M. starts driving as night falls. gets distracted by glare. i take the wheel.
10) ROSWELL!!! we get a room at a motel, check on the status of the New Hampshire Primary, watch "Golden Girls," and go to bed.
11) Roswell International U.F.O. Museum and Research Center. it truly is a labor of love for all the many, many dorks who have contributed blow-ups of 1948 newspapers, dioramas of the crash-site, x-files posters, national geographic maps, original artwork, and all the other many maquettes, models, and brouhaha that take up the space. note: this is where i picked up the majority of souvenirs for my family. i also got my picture taken and inserted into a background of a u.f.o. and aliens in a field. i doffed my hat to the visitor. he placidly looked on. i have three copies for myself and posterity.
12) later that same day, the roswell museum of art. actually, many gift-shops intervene. at one, i purchase a t-shirt showing a little "Grey" (the aliens with the big heads who are about three feet high. yes, they've categorized the creatures...) striking Leonardo da Vinci's classic "Vitruvian Man" pose. you know, circle, man inside, limbs straight down, and then extended? yeah. awesome. we also take pictures of a shiny metal silo.
13) lunch at "Cattle Baron." M. has prime rib. i go with fried catfish. we both partake of the salad bar.
14) as we have exhausted most of what Roswell has to offer, we drive. we drive east, joking about reaching the texas border. we drive with the sun at our backs and the sky streaking orange and pink. we stop at a ghost town and take a great many pictures of the abandoned building. i want to go to the old cemetery, but M. says no. i acquiesce. there might have been snakes anyway. better off avoiding the unbeaten path.
15) back to Roswell for more golden girls (i'm afraid to say that i think i'm rose... the dumb one from minnesota. i would KILL to be dorothy. i heart bea arthur. but alas, i'm rose.) and bed.
16) WHATABURGER! M. has never been to a whataburger, so we partake of breakfast at one. i do not care for fast food, just a general statement. M. has a bacon cheeseburger. she is pleased. i have two breakfast muffins with sausage. i am stuffed. we start back to albuquerque and the airport.
17) we almost have a fight involving the amount of soda i drink, and the accompanying regularity of my needing to stop and use the restroom. M. alleges i should see a doctor. i allege that she's being ridiculous.
18) the lava flows once again break my heart.
19) try as i might, i cannot force the cruiser up to 100 mph on our second trip through the plains of death.
20) we do some random souvenir shopping in the city, and then, we go our separate ways. i buy a silver bracelet from Java and a necklace made of Chinese Turquoise. which sort of negates going to New Mexico. ah well. M. gets some southwestern jewelry, and we share a last few moments before my taxi comes to get me. (my flight leaves before hers.)
so now i'm back. everyone liked their souvenirs. i'm thrilled with my haul. i have a digital camera full of blurry pictures of mountains and and plains, and documentation of everything in Roswell, as well as the ghost town. i saw M., and it was so so so so wonderful. i forget what a good, solid friendship feels like sometimes. i have good friends in town, but somehow, its different. its liberating to almost lose control of the car when your friend shouts "JACKALOOOOPE!!!" or "PUEB-AH-LOH!!!", and then you both collapse into fits of laughter. its wonderful to have a conversation about the use of spit in a fight. and its just been so long, since i've been so so happy just existing with someone by my side. it might have been the best trip ever. and next time, we're doing arizona.
i made the plans for this trip way back when, when i was unemployed, and miserable, in the middle of moving back to san antonio, and just not having a lot of fun. so i did something uncharacteristic of me. i said, "Fuck It." i said fuck it to being unhappy, and fuck it not having any fun. i said fuck it to not seeing my friends for years at a time. i said fuck it to not allowing myself to do something that would be good for me, fun for me, healthy for me, pleasant for me.
i booked a round trip flight to albuquerque, and my friend M. did the same. i made plans to rent a car, we made a general plan of what sites we would like to see, and we just fucking went for it.
there is a reason, that not many people tour new mexico in the dead of winter, but we will get to that later. first, some backstory.
i have a passing familiarity with new mexico. during a special year of jew-camp, my bunk went on a bus trip across the southwest. we passed through "The Land of Enchantment" (new mexico's official state motto) and hit up carlsbad caverns (awesome!!!) and white sands (also awesome! totally got heat stroke!) on our way through. later, like, last spring, i scored tests for Harcourt Assessment, which is a standardized testing company. this, by the way, makes me think of Harcourt as a satan-inspired bureaucratic maze, all with the overarching aim of fitting children into tiny boxes. i am not a fan, to put it simply. they are a bad place. they use people up until they are bitter and wasted, shrivelled in mind and body like a prune, and then they cut them loose. they use a lot of temporary labor, so they have the freedom to get rid of anyone who doesn't toe lines fairly easily, with no mention of severance packages, etc. and you can fucking FORGET about benefits and office perks. the best perk they have to offer is if your cubicle is within a five minute walk from the coffee machine.
anyway... so spring 2007, i scored tests at night for them. i was even promoted to team leader! go me! i can excel, even at jobs i motherfucking HATE! yes. i'm that good. but the point is that our tests were from new mexico schools. and i gotta tell ya... if these tests were any indication (and they are) public education in this country is pretty damn effed up. i mean, i sort of knew that already. but now i have actual solid data, and i am relaying my findings to you. a lot of the kids didn't understand the questions. many were practically unable to write, or to string a couple sentences together. there was clearly a breakdown between what they wanted to say, and their ability to say it. and this was like, fifth grade. we're not talking "write a well reasoned post modern critique of latinos in film since 1975," etc. blah blah blah. then again, the vast number of people are not all that intelligent, so i suppose i shouldn't get all broken up about it.
but i do.
but it was clear, at any rate, that the state was poor, an intriguing mix of anglo, hispanic, and american indian cultures. it was clear, furthermore, that it must be pretty damn dry if the state tree is a yucca.
for the uninitiated, a yucca is sort of like a palm tree equipped for desert warfare. it usually has lance-like leaves, tough and leather. it slowly drops the older ones to develop a sort of stubby trunk like affair. it will put out a flower stalk ranging from a few feet to twenty feet, and there you have it. its what the sand people in star wars would grow in their patio garden, IN ORDER TO MAKE IT LOOK LUSH. because your other options are cacti, and SAND.
so M. and i arrive in new mexico, get our rental PT Cruiser (which is an odd off-yellow color...), and drive for the north-west, a land rich in mountains, mesas, pinon trees, indian reservations, and indian casinos. our goal, four corners. lame, but whatever, we're on vacation, and we're already really enjoying each other's company. i haven't seen M. for truly, years. i miss her, terribly. it was so good to see her, and so quickly lapse back into this whole rich friendship that had been on hold. like, all the behaviors, the sayings, the references, the music, the dynamic... it was all so suddenly there, and it all made such perfect sense... its like coming home. its "THIS is what a friendship feels like!" its knowing someone so well, and having them know you... it was good. it was really good. it might have been the best part of the trip, in all truth.
so to try and break this down (because i want to give you a schematic for our travels before i devolve (or evolve?) into stories) i'm going to give a basic list of our activities. as a help to both of us, the predominant activity was driving.
1) drove to town fifteen miles away from four corners. get a motel room. (with wireless, for M.'s computer)
2) retrace steps to indian casino for "Sunday Night Special: Fried Chicken Plate; $5.99!" M. has a bit of a fried chicken fetish.
3) almost get caught in the middle of a fight in which the word "baby-daddy" was tossed around, as were some fists, a table or two, and a well-aimed gob of spit. this after M. asks, "why are there so many security guards in the casino dining room?" well, now we know. we each lose five dollars worth of quarters at the slots. i wonder what people find fun about gambling. we go home and go to sleep.
4) wake up to snow. snow all over north-western new mexico. a family of four, and a couple, are missing. (all six are eventually found, in good health.) plans for four corners are scrapped. next stop on itinerary, Roswell, in the severe south-east of the state.
5) drive. a lot.
6) albuquerque. we eat food. M. takes the wheel for a bit. we head south through mountains, and stop off at a store called "Jackalope." initially, we had high hopes, but it turned out to be a new mexico chain that seems to be aiming at some of pier one's market share. we move on.
7) after M. screaming "PUEB-AH-LOH!" every time we pass a sign for an indian pueblo, we decide to finally visit one. we drive around for five minutes and look at the little houses and buildings, and tribal leadership quarters, and immediately start to feel like stupid american tourists invading a little community. it was voyeuristic, and wrong, and though i doubt anyone much cared, we both apologize for barging in. our bad.
8) M. continues driving through dusk. we head through "Jornada del Muerte," or "The Plains of Death," cross a mesa, and then fly through the "Malpais Lava Flow," which was pretty fucking awesome. and when i say fly, i mean to say that M. managed to get our trusty cruiser up to 100 mph in el Jornada del Muerte. and truthfully, watching the flat, stunted expanse fly by, you couldn't even tell.
9) M. starts driving as night falls. gets distracted by glare. i take the wheel.
10) ROSWELL!!! we get a room at a motel, check on the status of the New Hampshire Primary, watch "Golden Girls," and go to bed.
11) Roswell International U.F.O. Museum and Research Center. it truly is a labor of love for all the many, many dorks who have contributed blow-ups of 1948 newspapers, dioramas of the crash-site, x-files posters, national geographic maps, original artwork, and all the other many maquettes, models, and brouhaha that take up the space. note: this is where i picked up the majority of souvenirs for my family. i also got my picture taken and inserted into a background of a u.f.o. and aliens in a field. i doffed my hat to the visitor. he placidly looked on. i have three copies for myself and posterity.
12) later that same day, the roswell museum of art. actually, many gift-shops intervene. at one, i purchase a t-shirt showing a little "Grey" (the aliens with the big heads who are about three feet high. yes, they've categorized the creatures...) striking Leonardo da Vinci's classic "Vitruvian Man" pose. you know, circle, man inside, limbs straight down, and then extended? yeah. awesome. we also take pictures of a shiny metal silo.
13) lunch at "Cattle Baron." M. has prime rib. i go with fried catfish. we both partake of the salad bar.
14) as we have exhausted most of what Roswell has to offer, we drive. we drive east, joking about reaching the texas border. we drive with the sun at our backs and the sky streaking orange and pink. we stop at a ghost town and take a great many pictures of the abandoned building. i want to go to the old cemetery, but M. says no. i acquiesce. there might have been snakes anyway. better off avoiding the unbeaten path.
15) back to Roswell for more golden girls (i'm afraid to say that i think i'm rose... the dumb one from minnesota. i would KILL to be dorothy. i heart bea arthur. but alas, i'm rose.) and bed.
16) WHATABURGER! M. has never been to a whataburger, so we partake of breakfast at one. i do not care for fast food, just a general statement. M. has a bacon cheeseburger. she is pleased. i have two breakfast muffins with sausage. i am stuffed. we start back to albuquerque and the airport.
17) we almost have a fight involving the amount of soda i drink, and the accompanying regularity of my needing to stop and use the restroom. M. alleges i should see a doctor. i allege that she's being ridiculous.
18) the lava flows once again break my heart.
19) try as i might, i cannot force the cruiser up to 100 mph on our second trip through the plains of death.
20) we do some random souvenir shopping in the city, and then, we go our separate ways. i buy a silver bracelet from Java and a necklace made of Chinese Turquoise. which sort of negates going to New Mexico. ah well. M. gets some southwestern jewelry, and we share a last few moments before my taxi comes to get me. (my flight leaves before hers.)
so now i'm back. everyone liked their souvenirs. i'm thrilled with my haul. i have a digital camera full of blurry pictures of mountains and and plains, and documentation of everything in Roswell, as well as the ghost town. i saw M., and it was so so so so wonderful. i forget what a good, solid friendship feels like sometimes. i have good friends in town, but somehow, its different. its liberating to almost lose control of the car when your friend shouts "JACKALOOOOPE!!!" or "PUEB-AH-LOH!!!", and then you both collapse into fits of laughter. its wonderful to have a conversation about the use of spit in a fight. and its just been so long, since i've been so so happy just existing with someone by my side. it might have been the best trip ever. and next time, we're doing arizona.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Promises of Things to Come
i am alive.
some of you might have been wondering. i know i've been woefully unactive here in blog-land. its an issue. and part of it is that i'm still digesting a great many things that have happened.
granted, i also know that blogging aids the digestion process, but still... it just all feels like a big sunny swirl in my head, and its pleasant, and i'm not sure how much i want to start picking apart a corpse. i'd rather let the memories remain alive and amorphous in my head right now. i can start telling stories soon. but i'm not ready to yet.
part of me is tired of telling stories.
it really is starting to feel like writing an account of an event, is like taking the living memory, sticking it in a jar of ether, and then dismembering the corpse, examining each part, and then laying them out on the table in as close to a copy of real life as you can manage. but it doesn't all quite fit together anymore. some parts have to be shifted, and isn't it sort of better as a whole to fix that little aspect? this part relates to this part, that thing just distracts, and soon you have frankenfrog.
i had christmas. i went to new mexico. i own a drum. i stood in the plains of death. i hung up the phone on a retarded person (BY ACCIDENT!!!). i drove through mountains. i finally saw juno. i backed into my sister's friend's car, and she's been being a total cunt about it. i watched the sun set on a ghost town.
and i've thought about all these things, lots and lots. and i've thought about other things too.
i've thought about how some people use the terms "independent" and "willing to listen to both sides of the issue" to avoid making an actual moral stand of their own.
i've thought about how too much news can make me unhappy.
i've thought about how stupid so much of life is.
and i don't think any of this thinking makes me "deep" or "wise." i've just been doing it. i don't own a t.v. i have to spend my time doing something...
i have a lot to say. i'll start saying it soon. until then, know that i'm alive, and feeling good.
and yes, it is possible for me to feel good. thank you ever so much for asking.
some of you might have been wondering. i know i've been woefully unactive here in blog-land. its an issue. and part of it is that i'm still digesting a great many things that have happened.
granted, i also know that blogging aids the digestion process, but still... it just all feels like a big sunny swirl in my head, and its pleasant, and i'm not sure how much i want to start picking apart a corpse. i'd rather let the memories remain alive and amorphous in my head right now. i can start telling stories soon. but i'm not ready to yet.
part of me is tired of telling stories.
it really is starting to feel like writing an account of an event, is like taking the living memory, sticking it in a jar of ether, and then dismembering the corpse, examining each part, and then laying them out on the table in as close to a copy of real life as you can manage. but it doesn't all quite fit together anymore. some parts have to be shifted, and isn't it sort of better as a whole to fix that little aspect? this part relates to this part, that thing just distracts, and soon you have frankenfrog.
i had christmas. i went to new mexico. i own a drum. i stood in the plains of death. i hung up the phone on a retarded person (BY ACCIDENT!!!). i drove through mountains. i finally saw juno. i backed into my sister's friend's car, and she's been being a total cunt about it. i watched the sun set on a ghost town.
and i've thought about all these things, lots and lots. and i've thought about other things too.
i've thought about how some people use the terms "independent" and "willing to listen to both sides of the issue" to avoid making an actual moral stand of their own.
i've thought about how too much news can make me unhappy.
i've thought about how stupid so much of life is.
and i don't think any of this thinking makes me "deep" or "wise." i've just been doing it. i don't own a t.v. i have to spend my time doing something...
i have a lot to say. i'll start saying it soon. until then, know that i'm alive, and feeling good.
and yes, it is possible for me to feel good. thank you ever so much for asking.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Fulfillments
satisfaction is a tough bird to run down. fulfillment isn't easily caught, and if it is caught, it always slides away before too long. there's a constant hunt, a humanity-wide perpetual motion machine of seeking that holy grail.
at least, i'm a perpetual motion machine in my search for fulfillment. for all kinds of fulfillment, all at the same time. like the multiple orgasm, cluster-fuck of fulfillment. i want fulfillment in every available hole, tickling every nerve ending, engaging every aspect of my body and brain and soul. clearly, this is never going to fully happen.
my mom told me about a workshop she went to that discussed "two basic types of people". all these "two types of people" things are bullshit. but this one serves as an interesting tool. there are "satisfizers," and "maximizers." satisfizers look at what they have, evaluate the situation they're presented with, and choose to be all right with it. some things could be better, some could be worse, but all in all, they decide that they're going to be happy with what they've got. they either choose to be satisfied, or its simply a hardwired behavior. maximizers look at that same situation, and slowly drive themselves insane. they can't accept what's in front of them, or are unwilling to accept it. there's this little detail that could be tweaked this way, and that irritating fold that could be undone and flattened. the imperfections well huge in their vision, and they set out to get as much out of the situation as they can. they need to maximize returns.
guess which one i am...
just guess...
sometimes, i would like to be a satisfizer. i would like to be at peace with myself, with my surroundings, my life as it currently is. i want to sit down, and not feel like there's something that urgently needs doing. i want to live without the harsh voice in my head that's constantly telling me i could have done that better, or that i don't do enough, etc, etc, etc. and this gets caught up with my own... obsessive nature. or my low self esteem and its backpack full of need for acceptance. i want to be a satisfizer. i want to be happy. but most of the time, the thought of sitting back and feeling complete and full frightens me. it feels like laziness, and it feels like a surrender to forces that are, in fairness, out of my control. i don't know a life where i'm not hungry. where there isn't some project that i'm pouring myself into. i don't know days when i'm not yearning for something, or lusting after it, or pursuing it like a shark, or in my own patented, round-a-bout way. and most importantly, i don't believe i'd be truly alive if i wasn't hot on the heels of my next promise of (temporary) deliverance.
i was so fucking thrilled with my job at starbucks. and yes, that was a past tense "was" in the previous sentence. i still like the job. i like having a job. i like getting a bit of a pay check. i'm not thrilled at having to go back to austin to finish emptying out my apartment, but its something to get through and i can spend the rest of my life trying to sort out what those two years in austin meant, in the grand scheme of things. the people at the shop are nice. i'm making fewer mistakes. the manager is pleased with my work at the bar. i'm quite pleased with my work at the register. its fine. its really just fine.
but its not enough. i knew it wouldn't be enough. it wasn't supposed to be enough. i can never have "enough." i want more. i want harder. i want better. i want faster. i want stronger. i want things to be deeper. i want things to be more meaningful. i want things to be more beautiful. i want things to be more sensitive. i want things to have more layers. i want things to be smarter, hipper, with a bangin' beat, and more genuine lyrics. i want more and more and more and more and more!
i'm like Veruca Salt from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory; the one who wants the world, who wants the WHOLE world, who wants to lock it all up in her pocket, its her bar of chocolate.
at any rate, please don't laugh. i couldn't tell my dad because he would laugh, and i would get angry, and harsh words would be exchanged, and then i'd have to apologize, and we'd go back to the status quo. because he doesn't know any other way to be. and its that or nothing. so don't laugh, but yes, i am dissatisfied with my job at starbucks. i graduated sixty-fifth in a high-school class of six-hundred and fifty. i graduated from a premier liberal arts college in the expected four years. i performed more than admirably at a standardized testing company. i got into the u.t. architecture graduate program, and successfully completed the first semester with no grade less than a b-. and i am dissatisfied with a barista position at starbucks.
DUH!!!
it was just so wonderful the first few weeks. i was out of the house, and there was all this new information to learn, and all these new skills to acquire. there were new people to meet, and things to do, and it was just such a wonderful change from sitting on my ass all day looking for a job that just wouldn't, fucking, appear.
well, i always knew that this wasn't my life's ambition. this isn't my goal. its a way station. its making me money while i figure out what it is that i'm really here to do. its keeping my from atrophying in so many ways. but it is not fulfilling. i am not full. i am not at ease. i am not, SATISFIED.
i am not UNhappy, but i am not HAPPY either. i am in between.
and considering where i've been emotionally the past few months, in between isn't that bad. at all. but after just a couple weeks of happiness, i'm ready to stick a spike in my arm if it gets me back to that feeling. its addictive, this positive sort of existence! and i'll get it back. i'm tired right now, and it was a rough day. i worked bar, and i'm not so hot at that yet, but i'll only get better by practicing. but still. two or three hours of doing something i'm not very good at really wears at me. who likes doing things they're bad at?
this is just what's going on right now. it will be different soon. perhaps better, even!
a real christmas post soon enough. i'm not ready to rehash right now. but i got my korean drum, and it is beautiful and loud, and i love it like... i just love it. i love banging it. i love remembering the rhythms. and i'm very excited to practice outside around the neighborhood. other than that, food was wonderful, the family was pleasant, and all gifts, all around, seemed appreciated and thoughtful.
sadly, it didn't really feel like a day off. being around family, behaving and being pleasant and all that jazz... its TIRING!
and this is tiring too. i know i slacked off this month. its been busy. but hopefully, i'll get back to toeing the line here. its just so much EASIER when i'm pissed... i swear... tolkien said in "the hobbit" that the happy parts of adventures, the weeks spent in the house of elrond, etc., were glossed over, because they are static. there are no monsters or adventures or hikes during the happy times. its the difficult times that give us grist for the mill. those are the times that spur us to action.
well, things aren't all that difficult, but that doesn't mean that things aren't sticking in my craw. so get ready to be... crawed. i guess.
eww...
at least, i'm a perpetual motion machine in my search for fulfillment. for all kinds of fulfillment, all at the same time. like the multiple orgasm, cluster-fuck of fulfillment. i want fulfillment in every available hole, tickling every nerve ending, engaging every aspect of my body and brain and soul. clearly, this is never going to fully happen.
my mom told me about a workshop she went to that discussed "two basic types of people". all these "two types of people" things are bullshit. but this one serves as an interesting tool. there are "satisfizers," and "maximizers." satisfizers look at what they have, evaluate the situation they're presented with, and choose to be all right with it. some things could be better, some could be worse, but all in all, they decide that they're going to be happy with what they've got. they either choose to be satisfied, or its simply a hardwired behavior. maximizers look at that same situation, and slowly drive themselves insane. they can't accept what's in front of them, or are unwilling to accept it. there's this little detail that could be tweaked this way, and that irritating fold that could be undone and flattened. the imperfections well huge in their vision, and they set out to get as much out of the situation as they can. they need to maximize returns.
guess which one i am...
just guess...
sometimes, i would like to be a satisfizer. i would like to be at peace with myself, with my surroundings, my life as it currently is. i want to sit down, and not feel like there's something that urgently needs doing. i want to live without the harsh voice in my head that's constantly telling me i could have done that better, or that i don't do enough, etc, etc, etc. and this gets caught up with my own... obsessive nature. or my low self esteem and its backpack full of need for acceptance. i want to be a satisfizer. i want to be happy. but most of the time, the thought of sitting back and feeling complete and full frightens me. it feels like laziness, and it feels like a surrender to forces that are, in fairness, out of my control. i don't know a life where i'm not hungry. where there isn't some project that i'm pouring myself into. i don't know days when i'm not yearning for something, or lusting after it, or pursuing it like a shark, or in my own patented, round-a-bout way. and most importantly, i don't believe i'd be truly alive if i wasn't hot on the heels of my next promise of (temporary) deliverance.
i was so fucking thrilled with my job at starbucks. and yes, that was a past tense "was" in the previous sentence. i still like the job. i like having a job. i like getting a bit of a pay check. i'm not thrilled at having to go back to austin to finish emptying out my apartment, but its something to get through and i can spend the rest of my life trying to sort out what those two years in austin meant, in the grand scheme of things. the people at the shop are nice. i'm making fewer mistakes. the manager is pleased with my work at the bar. i'm quite pleased with my work at the register. its fine. its really just fine.
but its not enough. i knew it wouldn't be enough. it wasn't supposed to be enough. i can never have "enough." i want more. i want harder. i want better. i want faster. i want stronger. i want things to be deeper. i want things to be more meaningful. i want things to be more beautiful. i want things to be more sensitive. i want things to have more layers. i want things to be smarter, hipper, with a bangin' beat, and more genuine lyrics. i want more and more and more and more and more!
i'm like Veruca Salt from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory; the one who wants the world, who wants the WHOLE world, who wants to lock it all up in her pocket, its her bar of chocolate.
at any rate, please don't laugh. i couldn't tell my dad because he would laugh, and i would get angry, and harsh words would be exchanged, and then i'd have to apologize, and we'd go back to the status quo. because he doesn't know any other way to be. and its that or nothing. so don't laugh, but yes, i am dissatisfied with my job at starbucks. i graduated sixty-fifth in a high-school class of six-hundred and fifty. i graduated from a premier liberal arts college in the expected four years. i performed more than admirably at a standardized testing company. i got into the u.t. architecture graduate program, and successfully completed the first semester with no grade less than a b-. and i am dissatisfied with a barista position at starbucks.
DUH!!!
it was just so wonderful the first few weeks. i was out of the house, and there was all this new information to learn, and all these new skills to acquire. there were new people to meet, and things to do, and it was just such a wonderful change from sitting on my ass all day looking for a job that just wouldn't, fucking, appear.
well, i always knew that this wasn't my life's ambition. this isn't my goal. its a way station. its making me money while i figure out what it is that i'm really here to do. its keeping my from atrophying in so many ways. but it is not fulfilling. i am not full. i am not at ease. i am not, SATISFIED.
i am not UNhappy, but i am not HAPPY either. i am in between.
and considering where i've been emotionally the past few months, in between isn't that bad. at all. but after just a couple weeks of happiness, i'm ready to stick a spike in my arm if it gets me back to that feeling. its addictive, this positive sort of existence! and i'll get it back. i'm tired right now, and it was a rough day. i worked bar, and i'm not so hot at that yet, but i'll only get better by practicing. but still. two or three hours of doing something i'm not very good at really wears at me. who likes doing things they're bad at?
this is just what's going on right now. it will be different soon. perhaps better, even!
a real christmas post soon enough. i'm not ready to rehash right now. but i got my korean drum, and it is beautiful and loud, and i love it like... i just love it. i love banging it. i love remembering the rhythms. and i'm very excited to practice outside around the neighborhood. other than that, food was wonderful, the family was pleasant, and all gifts, all around, seemed appreciated and thoughtful.
sadly, it didn't really feel like a day off. being around family, behaving and being pleasant and all that jazz... its TIRING!
and this is tiring too. i know i slacked off this month. its been busy. but hopefully, i'll get back to toeing the line here. its just so much EASIER when i'm pissed... i swear... tolkien said in "the hobbit" that the happy parts of adventures, the weeks spent in the house of elrond, etc., were glossed over, because they are static. there are no monsters or adventures or hikes during the happy times. its the difficult times that give us grist for the mill. those are the times that spur us to action.
well, things aren't all that difficult, but that doesn't mean that things aren't sticking in my craw. so get ready to be... crawed. i guess.
eww...
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Austin: Redux
i went up to austin yesterday to drag home a van full of stuff from my apartment (brother will be taking it over and going to u.t. until the lease expires during the summer).
it was unpleasant.
i really hadn't thought at all about the psychological impact of going up there, but it was... something that should have been considered.
austin in general was all right. driving the streets, bumming around, etc, fine. whatever. going back to the apartment (not MY apartment, but THE apartment, notice the distancing language i use...) was so bizarre. all my clothes and books and crap, just waiting for me. the bedroom assaulting me with memories of entire days spent rolling in bed, doing nothing. reading, surfing the net, and being really, really lonely.
the whole place just felt like an unfinished set for a life that was supposed to happen, but didn't. there were supposed to be friends, and gatherings, and parties. there was supposed to be a workstation, and drafting and planning. there was supposed to be school meetings, social functions, a reason to have a queen-sized futon beyond the extra leg-room it gave me. there were supposed to be pleasant afternoons spent reading in my balcony gardens, and maybe little meals at the iron cafe table.
none of that happened.
school was unpleasant, so i quit (a very good decision, thank you very much) and then i couldn't find a job. for months. and months. i went to a lot of twelve step meetings, and bought dozens of books, and talked to a lot of strangers online, and holed up in my apartment like it was some sort of last refuge. i buried myself in my third floor one bedroom, and tried to hide from the world that waited at the bottom of the stairs.
and now, i'm hauling all my accumulated stuff back here. i work at starbucks, which i truly enjoy, my cat still seems to love me, and i'm enjoying being surrounded by my family. i'm glad to be out of the apartment. i'm glad to be out of austin.
but life takes some funny turns.
i've avoided picking up the pieces of my sojourn in austin for several months now. because i'm not ready or able to start addressing those two years of my life. i don't know where they fit. i don't know what they mean. i'm not sure what was accomplished.
but the decision to return home has finally been made. i'm moving on to a new stage of my life. the starbucks stage, apparently. but its no less valid than the architecture graduate school stage. i'm moving in a direction. i have no clue where it will take me, but i'm moving. and i'm closing the door on what came before, with all its goblins, and teeming hordes, and sleepless nights and wasted days. i'm moving forward to a place where i can sleep through the night, and feel productive during the day.
adieu austin. i would shed a tear, but i do not cry; and any tears i could muster, would not be for you.
it was unpleasant.
i really hadn't thought at all about the psychological impact of going up there, but it was... something that should have been considered.
austin in general was all right. driving the streets, bumming around, etc, fine. whatever. going back to the apartment (not MY apartment, but THE apartment, notice the distancing language i use...) was so bizarre. all my clothes and books and crap, just waiting for me. the bedroom assaulting me with memories of entire days spent rolling in bed, doing nothing. reading, surfing the net, and being really, really lonely.
the whole place just felt like an unfinished set for a life that was supposed to happen, but didn't. there were supposed to be friends, and gatherings, and parties. there was supposed to be a workstation, and drafting and planning. there was supposed to be school meetings, social functions, a reason to have a queen-sized futon beyond the extra leg-room it gave me. there were supposed to be pleasant afternoons spent reading in my balcony gardens, and maybe little meals at the iron cafe table.
none of that happened.
school was unpleasant, so i quit (a very good decision, thank you very much) and then i couldn't find a job. for months. and months. i went to a lot of twelve step meetings, and bought dozens of books, and talked to a lot of strangers online, and holed up in my apartment like it was some sort of last refuge. i buried myself in my third floor one bedroom, and tried to hide from the world that waited at the bottom of the stairs.
and now, i'm hauling all my accumulated stuff back here. i work at starbucks, which i truly enjoy, my cat still seems to love me, and i'm enjoying being surrounded by my family. i'm glad to be out of the apartment. i'm glad to be out of austin.
but life takes some funny turns.
i've avoided picking up the pieces of my sojourn in austin for several months now. because i'm not ready or able to start addressing those two years of my life. i don't know where they fit. i don't know what they mean. i'm not sure what was accomplished.
but the decision to return home has finally been made. i'm moving on to a new stage of my life. the starbucks stage, apparently. but its no less valid than the architecture graduate school stage. i'm moving in a direction. i have no clue where it will take me, but i'm moving. and i'm closing the door on what came before, with all its goblins, and teeming hordes, and sleepless nights and wasted days. i'm moving forward to a place where i can sleep through the night, and feel productive during the day.
adieu austin. i would shed a tear, but i do not cry; and any tears i could muster, would not be for you.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Veering Predictably Towards Shitsville
sometimes i wonder if all things really do gravitate to a certain state of being. entropy and all that. no, i actually don't think i wonder that. i lied. but i think i'm speaking from the part of me that's smart. or at least, smart enough to know that cosmetic enhancement of one's life doesn't really do much to change the way you interact with the world in the long term.
having a job is starting to feel like a cosmetic enhancement. or maybe i'm just coming from a day off, having done nothing more than eat, sleep, jerk off, and otherwise waste time. oh, and get into a spat with my sister, but that didn't really last. still, not a happy day, and i'm sure that i'm anxious about going to austin tomorrow to start hauling all my stuff back down here to san antonio, since it seems i'll be staying for a while. austin is scary. i'd like to just forget i ever lived there.
i got into my first snafu at work on wednesday. i offended an old lady, and rectified it as best i could, but its odd to be in such a powerless position. and retail, is just FULL of such powerless positions. most of the time, i don't mind remaking a drink, or changing someone's order, or whatever. its my job. that's fine. and i want to do a good job. i have a ridiculous urge to please. but this exchange was different. i'm not sure why. i'm just not used to having people not respond well to me. which is basically me being blind to my own luck or whatever, and also me having ridiculous expectations as to how i should be received by the world at large.
but perhaps the most oddly comforting thing about the situation with this old woman, was that she was mean. she didn't have to be mean, but there's no reason for her not to be, and she was mean to me. and i really wanted to defend myself. i wanted to yell back at her. i wanted to tell her that she was being cruel and unfair. and i didn't, because i'm not ready to get fired yet. (oh that yet just says it all, doesn't it...) and i know this is all just part of a learning process for me. but i felt the need to take care of myself. and i wanted to defend myself. i felt like i was worth defending. and that, is actually a really wonderful thing for me.
and clearly, this episode is sticking in my craw. and i'm not fully sure why. because it was uncomfortable, surely. but also... i don't know what happened. it was like a hit and run accident. i was functioning on autopilot and don't remember exactly what i said, and if it made sense. i can't objectively say whether i was rude to this woman, though i'm sure i didn't mean to be. i didn't think she was a pushover because she was old. i wasn't trying to get away with anything. i wasn't trying to be mean. but i was trying to be lazy. i was trying to make my job easier by getting the rest of the line taken care of before grinding her beans, and saying that this is all about grinding beans makes it sound just as STUPID as it all really is...
and it might just be that i don't want to admit that i was in the wrong. which i was. i should have gotten her beans started (dear GOD, we're talking about BEANS!!!) and then helped the next person in line. i was trying to shirk.
and i don't think of myself as a shirker. i'm a hard worker. i love to work. but i was trying to shirk, and i got caught. and maybe that's why this is eating me up. because i don't want to be a shirker. i don't want to be lazy. but i am.
or rather, in this instance, i was. it doesn't mean i'm a full shirker, nor does it reflect on my personality or something. i don't know. i don't know i don't know i don't know.
but it doesn't feel good. it all feels dirty and messy and ragged around the edges, and i'm unwilling to let it go for some reason. probably the same masochism that tends to run my inner life.
also, B. was on floor as manager for the first part of wednesday. and i shouldn't talk about her, because that only gives her more power over me. but she is such a painful person to work with. i don't think she's ever smiled at me. she doesn't like me. she thinks i'm a shirker, and a lazy, and a time-waster and a day-dreamer. and i'll manage. it'll be fine. and i can't expect everyone to love me everywhere i go. and i KNOW that i tend to inspire extreme reactions in people. it's just so opposite day that she dislikes me so, when i feel like i act just the same to her that i do to everyone else, and they're all fine with me. but at any rate, i know i'm not the only one who dislikes B. and that's vaguely comforting, though it doesn't help me figure out how to deal with her.
i'm feeling sort of muddled here...
i just sort of feel like i desperately want some people on my side, even though i don't think my side is the right side.
i'm feeling confused, and i'm feeling tired, and i'm feeling like i ate crap all day and am going to wake up fat tomorrow as a result.
i should go to sleep. even if it doesn't help, at least i won't be awake and worrying about all of this... i'll be asleep and dreaming about it. much better. muuuch better.
old woman, i'm sorry if i was rude to you. i didn't mean to hurt your feelings, or treat you badly. but i wish you'd expressed things in a different way. because now i'm angry at you, and i'm not supposed to be, and i know its not right. i don't like you, old woman. i think you're mean, and cruel. and you think i'm mean and cruel. and this is all just a horrible mistake that i know i could have avoided... we could be friends right now. i wish we were friends right now, instead of me doing something stupid and making you be mean to me. or something. i don't know, but this was all avoidable, and i'm sorry i let it happen.
i'm hoping that work feels like a comfortable place again when i go back on sunday...
fuck and shit. i'm not happy right now. and its all right to not be happy, but its also unpleasant.
like its been so long since the last time i was unhappy...
life just ain't never good enough for me, is it?
having a job is starting to feel like a cosmetic enhancement. or maybe i'm just coming from a day off, having done nothing more than eat, sleep, jerk off, and otherwise waste time. oh, and get into a spat with my sister, but that didn't really last. still, not a happy day, and i'm sure that i'm anxious about going to austin tomorrow to start hauling all my stuff back down here to san antonio, since it seems i'll be staying for a while. austin is scary. i'd like to just forget i ever lived there.
i got into my first snafu at work on wednesday. i offended an old lady, and rectified it as best i could, but its odd to be in such a powerless position. and retail, is just FULL of such powerless positions. most of the time, i don't mind remaking a drink, or changing someone's order, or whatever. its my job. that's fine. and i want to do a good job. i have a ridiculous urge to please. but this exchange was different. i'm not sure why. i'm just not used to having people not respond well to me. which is basically me being blind to my own luck or whatever, and also me having ridiculous expectations as to how i should be received by the world at large.
but perhaps the most oddly comforting thing about the situation with this old woman, was that she was mean. she didn't have to be mean, but there's no reason for her not to be, and she was mean to me. and i really wanted to defend myself. i wanted to yell back at her. i wanted to tell her that she was being cruel and unfair. and i didn't, because i'm not ready to get fired yet. (oh that yet just says it all, doesn't it...) and i know this is all just part of a learning process for me. but i felt the need to take care of myself. and i wanted to defend myself. i felt like i was worth defending. and that, is actually a really wonderful thing for me.
and clearly, this episode is sticking in my craw. and i'm not fully sure why. because it was uncomfortable, surely. but also... i don't know what happened. it was like a hit and run accident. i was functioning on autopilot and don't remember exactly what i said, and if it made sense. i can't objectively say whether i was rude to this woman, though i'm sure i didn't mean to be. i didn't think she was a pushover because she was old. i wasn't trying to get away with anything. i wasn't trying to be mean. but i was trying to be lazy. i was trying to make my job easier by getting the rest of the line taken care of before grinding her beans, and saying that this is all about grinding beans makes it sound just as STUPID as it all really is...
and it might just be that i don't want to admit that i was in the wrong. which i was. i should have gotten her beans started (dear GOD, we're talking about BEANS!!!) and then helped the next person in line. i was trying to shirk.
and i don't think of myself as a shirker. i'm a hard worker. i love to work. but i was trying to shirk, and i got caught. and maybe that's why this is eating me up. because i don't want to be a shirker. i don't want to be lazy. but i am.
or rather, in this instance, i was. it doesn't mean i'm a full shirker, nor does it reflect on my personality or something. i don't know. i don't know i don't know i don't know.
but it doesn't feel good. it all feels dirty and messy and ragged around the edges, and i'm unwilling to let it go for some reason. probably the same masochism that tends to run my inner life.
also, B. was on floor as manager for the first part of wednesday. and i shouldn't talk about her, because that only gives her more power over me. but she is such a painful person to work with. i don't think she's ever smiled at me. she doesn't like me. she thinks i'm a shirker, and a lazy, and a time-waster and a day-dreamer. and i'll manage. it'll be fine. and i can't expect everyone to love me everywhere i go. and i KNOW that i tend to inspire extreme reactions in people. it's just so opposite day that she dislikes me so, when i feel like i act just the same to her that i do to everyone else, and they're all fine with me. but at any rate, i know i'm not the only one who dislikes B. and that's vaguely comforting, though it doesn't help me figure out how to deal with her.
i'm feeling sort of muddled here...
i just sort of feel like i desperately want some people on my side, even though i don't think my side is the right side.
i'm feeling confused, and i'm feeling tired, and i'm feeling like i ate crap all day and am going to wake up fat tomorrow as a result.
i should go to sleep. even if it doesn't help, at least i won't be awake and worrying about all of this... i'll be asleep and dreaming about it. much better. muuuch better.
old woman, i'm sorry if i was rude to you. i didn't mean to hurt your feelings, or treat you badly. but i wish you'd expressed things in a different way. because now i'm angry at you, and i'm not supposed to be, and i know its not right. i don't like you, old woman. i think you're mean, and cruel. and you think i'm mean and cruel. and this is all just a horrible mistake that i know i could have avoided... we could be friends right now. i wish we were friends right now, instead of me doing something stupid and making you be mean to me. or something. i don't know, but this was all avoidable, and i'm sorry i let it happen.
i'm hoping that work feels like a comfortable place again when i go back on sunday...
fuck and shit. i'm not happy right now. and its all right to not be happy, but its also unpleasant.
like its been so long since the last time i was unhappy...
life just ain't never good enough for me, is it?
Friday, December 7, 2007
See!?
days, DAYS since my last update. this job business... too time consuming.
but oh, it does result in fun blog fodder... so long as i manage to have absolutely no tact or scruples.
who's your guy!? c'mon... who's, your, GUY!!!
i would like to report that i may have reached a defining extreme in my obsessive attitude towards life. i had to open the shop this last tuesday, which meant reporting for work at five in the morning. suckage, right? so, flawless, i'm up at three thirty after five hours of sleep, have the dogs fed and out (cuz i'm watching dad's dogs and house while he's at his mom's funeral. bizarro-world has definitely arrived...) and am sitting in my car in the parking lot at a quarter to five, rocking out to M.I.A. and waiting for the manager to get there to let me in.
cuz that's just how i roll.
and on the subject of managers...
R is really an okay girl. i think i can manage. its cool.
Anne is nineteen. NINETEEN!!! WTF!!! its amazing how the way you perceive a person can ENTIRELY change in an INSTANT! just because you get your hands on the right information.
Anne is nineteen.
i don't even feel comfortable being alone in a room with her anymore; it totally makes me feel like a dirty, skeezy old man. and sure, she's perceptive, and discerning, and very real, but she's also a CHILD. i'm sorry, but nineteen... and mostly, its just that i'm finally starting to really feel my age. i feel like enough of an adult for hanging out and playing head games with a nineteen year old to seem creepy and wrong.
shit, yo... damn.
another manager is nice, and has the same name as sister. along with the older woman who has the same name as my mother, the shop can feel downright homey at times...
and then, there's B.
B was recently promoted to a managerial position. she's also in school, and hence in the midst of finals. she is extremely compulsive. she is also obsessive. she is curt. she takes things really, really, ridiculously seriously. she is not fun. in fact, she is the black hole of fun; all fun within a certain radius of B is drawn to her and absorbed, never again to be released. the sight of her makes small children cry. all ice-cream within her sphere immediately turns to rum-raisin flavored fat-free frozen yogurt.
and she does not, like, me.
i am an unwanted burden to her. i'm a n00b. i fuck things up. i ask lots of "stupid" questions. i send out a signal that seems to let her know that what i need, right now, is a ten minute lecture on how i need to standardize everything i do so that if i were to go to a starbucks in guam and work, i would get everything exactly right, "because they're all the same. we're all the same."
charming.
granted, we don't have to like each other. and i understand the whole corporate "thing." and while it's not my favorite aspect of life on this earth, i understand that its useful and has its place. look, chick just really grates on me, all right? she imparts essential information, she works hard to make sure that i'm learning what i need to know, but every interaction is a jarring neon squiggle in my brain. i even discussed with E & M how i wanted to start hiding things she would need, just to drive her insane. she's clearly already at the brink. i would just start "strategically misplacing" some essential items, and then watch the worry lines around her eyes develop. fun!
but then, after a monday of the josh and B show, i realized something both sad, and gratifying.
all the normal shit i do will drive her insane anyway. all the random new-guy mistakes i would make regardless, all the register oopsies and beverage code violations, will chip away at her just as much as any little plan i could come up with. the B model we have does not come equipped with the ability to deal with that "shit" which we've been told, just "happens". and in this instance, i am like a diarrhetic cow. not a flattering image, but hey. i am a walking "mistake" with gravy on it. and its sad that B will never really like me (i guess) but its also funny that she's immune to all the things i do that make people like me, and in fact angered by them.
but really, i just have to remember that in the end, i'm bigger than B. not physically, morons, but just, BIGGER. i'm not going to let her bad attitude ruin my days. i'ma smile, and nod, and do it right, and otherwise ignore. because my time at work is too precious to spend sulking. i'm gonna enjoy the hell outta my days, and B ain't gonna do nothin' to change that.
in other news, i am exhausted. oh! and remind me to tell you about the funeral! or, relay to you what certain sources have told me about the funeral. there hasn't been a full "debriefing" yet, but i do hope there is one!
i had other things to talk about, but i've forgotten what they are.
which i'll assume is a message from "god."
goodnight!
but oh, it does result in fun blog fodder... so long as i manage to have absolutely no tact or scruples.
who's your guy!? c'mon... who's, your, GUY!!!
i would like to report that i may have reached a defining extreme in my obsessive attitude towards life. i had to open the shop this last tuesday, which meant reporting for work at five in the morning. suckage, right? so, flawless, i'm up at three thirty after five hours of sleep, have the dogs fed and out (cuz i'm watching dad's dogs and house while he's at his mom's funeral. bizarro-world has definitely arrived...) and am sitting in my car in the parking lot at a quarter to five, rocking out to M.I.A. and waiting for the manager to get there to let me in.
cuz that's just how i roll.
and on the subject of managers...
R is really an okay girl. i think i can manage. its cool.
Anne is nineteen. NINETEEN!!! WTF!!! its amazing how the way you perceive a person can ENTIRELY change in an INSTANT! just because you get your hands on the right information.
Anne is nineteen.
i don't even feel comfortable being alone in a room with her anymore; it totally makes me feel like a dirty, skeezy old man. and sure, she's perceptive, and discerning, and very real, but she's also a CHILD. i'm sorry, but nineteen... and mostly, its just that i'm finally starting to really feel my age. i feel like enough of an adult for hanging out and playing head games with a nineteen year old to seem creepy and wrong.
shit, yo... damn.
another manager is nice, and has the same name as sister. along with the older woman who has the same name as my mother, the shop can feel downright homey at times...
and then, there's B.
B was recently promoted to a managerial position. she's also in school, and hence in the midst of finals. she is extremely compulsive. she is also obsessive. she is curt. she takes things really, really, ridiculously seriously. she is not fun. in fact, she is the black hole of fun; all fun within a certain radius of B is drawn to her and absorbed, never again to be released. the sight of her makes small children cry. all ice-cream within her sphere immediately turns to rum-raisin flavored fat-free frozen yogurt.
and she does not, like, me.
i am an unwanted burden to her. i'm a n00b. i fuck things up. i ask lots of "stupid" questions. i send out a signal that seems to let her know that what i need, right now, is a ten minute lecture on how i need to standardize everything i do so that if i were to go to a starbucks in guam and work, i would get everything exactly right, "because they're all the same. we're all the same."
charming.
granted, we don't have to like each other. and i understand the whole corporate "thing." and while it's not my favorite aspect of life on this earth, i understand that its useful and has its place. look, chick just really grates on me, all right? she imparts essential information, she works hard to make sure that i'm learning what i need to know, but every interaction is a jarring neon squiggle in my brain. i even discussed with E & M how i wanted to start hiding things she would need, just to drive her insane. she's clearly already at the brink. i would just start "strategically misplacing" some essential items, and then watch the worry lines around her eyes develop. fun!
but then, after a monday of the josh and B show, i realized something both sad, and gratifying.
all the normal shit i do will drive her insane anyway. all the random new-guy mistakes i would make regardless, all the register oopsies and beverage code violations, will chip away at her just as much as any little plan i could come up with. the B model we have does not come equipped with the ability to deal with that "shit" which we've been told, just "happens". and in this instance, i am like a diarrhetic cow. not a flattering image, but hey. i am a walking "mistake" with gravy on it. and its sad that B will never really like me (i guess) but its also funny that she's immune to all the things i do that make people like me, and in fact angered by them.
but really, i just have to remember that in the end, i'm bigger than B. not physically, morons, but just, BIGGER. i'm not going to let her bad attitude ruin my days. i'ma smile, and nod, and do it right, and otherwise ignore. because my time at work is too precious to spend sulking. i'm gonna enjoy the hell outta my days, and B ain't gonna do nothin' to change that.
in other news, i am exhausted. oh! and remind me to tell you about the funeral! or, relay to you what certain sources have told me about the funeral. there hasn't been a full "debriefing" yet, but i do hope there is one!
i had other things to talk about, but i've forgotten what they are.
which i'll assume is a message from "god."
goodnight!
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