Tuesday, September 29

The Normalcy . . .

What did my parents teach me about life? What did I ever learn about becoming an adult from them? It perplexes me as to why I thought there were some lesson plans they taught me, like in school. About dating, work and love. All that crap. The question of the hour is "What does Iguana want?"

He wants a kitten. He got one and now it's like that movie with Diane Keaton gets a baby. She uses the baby to her advantage and makes a fortune off of baby food. I wish to use the kitten to my advantage and teach it to dance with me. Then tragedy will strike. Right now he's sitting next to me curled up and loving the heat coming off my thigh.

I never figured myself a cat person. I never figured myself much of an "any kind" of person. As my therapist tells me, "Who told you there were rules to life?" My parents. My suburban life.

So I like cats now. If he'll always be like this and not scared of me, then I gladly take on the responsibility.

Iguana also wants a boyfriend. The Construction Worker has been making himself more known. Which is not unwanted. He comes and spends the night and tells me there's no need for sex every night. I stop and pause at this thought.

It's an old thought to me. I remember a time when I could happily live with this idea, but I have rubbed away those thoughts and instilled a nervous sexuality.

Wednesday, September 23

Trying To Write More. . .

Than I have been lately. Even if it's nothing important (like is used to be, remember those days?), just to get some things out.

I worked a 10 hour shift again today and almost got into a fight with a guy on the subway this morning. My hatred towards the MTA is building again, I must be holding some anxiety. Also it's annoying when you paid $89 for a month long pass and the pass breaks way before the month is up. You yell and kick the turnstile. You say, "Fuck you MTA!" Out loud to no one and consider jumping the turnstiles to make it to the train that is leaving right before your eyes. Yet, despite the social activities just mentioned, my social graces get the best of me and I think, "It's illegal to jump a turn style!" Oh what a foolish mortal I can be.

Little things have been happening. Like the rude man who pushed by me in the subway today. As if my holding onto the rail was rude because it got in his way. He scowled at me as he rushed by, but not before I gave him a mild push in the back and said one word: Don't. He turned more to fight, but then realized he was looking into the eyes of God and turned back to his seat.

I won that round.

Then is seems like I'm given these mundane tasks. Stalpe these papers. Scan these stacks of papers. Date stamp these documents. Paperclip these sheets to that sheet, but not that sheet. . .

Simple SIMPLE tasks. Yet, I manage to find a way to mess them up. Which I find odd, but a character trait that I seem to repeat. I am not dumb, I just get confused because I follow the instructions given to me and rarely change until someone demands it so.

I'll be paperclipping papers for hours only to discover what I was shown is incorrect. Paper clips and staples aren't allowed in these batches. . .It's somehow my blame because when I was told the instructions of, "Paperclip this green paper to the documents." I did just that, but that was supposed to be before I destapled it and actually never should have used paperclips in the first place! Oh it's like Alice in Wonderland.

Enough for tonight.

Monday, September 21

Ends Justify . . .

I was taught at an early age that I will never been what I want to be. I will go to college and thought I may study for a specific major, but probably will never practice it. I went through college being told that I owed thousands and thousands of dollars in loans.

Today, I spent 10 hours putting paperclips on paper. It all sort of made sense in that moment. I feel such a weird anxiety in trying to be a dresser. Maybe because if I try and if I fail, as I have been raised to believe anyway, then there will be nothing. Nothing except putting paperclips on paper for hours at a time.

I look around my office and watch the temps who stayed behind from my last job. They work usually from 9 to midnight each day. That's the most extreme and sure they are being paid hourly, but is this their dream? Opening junk mail? Putting paperclips on paper?

Maybe I'm the odd one out. I thought you myself, "I want to be a dresser! If I have paper clipping in my future, then I need to change it." I usually laugh about now, because I remember my resume.

The other day I was called for a 6 month long paralegal job from my temp agency. The conversation is as follows:

HE: Hi, I'm calling cause Joe recommended you for this job. It's 6 months long, paralegal work and well . . .do you. . . have ANY interest in this at all?

ME: Um. . .

HE: Tell me why Joe would give me your resume.

ME: (As if recited) I'm a young college graduate who got high honors. Also I am bright and open to trying new things right now. I'm very excited to test my wings in a lot of options.

HE: That's exactly what he told me, the one thing that's missing is. . . Do you like law?

ME: Ummmm [I should've lied here, but I was a little stoned, instead I laugh.] I have plenty of lawyer friends though. . .Paralegals are like temps right? I can do that.

HE: (Begins to laugh hysterically over the phone, I join in to alleviate the fact he's mocking my answer) I'll be right back. . .

At this point I figured he was asking Joe, why the fuck would this kid ever get picked with his resume. He returned:

HE: So you wanna go to law school?

ME: Nah.

HE: DO YOU WATCH LAW & ORDER?!

ME: Oh, yes! With my friends. [At this point I know it's too late].

This was soon followed the next day by applying to a job fair and giving my resume to someone to looked at it blankly and said, "you could work in reception. . . do you speak Spanish?"

No, but I do have incredible skills in paper clipping and making photo copies!

Saturday, September 19

Postcards from the Edge

How have I been doing? That's a good question. A good question indeed.

I have spent hours in waiting rooms, I have more temp work. I've been trying to overcome this unconscious fear of applying for dresser jobs. My bike broke, then I fixed it. I think.

I went upstate this last weekend and ate more than humanly possible. I've been seeing the Construction Worker more than the Georgia Peach. I don't want to narrow it down just yet, but I do feel I'm giving more attention to one than the other.

There's this uncertainty in the air, perhaps it's the fall weather. I don't know, things have shifted. Weights and balances in the universe, I guess they shift. Things are wilting and dying. It's mildly depressing in this beautiful way. The color that is created through the death of leaves.

I watched the MTV Music awards and think that Lady Gaga is the best performer. . .ever. What was the blood dripping down her chest. That was planned? How brilliant.

Wednesday, September 9

Escape Upstate

I am escaping upstate. I owe my parents the visit and need to get away from the bad moods this US Open lack of work keeps putting me in. I will forgo the rest of my opportunities to not work at the US Open into a more productive thing like visiting the family.

I do not give my family enough credit and I have avoided most of the summer without spending more than 48 hours with them. I should see them for longer than a hello and goodbye. The whole unemployed thing makes it better and worse. I expect lots of "it's almost November, what now?" Speeches. In the summer there was a sense of optimism, but now as the plants wilt so do all these ideas.

I am trying my damnedest. I just can't be expected to sit around anymore. I may as well go some where I am fed for free. I can visit my sister and my brother. There is a jet ski that needs to be tried out. There's plenty of movies to see. Friends to say hello to.

I do not enjoy the trips home, I shall begin to try though. . .

Friday, September 4

Futon Paradise

I purchased a wonderful futon from Ikea the other day. The old one seemed to be cursed and would not come apart no matter how much I tried to dismantle it! Then Elizabeth came home and waved her hand and it fell to pieces.

I'm a little pissed off because I was supposed to be selling Ralph Lauren clothing for the US Open this week, but it seems I am not needed. I haven't minded the week off and I've been incredibly active in doing things. I just can't call my temp agency and say, "The work I was assigned isn't being given to me, can I have more work." In one more week this will be through and things shall return to normal. They said next week will be busier and I will be ready!

I may be getting a kitten soon. This is astounding and thrilling news. The Wounded Soldier's cats had five little kittens and he is offering them out. I have 4 weeks to decide this, but I think it will happen. I'm nervous, but I think it could be an amazing adventure. . .

So I have been very silent for weeks because I have been dating. A lot. I don't know how it happens, but I'll go through these periods where men want me from left and right. Then nothing for weeks. I know that may sound like bragging, but in this new era where I am not being a Manhunt whore, a date is appreciated. Even 4 dates at once.

Though there have been multiple men. There are two that have caught my attention. Both similar and vastly different in their mannerisms. There is the Georgia Peach and the Construction Worker. The things they have in common is that they are both from masculine backgrounds. I love my masculine gay men, as a friend says, "Straight acting is still acting. . ."

It's funny because between the two of them there is a tie for who I would rather spend more time with. If I had it my way (and perhaps I will get my way) I would keep both. The Georgia Peach is a beautiful southern boy. He has no baggage this time, there is no small child in sight and he has a good job. He loves weed and doesn't do hard drugs. He's only been out for a couple of years, before that he was "fucking girls". Apparently not everyone comes out at 15, well for those of us who do. We laugh at the idea of that. Fucking vagina . . .heh.

He's been kind and cuddly and then quiet and distance. It's too soon to really decide anything, but he's an Aries, which I've been told is dangerous to caring people like me. I see it though.

The Construction Worker is older [39] but is beautiful too. He owns his own construction company that is green. He has a large SUV and comes from a half-Italian/half-Lebanese family. I will never be invited to a family dinner. He's quiet, but I enjoy the silence. The same goes for the Peach. There's no incessant talking. I can talk incessantly with my friends. He too came out later in life and no doubt fucked bitches before he was officially a homo. Unlike the Peach though he seems to have been around with more men. He was born and raised in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. I find that hot.

Honestly, I find the idea of gay men who still wear baggy jeans hot. They both wear unfitted jeans.

The Peach and I have slept together. It happened suddenly and without warning. It's hot and quick. Dirty and fun. Then we cuddle while we sleep. In the morning he promptly goes to work and kicks me out like a trick. I ride my bike home and wonder if he'll ever call me until to do something.

The Construction Worker and I have not slept together yet. Even though I long too. We've hung out more though. Seen movies, drank until we were funnily drunk, seen movies. Then he drives me home in his large SUV and we make out in his car. I cannot tell if he's waiting for me to invite him up. He tells me there is no pressure. I also have the slight doubt that the moment I sleep with him I may never see him again.

Time will tell with all of these things. . .

There, I have got you caught up with most everything that's important these days. Now we sit and wait. . .