Dead Floral Tributes

I have a small Off-Broadway play I am getting paid an equally small stipend for. Paid work is better than free work. Despite the fact it's two jobs for the price of one. I can do this, I am stronger than you think. I am Assistant Stage Manager and Wardrobe Dresser. I am the Alpha and the Omega. I am the beginning and the end.

Lena Horne has died. This saddens me, I am uploading her Broadway show to listen to tomorrow.

I went to Miami for the weekend. Glamor! It was the preview to Greece. I bite my tongue when I observe how older people act. They are fun, but there is a feeling that the Ice Man Cometh at times.

I wrote the above about two weeks ago.

I come to you now. It's a simple and strange life I lead. I am discovering the idea of dating, loving, being with someone. I am still trying to understand it. We're going on to 10 months and before you know it, it will indeed be a year. How funny, the year has flown. Time does move faster as you get older.

Tonight was a first. The Construction Workers life has been difficult, as most of ours has been. He's been drinking . . .much more than I would necessarily enjoy. I see why, I know why. I am often the sober one, why is this? Is it because I am keeping my eye on him? I want to seem mature? A mixture of those feelings. Tonight he went to a birthday party at a private apartment. So the alcohol was flowing and free. We drank. We all drank. He drank more and had eaten nothing.

We finally decided to head home. I had my bike. I love my bike, it's loyal to me. This year has been a big year of changing. I got a kitten and have raised it. I have a bike that I ride religiously and I have a boyfriend. I obviously am into changing myself. I am open to learning. Moments will come and they will be part of life. Tonight is one of those nights.

I used to drive upstate all the time. I am king of the speeding tickets! I even had to attend a defensive driving class! I am notorious upstate! The Construction Worker was drinking, much more than I expected. My bike was in the back of his car. "We need to take a car service home. I can't drive." I was happy he made this decision on his own, but my bike! I needed my bike for tomorrow morning. As I stay up past two AM, I wonder if will be riding tomorrow. I shall though, it's the only constant I know I can control these days.

I told him. "I can drive." I was saying it! I've always had this immobilizing fear of driving in the city.

Now you may be wondering, was he drunk? No. I was in the conscious mind. I was alert and knew that my bike was in the backseat. I needed it. The construction worker is imperfect. He is going through hard times too. He lacks the sense to judge what is too much drink, what is dumb in choosing drinking over eating. In the 40 years of his life he has kept these ideals true.

It pains me to see this. In my youth I have been through plenty. People who know me, know this much is true. I haven't experienced nearly enough in my years, but the things I have gone through are beyond experience. I have taken a year of therapy to comfort myself into this feeling. I have attended support groups. I am a whole being and even in my youth I just am bothered by this.

Here I am. A 24-year-old. Who fears driving in the city. Has NEVER driven in the city. Is volunteering to drive his drunk boyfriend home. In all honestly he couldn't drive and I knew I could. I am not a complete dependent. I can drive and I have seen him take the route home plenty of times. I felt like I held my breath the entire time. I was so tense, but I did it. I got to my apartment. Listening to Lady Gaga on the radio. I have driven my mother's SUV plenty of times, but his car is larger and more broken down. The side mirrors are falling off and the rear view mirror is atrocious. I did it though. Kudos for me. Sadness to the Construction Worker.

I am faced with his weakness. The bottle. In all my drugs, all my addictions. I can understand why a lost soul like myself would go astray. Here is a man who has done it all. Built and sold businesses, lived on a boat, promoted the best clubs in NYC, and all these other successes. To see him in a state is what makes a partner feel human. There is his weakness, his battle, his truth.

I know what ails him. The thing which I could easily make discussion about and yet I slightly avoid it. I am trying to understand it. I know he is not an alcoholic, he has even defended it at times. I know how he feels. I do feel I should speak though, there is my worries. I worry. I will mention it tomorrow.

You drove his car home for him. That's not something that has happened everyday. This is the third event you were waiting for. It shakes you because you had to do it, yet the act itself was a simple event. You care for him and that's what any lover would do in the case. Your personal fears do not reflect the actual setting in place. This man has lived his entire life in the city, but he let you drive home. Oh the dilemma!

Keep Rolling On

The robbery was a lot to deal with. Filing a police report complete with many different phone calls and being put on hold. It seems that filing a police report is the key to everything. They are sending me a replacement iPod. In my mind iPod's take $4 to actually put together. $179.00 to sell. So they'd sooner mail me another one, despite the fact it was stolen in the mail. So I am sending it to a friends place, that comes complete with a doorman who holds all packages. Success!

The boy who I thought would be my future roommate is having some financial problems. He has given fears of doubt and I understand that. Life is full of understanding moments. It's full of tests of meditation. So I must continue my search for a new roommate. One of life's greatest trials. Onward ho!

I have placed an ad in the paper and responses are coming in. It's overwhelming.

NAACP

Things change so quickly. I have a telephone interview, but in the last couple of days I have begun working at the NAACP. It was supposed to be for scanning, but it seems that I am making a little more money, to create some sort of index. It's foolish and a little overwhelming. There is no supervision, but it seems like a place to make a mistake. I know I probably will.

Supervisor isn't my ideal in anyway. There is rumor that I will be a supervisor to scanners, but I do believe that is a lie. We shall see. The hours have changed and I'm going to have to get used to a new schedule. Then there's the telephone interview tomorrow that could lead to a better job.

Then there's the Lady Gaga tickets I just got for Atlantic City! It's on July 4th, which makes it a couple days ahead of the one in New York City. Plus, I rarely ever want a reason to go to Atlantic City. This is good enough reason to make the journey out. I think I will wrap lace around my head.

Since Last I Had Written

I rechecked my last entry to realize how much has and has not happened. That job cannot be playing me. It's been over a week and I've heard nothing since they promised me the position was mine again. I am glad I invested no worry into it. No, none whatsoever.

Then the Construction Worker's stalker has returned. Yes. That very day of my good news we went to the local bar and who was sitting there. Oh the psychological thriller that began in my head was enough to baffle anyone. Someday I may write a play based on the night that went on.

The stalker moved closer down the bar until finally he became part of our group. I kissed the worker on the lips in front of the stalker. An act of drunken courage and lack of thought. The Construction Worker had a soliloquy about his misfortune in finding a stalker. "How does one realize the person they get involved with will stalk them." True, so true.

I agreed to do a Five-Borough Bike Tour with my Brother on May 6th. I need to find a better bike by then. Mission go!

Energies

I'm filled with positive thoughts and energies. Today while I was sorting my paper there was a rush of panic because the paper that we sort had run out. Someone told the story of how the last temp job he was on at this company that ran out. They just dismissed everyone and kept two of them. The worst of stories you can tell to a temp.

A general panic began in the room. Then people began to get calls from the temp agency offering them other jobs. It seemed strange, but then the people who weren't getting calls began to get more nervous. By lunch time tension was high and people were ready to kill each other.

I got a call from the job I applied to in October and apparently they are finally ready to hire me. There was a protocol that they had to follow. I begin to now see that this whole wait may have been planned. To cheat a system, it takes time.

Given to all the tension today. From just sorting papers (or lack thereof) I was relieved to hear that all that waiting had not been for naught. Until I am sitting behind a desk and getting a pay check, I will not believe anything I hear. My response went something like this. . .

Gay Assistant: Are you still interested in the position.
E.Iguana: Did you watch the state of the union address? Of course I would like it . . .

Gather Together in My Name

Oh the temping life. I completed my first half week of temping at the law firm that handles in asbestos lawsuits. People in the 50s and 60s who are trying to get money from their health issues. There are other lawsuits that this firm handles that are other health issues.

I sort papers. That much is simple. I sort all types of papers, that are scanned so the lawyers can look at them in their offices and then make money in court. I get $12.50 an hour, and in these times, I have to remind myself how grateful I am to be working. Sorting papers and resorting them. I was told the job would last two months, but other temps tell me they've been there for a year. "It will extend." They say.

I get my evenings free and a 15 minute smoking break at 10 AM. It is a change in the sleeping schedule, but it is not to difficult to wake up at 6 AM. I just need to watch my nights and be in bed at a decent hour.

The people I work with are normal. I went to happy hour with them tonight. There is a sassy girl who drinks to get through the day. On breaks they discuss how little they are being paid and how the men in charge get paid $20.00 an hour to sit there.

The Brazilian man who trained me. We shared a desk for three days, literally. He sat next to me, "training" me on how to sort papers by recognizing documents. On the second day he kept asking me, "You must ask me questions." I responded with, "Surely you're flirting." I come to find out at happy hour from the fabulous black woman, "He's got a live at home boyfriend, but he's on the down low." I fell to the floor in laughter. The sassy girl said he trained with her for 15 minutes. I shared a desk with this Brazilian hunk for three days. He's a lawyer, but only in Brazil. I think that's exotic.

My first clue to his homosexuality was when we were on our way to lunch. I was having a salad, but the rest were headed to McDonalds. One of the girls spat out, "He just sits and watches Lady Gaga music videos all day." I froze and realized the mystery had been solved.

In The New Year

Oh the new decade is almost upon us. It's the end of the tens and into the teens. A Depression takes time to begin, but once it's started we'll all look back at 2009 as the starting point. I spent two and a half hours in an office today, going through trials that most normal people will never experience. Seeing the people who live in the lowest of the low already. Knowing that I could be one of the few right now, but perhaps soon enough, there will be more.

I have one more day in the apartment until I return Upstate through Sunday. Oh holiday of holidays. Escape? Hardly. Reminder of failures? Possibly. I will return to a temporary job and then more in between jobs. With the New Year I hope for new jobs, that last and are worth working for. I ask for stability as it's been happening, with perhaps a little less worry. These are optimistic requests. I hope they are granted and not made difficult.

In the Depression, was I depressed? Nowhere, near. I meant a big financier. . . and I'm here!

Jewels. JEWELS!

This week from 9 AM to 8 PM I spent working at a famous jewelry company. What did I do you wonder? I put tags on the jewelry, wrapped it in tissue paper and then put it in a plastic bag. For 10 hours a day. I lost my voice this week, so I sat there and listened to music mostly. I enjoyed the voicelessness as a way to not have to be nice to the people there. I'm embracing this whole temp lifestyle. Meaningless jobs, for long hours and being paid more than it's worth. It takes a little swallowing of pride, but once you get passed that, the money is fun.

I handled jewelry that was so fucking expensive.


This little number is worth $10,900. I was so close to strapping it around my dick and blaming the beep on my belt buckle when they searched me on my way out. That's more money than I will probably ever have at one time. It's also so tacky looking. I remember the days when a diamond was a diamond. You didn't need 15 other gems on it to show how wealthy you were!

This coming week is the holiday season. My grandfather is in the hospital, he had surgery. Followed by a second emergency surgery. In between those surgeries, he apparently had a few strokes. 'tis the season!

Hanging On By a Thread

There are good times and there are down times. There are the high times and small times. This is the time of year where everything dies. Where seasonal depression is created and pushed onto people. Where the pressure for holiday spirit is around, but you really do not feel it.

I got a call from my job, well the job I've spent the last month interviewing for. The homo-receptionist called to let me know they would hire me. Yet, the union is pressuring the office to hire someone in their Union. So I'm in limbo. I was accepted and rejected in the same breath. There is hope, but it will take time. With the possibility that I may lose out, cause a union is pressure and loyal. . .in difficult times. In these oh so difficult times.

Then in the same breath, I went to my fair hearing yesterday. Iguana took the stand to fight for his right to not pay $2,004 dollars. That he allegedly owed the government from one month of working. I made a time line printed out and was planning my speech in the waiting room. 2 hours of waiting, being the last white boy in an office filled with the poorest of the poor. I watched a man dry out a huge stack of newspapers on the bench. I could only guess they were his bedsheets or he was going to recycle them for money. I could only wonder.

To hours of waiting for 5 minutes of actual action. I sit down and take out my time line. Across from me sits a black woman, who once again can barely speak English. The judge turns on his phone and begins speaking legal jargon. I'm taking in the scene and wondering if I should cry or not. Do the poor black women with head wraps sit in this chair acting humble or yelling out, "I let him suck my titty so he'd love me!"

Then the judge informed me that a notice had been sent from the office telling them to ignore the existence of the $2,004 debt notice. A wash. A complete wipe. Months of worry and anticipation for one sentence. I danced out of the room and performed my best rendition of Singing in the Rain. We must celebrate the good moments.

A Moment to Type

"I'd like to dedicate this song to the bartender, B***e, who I spent 25 intimate minutes with in the bathroom last year. . ." That's how I opened my version of New York, New York this year in New Orleans.

It was a mild year. That moment though was a good closer to the vacation. It was a small enough bar, filled with enough locals that I think I'll be remembered by both the bartender and those people who go to sing karaoke for a little while.

I sit here eagerly awaiting a phone call, that at 8 minutes to five, I am pretty sure won't come. Do I wonder if that means I got the job? Or that they have told someone else. Is no news good news? It upsets me that I haven't heard anything, though I'm trying not to take it personally.

This game tires me and one cannot be expected to have much more motivation than I have been putting out there.

No news is good news. . .no news. . .

I Need This Job, oh God I need this Part!

Tomorrow is my third interview for an administrative assistant position for a non-profit medical center. The third and final showdown. To come so far and to compete with only my words and my charm.

I have this job, I know I do. This job belongs to me and I would kill for it. . .

Well not exactly kill for it. I would enjoy finding out that I have a REAL job for the first time in my life. An adult job at that! Oh, all I need to do is ace this interview. It's between myself and a second competitor.

I wonder what he is thinking, What his talents are. Is he more powerful than I? Does he have skills that surpass my ability to do mindless office work? Are his social graces better than mine? Of course these things can't be determined, but I must wonder.

I will sleep and wake to shower and shave the face. I have the dry cleaning all set and my tie is pre-set in a Half Windsor Knot. . .

Good luck.

Working 12 Hours. . .

I am alive, I have been temping from noon to midnight for the last week. It has not left me feeling very invigorated. I wake up at 9 to go to the gym before work and then do data entry for 12 hours. If you can imagine what 12 hours of data entry must be like, then you have the most boring personality. . . ever. I am grateful that I can listen to my iPod, and catch up on all the musicals I have been ignoring for the past months. I listened to Bravo Giovanni (finally) and am obsessed with this flop and with a young Michelle Lee. Who is more masculine than I will ever be.

I have a second interview on Tuesday. It came as a surprise to me and I am hoping for the best. I would like you to hope too. I spent all Friday thinking of what it would be like to have a normal work schedule, as well as a salary, not to mention working for a non-profit company. To be able to get stable work during the recession too will also make me just feel merry. I sit for hours (12 to be exact) and constantly hear other temps discuss their hopes to have real jobs. I see the temps who are swallowing pride and working for this company. Spending all day removing staples and entering data. I don't want that to be my life for ever. I would like to have the respect that comes with being a fellow employee, not just a temp.

Why Do I Do Things, I Never Mean To Do. . .

I am utilizing the Google Task bar in hopes of motivating myself to do more. If it's written down and constantly reminding me. I will be less likely to ignore the things I put off with a hand gesture. It's so difficult though when no one returns your phone calls or acknowledges your existence at all.

I cannot sleep right now because I feel nervous. Odd, nervous because tomorrow is Monday. The beginning of another week. Maybe the work will come in, maybe the feelings will lift. Maybe. There's so many maybes. There's a lot of wonder. If I could only take life by the balls.

As the Construction Worker simply said, "It's only phone calls." Phone calls with people who don't speak proper English. I will admit openly, I am not the brightest star, I can follow a direction and carryout protocol to perfection. Get a grade and I have it, read a book and I'll do it.

Expect me to make up my mind and choose what to do next. Are you mad? I was raised to follow rules and directions. There's no one to follow but myself now, and I just want things to be. I don't want to make phone calls, phone calls terrify me. The things I'm looking for are not taught in any classrooms. Oh goodness.

Scratched Nose

I once had a dream. I think you can call it my childhood. It involved hallways and simplicity and slower days. I have been trying to keep the glass half full. I feel like people are checking up on me and that makes me nervous.

There was a time when I could picture myself doing any job. I would do any job, but it doesn't even seem possible to get any job these days. I was raised to believe that I could do anything, but I'm entering a Depression. My generation is entering a Depression, but we're not ready to give into it, just yet.

The other day, when I wasn't looking for jobs because I applied to them all. I didn't want to leave the house yet, for fear that my temp agency would call me while I was shower in the gym or running on the treadmill. I decided I would take a short nap on the couch. It does not feel so lazy if I do it outside of my room and on the couch.

I closed my eyes and 45 minutes went by. My naps usually only last less than an hour, for that is about the time the furnace that lives in my body fully warms up and I burst into flame. Around minute 40 of that nap I was attacked by the Kitten. He saw my nose peaking out of the nap [the way I sleep on my stomach and fold my arms under my head. It allows me nose to peak out]. He saw that nose and dove for it. I now have a nice little scratch on my nose. He is a curious kitten, very curious indeed.

I need to take him to get his shots today, but the worry lies in the fact we're not supposed to have a kitten. It doesn't necessarily matter, because everyone else who lives in our building has a dog or cat. I just don't wish to get another set of bad news. I am going to disguise the carrier, as a giant Halloween basket I've made for my neighbors! They will never catch on. Never!

I Must Keep Optomistic.

Getting an elusive interview. For a 15 minute meeting, smiling and thinking about how you want to be happy to fold shirts for the next three months. Everything is temporary these days, no one is permanent. It's something and it's saving up money for better things.

I would love to fold shirts all day. Be enthusiastic all day. Smile, smile. I just want a paycheck. I'll smile till my fingers bleed. Though the correlation, I may even work through Christmas if I can. I know it may be cruel, I just don't want to think about things. I've acquired all a married woman can take. Except a job, so work is fine with me.

It's Fall

I've been getting all the biking I can, while the weather permits. It's been very chilly, but there's something nice about the lack of people I deal with while riding a bike. Not to mention the sweating. The sweating just feels refreshing.

I've been actively applying to jobs daily, which is both annoying and productive. I'm just trying to make my time useful while this trial continues. Hopefully by the end of this week it will end, we are going onto week three.

I went to the Equality March in Washington D.C. I really enjoyed being with my friends and marching to make a point. My favorite speakers were Angela Green and Charles King who spoke on HIV and AIDS. What upset me though was that all the people left after Lady Gaga spoke, and though I liked her little speech, it was nowhere as powerful as the other speakers.

King and Green both talked about the war on HIV and AIDS. How it's not dead and the infection rates will continue increasing if nothing is done. I've decided I am going to write them an email telling them how much their speech affected me, and how I want to partake in this fight. King said at the end of the speech that he was declaring today that AIDS is our fight. I want to help in that fight. We shall see where this brings me. For the first time in months I felt something that made me excited.

This Halloween I am going to be a version of Little Red Riding Hood. This idea came to me because the construction worker affectionately calls me Little Red and I call him the Wolf. He just looks like one, but in the sexist of ways. Unfortunately, all my friends will be in California, so I need to find a place to show off my costume.

There is A Sadness. . .

There's been a lot going on these days, but strangely enough nothing has been going on. There is the kitten, Bumble. He's funny and a nice companion. I'm trying to get him to stop nipping me when I try and pet him.

I have been applying to jobs. This legacy that I am leaving is building up. A futon and a kitten. Oh and the Construction Worker. Trying to build trust in me, which is comforting enough.

The trial is happening and happening. I'm not allowed to discuss it, so I'll keep all the details until this ends.

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.

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!

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.