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.

I Shall Remarry. . .

He called me his boyfriend. Tra-la. For the first time in years. Will wonders never cease? He's invited me to Greece come this June. Oh mamma, I may be going to Greece. I need to save up money!

It's all so trivial, but simple and nice. We enjoy the company and he's quiet, but he likes to have me around. Oh we shall see, we shall see.

Vannnnnilllllllaaaa iiiiiiccccceeeeecrrrrrrreeeeeaaaammm.

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.

Switched Off. . .

The trial goes on and on. Oh it's truly to much to take, unfortunately until a verdict it reached, that's as far as I can talk about.

Tomorrow I am going to Washington D.C. for the Equality March for Same-Sex Marriage. It will be my first time in Washington D.C. and for such a reason as this, one can only wonder how this trip will turn out. I'm expected to find a bus in midtown (a location that I still do not know where) at 6 AM. I have an online ticket and Maya Angelou to keep me company. As well as some fun friends and their mothers!

The kitten is in this stage of hate. I purchased a spray bottle and have had to use it on several occasions. Bumble seems to have taken an angry response. He won't really go near me or let me pet him anymore. Yet, I can't let him bite wires and nip at my fingers. Therefore, when he sees my hand is justifiably terrified that he will get spritzed in the face with my ray gun!

I suppose a swift and just parent is better than a parent a lazy and parent who spoils. Oh well, I hope he accepts the fact that I am his benefactor as well as his disciplinarian.

Last night I saw a one woman show with the Construction Worker and an older friend of his. Along with that friend's sorted gay friends. Oh, the gay life! He then spent the night and we slept together. It seems so simple. He's a busybody and he works most days, he never hangs out at the apartment. He has buildings to build and contractors to deal with.

We cuddle and I try to please without spilling to many tears. It seems so easy and calm. He's turning 40 in March and he wants to rent a yacht and take several friends on it to some place warm and far away. I have until March, but was he inviting me? Or simply throwing out the suggest, "Save up kid. I don't stay for breakfast and I won't cover your tab on this adventure."

What's a Yacht? Some kind of dragon? People can rent Yachts with kitchen staff and crew! That fee is in someone's pocketbook? I can handle the price of two tickets to a one woman show, but to an island. Let me call my temp agency for extra work. . . I'll see you in March. It's curiously simple and I don't necessarily want it to become complex.

I will not worry about a yacht. A yacht is about as common of a used word as taint. Everyone recognizes that it's a dirty word, but no one really know how to properly describe what it actually is.

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.

Now Is The Moment

The Construction Worker is laying in my bed, puking and trying to calm a hangover. He's a hot mess, which makes this the first time I feel somewhat in control. Which makes it sound maniacal in this twisted way.

Alas, it's what it is. I should just keep quiet, he's conscience but drunk. This I have never experienced with someone I'm dating. It's all new, the entire thing is new. Oh so much to take in this. Wifely duty.

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.

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.