I don’t even know what to say now. I had something and deleted it. Or perhaps I didn’t really have anything at all. Either way, it’s over.
I looked over the course descriptions for classes at UNH-M and was entirely bored by the prospects of going to class to spend time in uncomfortable seats with a bunch of kids who have little or no idea what they’re talking about or what they would do if they somehow had an idea. I’m biased.
100/100
That shit pisses me off. Why can’t I just be healthy when I need to be?
More later.
Had a conversation with Mr. K today in which he reiterated that he has not forgotten about my raise. This, from what I know about typical business practices, is not a normal behavior.
I’m okay with that.
Had a girl come in for one shift last night and quit at the end. Something about not wanting to lower herself to the level of the girls here. Hmph.
I’m drinking sprite these days. Not a lot. Just every so often. Roommate’s stuff is moved out. Still don’t feel better about that situation though.
I’m having trouble speaking in complete sentences in which all the words come out correctly. A lot of syllables get mixed up. This is a new experience for me as I’ve always been able to talk pretty well.
I’m thinking that tomorrow will be the day to get the apartment cleaned up the rest of the way. New towels? Yes. It’s like a new start for $23.99 a set at your local Target.
Drink some tea, you’ll feel better.
I sat down with Mr. K and talked for a long time last night. It was good to get an update because I’d really felt out of the loop recently.
I want a hug so badly. I know it sounds silly, but I really, really do. I can’t be friends with anybody I work with and that gets wearing after awhile. I know it feels it right now. The sinking feeling like the one you get when you barely make it through heavy traffic to a presentation only to realize that your bag felt light because you never put your laptop in it.
I feel like I’m not smart enough to do this.
I feel like somebody is going to call me out on my inexperience and embarrass me.
I feel like I really don’t know what I’m doing.
I’d really like to cry until my head clears…but I won’t.
Oh, no!
I’ll do what I always do: bury it all deep down and kick ass with a smile because I always figure things out. I always get it done.
Its not just a hug I want. I should clarify. I want to be embraced by somebody who understands what’s going on in my life right now and doesn’t despise me for what I’m doing.
That’s probably a pretty common sentiment…Perhaps I’ll just continue listening to others and eventually somebody will ask me to talk.
I’ve been overwhelmed today by a longing for summer. The warm sun and growing things. It’s easy to be alone in the summer because everything is growing and warm and I’m just part of it.
I realized this afternoon that I had an Econ problem set due this evening and that there was no possible way for me to complete before going to work. This means I have used up both of the chances to drop a problem set at the end of the semester. Between being sick and very unhappy, I spent my weekend staying alive. But now I’m paying for it. I think I shall enlist some sibling company this next weekend as I catch up on academics.
I’ve been so sick this week that my voice barely works. It’s hard to chat up customers when I am trying my best to not cough all over them. It’s fun though, in a way. Not the coughing but the talking and interacting with people. I have a pretty empty life outside of those interactions so I make every effort I can to enjoy the process.
I had a customer tell me last night that I “have the world’s best job, hanging out with beautiful women all the time.” In a way, I suppose he’s right. There’s a lot to be said for being surrounded by physical beauty. But they’re all humans. I can tell you a specific part about each woman that is very unattractive. I suppose it’s part of my job to make it look like I do have the world’s best job. Mr. K says in a few months, I’ll love my job.
I hope he’s right.
I was wasting some time online today looking through pics of some girls I was really into during my time in college. One of them had a bunch of links to a facebook group dedicated to the life of her best friend who had died at 21. It was completely packed with comments, messages, and pictures lit up with emotions expressed by people who wished she hadn’t died.
I know life is very fluid and many of those people would have moved on or grown cold by now had she kept breathing. But seeing the reactions of those left behind, I cannot help to be jealous of this girl I’ve never met. I have siblings who would miss me. My current employer would be quite put out at my disappearance. But I am honestly without any real connections otherwise.
I’ve been told it’s a matter of energy. “You get back what you put in.” That is not only against the laws of physics, but it also rarely seems to be the case in the lives of people around me. Those who seem most invested in their relationships tend to draw a lot of satisfaction/drama from them…but isn’t that the case with any object of dedicated involvement?
I’ve been told that I am fun to spend time with…but I’ve had perhaps 3 requests for such from non-relatives in the past year.
I’m often told that I am fun to talk to. My phone, meanwhile, hasn’t rung with a non-work/sibling conversation in a very, very long time.
But in spite of all that, I am farther from wishing a place beside Danielle than I have ever been in recent memory. I love, as I told my sister, “The thrill of running as hard as you can, drinking a cup of tea, and barely getting your chin across the finish line by day’s end.” Most of my time is taken by work and school. I don’t even have much time for extraneous pursuits like drinking and reading. An odd trade-off has happened. In not getting the job as a bouncer, I lost a lot of opportunities for a more active social life. In getting the job as a manager, I gained many future opportunities for more valuable interactions…and I am happier with myself. This is an extremely good outcome as I am the only person lately with whom I can just hang out.
After many years and countless disappointing trips to shoe stores, I have a fantastic pair of dress shoes. I wore them last night. I’ve never had a nice pair of dress shoes. I know it’s silly, but I felt more important. I wasn’t ashamed of my feet being big. I had the pinstripe suit and shirt with french cuffs and cuff links and tie and those fantastic shoes that didn’t hurt much at all considering it was the first wearing. I didn’t feel attractive–I’m not at all, you see–but I did feel very much pulled together and it made it much easier to smile.
“I still think you can do better.”
So said the IM message I returned to after taking a shower this evening. This girl who barely knows me has taken it upon herself to tell me under no uncertain terms that I am wasting my life.
I still don’t know how to reply to a remark of that sort. So I didn’t. You see, a wall has been breached and all these things I used to wonder about, the what if’s, are now daily questions. Instead of listening to music and dreaming about what It’s going to be like to have a challenging job that will actually help me get someplace where I can influence things in a way that will leave me happier…I’m listening to music and thinking about what I’m going to do tomorrow.
The reading for my classes is involved. I’m doing double sets of notes. I know this means I’m over-studying but I don’t know how much time I’ll have this coming week and I want the stuff locked in my head.
My day consisted of interviewing for another job, picking up my suit, and an evening with Mr. K.
The interview was cake. Picking up my suit was easy. Trying it on was not so satisfactory. The pants are still too large and the jacket needs the sleeves shortened just a bit for a reveal on the shirt cuffs. But I took the suit with the promise to return for the needed modifications…and headed home.
I nearly killed my housemate’s cat as I hurried to get ready and almost crushed it underfoot as it continued its habit of running between my feet as I walk. This, for anyone interested, is a very bad way of traveling. If you are ever headed in the same direction as an elephant or a giraffe, walk to the side.
So I get the suit on, I make the pants work, I slip into my shoes, and I’m out the door. Driving to a place from which I have no idea what to expect still holds some thrill for me. I was a bit nervous.
Get this, I interviewed for a job as a bouncer. I walk in and say to the doorman “Hey, aren’t I a bit overdressed for this?” To which he replied, “Naw, the last guy wore a suit too.” Things started to really click when conversations went silent as I walked by other staff members and dancers were hesitant to be friendly to me.
Eh, kids? I’m a manager. Is this my big break? Yes, there’s a very good chance of that.
What am I doing about this? Well, I’m sitting here sipping a cold drink and deciding how much sleep I want to get before I go see my sister and one of the other sisters. Tomorrow night when I see Mr. K, we’re going to have a talk about his expectations and whether or not I believe I can meet them in a timely fashion.
One of the dancers tonight looked like Ducky and every time I saw her it made me smile. She’s not a very bright girl and caused what might have been the only fight of the evening. For that I didn’t smile at all.
I’m tired and I want a hug from a girl with real breasts who isn’t hugging me just to mooch up to the new manager. I was wearing a pretty swell tie though. More concrete thoughts at a later date, I’m afraid. Sleep well. Drink slowly. Don’t give up.
Taking my own advice.
My major task today was not an easy one: find and buy a suit or jacket/pant ensemble that will perform as needed tomorrow night and thereafter.
I looked at a couple places online and decided on Men’s Warehouse because their rewards program includes lifetime tailoring and pressing. Picking a store was just the start. I’m a big guy, but not chubby in normal measurements. Most large-sized suits are built for a man who is fat from the waist up. I have a happy layer of winter walrus fat all over a body that goes from massive shoulders in to the waist and straight down.
Alan was frustrated at first. He couldn’t find anything I liked in a size that would fit my shoulders. His superior came over and put on a very amusing display of salesmanship that included a terrible double-breasted navy jacket and some shoes that were a size too small. “Oh, they say they are too small but they fit like a sneaker. Very comfortable. You will like them, brother.”
I didn’t.
I settled on a dark charcoal suit with gray and slightly brown lines in it. The shoulders fit perfectly but the girth was so oversized that I looked very much like a bad accident. The pants were even worse. The tag on the waistband said a number exactly 10 inches larger than my realistic waist. In walked the tailor.
With her white chalk she marked as she pulled, pinned, and tugged.
I find out tomorrow how her project turned out. There won’t be time to fix anything before I head off to see Mr. K. I take slight comfort in the knowledge that I have substantial sewing skill on my side and the worst case scenario involves resetting a cuff by hand. Obviously, I am refusing to entertain the possibility of a miscommunication or gross error resulting in an unwearable garment.
In other news, I succumbed to the repeated calls of an old friend’s younger sister to hang out. After getting a haircut–the stylist held her breath and grunted between scissor strokes–we hung out and went to get dinner at Margarita’s with the idea that I’d see the always-stunning Miss LG. Keep in mind that I was attending this hang-out session under duress when I complain that the female in attendance never made a move for her purse when the check came. She quietly waited until I’d paid the bill before thanking me like it was something I’d offered to do. I suppose I’ve grown accustomed to more-progressive behavior from female companions. Hate me if you must but I believe she was grossly in the wrong.
Sleep well, drink slowly, and don’t give up!
I’ve been interviewing here and there this past week for a new job(s) to take the place of my depleted bank account. From the regular batch of boring hourly jobs, I found one that might fit the bill…and it might not.
I’ve threatened for some time to work at a club. The size, the friendly demeanor, the overwhelming suaveness that all the Axe-wearing boys try to replicate and fail…all contribute to my declaration that I’d be good at such a task.
So I sit down with Mr. K and we begin our discourse during which he declares “you have that biblical background so you must be good inside!” This is a comment I am currently shrugging at. Who knew that the manager of a strip club would be so interested in my knowledge of the Bible? He gave himself away when he said he knew my name was from the Bible. So what am I going to do?
Tomorrow, I’m going to see if I can’t find a suitable jacket. I have the great advantage in that I’m dealing with a dark environment. What works to hide the razor burn also works to hide the difference in patterns between my tie and shirt…except I WILL KNOW and shall choose accordingly.
Then? Thursday my Trump-like assignment is to go forth and greet the creeps and lonely hearts who wish, for just a little while, to let themselves believe that a woman who cares for her body is interested in them.
I have little idea as to how this is going to work out but I’ve already deduced that Mr. K is probably a screamer and with that sort of character comes a mixed bag of blossoms I think I’m ready to handle. For now.
Sleep well. Drink slowly. Don’t give up.
