so i breed thicker skin and let my lustrous coat fill in and i'll never admit that i loved you...
on saturday night i got rear-ended. at a red light. by a guy doing about 50. he didn't even touch his brakes before slamming into me. then he ran from his car. the cops got him; i don't know all the details yet.
the car is totaled. i only have liability and it's questionable whether the other driver is insured.
i am grateful that i wasn't seriously injured, but the trip to the hospital last night wasn't all that fun. i thought i was okay, but then everything started hurting and hurting and hurting and so i went in. it's just going to take some time.
my bosses are being cool about it. i won't be able to work through at least tomorrow.
one of the bad things about my hardcore working class experiment: no benefits. these days out of work are days that i'm not making any money.
i'm not sure whether i'm more upset over the accident, the fact that i have no car, the searing pain in my neck and back, or that there is no one to come over and crawl in bed with me.
i guess maybe it's a little bit of all of it.
i went to rent-a-wreck and rented a car for the week. didn't need the extra stress of being carless. the car is seriously a wreck. but it gets me around, and the price was right. it's red, though. honeycar was red. the totaled saab is red. this wreck of a ford tempo with a mazda ignition is red, too.
and to the asshole who HIT ME DOING 50: FUCKER!!!
i've spent the better part of the last two days trying to fix a computer that doesn't belong to me. i momentarily gave up and tried to call in a post (because why else would one fix a computer but to blog?) and audblog was down and really the world might as well have been ending.
RED SOX GOING TO THE SERIES. put that in your hat and smoke it. or your pipe. or don't smoke at all. it's a nasty habit.
i told someone today that when i first moved to SoCal, the angels won the series. now i've just moved back to new england and the sox are breaking the curse. hardcore fans are all about superstition and shit like that, so he took it very seriously.
so, yeah, pick your team for next year. i'll move there and we'll test out my theory. i'm thinking seahawks. just 'cuz i've yet to check that town out yet and maybe it'll suit me.
don't get me wrong, though. i fucking LOVE providence.
the men, though. this happened a few months ago, and i felt like a big ass then, too. so let me tell you: last night i'm in the middle of an outing with the firefighter. things are going well, i'm having fun, but there's no real true sparkage to speak of. but i'm keeping an open mind.
he asks me to describe my roommates. i use the word "cynical" for one of them.
he asks me what "cynical" means. no. he doesn't even re-use the word. he asks what "that" means.
i know. i'm an asshole. but that brief brief moment has been burning circles in my brain for the last twenty-four hours.
tonight, as i'm getting ready to leave the bar, harley guy comes in. i haven't seen him since the night he left his number on a napkin. he's appealing in this big burly cute italian way, and he lights my cigarettes for me, so i let him buy me a beer. he's saying some good stuff, and i'm reconsidering calling him.
he suggests coming over to his house to watch a movie. "oh please. everyone knows what 'come over and watch a movie' means," i say, throwing some finger quotes into the air.
he says. seriously, he says: "oh, what's that? are those the motions of what ends up happening?" he mimicks the air-quotes, but in a way that illustrates that he's not even in the same book as i am.
have i turned into one of those horrible near-30 single chicks who would judge such things to be deal-breakers?
here's where it gets good: sure, i'll toss off a guy for not knowing "cynical" (but, come on, really. CYNICAL.). in the meantime in the meantime in the meantime
in the meantime i'll stall because i can't believe this shit i allow myself to get into. in the meantime
i will fall in love with a married man.
anything i say after that will sound like sick rationale. so i will let that one just sit there. there isn't much else to say that doesn't make me sound like a big dumb asshole. a big dumb selfish self-destructive hedonist.
okay, so this computer is so fuckin fucked up with viruses and spyware and shit and i don't know what to do with it. it's so fucked that the newly downloaded version of norton won't even install because there's a virus in the way. a few days ago, the display bumped down to 16 colors and i CAN NOT seem to fix it. as i write this, i am being inundated with popup popup popupopupssss. i ran adaware and it came up with over 1300 things to quarantine. except some virus is blocking the quarantining process. so i know they're there but i can't GET THEM TO STOP.
also, i raced out before work yesterday to pick up jimmy eat world's newest one, which is pretty rockin but a bit disappointing. but while i was at newbury comics, i picked up pinback's newest one. UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE. nothing earth-shattering, but i can't not be listening to it. melodies...progressing chord something or other...it's phenomenal backround sound.
i've got no partner for the concert tomorrow. i think maybe i'm ready to break through the barrier and go a show alone for the first time. but yeah, death cab for cutie. if you can be here and ready to go around 830, you should totally go.
yesterday was a weird day at the bar. i'm blaming my new pants. remember last week i was whining about how nothing fit me, everything was too big? so i ventured out to the mall and actually found three great-ass pants. now, when i'm cleaning up around the bar, i can feel eyeballs burning holes into my ass. not because it's a great ass, but because it's on display now.
anyway, two people left their numbers on napkins for me yesterday. and someone else who was trying to stay away from me because of complications showed up at the bar all unshaven and misty-eyed. i guess sometimes all your other parts aren't always in agreeance (is that a word?) even when your words say no.
one of the numbers is from a firefighter. the other is from a harley guy. very interesting. don't know whether i should call or not...
in other news, i'm on the fence about rilo kiley's and hot rod circuit's new ones, but cake's new album kicks utter and complete ass. absolutely. i haven't been so jazzed by the first three tracks of an album on first listen since i first heard jem.
death cab for cutie, october 21. i've got four tickets that i didn't pay for. wanna go?
it's interesting, moving from the professional office world to the bartending-at-a-dive world. i'm learning so much. and i'm here to tell you to treat your waitstaff and bartenders well. it's true that we put up with a lot. and our feet usually hurt. but if we're giving you attitude, then of course we don't deserve your tips.
my new strategy is wearing shirts that have phrases printed on the chest. that way the guys don't have to pretend they're not looking. they can just pretend they're reading instead. it seems to be working. now when i wear a plain shirt they get all confused and their eyes bobble around not knowing what to look at.
i'm going grocery shopping. fascinating, eh?j
cold shower in my future
i woke up at seven to find B at my door. she asked why my door was open, then crawled into bed with me for a minute. (it's all very innocent sister stuff, so get that picture right out of your head, gutterbrain.) then she announced she was turning on the heat for the first time. "right on," i said, because i had been freezing at night but didn't want to complain since i knew the response would be something about my thin california blood.
it was nice and warm for about five minutes before the RATTLING AND KNOCKING started. we all ignored it.
J got up to take a shower. "huh," she said, "the water just won't get warm."
her boyfriend went into the CREEPY BASEMENT to check it out. what he found was a flooded floor and one of the three water heaters spraying an unhappy arc.
our landlord is working on the problem right now. i haven't decided yet whether to try a cold cold shower or drive over to someone else's house for a warm one. decisions, decisions... comfort vs. laziness...
i'm lucky that these are the biggest problems in my life right now. well, except for married guy, but that's so self-inflicted it's not worth going into.
back to the stoop...
my new daily routine
now that a routine is finally formulating, i have to say that i'm a big fan. every morning is like a lazy sunday morning to me. but if i have things i need to get done, i have enough time to do them and still have some lazy time.
i only work four days a week, and not until 2pm. so i get up at 8 to move my car, go to the bathroom, then eat breakfast and sit on the stoop with a cup of tea, a magazine, and a cigarette. today that was only interrupted by the dead rat that i had to throw away.
i've got all morning to shop (like yesterday), or fuck around online (like today). i like my job and everytime it occurs to me that i should feel guilty for not having a "real" job with a pension and benefits and regular hours, i remember sitting on my front steps with that cup of tea and realize that i don't think i can ever go back.
it frustrates my family. they see the potential i am wasting, they know how smart i am. they don't understand why i can't focus all of that into some higher career purpose. make a name for myself. start saving money.
i think it may turn out that while i do need to find a way to challenge my interior, i won't be the type of person who finds that at work. i will have to buckle down soon and find an endeavor to donate some creative energy to.
as long as it doesn't interfere with my morning cup of tea on the back stoop.
i don't know whether i am just exceptionally relaxed (possibly lazy), or if my roommates are just hyper crazy people. maybe both.
J got up at 630 this morning to be at work at 900. that in itself strikes me as strange, since we live mere blocks from her place of work. but then she remembered that she doesn't have to be in until 2pm today. so now she's buzzing about the house, hanging pictures, scrubbing floors, fixing her hair. i don't think it's possible for the woman to sit still.
B, who's a late-sleeper, was up at 8 and barking for shower time. we both asked her if she's working today, and she snapped, "what, i'm not allowed to have a day off?" turns out she thought we were busting on her because she calls in sick a lot lately. actually we just figured she must be on duty to be up and at 'em so early.
me? i'm sitting on my bed, unshowered and still in PJ's, writing this. call it lack of ambition if you will, but the reason B got up early was to get her nails and hair done.
ugh. but i have decided that i need to get my ass to the mall. it's ridiculous. i can't believe i'm complaining about this. in the last year and a half, i've lost about 35 pounds. 15 of that has happened since i left california. my clothes were still kind of suitable before hitting the road, but the last 10 has turned my entire pants-collection into comedy. nothing fuckin' fits anymore, and it's not attractive. my dickies still KIND of fit, but because nothing else does, i've worn them so much that i've burned holes in the inner upper thighs. yeah, i've got kissing thighs, what of it? and i walk a lot.
also, it's 50 outside right now, and all i own are t-shirts. i really don't have the money for a shopping trip, but i can't run around looking like a schlub anymore.
i guess that's it for now...
i just i just i just i just
don't know what to say to anyone anymore. i'm utterly and completely blocked. i have things and ideas and notions and plans burning a goddamn fucking circle through my brain, but ask me how i'm doing or how was work or tell me something about yourself and i will clam up and focus the conversation back onto you.
is it habitual now, because of my service-oriented barwork?
is something going on inside me, is there some major change afoot deep in my interior that is only now bubbling to the service?
i find myself listening to songs suggested and given to me by someone for the sole fact that he gave them to me. most of the songs are by artists that i have written off and never bought an album by.
i've promised myself to embrace this fucked up world; to find the beauty in everything--to spin even a hurtful consequence into a learning experience. i vowed to not judge, to learn new things, to allow other people to live their lives around me while i suss myself out.
i listen to this fucking cd and i wonder. i know the cd wasn't made FOR me. it was just made, and then felt appropriate and was handed over. mixed tapes, though. everyone understands the power behind them, right? someone wouldn't just hand one over ignorant to the fact that the recipient is going to give it one half-listen before solidly sinking into full-on analyzation. right?
"i'm sad for you," he says. "you need a soulmate and i don't think you'll ever find one."
FUCK OFF. stop knowing me. you don't know me. you recognize our similarities and you see the parts of me that are like the parts of you and you project because it is easy to do so from your position of power.
it doesn't make you insightful. it is not a stretch for one twin to turn to the other and say, "wow. we look exactly alike."
(well, unless they're fraternal, and fuck off again if you thought that when you read it.)
all of this on top of dealing with my right arm
being back a thousand miles away again. it sucks when you finally recognize you've found your wingman and he resides a good five great lakes away from you. it's surely not our time, if there is a time for us to be found, but he's my solid steady wingman nonetheless.
i'm exhausted. "i needed to know you because i knew you would change me." enough. enough. ENOUGH. someone change ME. it's time.
maybe what i mean by that is "someone please tame me." someone make room on their shoulder for my head to find it no matter the time or place.
but i'm willing to wait for you. i don't think it's sad at all that i'm busy running and living in the meantime. if soulmates exist, mine will stumble upon me eventually. for now, i'll keep bumping through these experiences with a smile on my face. your absence doesn't scare me. nor does the idea of never finding you.
there are plenty of other storms to wage.