one thousand ways the world will live

work on saturday and sunday.

i floated through these shifts, not really caring about or seeing anybody.

on saturday we had to hand out candy to the bratty little kids who were trick-or-treating at the mall. it was really annoying. some were so spoiled they complained about the two pieces of candy we gave them. others came back more than a few times. all the while their parents are letting them run around willy-nilly at the mall, not caring if they look greedy because they're coming around again or not.

some old guy made me go through the entire get well section. i literally picked up almost every single card and showed it to him. none were good enough. then when we got to the counter he came right around behind where the registers are to take several pieces of candy that he said he "deserved" over the children. and THEN he had the nerve to tell us to tell our managers that the card selection sucked and that we should be ashamed because walmart sells better cards than we do.
yeah. he got a big middle finger to his back as he was leaving.

sunday was okay. it went by quickly because i was back and forth for a few hours stocking ornaments. my assistant manger was there training a new victim, and he didn't really do anything all day (as usual). so it wasn't too bad.

on break i stole internet from the mall and just worked on nano, and then we closed. by the way, my assistant manager did nothing for closing until i asked him to come out and count the deposit.

then we drove to a meeting, another ten exits up the road.

why they chose to have the fucking meeting another half hour away, i don't know. but they did. a bunch of us from our store got to the other store (which was another ridiculously large store, like my old one) just in time. there was no food, and we all sat on the floor.

the interesting thing to me was the definite difference in personalities of the two stores. hosted by the other manager, the meeting itself was productive and inspiring, the way a meeting should be. but the attitude difference was major, covert looks exchanged between all of us from our store. the others that we didn't know seemed relaxed. they even seemed to like their manager. our assistant manager even sat on the opposite side of the half-circle from us.

all in all, a wasted evening. i had to attend this thing i didn't get paid for, which only took quality time away from nanoing, and away from seeing friends.



i've put my application into barnes & noble though, up the road. i even included a cover letter and resume... so hopefully i'll stand out. once i get hired, i'm gone, hallmark.

Nothing really.

Last week I left for vacation but received a new voicemail notification when I checked my voicemail one last time on Friday. It was a message from my coworker asking me to please call her and that it wasn't about taking a shift. Damn, I thought. Oh well. It could wait.

Monday I call her back when I landed and apparently Hallmark Loss Prevention was looking for me and were pissed that I wasn't working Thursday, like they'd been told.

Sorry to burst their bubble, I said to my coworker, because I wasn't even scheduled that Thursday. Someone got their facts confused.

So they're looking for me now. Great. What else do they want? They already fired my boss. Perhaps they're looking to fire me.

Well, if they end up saying that I am under disciplinary action or something... I may just consider quitting. I suppose I'll give the customary two weeks notice, but at this point, I may be happy to do away with the job immediately, without notice.

I didn't work yesterday, but I had to go back to Hellmark to get my schedule and retrieve some boxes to help my real job pack up.

So after work, I drove over to the mall and walked in. A was working, as well as both my manager and assistant manager. As usual, my AM was sitting on his ass in the back, "checking Hallmark email" and not doing anything else while my manager did all the work, cutting up boxes and unpacking shipment. We greeted one another and I wrote down my schedule.

C, the manager, beckoned to me and whispered something completely inaudible. I shrugged and then ducked around the corner to hear her better. She whispered to see if I had received another call from Hallmark Loss Prevention.

Heart sinking, I said no. Why? Should I expect a call?

C looked around the corner at the AM, who was still sitting on his ass laughing about how Hallmark sent a link to the new floor plan but since it was hosted on an outside website, he couldn't connect to it on the Hallmark browser. She said that she'd tell me in a second, so I said hello and goodbye to the AM and then stepped out.

"So?" I said.

"Sooo," she answered. "They're trying really hard to get me fired. Now they claim I passed you money and then had you ring out my candy. So expect a call from Loss Prevention about it."

I rolled my eyes. "I borrowed that fifty cents from you, which I paid back. Just what the hell are they trying to prove here?"

I also brought up the point that we are a top performing store. I understand the need to root out corruption, but I hardly think our store qualifies for malignant corruption. So... why they're trying to fire an excellent manager is beyond me.

Just fucking try it, Hallmark. Maybe if you actually used the money you put into your Gold Crown Fraud department for a better cause, like maybe coming up with a simple algorithm for sorting stores' transactions by employee number and filtering out the employee sales, you could have an accurate count. Or I don't know. Stop worrying so much about a fifty cent piece of candy and start worrying that your card lines are starting to fucking blow, that the promotions are the lamest I've seen in six years, and that nobody is going to pay $99.95 for a fucking glitter snowman or a digital frame.

Or, work on firing people that actually are problems in the system, like my asshole assistant manager who has continually thrown everybody under the bus for small mistakes, and who stirs up drama where there is none, who is generally lazy and does not contribute to the overall sales of the company, and who only gets away with it because he supposedly has friends in the corporate office. Focus on some decent employee retention, because this fucking witch hunt for a bullshit technicality is only hurting you.

I had 5% of my respect left for corporate Hallmark, and now I have none. I will just patronize them in my next letter once again about this asinine problem (I can understand their harassing me if I'd continued to break the rule they just enacted as of October 1, but to come after me yet again about something that happened five weeks ago? Give me a fucking break. Do you WANT to lose a generally good and reliable employee because you won't realize you have no ground to stand on, and if you keep calling me I'm just going to write the same professional but firm letter that I wrote before?

After this experience, I do not want to work for corporate Hallmark again. Give me a private store any day.

Current Mood: irritated

Saturday is Ornament Debut, and I'm about as unexcited as it is humanly possible to be.

A "big night" for us is $6000, and I spend most of the night in my head reliving what it was like to work at the other Hallmark in MD, with people I actually like, even though it would have been much more stressful and high-maintenance than this set up was.

Well, we have out new ornaments, which I have to study so that I can write about them. There's the new Christmas crap, as I like to call it. Hallmark has those recordable DVD greetings or something that I don't care about. There's punch and cookies and other than that, it is a normal night. I have to close with A, who takes my Sunday so I can spend it with my boyfriend. It is the first time closing that I do not screw up (too much), but it takes us til 10 to leave.


Monday, nothing happens. Literally nothing. The girl I work with doesn't say two words to me all night until we're about to leave. I think I may die of boredom until the Boy visits for a few minutes. But the good news is that I close and it's even better than Friday. Only now I don't work again for at least another week, so I will probably forget everything I know.

For the record (and I may say this in every entry from now on), I can't believe I'm doing another Christmas at Hallmark. I've broken my promise to myself. I sold out.

Today I arrive early to work. I sit upstairs at the food court and listen to music and read some more of "Dracula." It's my ritual after my main job and just my way of unwinding a bit before spending three hours at the store.

I walk in, and my boss C corners me almost immediately.

"Did J from Loss Prevention call you?"

"What?" I say. "No... was he supposed to?" The first thought that crosses my mind is that I screwed up closing that one weekend so badly that they were going to fire me.

She tells me that the term 'gaming,' which she brought up over a month ago, was being investigated. Corporate was very interested in a few transactions that took place on September 4. Apparently, C bought three pieces of chocolate three times in a row between 8:00 and 8:04, and now Corporate is suspicious that we had committed Gold Crown fraud, a fireable offense.

"Expect a call," she says. "I denied everything. I'm not going to get fired over this."

Generally, C is rule-abiding, almost to a fault. If there's anything that Corporate teaches their managers, it's how to do paperwork and how to follow the rules exactly.

And Hallmark did not put this new anti-"gaming" rule into effect until October 1, a week ago. So why they were investigating something that happened over a month ago... it just seems unfair.

After C leaves, sure enough, I get the call.

"Did J the District Manager call you to let you know I was going to call?" the guy asks.

"No," I say. I keep my tone as neutral as possible.

"Well he should have."

"Well, he didn't," I say.

He asks if my boss told me he was going to call, and I said yes, she told me.

"What did you think this was regarding?" he asks.

"Uh... honestly, I thought I was in further trouble about that weekend that I messed up closing a few times," I say.

"Did she mention anything else?" he asks.

"...She mentioned the 'gaming' thing that she told us about after the meeting about it last month," I say.

"Do you know what it is?" he asks.

"Gaming?" I say.

And I tell him, and the conversation goes on and on. He asks if I know what C bought on September 4, and I laugh out loud.

"Seriously?" I say. "No. It was a month ago."

And so it goes on. They are upset that she purchased three separate pieces of chocolate three minutes apart instead of doing it all at once. I say that I didn't know it was wrong to be a customer in her own store, paying with her own money, as many times as she would like. They inform me that it just looks suspicious, like we are trying to inflate our Gold Crown averages, and that it's wrong to do so. I tell them that well, I didn't know anything was wrong when she asked me if she could buy them, and that I'd never read anything anywhere in the Hallmark manuals that said it was a fireable offense.

They then ask why I later, at 9:00, purchased a piece of chocolate, whether C had ever wanted to inflate the Gold Crown average, and if I was sure she would never do that.

The true answers are that yes, we absolutely did it to inflate the numbers. Of course we did it. But C brings up a good point; before she had left the store, she told me that it's ridiculous for them to care so much about this, and yet when we miss goal by $5, they call her personal cell phone after hours to yell at her for not making it. It's a ridiculous double standard on the part of corporate Hallmark. Other stores in the area inflate their numbers and fabricate Gold Crown sign ups; it is a fireable offense to randomly assign someone points from a purchase made by a customer who did not want a Gold Crown Card, and now it is fireable to ask someone who does have a GCC to contribute to the pool.

There's no winning.

Yet because Hallmark is making such a whining, squalling deal out of such a bullshit little thing (he actually says to me on the phone, "She purchased three pieces of candy for forty-five cents... no wait... thirty cents with tax..."), I do not feel compelled at all to cooperate. And the fact that they are attacking us so aggressively just loses my respect. What kind of environment is this, where we have to watch our backs because every little thing is a black mark on our record? When you're expected to meet goals and get physically yelled at when you do not, why should I care? Why should I make my GC goals when we don't get commission, we don't get rewards, and we're hardly ever recognized for the effort?

At the end of the conversation he tells me I am to write a report.

"A report?" I say.

"Do you have access to a computer?" he asks.

"Now?!" I say.

"Yes, if possible."

I tell him, "I can do it first thing tomorrow morning, when I have access to my personal email."

He seems unhappy with this, but I do not budge, saying that he has taken me off the floor for fifteen minutes at least now, thus leaving only one sales associate to ring customers. He concedes and gives me his email address and phone number.

He tells me to verify everything that I said, to write a report in detail about what we had discussed, and to include what C said to me today, whether I believe she would purposely manipulate the GC average, and then everything--again, with details--that happened on the night of September 4.

So I go through the fucking inquisition and have to work for another few hours. Irritated, I just get through it. It makes me feel ridiculous, that I can waste so much time thinking and worrying about these stupid things, yet out in the world there are serious problems that need addressing... is this is what my life is always to be?

Just another night at Hallmark.

Current Mood: annoyed

the other night nothing happened.

my assistant manager avoided me like he usually does. this means he went to the back and sat there for a while doing nothing on his ass, just like always. so, still dying from my head cold and coughing all over everybody, i helped people.

apparently my cold makes me a little nicer, because more than one person said, "thank you. you're so kind." this usually never happens. good times.

new ornaments are up. i could really care less about this shit, but a few new ones sparked my imagination for the story in november. i think.

i don't work again til wednesday, and a coworker wanted to know if i wanted to pick up a shift on thursday. i might do it, because so far this pay period i will only have made $30 or whatever shit i make working only 3.5 hours. so sad.

the pipes are still busted in the back room, so now the wall above the emergency exit is completely dissolved, brown, soggy. this can't be healthy.

tonight my boss and assistant manager wouldn't leave so that i could go in the back and drink my stupid pumpkin spice latte. and everyone was in the mall because it was monsooning outside, only they weren't in our store. my manager kept peering over my shoulder. she's done this ever since i fucked up so badly last weekend.

my punishment is having to work with both of them the next few times i'm in. great. fucking great.

we got a push vacuum so that we can use it on the floor ten minutes before we close, because apparently the store gets dirty and my coworker is a neat-freak and hates the little white things on the floor.

a guy came in asking for things that he could bring back to his family as gifts from america. we settled on a jim shore mickey mouse, the birthday one with balloons. originally, he and his friend were thinking about buying the full willow tree nativity, but he kept asking us questions about its origin and i thought they were making fun of me, because his friend kept laughing. i got defensive and didn't want to help them anymore; my coworker walked away and left me with them, so i had to finish helping the guy.

oh. while looking for the box for his mickey, i had to go in the back room and get on the big ladder. as i was lifting it down from its hooks, the ceiling leaked on my face. chik-fil-a busted a pipe above us and refuses to fix it, and the mall refuses to fix the leak because they say it's chik-fil-a's fault, and so to address the situation we keep calling them every day. and in the back room, there's a nasty sheet of plastic on the floor and covering the emergency exit, with three buckets to catch the brown pipe water. if the fire marshall comes, we'll be shut down instantly.

someone stole 3 lolita glasses, so we had to re-aim the security cameras, and then when i was taking out the trash, some fucker had parked his car right in front of the door in the back alley and so i swung the door open hard and put a dent in his fender.

i don't feel too badly about it though. he chose to park illegally. i needed to take out the garbage. whatever.

just another night at the best store in the world..

So I’ve seen this graphic on a couple friends’ websites and decided to try it myself.

(Click for a bigger version!)

See that? Lots of possibility but not so much action. I will, can, probably do stuff. Most likely, I do not. Also there seems to be two of a lot of things (do I really use that word the most? I suppose it is better than using I…).

Interesting…

Current Mood: content

Things I love about my new job:
- the sunlight that streams through my window in the morning
- the courtyard outside the building
- working
- that I get to learn the intricacies of Illustrator at an accelerated rate
- that I’m doing work relevant to my field
- my office

Things I could do without:
- evening traffic
- not being able to go to my favorite gym class
- not having money…and probably having to wait for the next paycheck a long time

Life is treating me fairly well right now. Tonight I even went to the gym, late. I don’t typically like working out late because the classes aren’t as good and because this happens: I stay up late and am hyperactive long into the night. Then I’m tired in the morning. This will inevitably be the case for tomorrow, since it is already 11:30 and my movie is not over yet. I don’t feel very tired though, just happy and content.

These things make me happy too: walking around Publix. 59 cent two liter sodas. The mini garlic grater, which I will buy. Beer. Soy milk. Night time. Snuggling in my bed.

Current Mood: content

Dear Screamer,

While I realize how wonderful it is that you can bench press 405 lbs three times in succession, I would like to request that you keep your inappropriate grunting and orgasm-like moans to yourself. I find that this noise and spectacle make it difficult for me to maintain proper form and balance during my own exercises, less than ten feet away.

This is not stated in the rules anywhere, and I know you do indeed derive great pleasure from the pulsating veins in your temples, the solid metallic bar between your hands, and the ripping sensation your pectoral muscles undergo when your lackey heaves the weight up off the supports for you. And I know it must be heavenly, the way that same metal bar bounces off your heaving chest, back into the air with so little effort at all, only to rest once more when you realize you cannot feel your arms anymore because you’re just that awesome.

For the rest of us meager beings who lay out on a flat bench, do our reps slowly, and sweat just as much but vocally express so little, I know that we must seem amateur. I apologize on behalf of the rest of the gym for giggling when we saw your terrible and bloated face sprinkling drops of sweat onto the floor when you squeezed into that strange rubber half-shirt you have. I am sure it serves some purpose. And I apologize for rolling my eyes when you continued to grunt, scream, and moan, for I realize it is terribly difficult lifting that amount of weight. I too, overcompensate for my physical and emotional shortcomings by impressing others with my female biceps, my massive 10-rep, 3-set regimen with my 5 lbs weights. I understand completely. I suppose I simply lack the courage it takes to let my hair come undone from its ponytail, to let the sweat that forms on my brow roll down and shower the floor for other people to slip in, to express my deep satisfaction with a long, sultry oooooohhhhhh yes! Yes! Yes!

But for now, I hope you understand. I would not want to interfere with the burgeoning of a Hulk-like creature, the one you are certainly striving to become.

Thank you very much.

Sincerely,

Katherine

PS: I was walking behind you today and noticed that the gym smelled of spearmint BreathSavers. This instantly brought me back to my freshman year in college, when I was attempting to befriend Dunbar, another gym rat of less status than you, and wooed him with continual offerings of these delectable mints.

For a moment I felt happy, like I was much younger and just beginning on my own path of fitness, or back in Intro to Biology when I hand them over after he punched me for one.

And then I realized it was your pungent Icy/Hot or Arnica gel. And that you had rubbed it all over your body, but not all the way. It was streaked across your shoulders like sunscreen, although we were indoors. The smell became so strong my eyes watered.

Perhaps next time you may be so kind as to use an ice pack for your aching muscles? Or a Vicodin? I’m sure you will understand.

Current Mood: fit

Dear colony of Periplaneta americana that lives in this building,

I officially give up. You may have this apartment beginning on September 1, 2008. My roommate and I will be out by then.

Please note that there is a perpetual smell of paint, that sometimes when you turn on the exhaust fan over the stove the circuit trips and turns off power to half the apartment, and that the apartment comes with annoying, unfriendly, and possibly illegal neighbors.

But then again, you are roaches, and you probably don’t care that they’re that way. In fact the more fiestas they throw and the messier they are, the better, right? And if they annoy you then you can have all of your distant relations over to annoy them.

I wish you every happiness in this place. Hopefully it will suit you better in the coming months than it has us. Don’t worry; it is a nice place. We must simply move on, see?

Sincerely,

Katherine

Oops.

I've been posting here, my new website and journal. I just forgot to post a link because I am neglectful and easily distracted.

My mistake!

Saturday we spent the day on the beach with some friends and some strangers. I lay most of the time on the towel resting, reading, and looking around. Poking the Boy, who was always trying to nap when I was wide awake. Later, we walked down the boardwalk and found a small place to eat. While they served me stale Old Bay fries, their crab cake sandwich was delicious. The two people on either side of me were responsible for devouring a good quarter of my own sandwich. We listened to a steel drummer and snatched nachos from each other.

At night I had something of a temper tantrum. It was the kind of the culmination of exhaustion combined with being forced to drive for two and a half hours in the dark and having a headache from having contacts in my eyes all day. On a long, flat, straight road. With no overhead lights until we finally hit 50 over the Bay Bridge. Boy was annoyed with me for rolling down the windows and playing loud music (he was tired, he whined), but what else am I supposed to do to keep awake? We parted ways in a Park and Ride where I'd left my car, only after feeling weirded out by the teenagers that parked directly in front of us and commenced flashing their lights and turn signals at us when we hugged.

Today was a barbeque, a small one.

I feel at peace with things. And oddly, I feel that as the clutter in my room continues to dwindle, so I will feel all the more serene.

Current Location: upstairs
Current Mood: happy
Current Music: Star Wars - Anakin's Dream

On graduation day, I woke up at six in the morning and could not for the life of me get back to sleep. When I finally gave up trying, I pulled on the window shade and looked at the sky for a while outside my dorm room. Blue. Cloudless. Hazy on the horizon, which meant slight humidity. I showered in the dark, blasting music and not bothering with the door. Nobody was on the floor, anyway. I felt detached, a bit distant from everything, and I stayed this way all the way through both ceremonies I attended. One was at nine for Phi Beta Kappa, and the other was the large one for graduates.

I don't even remember much of it other than what I forced myself to be aware of. Those moments are few. Standing in line with the other English majors, people whom I've never before seen. Starting to move, terrified that I will have to see a certain person (as his department lined up right next to ours). Bursting onto the floor very suddenly (how could I not have seen that before when I went downstairs with everyone else to begin with?), and the arena opening up ahead of us. Probably several thousand people, very small people, all clapping and flashing cameras. It was so large, in fact, that their voices were lost in the immensity of the venue, so that it seemed very quiet to me.

Of the ceremony itself, nothing much either. The two and a half or three hours it lasted whirled by me. Since I was seated near the front, once the speakers began calling names, my row was up too soon. And walking across the stage seemed a millisecond, a blink. One moment I am standing with the other English people. Next, I am handing my name card to her on the top of the stairs, at the left wing of the stage. Go ahead, she is suddenly saying, and then I was across the stage. Then it was over. The throngs of people mobbed the exits and milled about the surrounding blocks. My family was somewhere in the fray. I found a couple friends, but nobody I wanted to stop and take pictures with; I found the Boy, hugged him goodbye for right then, and dissolved away in the streams of people. My head hurt.

For now, I will work my crappy part-time job, earn some cash here and there, and go on vacation. I thought about life passing me by as my grandparents drove me back from graduation. I lay in the back of the car feeling sorry for myself and watching the sky slide by. It is strange to think that everything is over, because once more I am waiting through the summer for things to begin again.

Current Mood: sore
Current Music: none

Today is one of those days where I suppose I should not hope for things at all.

Current Mood: jealous
Current Music: Dashboard Confessional - Stolen

I think of the last two semesters not fondly, but as one who has been outside of the experience for a long time. I don't think I have been truly myself for the longest time; only now am I beginning to step back into it. The last two weeks I have felt, if nothing else, more alive than before. This does not mean I am having a fabulous time, making incredible memories, or experiencing new things, simply that I have once again confirmed that I am indeed, at the very least, still breathing.

I should be happier. These are all the reasons why: I am graduating in four days. I am getting inducted into an Honors society in a few days. I got (another) award. I got recognized at work. I have plans now. The Boy wants me to move. I have some more new friends. I am writing more, my fish is very healthy again, and my plant is flourishing (I haven't killed it yet!!!!). I am healthy and fit and getting better at swimming every day. There is so much beauty all around me, so many hours of sunlight and breeze, grass and clouds. It is summer. I will be twenty-two soon. And again, I am graduating in four days. The Boy and I seem to be getting better and better.

And yet I have been severely unhappy in the last two months. So much that I've stopped being able to sleep without waking up panicked. I've had small panic attacks most of the last week or so, little episodes that are not really serious, merely inconvenient. Moments in which I suddenly feel short of breath, anxious. Then comes the sudden shot of (unnecessary) adrenaline, then the sweating hands and back and the tears that threaten. Then when I have to interact with people, I spend most of the time thinking that if they say the wrong thing, I will cry. I will just bawl. I'll break down completely. After the panic usually comes deep and profound depression. Sometimes this has lasted for more than a few days; in the past few weeks I have been shut in my room more and more. I'll have bursts of creative and sporadic energy--which I use to swim 1000 meters, or until exhaustion--and then crash completely, sleep for thirteen hours and wake up exhausted. I've thought seriously about returning to therapy and addressing some of these issues, but who knows? I've even started sneaking half of the vicodin I was given for my wisdom teeth back in January, just to escape for a little bit. It's not the way. I'm not healthy, and yet I'm not sure what else to do. Are the causes many? Or is it just a few things? How much have I hidden away from myself? Maybe I'm just scared. Maybe it's everything: the future looming, the Boy, the (lack of any real) friendships, the job.

At the very least, like I said, all of these things--the highs, the lows--at least serve the purpose of confirming that I am still here, and not really just a passenger staring out the window. Yet there are days in which I just want to lay down in the grass and forget about everything. This would be on an endless Sunday. The grass would touch my skin and gather dew as evening approached. There would be lilacs on the breeze. Or maybe it would be like tonight: slightly balmy. With good company. We would sit outside of a restaurant underneath an umbrella, a single candle on the table. We'd have some beer and talk about everything.

Current Mood: confused
Current Music: Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars

"You've been wearing that ring for a few days now," one of my friends said. She pointed to the one on my thumb.

I looked at it. Silver. Two curving ends that curl in opposite directions, one down and into itself, the other like a face upturned.

Yes, I said. I wear them when something particularly noteworthy happens. Left hand is good; right hand symbolizes the setbacks. Or, I add privately, the ones on the right hand are for all the times I've felt profoundly screwed over. And I wear them so I will remember where I need to be going away from these events.

"That's weird," she said. "So what does this one mean?" She pointed to my class ring.

Obviously I said, that is a good event. I am graduating.

"And this one?" she said. She pointed to the one on my other middle finger.

I smiled. A boy, I said.

She didn't ask about the new one. "What happens," she continued, however, "when you get married and get a ring?"

That ring goes on the good hand. And I will probably lose all of the ones on my right hand altogether.

"You're weird," she said, laughing.

Current Mood: complacent
Current Music: The Beatles - Hello Goodbye

Ugh.

It's as if I've been on crisis/high alert for the last 36 hours straight.

It all hit me at once last night as I drove back from the hole-in-the-wall bar; I could feel my leg muscles beginning to seize a bit. I enjoyed the feeling, but I did not enjoy it after sleeping only six hours, my eyes hammering open at a measly 7:00 AM. How terribly disappointing. So instead of tossing and turning in deteriminately, I got up, turned on the computer, and started to work (read... catch up on Lost, which somehow caused my computer to blue screen and shut down, but which also caused me to clean out the spyware and run a thorough virus scan). I wrote thank-you notes for everyone who helped me during Bartleby, then started cleaning up my 493 presentation and essay. And now I'm here, waiting for the hour to come in which I'll trek up to the English department, present while running low on sleep, and then stay for a reading by a former classmate in a grad program I may consider.

Tonight I can only hope that I will be exhausted enough to sleep for the requisite eight hours. And then tomorrow is work- and movie-day. Hurrah.

Current Mood: exhausted
Current Music: The Beatles - Within You Without You/Tomorrow Never Knows

Day two/three:

Lights go up. It’s bright lights, so for a moment let yourself worry that everything will go wrong, just like it did in the dream you had the night before. Let the world pass by in a blurry haze as things unfold around you. Wish you were somewhere else. Let everyone’s words wash over you, a rush of wind.

Move the tables and chairs back. Take your gift. Forget to open it. Then go outside and talk with a boy all the way down to the parking lot. Drive into the night.

Later, drink so much on an empty stomach that the room begins to cave in. Laugh at their jokes. You’re empty. You can tell the girl across from you is empty too; you see it in her eyes, in the way she laughs hysterically, leans on the boy she’s come with, and then immediately lapses into a catatonic silence, her mouth drawn, her eyes hollow. It’s how you feel. Find out much later into drinks that her father has just died (just like in your dream!). It makes sense. You have lost; she has lost. You lose together. Retell the same old anecdotes about the creepy person you work with. It’s all right. This crowd, save one, has never heard them before.

Find yourself oddly alone with six people at a bar, and then throw down some money and leave. The roads are lonely too, this late at night. Drive exactly the speed limit so nobody will pull you over. Walk back over cobbled roads and then a desolate parking lot, the scary people hanging out in the lot by the river looking at you the whole time. So what if you’re unsteady, reaching deep into your bag for your keys? They’re there somewhere. So what, that you must look a sight, a tiny person with very tall shoes, teetering and searching and with very dressy clothes, a large medallion, and absolutely no clue where the car is? You’ll find it eventually, only after wishing you hadn’t broken off the clicker in a fit of anger a year and a half prior.

The road bounces onward. You pedal pedal pedal. Then brake brake brake, and avoid the po-lice, and drive by the dorms you once visited every damn day when things were still all right. It's all right to curse at the other drunken people who are walking slowly in the middle of the road, ones who aren't thinking that there is perhaps traffic that may like to pass sometime in the next century. Think that life is so ironic; it is funny that the same person who counseled you through hard times is the same person exiting. At exactly the same time. So who will save you now?

Come home to a message on the answering machine. It is the Boy's voice.

Current Mood: drunk
Current Music: The Beatles - Across the Universe

This is how to keep going:

a. Spend lots of time mulling things over. Reach a breaking point. Start over. Ignore it. Finally come to the decision that it's better to live without lying all the time. Feel happy the for once, following the advice you've given people most of your mature adult life (which is not so mature, I might add) is the way to go. After all, the way you've felt has rarely failed you in the past.

b. Take a breath, and let the truth be told. It will be scary because once it has been vocalized, it will take a life of its own. Like characters in a story.

c. Recoil after being hurt, horribly, and wait. Don't worry. At least the sudden vertigo tells you that you remember how to feel. It fades.

d. Try to stop staring up at the ceiling wondering where the fuzzy, gently drifting lights originate from. Try to stop imagining shapes in the shadows. Listen to the fish tank humming, your next door neighbor cackling at anime, to the voices in the hall. If you want, try to wish them out of existence. Take a minute to feel the profound sadness you've been keeping at bay for some time.

e. In the morning, take action. It doesn't have to be drastic. Or it can be, if you want. Change your hair. Get something new to wear. Start cleaning up the room. Take down the things that make you sad. You won't need them in several months, anyway. Summer is coming; watch the sky move outside.onl

Current Mood: horrible
Current Music: The Beatles - Tomorrow Never Knows