red hair and black leather

Note: The Castro Safeway at 10:30 p.m. on Mother's Day is a freakin' wasteland. The lack of product is not quite Soviet-era, but close. I was there at that time because I had just gotten off a shift at Bertolucci's, wherein I had all of 5 tables and still made good money. Mother's Day dinners are much more profitable than Mother's Day brunches.

Anyway, I have my cart (with a squeaky wheel), I'm so tired I'm almost stumbling, and even though it's unbuttoned all the way to show the tank top underneath, I still have my uniform shirt on, which is covered in polenta and marinara. As I'm going down one aisle or another, this guy walks past me and makes eye contact with me, clearly noticing me. He's good-looking in a far-too clean-cut way for me, dark brown eyes, kind of slim, definitely an inch shorter than me. Whatever, I'm too busy trying to figure out where I know another shopper from - either from MN or Wells Fargo, can't remember, but that dude looks too bitchy for me to walk up to and say, "Seriously, I know you from somewhere." (I do tend to size up most people I see, trying to remember details.)

So I get to the extremely long, extremely understaffed checkout line, and there's a display with hardcover books for $5.99. Most of it's dreck, but one is an Elmore Leonard book. For 6 bucks, I will pick up a hardcover Elmore Leonard. So I put it in my cart, and dude who checked me out comes up behind me and asks about the book. He then proceeds to try to chat me up at intervals, complimenting my eyes, commenting on my cart's contents (overall healthy, except for the beer, which he teased me about), talking about the book, talking about the book he's reading which is a self-help about living in the present moment, and my favorite, saying that I looked pissed when he saw me in the aisle, and he liked the expression I had on now. Except for the eyes, because they're intimidating (or something). I am so exhausted that I just don't care to be speaking, and yet I feel I still have to talk to this dude, because a) polite and b) what if he got pissed that I blew him off? What danger would that put me in? And that got me pissed off - the fact that I have to put that factor in to the equation of social interactions.

Luckily, by that point, the extremely slow line had gotten me up to the checkstand, so I could buy my crap in peace and leave. I said goodbye to him, and then booked it to the truck, making double-extra sure to be aware of my surroundings in the parking lot.

Just, argh. I get that he was trying to live in the present/seize the moment and most likely presented no threat, but... Dude. And frankly, the most I expect out of the Castro Safeway at night is some bitchy insomniacs and random homeless dudes. Maybe some bikers from Lucky 13. But it also reminded me how differently men and women have to weigh social interactions, which is something I don't think men get very often.

I have life-image ones.

There are times, when I'm feeling particularly down and in a more morbid frame of mind than usual, that I find myself staring smack at my life and what little I've done with it. All that potential, gone in a puff of actuality.

Right now, on this night, I wonder if I used up every last bit of luck and grace that the universe had in store for me when I survived the fall of November 14, 2004. I occasionally picture some occult figure (not Death, because my mental Death is now and forevermore Terry Pratchett's Death and is far more dignified than that), an imp-like figure, perhaps the Imp of Over-Morbidity, watching me from atop its brick wall and laughing its head off at me as I blithely go about my days, capering in front of me whenever I trip or bump into things.

There times when I get too florid, as well. Hazard of the profession, I expect.

To bed with me. Hopefully I shall sleep well and dream of large women.

I have a terrible time focusing at work, primarily because I don't really enjoy the work and it doesn't challenge me. My poor job performance is feeding into and reinforcing my poor self-esteem, making it impossible to want either improve at this job or find a new one. I can't afford a shrink or a 'career counselor', so here I am.

Dear readers, please share your favorite organizational and focus tips. It doesn't matter if it seems completely elementary or obvious to you, it may not be to me. If I already know it, I'll appreciate the reminder. I need something, because we really can't afford for me to lose this job, and I need to shake myself out of this paralysis.

Thanks.

From this article in today's STrib:

"We don't know what course the friendship might have taken from the beginning if we asserted ourselves and our boundaries," she said. "We end up feeling betrayed, and the truth is that we almost always play a significant role in our own betrayal. We ignore what we know, how we're feeling. We let people get away with things, and then, when it happens one too many times, we act like we're surprised and have been betrayed -- and that's not fair," said Sanderson.

I really should have seen that 7 or 8 or 9 months ago. I think it would have helped. Maybe not. I was pretty far down in my own pain, and unable to assess the results of a lot of my actions. As it is, it's over and done with, and I'm dealing with the consequences, good and bad.


[babbling cut due to excessive self-repeatage]

I'm noodling here, and it's frustrating me. I've got real thoughts on the subject of boundaries and human interaction, and I can't break through the fog of tiredness.


ION, people are pissing me off. Specifically, the people who are allowing the transit strike to continue for the foreseeable future, the people who are perfectly okay with depriving a section of law-abiding citizens of rights afforded to others - namely them, and the people who have such immense disrespect for the general public that they feel perfectly justified in blatantly lying about everything under the sun and accusing their opponents of being mistaken. Those people need a good cluesticking or three. Dammit.

I'm writing out proposals for plays. Why I like the play, why it should be produced, etc., etc.. I'm really not good at this. My writing feels clunky, I can't find the words past "Play good. Me direct.", and any sort of concept is completely beyond me.

It's always been like this. Even writing papers in school, for subjects I knew well and was passionate about. As soon as it came time to express to someone else what exactly was so special about the topic, I froze. I freeze. My mind blanks, concepts don't come, nothing's good enough. It's really very upsetting. How can I expect to direct anything if I can't tell people why I should? How are people supposed to know about this great play if I freeze up? Why do I suddenly think it's not that great when I have to talk about it?

As I said, feh.

Serious, non-whiny question for all the creative-types reading:

How do you break out of your traditions/habits/conventions? Everyone, even the most avant-garde of us has their conventions, the tropes that they fall back on. This can be a good and bad thing, but it's best to know how to break out of them, whether or not you'll actually do so. So, how do you do it?

Yeeeouch. My legs, they are not happy. However, my torso is the most painful part of my body right now. I feel like I spent 5 hours laughing hysterically, without the amusement part.

Zach is training for his bike ride right now. 100 miles. He's riding the marathon route over and back twice. I met him for lunch when he was halfway done. Sigh. We still have such a strong connection, but so much to work on, as well. Not just in our relationship, but on ourselves. And the absolute hardest thing for me to remember is that I cannot help him work on his issues, nor can I expect him to work on them in the manner in which I'd like him to. I can't control that. I can only control my actions and my path for growth. Yes.

Today is a lazy day for me. I think I'll be able to finish "A Prayer For Owen Meany", and then I will lift weights (arms ONLY) and do stretchy stretchy yoga. Then, it's off to Sally's for the 5th of July party. I'm going there early to hang out with two of my favorite Hags (Sally and Linda) and one of my fellow Hags-In-Training (Adena), Should be fun.