If you’ve got my back and I’ve got yours, we’re a medical miracle.

The past few days have been a little insane. I took Friday off, went to the Comic Con with John, came home, and found my pet of 12 years, Pasha, dead in his cage. I was devastated. I cried and cried and sobbed until my head hurt. I loved the little fella, but life couldnt wait. I spent all of Saturday out with Katy and John, met some cool people while in line to meet the cast of V, same on Sunday. After I came home, I buried Pasha in a plant Id bought, and I cried and cried, again until my head hurt. Monday I had the day off and I had to cancel my planned laze day with Vanessa so I could have some “me” time.  Now I cant cry. I guess I really did manage to build a solid wall of protection around myself. None one but my ma and aunt saw me weep, and thats only because I was in shock.  Now when I talk about it I get silly. Id rather laugh than cry I guess.

Today, on a whim, I quit my job as an assistant. No one really cared, I guess I cant blame them, I wasnt a huge deal in the center, but I dont really want to be there 35 hours a week. Im only a tutor now. I cant make out what everyone is thinking, and I guess, I dont really care. Now that Janice is gone my sense of self is stronger. Im bitchy when I need to be, short, eruptive, and soft all in one. You cannot cross paths with me unless I let you, Im on my own.

Yea, Im on my own.

I have new idea, a batch of ideas, most of them have something to do with writing. I want to write. I dont want to sit and spend my life looking at other people “make it.” I may not be great, but I am tired, and weariness can be a (wo)mans best friend.

The girls sister keeps asking me if Id like to do stuff with her, like, study for the GRE. A part of me gets sad and a part of gets happy. Will the girl and I be reunited? Do I want us to be? Everything is on my terms now, I guess thats not a good thing, I guess thats not a bad thing. None of this has to be a thing at all I guess.

I wish I had someone to share all this with. I havent let anyone near me since the girl,but the walls are only getting taller. Id like to kiss someone, but, I likely wont.

Looking at the bright side will only hurt the eyeball.

Yesterday sucked. I keep getting the same students. One wanted me to write the paper for her, another wanted a private tutor, another needed me to turn the computer on for her, and make time for her, and and and.

Theyre like leeches. And “the system” is impeccable in its consistency to fail not only the school kids, but the college kids too. The student who wanted to me to write the paper for her, had a simple question to answer based on the Ship of Theseaus theory. How hard can that be? Its interpretation. Opinion. Easy riding until the very end. BMCC wants us to treat the students as the customer, but how does one does one do that if the “customer” comes to buy something without having any money? Furthermore, if they’re the customer, then that means I have something to sell, which means, this is nothing more than a business transaction. Its designed to be easy, not to teach.

A professor wrote, “OPPOSIT” three times on one of my students papers and gave the student a low grade. How can that be if the professor cant spell opposite correctly?Its disheartening to observe at 24. If people are this stupid now, what will the next 50 years pan out to be?

Anyway, this weekend is Comic Con weekend. Ive never gone and am going with John, Katy and a few other friends. Id like to get Janice the Katee Sackoff autograph, but damn, its $30.

The MTA raised the fare, AGAIN. I think it might be easier to build a canoe and get to work that way. Will suck in the wintertime though.

I keep meaning to write out my story. I missed a bunch of Writing contest deadlines. But I feel like writing again so thats good. I think a lot of it has to do with me being able to process things clearly and being apart from many of the scenarios I was in before. I still check my Yahoo to see of the girl wrote anything, but shes stubborn and she wont. I see her sister everyday, its weird to hear the girls name roll off of her tongue and feel nothing but distance. I had a dream two nights ago in which the girl and I were at a dinner table with many old family and friends, and we hugged and cried and forgave each other, and I woke up thinking, if faced with a reunion, how much responsibility would I be able to take and how much will I be willing to forgive? The answer is mixed in a bucket of anger and sorrow. I wish Id said more to the girl. I dont know how the girl can justify what she did. Yes, we both lied, but I didnt lie to hurt. She lied about everything. The girl is a liar and I cannot forgive the lying, but I can understand her. I know what its like to push people away now that Im in the girls shoes. Ive done it and Im not proud of it, but its been done to me and like they say, hate breeds hate, which is why I had such a hard time letting go of so many of the things that happened.

But she said.

But she did.

But, but but.

But why does any of that matter? The girl called me but I never answered, and now the girl will not call me because I will pick up the phone. I mean, I would. I would answer because I think the girl and I were meant to have this conversation, I wouldnt be crossing paths with her if we werent, right? But would doesnt give clear intention. My chest doesnt hurt when I think of the girl, not like it used to. I have made peace in order to survive. Will that peace last?

Likely not.

I need a place. A place I can go to thats nice and quiet and free of people and their wants and their intentions. I care for neither.

My job has 6 sides.

I feel like I work in hell. A living, breathing, overcrowded version of hell.

I never thought that Id be getting paid $16,800 a year to deal with complete morons and drama queens. I mean really, is the concept of appointment making, and someone LIGHTENING your workload so foreign that you have to ooze stupidity out of every pore?

I work. I work hard and I work long and tedious shifts. I work two jobs. Two people jobs. Two, $10 per hour people jobs that I cannot stand. Students fly at me from every direction, puzzled by the concept of writing a name in a tiny white slot, or the universal term, “Walk In.” They ask me stupid questions, questions that I answer 10 times an hour only to be asked 10 more. The rules are there, on the board, but do they read them? NOOOOO. Why? Because that would be silly, ya know, reading.

The staff is even worse. Tutors complain about too much work, today I tried to lighten the load by implementing a new rule and they hated that too, so I just figure they want to whine and bitch and thats about it. And now, because of their whining and bitching about having to do administrative work, I have ten times more work and not nearly enough staff. The bitch of that is that I agreed with them. I listen to all their bitching, but do they care about my work load? No.My staff gets paid $7.25 per hour and I refuse to make them work hard for it. The tutors dont want to do admin work because they dont get paid for it so they put it on the people who dont get paid for it either. So I get I stuck doing all the work.

Fuck that.

And fuck all the guys I work with. This one idiot keeps eyeing me up and down when I told him Im a fucking lesbian. Yes, thats right buddy, but does that mean anything to you and your fucking persistence in asking me out. No. No it does not.

I hate my job. I want to quit. Whats stopping me? Perhaps its the feeling of fear, that once I leave, I will have no one to take my thoughts from the girl.

Fuck.

Love is a cat with nine lives.

When I was younger I believed in many things. People didnt really concern me, I was an only child unaware that all the things that came naturally, like hunger, wanting love, talking, walking, playing, hugging, would all some day become a need. Something to be aware of. Something that would cause pain in the very pit of my chest. I didnt know.  I didnt know that there were boundaries, conditions, fine print to relationships. When youre a child, you dont think about those things, about whether someone likes you, needs you, wants you. It all just kind of happens.

And then you grow up. And as you grow, people begin to take shape and while their intentions are masked they soon become predictable. They want something. They need something. But theyre not willing to give that something away.

My relationship and trust barrel has gone dry. There is very little I am willing to accept, because I know people dont give, so I dont ask, an I dont take, and I very VERY careful not to let my wants leave a scent. People dont like that, not at all. Every day of my life is like puppy. People like cute small things, and thats what I am, or try to be anyway. People dont like human things. Like, sadness, or dilemmas, or stories that need a bit of a fixin.’  I give my love fully, but I know whatever comes back is conditional, thats why, when someone comes into your life, you love em, but when they leave, dont act hurt, and save the love for someone else because no one will love you forever.

I say this because I lost my best friend, my finacee, two close friends, and a parter in a span of 12 months. I also found a few new friends, who I like all the same. You gotta save the love for someone else, otherwise, youll go insane. Love is not eternal, and while its powerful, more powerful than fear or death, or even hate, it is recyble. It has to be. You can get attached, but not too attached, because eventually you’ll have to say goodbye and walk with pride and feelings unhurt. Thats what the adults do, anyway.

This past Friday my boss left. I bought her a huge $45 cake. worked all week on inviting people over, to have a farewell party. I even personalized the stupid thing, and when I brought it out, she didnt give a single fuck. In fact, she acted, bothered, annoyed. So, she told me to move the cake and went on with whatever she was doing, and then, reluctant, came over, ate a piece,  chatted with everyone, and then got up to say bye to me, I got teary eyed because I loved her, and I was going to miss her, and she, have me a half hug and without saying a single thing walked away.

I was hurt.

I was expecting at least a thank you, I mean, shit man, Im probably not going to see you again, and nada.

I found myself on the train with a little piece of cake and teary eyed. It was a scene you see in movies. A sentimental soul with a whole lot of cake and a big red nose from holding in the tears. I wasnt sobbing, I wouldnt let it go that far, just getting teary eyed, but I didnt cry. This love, it will find a new host. A new place. And no part of me can miss the old place. Its like a cat with nine lives, ach time it comes back theres a memory of the old way, but here is something new, so why dwell on what is no longer there?

And yes, I carry bitterness into every new love I get. But I think its necessary to remember that no one is here to stay, and no one means any harm by it, its just the way life is. Thus, its not that I shouldnt have gotten attached to the boss woman, I did the right thing, but when she left, and when she starts to forget me, I shouldnt act hurt or surprised. I mean, another person will come along. And I will like them. And we will like each other. And they too will go away.

Some people will come back to you, and you will like them still. But love, love like a well trained pup will mark one section of your heart, the rest is off limits, for its lived out its 8 out of 9 lives.

The many things I could be and the many things Im not.

Idle hands, idle mind, idle time, idle find.

I should be an actress, or someone famous, so I could have lots of money and fame. I wouldnt treat anyone like shit, and I would spend my money wisely, but Id say smart things because thats what famous people do(well, some of them anyway)

I guess all I want is a platform and recognition. Im an attention fiend and Im not, like many, Im a contradiction.

I wanted to be a writer, but my ideas suck so there goes that.

I am the one person on this planet who has absolutely no desire to be anything or do anything. I can see the destination but not the route. I am lazy. Or not at all concerned with the politics of being “good enough.” Your pick, or mine, whatever.

My boss announced that shes leaving in two weeks. Im sad, and Im happy. Im happy that she got an awesome opportunity, Im sad that I cant come.  Now everyone is going to be harassing me for everything. I want to quit, but dammit I really need the money.

Why are we all here? Struggling fighting, killing, hating, lying? When we could be happily dead.

If You Give a Moose a Cookie…

It’s easy to do the physical things, it’s the mental things that take up all the energy supposedly reserved for the physical.

Sometimes my brain feel likes its going to explode, I feel physical pressure on my cranium and I just wish I could take my brain out for a while and just sit somewhere and drool. Nothing seems more relaxing.

I’m starting my new job this upcoming Tuesday. It’s a people job and I’m not at all a people person. I keep thinking, I can do it, all I need is a little bit of money and I’ll be able to go to Hawaii, and do all the things I want…But it’s not really about the money, because it isn’t a lot of money.  It’ll be about $10,000 if I last a year and don’t spend any of it. That’s not counting taxes and all that fun stuff. And is it worth it? I ask myself that question everyday. But what is “it” exactly? And why am I so fucking hesitant to do “it”?

“It,”  for me, lies tangled in being yelled at, bitched at, snapped at,  berated, demeaned. There will eye rolls and “I told you’s” and many no’s. “It” for me is being cooped up in a building for 35 hours a week with a micromanager, my ex’s sister, and students, many many students who will ask me things I may not have the answer to, which will make the micromanager angry, and make me feel stupid because she always makes me feel stupid. “It” means hearing from the other workers about how much they hate their job and the micromanager, and hearing from the micromanager how much she hates hers, and them. “It” means hearing from students how much they hate the school, their professors, their assignments, their jobs, and their lives, and I will constantly hear myself say how much I hate my life because I hate all of the above and then some.

So, why are we all here?

I don’t know, I guess people are just stupid and don’t know any better, or maybe we all come back to what we hate because that’s all that exists on this planet. Whateves.

And in the midst of it all, I am going to feel like a shitty human and employee because like I’ve been left behind, I too am beginning to leave many things and people behind. Its not the first time, probably not the last. I hide behind my job. I hide behind lies and excuses. I hide behind what I know and what I learned and what worked when my ex did it to me. Its becoming harder to answer the phone, and to answer an email, or even bother trusting anyone because life turns every good intention into a jumble of codes that break into the heart and mangle it.

Every morning I wake up and I think I’m going to beat the odds and be one of those people who doesn’t hate everything, and I will make more of an effort to be a better person and friend, but each morning reality smacks me across the face and says, “fuck that, no one would ever do the same for you.” And then I begin to miss the one person I trusted after all my trust was broken, because that person broke my trust as well. She got tired I guess, of saying the same thing and not being heard, but its in my nature to find contradictions and not believing the clichéd “life is good” and “its all about the love.” This person said she had higher standards of her friends,  and isn’t it sad that at my most vulnerable I didn’t meet this “standard”? It hurts when you show someone everything and they say that its too much. I carried so much baggage for others, but no one will take any of mine. And I don’t give it lightly. I trusted. And now Im stuck missing and fearing that I will never find someone who can handle me.  Its like being the dog that no one wants because it pisses on things but loves all the same, but I guess love means nothing if I destroyed your things, right?

It’s a shame, it really is.  Sometimes, I get the urge to say fuck it and call people I miss, but then I realize its not them I miss, it’s who I used to be around them. This one friend of mine called last week after months of not speaking and the first thing she did was ask me if I was back in school yet. I hung up, and I didn’t call back, because, that’s not me anymore and I wish she would stop reminding me.

A week ago another friend called and called about this apartment thing we were going to do, but I feel like she didn’t hear me when I said I have to think about it, I have to think about how long I can stay at this new job, because my heart is all over the place. Because I don’t know if I want to stay in NY. I’m just jumping to get out. Jumping out of my own skin to leave this horrid place where my ex roams and there is  a reminder of everything that I no longer have in a flower, a street corner, or that  glass of beer we shared. I’m sure I’ve disappointed her, like I’ve disappointed her many times, but, I do what I can and its never enough. I’m there when I can, but that’s never enough. I give what I can, but each time im spent someone is left hungry. I know, I KNOW that life isn’t all about me, but it can’t be all about others either. Its like the story of the moose and the cookie, if you give a moose a cookie its just going to come back and eat all you got, and then be mad you don’t have more.

I don’t know, I just need a break I guess, but how many breaks can one have before they’re fired, you know? And how many sorrys can I give before the word itself becomes an excuse, a band-aid over a wound I myself made? How many times can I point the finger at this person or that person before that finger grows old and arthritic and the people blamed become people having lived their lives while I stood pointing?

I need to stop being this way, and think of a life outside the micromanager and the need to please with the result of disappointing. I need to stop pointing, and stop seeking closure when there is none to be had. Its all in me, I know, but where?

Everybody.

Everybody wants to know something. Everybody wants to talk about someone. Everybody wants to know, wants to go, wants to spill their heart and their mind and have someone hear it all.

Understand me.Love me. Accept me. Agree with me.

Older people who know better tend to talk more. Younger people who dont know any better, listen, and then they learn to talk. Tis the cycle. The merry go around. The touch- your-toes-while-looking-up because youre not supposed to see how far you can go.

And such is life. It is ironic. My boss hates the word because she thinks irony implies that there is a higher power at work, and she doesnt believe in any of that, I mean, why would she? It would mean that someone else is in the business of micromanaging. Someone bigger. Better. Without a college degree.

And I guess the point of all of the above is that my life feels like purgatory, like Im constantly bumping into the same fuckups and scenarios because someone, or something, is quizzing me. Or, rather, Im quizzing me. Like, Am I really over this? Am I really stronger than this? Did I really mean what I thought, or was it like most thoughts I carry, a temporary file that will be shredded once I change my mind? Its like Im constantly being reminded of things. Things I have been fighting for over a year to forget.

Scenario: My ex best friend/the person I loved most and deepest, and I, stopped speaking over a year ago. I cut off all contact with her and everyone who knows her, and throughout the WHOLE fucking year, Ive bumped into practically everyone linked to her, except for her of course. By “bumped,” I mean seen on specific day on street corners no where near places of either of our residences. 34th st. Train. School. Work. And today, just as I awoke feeling like Id finally gotten over it all, her sister walked into my office applying for a job, which, as Smokey would have it, she got. I feel like Im being punished for something. Like this is a curse. Like my ex is my cursed winning lottery ticket, and no matter how much shit I buy and no matter what I do, none of it will matter because this is all just purgatory and I am being hunted down by a past I have cried, bled, and nearly died to release out of me.

What more is needed of me?

What?

Yes, everybody wants to be heard, everybody wants to relive the past and chat about this or that, everybody wants love, forgiveness, understanding, but I, I dont want any of those things. I just want to move on. I dont need to know why she did it, I dont care that she didnt love me, I dont even give a shit that she feels justified in all shes done. I just want to be separate from the everybody and be one with something good and independent.

But maybe none of that is meant to be.