Good Fish, Bad Fish.

Sittin’ out here on the hood of this truck looking up
at a caramel colored sunset sky
checkin’ my watch doin’ the math in my head
counting back words to when you said goodbye
well those runway lights are gettin’ brighter

I’m just sittin’ out here watching airplanes
take off and fly

Slept in this morning until about 11:30. I think I was justified, as I basically slept like crap last night. Grammar texted me at two thirty again. Far from finding it cute, I found it really fucking annoying, especially when his logic was that he was awake at two, and he just sends out random texts to see what the response will be. Well Jesus F. Christ. Don’t bother texting me that late again! I was less than impressed, and even less impressed when he texted me again at three, and then again at eight, asking if I was ready to be “bothered” then. No, fucker! Oh, let’s just say that Blue wasn’t pleased, hmm?

Packed my laundry in the car, then went and sat across the street in the park, in the shade of a tree with my book. It was good just to chill. Very quiet, but still outside… peaceful. T. finally called around two thirty and I made arrangements to meet her at four at her parents’ place. We did laundry together – have you see that episode of Friends where Ross takes Rachel to the laundromat for the first time? and we’re treated to this vision of Rachel trying to figure out how to do laundry? Well, it was kinda like that. Not that T.’s never done laundry before (she has) but that it was hilarious to watch her work her way around this industrial-sized laundromat – and then I drove her out to her hotel by the airport. We stopped at the Wendy’s and ate burgers while watching the planes for over an hour. It was really quite relaxing.

Now, I’m home again, and faced with the idea that I have to make the bed before I get to sleep in it, and that T. is gone and won’t be back until November.

We were talking today and last night about things. She asked me if it was harder to have the opportunity to take something you wanted, or if it was harder to want something and not have the opportunity to take it. (i.e. better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?) I thought about it all through my shower this morning, and I decided that it’s worse to have the opportunity to take something you want and know that you really shouldn’t have it, versus wanting it really badly but never having the opportunity. Picture a chocolate bar – it’s a lot harder to turn down when it’s right in front of you, than when you’re just dreaming about having a chocolate bar but don’t actually have one. I’d rather be forced to dream about having chocolate than have it right in front of me and know I shouldn’t eat it.

I don’t think, though, that we’re ever given more temptation than we can deal with. I think – I hope – it’s a matter of being able to properly prioritize things in our lives and make decisions based on our hearts and our heads instead of rash impulse. Good things come to those who wait, as everyone keeps telling me. . . So I’m waiting for my giant chocolate bar to arrive, and in the meantime, I’m keeping T. from eating hers. Good of me, huh?

Dad called today around one and asked if I was coming up north, because he was taking the boys out on the boat. I told him that unfortunately, I had made arrangements to drop T. off already… I wish I could have gone, but my wish to go was tempered by the idea of the long weekend traffic on the way home tomorrow. It can quickly turn a three-hour drive into a four-hour debacle of motorhomes and old biddies doing less than the speed limit.

Oh well. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. It’s only 10:30, but the Upstairsian is home and pounding around. I was going to rent movies, but decided against it on my way back into town for fear that would give me an excuse to hide inside all day tomorrow. I’d like to go to a waterpark, but there’s nothing sadder than doing that on your own…

I was woken up last night at 2:21 a.m. when Grammar texted me to tell me he’d run over a family of squirrels. The conversation proceeded as he told me that the squirrels were holding chipmunks hostage, and he’d saved them. I cannot adequately highlight how completely absurd and totally hilarious the conversation was, not only because it took place at 2:30 on a Saturday morning…

I’ve barely heard from him since. In some ways, he’s almost like a dream; most of the contact is at night, and most of the conversations take place when I’m half-asleep. Pretty and T. both asked me today if I’ll see him again. Of course, I’d like to. But he hasn’t suggested such a thing, so… I’m sticking to the Costanza Rule.

Went to the Market this morning and bought a whack of fruit, veggies, and $16 worth of cheese. Mmm, cheese. T. came over, and we sat around lump-like for a while before taking a short trip to Zellers. I took a nap, then did groceries, made two lasagnas, and went for a walk with Pretty. We headed down past Grays Road and back. It was a beautiful night to go for a walk; no bugs, no humidity, no people. Very quiet.

Now I’m sitting here, and it’s a quarter to twelve, and I can’t think of a good reason to stay awake. I’m working my way through Watchmen and finding it a little tough; it might require more than one reading to get the full nuance. Old Michael recommended it last year as something I should read. While I always take note of others’ recommendations, I rarely follow through. In this case, though, they’re making a movie about the book, so I thought I should explore it before the movie ruins it for me.

I also hit CNN tonight and read about Gustav. I didn’t realize the hurricane was so big; they’re predicting worse conditions than they had with Katrina. New Orleans is sinkin’… The Mayor has informed the populace that they need to be scared, and they need to get their butts out of New Orleans, now. It makes me glad that I live in a place that doesn’t suffer from natural disasters.

I’m doing my best at the moment to field calls and texts from T., as I work to be her conscience. It sounds so easy, and yet, it’s not. LOL. Sometimes, you need a friend to remind you of who and what you are; to present the logical position that you simply can’t see. That’s what friends are for; supporting you at your weakest moments, propping you up, and acting as your rock… whether the situation is silly and harmless or whether it’s serious and frightening. God Bless friends. And T.? The answer’s still NO….

This morning, I went into the Little Man’s office. I talked to Mud for almost an hour, I think (really the only thing that drew me in). He sounded happy to hear from me and asked when I was going back down South. I’m working on the assumption that he was just curious and didn’t really care in a personal sense … see how much I’ve grown? I don’t take everything personally anymore. It’s not always about me!!

Sat at Starbucks with T. for two hours after that. Then I went to the bank, where I found out that my application to have The Ex removed from the loan might fail because two years ago, I had bad credit. Can you see me rolling my eyes? My student loans – the ones with the bank – have a poor credit rating. Well, sure. But, uh, guys? I called them. I haven’t missed a payment in almost two years. Apparently that doesn’t stand for much. Same with the two credit cards… because I have had “some” late payments over the course of the past nine years, they show up as poor credit ratings. Um, okay. Shall we look at the history of the loan in question? Where we haven’t missed a payment in two years? Nahhhhh. Too logical. Jesus.

Then T. called me from her mother’s couch and we went out for dinner, where we had Peter the Waiter. Yes, Peter was his real name, and I’m glad that T. tipped him well, because Peter rocked our dinner. He started grating cheese on our salad and T. said, “uh, we didn’t want cheese.” He actually said, “oh, shit” and blushed. We cracked up. C’mon, look at us. Do we look like we don’t want cheese? And when I ordered a beer (Canadian), he brought a Corona, and actually walked right past the table because he realized it was wrong. He was hilarious. He also messed up our dinners (who had what), forgot the butter for our bread, never got me a glass of water, and almost brought us coffee we didn’t order.

Then T. and I sat at the table for another fifteen minutes and made ridiculous sounds as we talked about the second Charlie video. And Jesus Spam! Oh my Lord, don’t you Jesus Spam Me!! Charlie, YOU are the Banana King!!! Oh the way home, I couldn’t see, as T. drove down Centennial. I was laughing so hard my mascara ran and I got a headache.

Now I’m flirting with the Guy from CM via Facebook email (I think he thinks I want to sleep with him, and really, he’s pretty cute for a 22-year old, but that would create no end of craziness at work, don’t you think?), and talking to Grammar via text (he texted me first, so it’s okay. I didn’t break any of my rules.). I told T. tonight I was just doing the exact opposite of anything I wanted to do, and she pointed out that it worked for George Costanza. That’s me. I. Am. George. Costanza. rofl. On that note, more tomorrow.

Wrote a poem today. Go on down one post and read it. Go ahead, I’ll wait. I mean, there are nine or ten of you here on any given day… go take a peek.

Back? Okay.

Haven’t heard from Grammar at all today. Says something, don’t you think? I know better than to beat a dead horse, so I’m not touching that one. Disappointed? Yes. But in a realistic, meh, could be worse sort of way. Not like with Hockey where I wanted to rip my hair out. Grammar just texted me. Haven’t heard from him all day. Apparently not all is lost. God, some of you are such Doubting Thomases! (Go ahead and look it up, Chicago, I gave you a link. lol)

So I spent my day doing basically nothing at Hell. If I hadn’t been handed my separation papers two weeks ago, I’d definitely be concerned about my job. I wrote that poem, surfed a lot, got the Evil Death You’re A Fucking Moron Glare from the Jackass, and didn’t back down with the Coworker when he tried to tell me I was wrong about something when I don’t think I was. I finally looked at him, said, “Okay”, and turned around. He laughed in surprise, but stopped pursuing the matter. Clearly we stood on opposite sides of the issue. 

Wrote that poem, freaked out Chicago. I was in a rotten, rotten mood today. Like, PMS bad. For no reason, and I just couldn’t shake it. So many reasons why, and so many of them stupid, that it just made me more angry, of course. After I wrote the poem, I felt better. I don’t think it’s that bad, really (the poem, I mean). I think it’s the first decent thing I’ve written in a while.

Went to Candy Mountain, where I expected to receive my product knowledge test, but turns out the boss got my schedule wrong and now it’s pushed to some time next week. Spent the evening shamelessly flirting with the Guy and getting a bit of work done. I’m sure he’s still asking himself right now whether I really am wearing underwear, or not. Cruel? Maybe a little. But c’mon. It put me in a better mood?

Talked to T. on the way home from CM; she’s going back to the Little Man’s office tomorrow. I’m warring with myself about going in… If I do, I could get up early and get dressed and trot out there to meet her. Spend a couple of hours, maybe, but all it would really do is hurt my heart and make me wish I was back there. I don’t understand the lure, and it’s not just T. that makes me want to be there. I miss the people in the South, I miss my friends, I miss the satisfaction I got out of doing a job well and getting appreciation for it. I like to HELP people, and there I was good at it. At Hell, not so much. Appreciation is a big deal for me, apparently. Even if I never got any from the Little Man, knowing that other people thought I was good at my job was enough.

(Indigo is behind me on the desk, eating his seed stick. I think he thinks he’s getting away with something because he’s behind me. Silly bird.)

Well, I don’t have much else to say. That’s pretty much my day in a nutshell. Chicago, I feel better, don’t panic, you can keep your rock for now, I don’t need it. Funny how a little depressing poetry and some highly sexual flirting can brighten a woman’s mood!

Wrote this poem today. Freaked Chicago out. Feel better, though. Have a read.

It’s like dusk without the romance -
grey trees, steel skies, black puddles.

I see a well-used path here
flattened wisps of ashen grass
where other feet have trod before mine
into a tangle of trees.

In front and behind look the same
A world eternally in shadow.

I face to the west and follow the track
plodding onward in the awkward silence
where no birds have the heart to caw
and break this white noise.

Wispy moss hangs from skeletal trees
blanking out weak light from above.

I see nothing but ripples as
unknown things slither and splash
where the path turns boggy
and my feet sink into clay.

A smoky fog skims the water
And reflections are lost in the dark.

I’ve walked miles by now, surely?
and take respite on a jagged rock
where my knees hug my chest
and my eyes unseeing, don’t blink.

Gloom settles like wet wool
A disinterested stench in the air.

I wish there was a reason to care?
A mosquito to buzz in my ear
where the silence is complete
and the peace is still lost.

Eeyore’s ironic raincloud
Has nothing on my inner mind.

I think my rock is sinking into the bog
but I can see my unbroken path
where there’s no light past the skeletal trees
and no reason to go forward.

Hissing whispers promise peace
If I only give in to their thrall.

I’m submerged to my hips as
sucking mouths attach to my ankles and toes
where the flesh turns pale grey
and I have no will to move.

Shudders of disgust are lost
As emotion tumbles away from me.

I hear faint voices in the distance
as brackish water reaches my chest
where I feel scales slither lightly
and don’t move my arms to fight.

They don’t pull me down – Oh no! –
As if I have a choice in the outcome.

I know the decision is already made
as the water closes over my eyes
where my vision is finally blurred
and I become part of the blackness.

I haven’t heard from Grammar except briefly this morning. I refuse to text him tonight; I’m guessing that the fact that I brought up the wedding last night freaked him out a bit. Dude, I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to marry anyone right now, let alone you. And I don’t really want to introduce any poor sucker to my family, I just didn’t want a freakin’ empty chair beside me at the table.

So anyway, I basically haven’t heard from him today. Chicago helped me see the light – it’s not the end of the world. I don’t know what I’d do without him only a mouseclick away. He talks me down so often. I rant and rave and bitch and he listens. It’s like my own, private, useful Dr. Phil. I’d wager a guess that in some ways, by now, he knows me better than I know myself.

In good news, I figured out how to “lock” the text message that my dad sent me a few weeks ago so I can “delete all” texts except that one, instead of having to manually select each one to wipe out. I’m glad. I learned something new. Yay me!

Coworker was back today for the first time in a week and a half. He passed some of his stuff on to me at around 4:50 this afternoon. His excuse? That he’s taking on this new project, see, so I might need to help him with some of his workload. Fuck that. And you know why? Because I’m not gonna be doing that soon, anyway. But of course I can’t say anything to HIM about it, I just have to silently sit there, smile, and grit my teeth (man, I am in a bad mood tonight, huh?).

I was looking at apartments online this afternoon, too. I don’t want to move, I like my apartment, the location… Okay, it would be nice if the shower didn’t run alternating cold and hot. It would be nice if the bathroom floor wasn’t two different colours. It would be nice if the windows all opened and closed properly. It would be nice if I didn’t live next door to a rub and tug. But really, it’s only the idiot with the loud car and the Upstairsian who make me really want to move. I can live with the rest.

Had to take my inhaler today for the first time in months, too. It’s wet… not humid as in hot and sticky, but wet. It was so cold in Hell today that I had goosebumps, and then to walk outside, it killed my lungs. By the time I got to Candy Mountain, I couldn’t breathe. Of course, I take my inhaler and my hands shake like crazy and I talk too fast… Oh well. Can’t win ‘em all. And since I can’t think of a damned positive thing to say, I’m going to go to bed and read.

I am trying to work up the courage to ask Grammar to attend this wedding with me. So far, I’m showing my yellow belly. I was talking with T. about him tonight; I’m sure she got sick of listening to me… I said he’s almost exactly like a Canadian Mud. She corrected me; he’s Canadia Mud. Yes, yes, that is exactly what Grammar is.

The Upstairsian is on the phone. I can hear every word he says, I just don’t think it’s in English. I want to move. I love my apartment and hate the fact that he lives above me. Does that make me a bad person? Does the fact that I won’t go upstairs and give him shit for being so fucking loud make me a doormat or a patient person?

Went out for dinner with T. tonight. We laughed, we enjoyed, we had coffee at Starbucks while some poor man couldn’t look in the direction he was walking because T. made the mistake of looking at him. I’d forgotten how flat-out interesting it is to people-watch while T.’s around. This poor man just didn’t know what to do. He’s watching her, she’s watching me, he knows I’m watching him… She truly does need a keeper, someone to keep her safe. It’s not that she’s weak, it’s just that the temptation is that damn good…

We spent a lot of time tonight talking about the Little Man’s office. I stopped in to see the guys before I met her for dinner, because she was running late. The office hasn’t changed, the lines are still the same (“Once we have the right people in place…”). The work won’t change, the customer base varies only slightly… And yet, it still felt like home. T. said the same thing. It’s frighteningly comfortable. I can’t wait until she’s in charge. I honestly feel like Hell is just a holding pattern. It’s a place to learn new things and meet new people, but in the end, it’s the other company that holds my heart, and nothing Hell does is going to change that.

Oh, and the cookies I made her? She couldn’t keep her hands off them at the restaurant. The best was when she said, “oooh! chocolate!” and popped one in her mouth right then and there. I laughed so hard I almost peed a little. And then when she opened the cookies, she ate two at the table. Silly woman.

I got my first letter from my American penpal in the mail tonight. He types it on a typewriter, in a journal format. It’s kinda interesting to read snippets of someone’s life. I have yet to figure out how — fucking Upstairsian — I’m going to respond to his letters. I was thinking in the form of poetry, but I don’t know if perhaps that’s a tad gayyy. I might do stream of consciousness… maybe he’ll get half an hour of solid writing and that’s that… I got three-type written pages. It’s highly interesting to get these little glimpses into someone else’s life. I’ll keep them; maybe some day he’ll want them back.

That’s it for tonight. Gonna pack it in early. Maybe go write my letter in bed with Indigo, so he can be out of his cage for a bit.

First off, for the first time in three weeks, the Upstairsian is home. I think he arrived sometime last night around 1:47 a.m.. At least, that’s when he dropped something on his bedroom floor. Right now, it’s 10:07 and he’s walking around with his shoes on. I hate him, and would like to chop him into small pieces. Surely no one would miss him?

Tonight, I got T.’s birthday present 90% wrapped up. I have one more stop to make tomorrow and it’ll be finished. Which is good, since I’m seeing her tomorrow. I’m not totally delighted with my choice, but what do you get a woman who has everything she wants (except a puppy) and buys whatever she really wants? Friendship, of course. No one can have too much of that. But it’s kinda hard to wrap in a box.

Okay, the date. It started at 8:30 with breakfast. I sat right by the window, figuring it would make it easier for him to find me. I saw him drive around the corner. I had no idea what his car was, but you sort of get a sixth sense, don’t you? I thought I was wrong, as I waited, and waited… I have no idea what he was doing. But when we walked out to his car (Monte Carlo) after breakfast, I discovered I was correct, it had been him. He showed up in a baseball hat, jeans, sandals, and a Montreal baseball jersey. Not quite a t-shirt and wrinkled shorts, T., but pretty close. His hair is a tad long, and I spent the day doing my absolute best not to reach out and play with it. Pretty good of me, huh? There was no touching that wasn’t accidental. He has beautiful eyes, though. Absolutely beautiful. I actually enjoyed just looking at him; he’s very masculine. Oh, he opened the car door. Right then, I fell a little bit in loke. Hockey and Photog didn’t do that. Such a simple thing. Such a polite thing. Gives such a wonderful first impression.

I come up to his shoulder. He is very witty, obviously very intelligent. He must be driving a truck because he chooses to; it’s certainly not because he has to. He reminds me a lot of Creep; the more I think about the two of them, the more I think they’re very similar. Smart, witty, and I don’t think a lot of people “get” them. Perhaps that’s why I like Grammar; I’m used to dealing with Creep.

I don’t really want to rehash the whole thing; I want to keep some of the memories for myself, and I’m sure everyone here will get sick of listening to me talk about nothing but Grammar (as I have for the past few weeks). We texted a bit this morning, and we’re texting a bit now. I was a little concerned when I texted him at seven and didn’t hear from him until ten, but I’m doing my best to quash those feelings of abandonment, self-pity, and self-doubt. It’s hard. I didn’t realize how built-in these emotions are. (Did I mention that I hate the Upstairsian?)

Hell was okay today. Very quiet. I miss the Hungarian’s frequent presence in my cubicle. The coworker is out until Wednesday. I emailed the boss today and managed to get Friday completely off, which is great. I have enough hours banked from my “Summer Hours” that I don’t have to dip into my vacation. I have to go to the bank, but that’s it. So I get a four-day weekend. I’m not going north. In my heart of hearts, I’m hoping that Grammar might have a free moment this weekend. And T. is here, so I’ll get to spend some time with her.

There are a couple of other things I’d like to talk about, but I just don’t have the heart tonight. Ever since I got in the car after Candy Mountain, I just… I’m down. I’m doing it to myself, and can’t even do anything about it. Maybe I’ll go find Charlie…

All right, lurkers, who are you?

Tonight I went to the mall, and bought myself a pair of denim capris. I haven’t decided if I want to keep them yet, or not. They sit far lower than anything I normally wear, and while I’m not a prude, I don’t want my asscrack showing unless I choose not to wear pants. We’ll see. I might just wear jeans on Sunday and roll them up… that way if I’m cold going out and coming home, Presto! I’ll have pants!

Speaking of, I haven’t heard from Grammar in 24 hours. As T. and Chicago said, he’s probably busy. I geddit. But I also have Hockey Syndrome, so I’m probably a little more paranoid than I ought to be. On the other hand, he hasn’t appeared on FB either, so perhaps he’s avoiding everyone, not just me. And that is something I can definitely understand.

I finally put away the rest of my laundry from Sunday. Put away the dishes. Need to dust again (meh). Bought a coat at the mall, too. It’s a late fall/early spring thing in denim with faux shearling lining, but it was eleven dollars after tax. How can you argue with that? If I wear it once, it’s paid for. Or, I bought a medium, I could give it to Mom. It’d still be too big for her, but it would be cosy at work for her without being too heavy.

T. is leaving tomorrow on her way to Canadia. I don’t envy her the trip, but I’m 100% sure she’s going to have Adventures to talk about. I wish I was going with her (for the sake of the Adventures, not for the sake of the drive).

Oh, I found out at work today that the Hungarian was let go at the same time as me last week. The lucky part is that I got another job; he didn’t. I’m sad to hear it, but I expect that he’ll get another one without too much difficulty. It’s quite annoying, though, that even his cubemates didn’t know until today that he’d been let go. Poor management, as far as I’m concerned. It’s been a full week – I’ve got stuff that’s still “pending” with him, and now I have no idea what to do about it, and I’m not the only one in that position. They aren’t handling this restructuring well, and it’s angering a lot of people. On top of which, I’m now 75% convinced that the job that I’m going to get is going to come from them laying off my friend, and I think that stinks. I still need a job, and there’s nothing I can do about that, but that doesn’t make it any easier on my conscience.

Nothing else to add, really. I hate pants shopping and it’s put me in a rotten mood. Even the fact that I love my apartment isn’t cheering me up much right now. I should have painted the damn bedroom yellow, I spend more time in there than I do in here!

Oh, and like he just heard me say that I was in a rotten mood, Grammar just FB’ed to say he forgot his cell at home and now it’s charging. Life is good again. I know, I know, I need to get over needing other people to make me happy. It’s part of my make-up. Oh, and my hair stylist today told me that I was a bit stand-offish when I first started seeing him, because I was so quiet, and that if I was going on a date on Sunday, I should remember that. And he doesn’t believe I’m going to grow my hair out, and he’s mad that it took him a full half-hour today to cut it (approximately ten minutes, no word of a lie) and style it. Poor Stylist. The cut looks nice, though. And he said I won’t be able to get “ear holes” cut again next time, as the top is going to be too long. This is good news. Maybe by Spring I’ll have hair I like again!

And on that pathetic feminine note…

Talking to The Ex via IM right now. Grammar has tried to throw breakfast into Sunday’s mix, and I have no idea where to go. The couple places I know of in town… some I wouldn’t eat at, and some will just be packed. And I don’t know what time some of them open… We have to be in Burlington no later than ten, he says, so we’d have to be doing the breakfast thing around 8:30. I offered to cook, but he turned me down. Little does he know I make a mean potato pancake, or a mean plate of crispy bacon, or a mean plate of apple-cinnamon pancakes…

Anyway. Worked at Candy Mountain today; actually worked. I hate sweating while working. It’s such a turn-off. And I’m such a diva – no manual labour for me! I heard today about other people getting let go at Hell. It just makes me doubly thankful that I still have a job, though I’m growing more and more concerned that my taking this job means one of my friends is out of a job. But I can’t think like that; I have to take care of myself. No one pays my bills but me, and that’s hard if you have no paycheque.

~*~ AAAAAANNNNND in other news, guess who just had a 25-minute telephone conversation with Grammar? Yes, he is funny in real life, too. He kinda reminds me of Chicago in some ways – wants you to confirm his jokes are funny (yes they are). But seems like a nice guy. I think the day should go okay. He seems normal enough and we had a conversation with only a few small pauses. I’m now looking forward to Sunday more than I was before.

Gotta go. Natural high happenin’ over here!

P.S. Got a kick out of this story at the BBC today. I sent it to Dad, I knew he’d like it. This is why I love genealogy. This is what makes the world go ’round… all these connections… Very cool.