Its so erotic when you rmake-up runs

This blog isn’t dead. I swear. And I am not either, for that matter.

I suppose some people would say I am far more alive than I had been, I am busier than ever and it seems as though life is continually interrupting my quest to be lost in this sweet little world I ‘ve managed to create for myself. I say I feel terrible for never being here. I miss you all and I am missing the day to day goings on of your lives. I come every now and then and I see all the things you are doing, the progress made in your lives, the ways you are all hanging. I feel like I am missing everything sometimes. But that’s life, isn’t it?

I purchased a truck. It should be delivered sometime in the next few days. I am looking forward to having it back. It means I get my life back a little. That I no longer have to beg rides, wake Beloved up at 5 to drive me to work or be asked when I am going to get it all taken care of. It’s a cherry red 2003 Nissan Frontier. I like it a lot. We drove 2 ½ hours to go get it, and as bad as my map reading skills are the trip was grueling, but I think in the end, totally worth it.

Work has been interesting of late. Last Sunday [not yesterday, but the Sunday before] I accidentally ran into an old lady and she fell over. She cut her arms on the tile flooring and we had to call an ambulance. It was humiliating and really frightening. Everyone was nice. They told me all manner of stories that were similar, trying to convince me that it would be okay, I wouldn’t lose my job, and that really it happens to all of us. I still felt bad. I was shaking so badly I thought I would pass out. [I tend to shake when I am really upset- shocked or frightened or angry] I couldn’t hold a tray properly for nearly an hour. Rogue kept trying to get me to calm down, pulling me aside, petting me and telling me I was going to be okay, and pulling nearly everything out of her little bag of tricks she has that she uses when I [and several of the other servers she is fond of] am having a bad day. I don’t think she was entirely convinced that it worked. I don’t think I was either. But she was sweet to try. I told Beloved about it. She laughed really hard. She says that this sort of stuff only happens to me. That I have the worst luck of anyone she has ever met. Then she promptly called a few of her friends to laugh and tell them about it. I am still trying to imagine how it can be as amusing as she thinks it is. Still....

There have been several servers leave at work too. The result is frightening, when I work night shift on Friday I am one of the most senior waitresses. For those of you who might be counting, I’ve been there for 4 months now. I do still like my job most days, although some are better than others, of course. The other funny thing is I think people like me better now, because I have a tendency to show my temper more than I used to. Don’t misread me, I am not a dish slamming surly waitress, not just yet. And I never show my temper to my guests. Ever. But I am confident enough now in my abilities, and in my talents to tell people where to go when they are in my way and correct them when I think they are screwing something up that effects me. [I could really care less about their own progress, since its their business] I also get to work as a “mid” now, which means I get to check people out before they go - making sure they have done all of their cleaning, post-shift prep work and side work. I am not afraid to tell people to do their work now. I think everyone thought I was a pushover when I fist started. Not so much now.

We had a car wash for charity this past weekend. Our company supports a terminally ill children’s foundation and it’s the time of year we do our fund-raising for it. I volunteered for the car wash. In part because I don’t have anyone to give me $150 for the walk-a-thon registry and in part because its easy. Hardly anyone else signed up also. Which makes a difference. As I expected none of the back of the house staff really signed up to work, but they were thrilled at the idea of a car wash. Yes, I did wear a two piece. Yes, I glowed I am so pale. But I didn’t sunburn, a first for years now. But I put on sun screen every half hour or so. I did tan a little even with that, so I am pretty happy. The boys came out to gawk at us. Well, not me, at the other servers who looked a lot cuter than I did with their [forgive me] skinnier legs, bigger busts and brighter smiles. I threw on a pair of sunglasses and skulked behind the cars, looking very much a vampire stuck in a room of florescent lights, I was wearing all black and I’ve just dyed my hair again.

One more thing about work and I swear I won’t bore you about it any longer, I promise. Its not entirely work related, either, really. Its just a tangent thought. I am talking of Rogue. I am not entirely sure I want to talk about her, but I need to talk about her, and she’s a sore subject for Beloved for reasons I sort of understand but I can illuminate later. This seems a good spot because despite our closeness she does not have this blog address and I don’t know that I’ll give it to her. She seems all too adept at reading my private thoughts without the help of me typing them out for her. This might be a moment where I would type that I was sighing, or that I am staring blankly at the screen, but those of you who are close enough to me to be reading this far down know me well enough to know I am, and are laughing at me putting off talking about what it for me an sensitive subject.

I won’t lie. I am very drawn to this little girl. Very drawn to her. In part because she has done everything in her ability to ingratiate herself with me. She has done everything she knows how to do to make me completely love her. Its not cruelty that does it either, its her personality. Her vulnerabilities that do it. She wants desperately to be loved, I think, and she wants desperately to appear to be strong and in control. She wants to feel like her friends can depend on her. She has things about her past that eerily mark mine, and I tell her on occasion that we must be cut from the same piece of cloth. Only I’m much older and have had time to grow out of the fright that comes from life’s unfairness and become bitter over it. Of course I don’t say the bitterness part. I don’t want her to be bitter, and I suppose I’ll do what I can to prevent it. She’s got a lot of potential. She’s a smart girl. A beautiful girl. She could land on her feet if she tried. I hope she does.

Beloved, as I have mentioned, has refused to make friends with her. She’s met her twice, and they have exchanged hello’s but they are both [frustratingly] completely indifferent towards each other when they meet, which, thank god, isn’t often, or I’d have a breakdown. I think at first my girl felt threatened by her, she does come off the type of girl who is gay. I think Beloved wanted reassurance that I still wanted her and not a 17 year old. [which I thought went without saying, but I suppose I need to be more attentive to her as well...I’m not a very good girlfriend sometimes.] I also think she’s a little jealous. Rogue and I talk an awful lot on the phone. I think I mentioned previously, I talk more on the phone now than I have for years. Maybe years combined. We were talking the other night, after the car wash, just briefly, and Beloved made the comment that we couldn’t go 12 hours without talking to each other. I started to object, but then shut my mouth promptly. We do talk often. I asked Rogue about it at work yesterday, and she laughed and pointed out we often go more than 12 hours, if you count the full 24, because we never talk when we are sleeping. As far as waking hours goes? She laughed again and told me not to worry.

I’m rambling and I am having a hard time collecting my thoughts. What it comes down to is, I suppose, that outside of Perpet [hello, sweetheart] this little girl [and believe me, it makes me crazy she is so young, I feel weird sometimes] is the closest thing I have made to a real friend since I was 18 or so. She wants me on my own terms. She likes me for what I am. And, as I have previously mentioned, she reads me like a book. She won’t put up with any pretense on my part and calls me on my bullshit the minute I try to palm off an “I’m okay” or a “I don’t want to talk about it” or a casual subject change. And god save me when we work together, if I am having a rough morning and she comes in later on the schedule and I try to act alright...I’ve given up trying, really, because I always end up cornered with her turning me to look her directly in the eye and she whispering, “now tell me the truth...” And, she allows me, for some strange reason, to see vulnerabilities in her that she admittedly won’t share with her other friends or her delightfully oblivious boyfriend. I suppose most of you know I’ve not got an adept hand at friendship, so this is new territory for me. And I suppose new territory for my Beloved, who isn’t used to me wanting to be with people who aren’t her, and me having friends that aren’t her own. And I imagine that it is strange for her to think of me being friends with someone 7 years younger than me, similar, I guess to how I feel about all of her friends, who are a good deal older than me.

And that’s my sort of talk about Rogue, which did me no good I guess, outside of getting it off my chest, I still feel no less odd and no less comfortable thinking about my affection for her. I guess that’s what bother’s me, isn’t it? That I hold affection for her? And not a romantic one, but a serious interest in her and her well being and her happiness just because I like who and what she is. Very new for me. Very new.

In other still more boring news, I am not talking to my mother still. My grandmother tried to intervene and called me and told me to call her. I told her I wasn’t going to point blank. I told her I am tired of her antics and of her attitude and I am tired of acting the adult. I’ve done it since I was 13 and I am refusing to do it anymore. She said my mother was wondering why I never called and I should tell her. I told her my mother could call me, and I would be happy to tell her, provided I could get through the explanation without her hanging up on me. When I had put off that conversation she tried to drag me into other family gossip, mostly about Priestess and her family and I told her I was not getting involved because its not my business and if she was having problems that she should be talking to them not me. I am not a messenger. I am not a go-between. Then she tried with gossip about my mom, and again I put her off, telling her I didn’t want to talk about it, she started crying and telling me no one loved her anymore. I’m honestly to the point of giving up on it all, I can’t seem to make heads or tales of any of my family’s craziness.

I suppose, in good news, I am starting school in a month. This means two things. One, I will be finally giving myself the education I deserve. For that I am proud of myself. I am excited. I am determined. It means six years of waiting tables and going to school and then I will never pick up another dirty dish that belongs to a stranger, never be talked to like a slave by someone who thinks I am stupid, and be so physically tired after I am off work that I can hardly talk, let alone love the people who mean the most to me. Two, I will be near a computer every day. So you’ll get to see me more often.

I got my Shuffleathon Cd sent out, ST, this morning, so tell the person that I have I am sorry. I’ve had no ride and no time and no energy, which is no excuse, but will have to suffice, since its all I’ve got. I also got my CD, which, I think, is from the illustrious ST, that or Yoko, since it had a label on it from ST’s web site, but the blog address of both Yoko and ST on the bottom. I dunno, I was expecting a note or something to let me know, then again, I’m dense, so it might be from neither of them. Either way, I’ll post a review soon, when I have time to actually listen to the CD.

Thank you, whomever sent it. And as I said in my previous post, I am sorry about the delay. Please don’t hate me too much.

Right, and now I am off. It’s a rainy day and I think I might actually write a little bit.