Journal Entries
Unhappiness is ugly...
Posted Mar 21, 2005
Everyone seemed ultra-sensitive at w*rk yesterday. .... Too many customers didn't even acknowledge me when I said hello.
And the night before, I started getting down on myself: "What are you doing, still in retail? Are you mad? Why are you wasting so much time, when you could instead be writing, editing, helping out the creative world? Bloody hell, you idiot..."
And I had to keep telling myself I hadn't closed it all off. I have poetry workshops every month, I submitted three poems a couple weeks ago to two different places, I'm going to read poetry in a few weeks in Denver (first time outside of a classroom setting!!! YAY!!!), I read a poem to the class I am TA-ing a couple weeks ago, I am almost daily (sometimes TWICE a day!!!) discussing and/or sharing poetry with my great friend here on hootoo, Lady Pennywhistle, and I have a 20-poem manuscript ready to send to a statewide chapbook contest, AND I am progressively working on an e-journal for a school-related mountain restoration project, AND I will soon write an editorial defending poetry for the newspaper I used to work on.
The problem is that I spend more than 40 hours a week marketing wares, thanking people *not* for hearing my poem, or for reading my manuscript, or for handing in a paper in time for me to go over it and copy-edit/provide suggestions, or for being a part of a poetry workshop with me, but for buying something some bloody far away manufacturer created.
It's very impersonal.
Very uncreative.
Not
me...
This job used to be a means to an end: my vehicle for getting THROUGH college. Now I have my bachelors. After earning it, well, I was just going to stick around for the bonus check in March. Then I was just sticking around because the pay is so good. And I stick around because it makes it easy to afford my car payments and other bills.
Yesterday I told a six year old to be careful about what degree he gets in college, because I was angry at myself for having to reorganize plant stands that didn't really fit on the ugly white metal shelves ANYWAY.
*I* didn't make much effort to use my writing degree to get a job outside of college. Yes. Two different professors have me working for them now. But I didn't volunteer my services at all-- a testament, apparently, to my work ethic and skills...
... I've just lost work ethic for my full time job. Let's just refer to is as my wage-producer. Meh.
... There IS good news. Yesterday morning, I figured out that as long as I can KEEP $6.50/hr from a 40 hour/week paycheck, I can manage my expenses and still have a bit to save every month. I got quite misty-eyed about that.
I never did the math. Because this Wal*Mart job has funded me for four and a half years. It's close to home. It's not a challenge, except to my spirit. It pays REMARKABLY well, but I get no recognition and terrible benefits, truth be known.
How, I ask, will keeping this wage-maker HELP me get into grad school (ah ha!!! Draggers DOES have a career mapped out!!! ... poetry prof, remember!?? Ok... 
I remember too.)!??... It really won't.
Driving the forklift and the scissor lift will probably help me get a gig down in Antarctica (Career Fair on April 8th!!! YAY!!!), and every experience is to be learned from.
But I'm not even writing public announcements. So. I feel my creativity's been zapped.
I'm soooo rambling.
Anyrot. Working for a newspaper (I sent my resume to one via email yesterday; the other, bigger newspaper wants something more, which is all ready to slip into a manilla envelope...) will be better. I will make connections, I will polish my journalistic skills (which help in all areas of life, far as I can see!!!!), I will stay mentally ignited.
Why should I force myself to stay miserable, just to reach financial goals?... there are other legal ways, too.
Discuss this Journal entry [51]
Latest reply: Mar 21, 2005
The view from where I stand
Posted Mar 10, 2005
Original Subject Line: YES!!!! Shamelessly flirting with younger men!!!!
And I'm not talking younger by months, but no!!!!... YEARS!!! BWAHAHAHAHAAA!!!
"What, Draggers, happened with the last relationship!??"
Let's simply say, "Thank you, drive through." I needed to (and did) depart that scenario in the middle of January. That's all we're going to release to the press at this time, or possibly ever. Cheers.
Roight.
Shameless flirting. Oooo... more like shameless hitting on!!! 
Which has produced, really, not much (I secretly think I'm very grateful.... am I, really, ready for more hardcore romance!??).
But it's been devilishly delightful, being the predator of all I survey (don't recollect being that in the past, or at least much...). I am beginning to suspect that strong, sensually agressive women scare some men, particularly those 22 years and younger.
That's the age group I've somehow, apparently, stumbled onto narrowing my sights on. Not exactly an issue when you are yourself just newly 25...
But let's start in chronological order by age, shall we!??
Let's start..... SIX years younger.
Not bad when, oh, the ages are 24 and 30 (hey, cheeky baby, I've learned, really, that maybe most of us-- male and female-- are clueless as to what we want/need until we're 24 or 25... and maybe we learn that never). Not too terrible if the ages are even 22 and 28.... BUT....
Hee hee hee.... when he's just a 19 year old... 
And his birthday was only in late December...
But oh come on!!! He's SOOOOOO terribly yummy!!!
And he's Air Force bound and he's lived in Yorkshire. So I can discuss all that with him (my friend at w*rk, where this flirting takes place, told me how cute I am in flirting-mode.... no one ever cross-examined that for me. It's a good feeling, really).
But, bless him. No. Six years difference!??... and being Air Force bound, when I'm grad school bound!??.... ugliness in 2005, perhaps loveliness in 2011.
So that's the blonde. Or Capricorn1.
Then we have one of three Virgos. I BELIEVE the youngest one is another co-worker.
He's interesting. He fights back. I could've grabbed him last night, EAAAASSSSSILY... cause he was literally and physically pushing me to act on all my verbal come-ons (which were just too irresistable to serve; he blushes and squirms. It's fine entertainment. I blame another female co-worker for starting it. ).
Then, ::sigh:: .... he'll tell me "maybe I'm just messing with you."
Quite.
So we don't have to deal with all that hot air, now, do we!??
The middle-in-age Virgo is just now... well... I'll not say. It'll just be apparent in my report on the situation.
Him I don't shamelessly flirt with. I know him from school, from the place I used to w*rk when I was on the newspaper staff (though he w*rks on the television broadcast).
(Hey.... I think the lack of shameless flirting is in part due to the fact that he has, on more than one ocassion, properly asked me out...)
IF the dearlove were himself less reserved and more communicative (I'm talking outside of us being physically together), then I believe there's a fine chance that Blondie and Virgo1 wouldn't be getting the special attention they have been.
::ahem::
But, I think Virgo2, having observed me for a couple years or so, and having talked to me, hearing me out for the last few months in particular, is purposely letting me determine where the relationship may go.
Three cheers for that!??... Yes... I reckon so.
::sneeze::
There is far more shameless flirting. One flirtee would've been absolutely PERFECT for the Dragonfly of four-five years ago, the girl who still adored the heck out of hippies. Oh, I still appreciate them....
Ummmm..... There's also one flirtee who's LONG been a friend of mine, but at the end of the day, we have to bear in mind that, well, he lives in an entirely different world from me. And I've come to grips with in fact WANTING KIDS ::shock, shock, horror horror!!!!:: some eventual, sorta distant day. And he doesn't. So Capricorn2 and I have tonnes of limiting factors (still, the value of an old friend who shares mutual admiration isn't all that easy to dismiss).
THEN!!! *I* was a temporary flirtee (this time, I'm the younger prey). I don't think it's going to go one inch past what he did the other day. I visited the old office where I w*rked, and I doled out my usual hugs to friends. Virgo3, 9 times out of 10, has historically been hugged by me from the side, while he sits at his computer and w*rks.
"You give the best half-hugs," I said last time.
Intention!?? Heck. I was just being honest.... me.
He got a bit fussy about that comment, and decided to show off his hugging skills, so in short order he was on his feet, giving me a terribly fantastic hug... and then a fat, long kiss on the cheek.
I was out of sorts for a bit after that. He also threatened that it'd be a kiss on the lips next time.
::sigh:: I went through a bit of self-flagellation. Then I decided I had, really, nothing to lose, that Virgo2, for all the potential he offers, isn't my boyfriend; that I'm single, and would be failing myself if I didn't do SOMETHING about Virgo3, etc...
So yes. I called Virgo3 the next morning, told him when I'd be done with my class the next day, and that I'd like to spend more time with him.
Oh that went lovely.
First off, I heard a girl's laughter when he picked up.
Then he was quick to say he needed to pack for his move.
Yeah, he's moving. To New York. In April. He doesn't know when.
So we can conclude, my dears, that Virgo3's really not going to happen. Or, if he does, well, it's best to not type a bloody word..... on hootoo, anyrot!!!! 
Finally, Draggers is enjoying this era, short-lived though it may in the end become. She's been notorious for being faithful and insistant on a rosey outlook on EVERY STINKIN' RELATIONSHIP she's entered, even before entering it.
It's nice not having that issue so much anymore. It's nice not feeling guilty for flirting (or for letting go of people; a different discourse altogether!!!). It's nice seeing that many an effort at flirtation often doesn't get terribly far, and that I am wholeheartedly accepting the good in that. It's nice grinning like a Cheshire cat and randomly giggling over Virgo3 one day, then Blondie and Virgo1 another day, then Virgo2 in random moments.
I know that this assembly of flirtees (not sure if Virgo2 gets included or not) need, need, NEED to be allowed to act up, to explore, to backpack Europe (which the hippie-dear, or Gemini1, is in love with the idea of doing-- more power to him. I'm all for that. Just... please... don't have me even remotely in love with you when you do take off!!!), to date/flirt/sleep around. I can't ask for better for them. Or for me.
What's nice, too... is realising myself. I don't NEED a boyfriend. Really.
But I do enjoy men.
There's a difference, you know!??
I'm enjoying the view from where I stand.
Discuss this Journal entry [42]
Latest reply: Mar 10, 2005
42
Posted Dec 22, 2004
Ask me about perfect love, and I won't hesitate to declare that it exists! I know it first-hand; in fact I think the smell of it is still in my hair.
I've carried perfect love; it has carried me. I feel like I've mothered it, rocked it to sleep as many times as it has mothered me, rocked me to sleep. I feel I've awakened it to laughter as much as it has awakened me to laughter.
But perfect timing. Perfect setting. Perfect freedom. That is something else.
You've told me, without blinking, that it's time to stop waiting for you. But I think I've no choice but to continue to imagine at least once a day that you'll suddenly show up. I'll do the many things I want to do; deeds and travels you have reminded me I must do; but in some ways they are just a means of providing various scenarios in which it is possible for you to return to me.
You think I've been waiting and wondering for a very long time. But that's not all true. Ask me about perfect love. I may lose the words under the tears that overtake me, but it's obvious-- I know it exists. I never doubted after first meeting you. And neither did you.
Discuss this Journal entry [50]
Latest reply: Dec 22, 2004
Wow. I... helped save two lives.
Posted Dec 4, 2004
I moved a box against a wall outside the store yesterday and a pretty cat went running towards some pallets, where she hid.
Naturally, I was most interested in the cat. "YAY!!! We have a kitty!!!" I cried, jumping up and down, then seeing if I could find out where she'd gone.
I think I may have heard something then...
I know I kept on with the box. I had to have picked it up again, as it was a good four feet tall (I'm talented, but haven't tried jumping up and down over kitties while holding a 4X2 foot box), and I marched it to its destination.
Then I was going to see who was around, so I could tell them, "YAY!!! We have a cat!!!"
No one, I think, was around.
I think it was about that time that I paused. And heard something.
Mewing.
But it seemed almost like a bird... or squeaky cart wheels. It didn't seem too out of place.
I remember I momentarily disregarded it.
And then something made me stop and go back to where I'd been. I would've been there only minutes later, to transfer another box... but I went to investigate the noise.
A kitten.
I was afraid to do anything but look in wonder and in love. Cats are to me the most beautiful of God's creatures next to humans. Some of my dearest friends have been cats.
I was afraid to intrude.
The kitten was so small, so shaky on her paws, pink under weak tufts of fur. She was ratlike, smaller than most of the mice and rats I've seen; her ears still rounded, still close to her sweet little head.
I was very afraid I had hurt her-- perhaps crippled her-- when I had moved the box. But no. She shook because she was so young, perhaps so very cold. And without mama.
I went inside, called for one of my managers. Then I showed them what I found.
The kitten ended up in my palm for... I dunno... as much as half an hour, while I talked to the mama, trying to coax her out from under a trailer (where we store all of our inventory for the holidays). Management decided on using milk and food to help get her out.
If things had remained quiet outside, I believe I would've been able to catch Mama without any bribes. But we weren't in the wild (so to speak, heh heh), so shouts from managers scared her back under the trailer.
Three managers decided they needed to be around to catch Mama... then I mentioned the progress I had been making solo. "We better leave you alone, then."
It was... well. I think it's hitting me now more than it did at the time. It was wonderful to help. She was soooo scared. With the most beautiful green cat eyes I may ever know.
Mama and baby are together and safe. We were afraid Mama wouldn't accept her baby, because I had handled her, and one of my managers had, too.... so she'd smell like us. But Mama didn't reject the little love!!!
The other five members of the family are chasing mice and drinking from gilded saucers of milk in heaven when not enjoying divine cat naps, to be sure. 
Discuss this Journal entry [33]
Latest reply: Dec 4, 2004
"What are you doing after this class?"
Posted Dec 1, 2004
"Nothing," I replied to my professor. 
it.... I knew I wouldn't easily get away with that paper I wrote. It was the only w*rk we had handed in for his class... and I wasn't very motivated for it, and only wrote about one and a half drafts...
He said he wanted to talk to me in his office.... I knew I'd probably be in tears within a couple hours: "I expected more from you; you're a writing major, and one of the two seniors in my class. It's really sad you slacked off your final semester," I thought I'd hear.
.... He did talk to me about my paper.
And it did make me ing teary.
He had very strong praise for it. And this man is blunt and will tell you your brain is dead and you need to learn how to wipe your if he's so inclined. One day we didn't have class because only a third of us showed up: "I hear all the time HOW MUCH you LOVE this class, and wouldn't miss it for anything!!! Where the is everyone, then!?? You make sure everyone comes to this class or you are all getting F's. this."
And then he left.
Aye.
LEFT!!! And he was NOT kidding about failing us.
So I was ready to expose a few entrails.... when... ::teary:: he not only said great things about my paper, he wanted to know when I was graduating and-- could I be his TA next semester!??
That morning I'd been kicking around an idea from last spring-- to do volunteer w*rk to fend off emotional/spiritual death from w*rking retail and doing little else. I was just starting to seek something that I would be proud of, that would be good for my future...
What
better
than
this!??
.... I've been so stinkin' lucky. I love how God works.
Discuss this Journal entry [10]
Latest reply: Dec 1, 2004
Dragonfly. "A poet can survive everything but a misprint"-- Oscar Wilde
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