Nothing important for me to say, today. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.


Sigh.

Weird vibes lately. Odd, discomfort...a sort of tense, coiled, unsprung torrent of confession? No, not confession. Admittance. Reluctant, but inevitable.

I can't find the words. And it's not me, or Scott. It's him.

He's been writing lately. Posts them where I can see them...and they burn in the scars of the little tear-lines. He always finds a way to discomfit me when I'm at a quiet, sincere, comfortable place.

I'm tired of his haunting, of the way he still sits behind corners and peeks at me, to remind me he's there, in the dark, in the wings.

I know he'll never be on the stage with me again, never again will we stand in the streetlight and look at the tree-branches. Confess dreams and meaning and co-write about the things that we saw together. The things we saw of togetherness in the times we were apart.

I keep thinking I'm fixed, that this jigsaw me is sorted out and showing a nice picture.

I keep forgetting that inherently, a jigsaw will always lie in pieces.

He writes about me in the places she can't see them. He leaves me in the background corners of his life now.

Things could have been so different.

I search, scour my collection of music. Scrambling almost frantically...but everything is quiet. So silent.

And I can't find the right song to sing.


October is almost over. I have a lot of writing to do.



To the morning,

Chels

I do what I can...I work with what I have. My doubt is my passion, and my passion is my task.

+50 points for whoever can tell me where that comes from.


The only coworker I really get along with is leaving me today. But I might be following her to her next job... customer service for eBay™. Heck, it's $15 an hour, full time with benefits, and it's right next to my dad's building, so I can hitch a ride to work with him in the mornings. An hour and a half in the car with dad every day might be a bit painful, but at this point, there's not a lot I wouldn't be willing to do for $15/hr AND the pleasure of being able to run screaming from this place.

I'm going to head outside, since it's her last day, and join her on her smoke break.

Later, kids.


Chels

p.s. It was Henry James.

Current Mood: Pre-sprung, edgy, tense. Antsy, perhaps. Somber, but brewing.
Current Song: Pissing by Low
(Lyrics: I can't see. Sing the darker of pissing on my toes. Knowing what I know I know. I'm waiting like a loyal whore. Under every stone
Lovers sleep alone. Alone. Alone. Lovers sleep alone. Alone. Alone.)
Current Game: KOTOR II
Current Book: Ariel - Sylvia Plath
Current Random Quirk: Sucking on my bottom lip.
Current Obsession: Scott

Today is hard. It's raining outside and it fits my mood, but I don't feel like I fit into my skin and my life right now. Andrea called me this morning to tell me that Su had a miscarriage, and that's why she wasn't at work half of last week. Last week was the first time I heard that Dan had quit all his jobs because going to school for 18 credits this semester at Su's urging is taking up all of his time. He and I haven't talked in a month. He doesn't need me anymore, and it's odd to feel that sort of letting go. It was just wierd, because last night I had my dream again... the one where I'm stuck taking care of their unwanted baby because I have nothing better to do with my life, and I'm the only person out of the awkward three of us who cares about it. It was different than usual, though. A lot darker, more tense and full of undercurrents in the flow of things. Winds of change are stirring mid-October. I love this time of year, because the world turns shadow and grey and you feel every breath and going outside makes your skin tingle. I get my best writing this time of year. I feel like writing something right now, but nothing good will come out. There's a poem stuck in me, and I'm too preoccupied to get it out right.

Last night I went for a walk with Scott, and we talked about stuff. About life. It was our first really serious talk, and it was interesting. He has a lot of the same feelings about things that I do. The same kind of questions, the same kind of reclining doubts. We went to his car when it started to rain, and talking led to other things. I really, really like him, but I wonder if it's just some sort of compensation for the hole of recent pasts inside of me.

Everyone gets hungry for things.

So I took my guitar
and I threw down some chords,
and some words I could sing without shame.

And I soon had a song,
I played it around
for some friends but they all said the same:

They said, "Music's for fools,
you should go back to school.
The future is prisons in math."

So I did what they said.
Now my children are fed,
'cause they pay me to do what I'm asked.

I forgot all my songs.
The words now were wrong,
and I burned my guitar in a rage.

But the fire came to rest
in your white velvet breast,
so somehow I just know that it's safe...

- "Death of a Salesman" by Low

Doooooooooom!

And so the end begins.

Today, in our training meeting at work, they confiscated the use of work email for anything other than work purposes. (The NERVE!) No, seriously, now that they've shot our morale in the kneecaps AND the jugular, all I can do is resort to listening to REALLY LOUD OBNOXIOUS MUSIC ON MY BIGASS HEADPHONES SO ALL THE PEOPLE AROUND ME HAVE TO LISTEN TO IT AS WELL!

Then they'll just say we can't listen to music either. Now, let me tell you a little secret. Chels can't function when set to moderate a single task. I am, by nature, a multi-tasker, especially when it comes to having to do something I care nothing about. For example: the Mexican border crossing records from 1903 that I'm scanning today. If I don't have something else to do, like email people, or draw or write poetry in Notepad, then I will fall asleep staring at this damn screen for five hours a day. And then I'll miss ALL the images that I'm supposed to be monitoring instead of keeping tabs on them all out of the corner of my eye.

I mean, really. and then they wonder why the turnover rate for part-timers is so high. It's because if you're a part-time employee the environment is excruciatingly painful to work in, the fulltimers can IM and email and do whatever they want...

It makes me want to throw rocks and burn things.

No more email? Gee, mister! That's swell.

At least we get free counseling services, I can go whine to someone an hour a week on company money and tell them how much I hate my job, but can't leave until I get a new one. Which isn't going too well at the moment.

[deep angry voice]Damn the Utah job market! You damn dirty job market! Damn it all to hell![/deep angry voice]

BUGGER! I just used up 11 minutes of my 15 minutes break time to bitch about how corporate america is killing my soul, man. It's killing my soul.


Miserably,
Chels