the gritting of teeth

It's all I can do to breathe. I like the steam room because when I'm inside and being swallowed up by clouds of steam and my lungs are filling up with the heavy hot air, I can actually stop it and get up and leave if I want to. But in my life there's no off button. no door to exit. At least not yet. not one that I've made. I will rip a hole as hard as I can.

So I have been trying to quit my job at the bux for a couple of weeks. for some reason though, beyond my reasoning, I am having a hard time. It's no wonder that people simply don't show up to work as a way of quitting. To disrupt the delicate balance in a corporate setting is an extremely tedious and long process. there are so many reasons why I want to leave but in the end, it all comes down to wanting as little stress in my life as possible.

I am taking five classes this semester and the next in an attempt to complete my undergraduate degree in fiction writing. This seems like a lot but imagine working thirty hours a week at a job I dislike with people who loathe working there more than you do and going to school full-time. My class load is an exciting mix of gen-ed requirements and frivilous explorations and I am very much looking forward to the beginning of the semester.

I am taking Darkroom 101 and Foundations of Photography. At first I was a little hesitant to explore my photographic inclinations, especially because of Eric's longstanding accquaintance with the craft...but part of me is just too tempted by the idea of taking a class at my school while taking regular subjects like English Composition I and Public Speaking.

So you know how when you make a decision that you're sure about but you wonder if you really can pull it off as far as the outside world is concerned? Well taking a photography class suddenly doesn't seem so outlandish when I answered the phone the other day and found out that one of my entries into a local photo contest at the park district won third place in the plants category! I have to admit, there was no one around and I ran through the hall and got all excited. And I realized that some higher creative power was nodding affirmatively for the indulgent act of being in a photo class.

For nearly a month I will live in the homes of people I know and watch over their possesions and dearly loved animals. part of me feels very glad and honored to know that I am so trusted. Part of me is scared to mar or scratch or mess up anything in the place, making me a jumpy, nervous, frightful mess. The one good thing is that I am in very close proximity to Siena and I get to be nostalgic for a few weeks and drink good coffee again. Plus the bed is really horribly slab-like and not at all soft like my bed. a bed like that forces you to greet the day wearily.

for the last three days I've had aching pain in the bones around my jaw, almost as if my teeth were constantly clenched together and released. it may be time, finally to go to the dentist.

For all the things I finish and cross off the list, there is another to take its place.

breathe.

countdown to cape cod: 18 days 

siding in provincetown 

the cape playhouse...with traditional naked (unpainted) shingles 

encyclopedia view of young seaweed 

eric and I at the symphony last wednesday...we enjoyed a picnic with Stan and Maria and it was lovely. 

the speakers are attached to these poles that wrap over the outdoor area and create a pocket of sound that drowns out all the city noise... 

the view from inside the Pritzker Pavillion lawn at MIllenium Park 

this world would be great if it wasn't for the fucking people

the title is a take from the oft-quoted movie Clerks; I believe Randal says to Dante, this job would be great if it wasn't for the fucking customers.

for the sake of a disclaimer: for the most part, the people I know are wonderful. I am very lucky to have lots and lots of wonderful people in my life. but it's like the old saying goes, one bad apple can spoil the bunch...and I'm feeling pretty crappy about the rotten ones.

I got written up at work for being four minutes late. and really I was two minutes late, but I didn't punch in for a whole four minutes after I was scheduled to start. We're not allowed to punch in when we arrive, only when we are standing in our uniforms ready to work. So my boss wrote me up. I was scheduled to be at work at 5:30 a.m.

as we walked down Lincoln avenue holding hands, three men cross to the corner we are about to cross. The tall one, of course the one I was looking at, presses a long metal whistle to his mouth and the shrills shock my body into a momentary paralysis, and he shouts, "illegal handhold"

on the train stop late at night, I am talking on the phone to my friend and eating a leftover fruit and cheese tray, tired, hungry, thankful that I am sitting on a bench. it is dark, so dark that I can barely make out a hand across the platform waving at me, I squint to make out a man who I don't know who seems to be interested in me. I groan and move to another place on the platform knowing he will stare at my ass.

lately my friends have been giving me all sorts of grief. the worst was probably the bi-weekly dinners we'd planned with Laura, who I called and invited to our place for a bbq of delicious Paulina Meat Market brats and sausages, potato salad, key lime pie and more. She didn't call me back until 9pm, long after I stopped wondering if she was coming. The next day when I called her, she said that her mom was in town and she had to get her settled in, but then she went out and had a good time with a friend from college at various bars.

that would be okay if it hadn't been for the inside information I got from a mutual friend who claimed that she'd called him earlier that evening and invited him to a bbq, which he declined (with the usual and understandable answer of too short of notice) but she further pressed and said that I was the one having the bbq and of course, I would want him to go. when he still refused, she invited him to the bar hopping with her friend and finally gave up altogether on him.

I love my brother dearly, but nothing can quite calm the amount of confusion and frustration that happened the evening of his twenty-third birthday as we enjoyed the View and Brew at the Vic, a concert venue that shows movies on its off days. You can drink and smoke and talk and it is very relaxed. We were all excited to see The Hitchhikker's Guide to the Galaxy, but twenty minutes in, he decided he couldn't watch it and wanted to go. He said we didn't have to leave to, but it was his birthday and he was going back to our place to get his stuff anyway, and it was just very odd...when we got home he drank more beers and talked about how much he hated the movie.

there's probably more, but these are the ones that are recent and come to mind. maybe because I really care about some of these people and I trusted them to be good people. I still think there's plenty of hope for my brother, of course, but I don't know about the rest of them.

the ironic thing about Randal's statement to Dante is his job wouldn't exist if it wasn't for the fucking customers, and this world as I know it wouldn't exist either...

cheers...stine