Blah, Blah, Blah...
Or, Warning: Bitchy Post Ahead
I'm very susceptible to outside influence. I've been moody of late, as in the bipolar sense of ecstatic one minute and hiding under the bed the next and I'm listening to this morose Sinister mix tape. I just got two. One is Grr-eat and one is currently making the idea of slitting my wrists attractive again.
I'm not going on about how generally disatisfied I am or how much I want a boyfriend or a career. I waste far too much time here whining and whining is UNPRODUCTIVE.
Although I think I realized one of the reasons I like having a boyfriend. Yeah, I imagine there are more, like sex, but it's been so long I forget exactly what that is and why exactly it's desirable.
[Here I had to get up and change the CD. I'm listening to my Best of Edith Piaf album...]
Contrary to what you may gather here, I do not in fact talk about myself very much in person. Almost everything I talk about is what my friends have done, current events and obscure historical events/perspectives. At best, you might get the odd story of what I did five or ten years ago.
What you'd never, ever hear me discuss is how I feel, let alone why. Ever.
Unless you just happen to be the person I was going out with*.
That's what I miss. Talking about the way I feel to somebody who (presumably) understands. I feel like I know a lot of people and none very well. I certainly don't feel like anybody knows me very well. (Oh yeah? What am I most afraid of? See?)
I think the word I'm looking for is "intimacy." Yep. Got none o' that in these parts.
There's this boy I kinda like at work. (No, of course I haven't talked to him like that. I like him.Though we do talk about music some, since he works at WXYC.) His best friend at work is a lesbian. I was talking to her today about him (Me: "Is he going to be at the Big Boring Meeting tonight? Her: Why? Me: No reason. Her: YOU LIKE HIM! Me: *stutters and ineffectively denies it*)
As I got back into our little cafe, the [straight] cashier asks: "Who are you talking about?" I refused to discuss the subject.
In thinking about this little exchange, I realized I'm pretty cynical about my relationship with straight people. At least at work. Especially straight boys. Often they'll ask what boy I like. I never tell them. I've never met boys that question did creep out at some level. They phreak if they think it's them, like I'm going to try to rape them in the workplace. And they suspect any innocent boy I might like as an automatic fag, which I don't necessarily want to happen to them.
It just doesn't do much good to ever answer that question at work.
Straight girls I will talk to, but I have to know them very well. I tend to think they'll immediately run and tell said boy and create the whole situation over again.
Gay girls and boys are different. I fee like, wait, I know, they know the score. It's a bit moot as I think I'm the only gay boy at work, but there are very many girls at work. A LOT.
Isn't this dumb? I should have a bit more faith, but I *do* live in the South. I do have some experience in such relations and they all tend to support these views.
Also, this generally only at work. Outside it's a bit different. I'm hoping this is some attempt at professionalism.
Ha! The professional coffee-boy!
People, you need to comment more. I need feedback.
Book of the day: Thus Was Adonis Murdered, Chap. 5. I read this at work tonight during a store meeting about health care benefits and other general crap. The Prepared Foods Supervisor stared at me the whole time. We ARE paid for these meeting, but they're after we close (9 pm) two hours long, incredibly tedious and unabashedly repetitive and aimed at 6th grade level. I therefore brought a good book. I imagine I'll get bitched at tomorrow.
Word of the Day: Zeugma: the imagistic version of syllepsis: She went home in tears and a sedan chair. "Zeugma" is from the Greek word "to yoke". My antedeluvian book Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1929) says that only tired old Drama Critics use it in tired reviews for hackneyed comic effect.
Yeah. Gotta remember that.
This post brough to you by: Edith Piaf, "La Vie en Rose**", "Milord", "Le Piano Vieux", "Toujours Aimer", "Mon Dieu", "Hymne l'Amour"; Mozz, "You're the One for Me, Fatty"; Sara Vaugh, "Key Largo".
*Notice the past tense here