probably the best thing that happened all week was this: driving with 3 of my co-workers to this truly bizarre mandatory event, everybody was talking about men, or the lack therof, in their lives. one of my co-workers–a sweet 60-something grandma–declared, “one of my friends says i ain’t ever gonna have another boyfriend. she says, ‘all you want a man for is fucking!’ and i said to her, ‘i don’t need no man for fucking! i can do that all by myself!!!!'” i was so happy, you have no idea.
i think i’m gonna come out with another zine soon-ish. i don’t know if anyone will want to read it, it’s going to be really intense and scary, i think. i am one of those people who is popular when they’re feeling good, but nobody can deal with the flip side.
i need a new life plan. this current one isn’t really working.
here are the best search terms that have found this blog in the past 30 days:
2. “love to be wet inside deep and deep inner”
3. “why is the 44 bus so crowded lately?”
4. “keep moving hold me down house”
5. “mom’s going to be mad at tattoo”
6. “lost glasses, feel stupid”
seriously, what the fuck is your problem? you’ll rant about how stupid and evil facebook is at the drop of a hat. so why the hell did you spend all day looking at people via your boyfriend’s facebook? did you really need to find pretty much every girlfriend you’ve ever had & judge their lives? no. no you didn’t. now go to bed, before you get carpal tunnel syndrome.
um, okay. in case it isn’t obvious, i’ve hardly slept all week (haven’t made it to bed before 1 am, and i get up at 6:45 every morn) and i’ve been alone with the internet all day. or, actually, a few hours, but it feels like all day. my lover’s out of town and i thought i’d get all this stuff done without him. but. it’s so hot. so i have an excuse to do stupid internet things and not move. i joined tumblr, if anyone cares. i can’t quite figure out how to use it, even though it’s supposedly really easy, and i may delete it soon. whatever. i also finally took pictures of my new tattoos:
they are an image from the super-trippy childrens’ book arm in arm by remy charlip. this book kind of means a lot to me in this weird way that i can’t even explain. plus it’s super interesting. if you click on that link you can look inside the book & even see the artwork where my tattoos originally appeared. i like cute things and even though these are the most meaningless, least-thought-out tattoos on my body, it makes me happy to look down and see two smiling hearts on my arm every day.
i got up to make copies and when i came back some co-workers were clustering around my desk (my desk is right by the main door, so people often stop there to chat, which is sometimes okay and sometimes awful.) one of my co-workers (i work for chil*d protectiv*e s*ervices) (asterisks so it won’t come up on google) was in the middle of some lengthy story about how she was helping a client escape her abusive boyfriend, who’d done some horrible thing or other to her, helping her go to a women’s shelter, and right as they were leaving she turned around to him and said, “i’ll call you later!”
as if this wasn’t bad enough, one of my least favorite co-workers was there, and of course he had to open his big fucking mouth. this guy is an early-30’s white guy who thinks he’s really funny, in an offensive-standup-comedian way (which is my least fave kinda humor). he’s pretty popular around the office, but i think he’s an asshole (i, in case you hadn’t already guessed, am pretty damn unpopular around the office).
his response? i am not kidding, this is a pretty much verbatim quote: “these fucking women always go back to their man that hits ’em. you know what i fuckin’ wish? i wish that all these moms who are in these abusive relationships–i think the best case scenario would be if her boyfriend just fuckin’ killed her. then she’d be dead, no more babies for us to take, he’d be in prison for life, and the kids would get adopted into a nice happy family and just forget all this shit.” I AM NOT KIDDING, THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HE SAID.
and do you know what my co-workers did? the motherfuckers LAUGHED. they thought it was FUNNY.
i sat at my desk poker-faced, stuffing envelopes like nothing was wrong. i thought about a lot of things. i thought, “fuck you, motherfucker, what do you know about being a woman? what do you know about all the millions of things that tell us you ain’t shit if you don’t have a man?” i seriously thought about just screaming, “FUCK ALL OF YOU ASSHOLES, that isn’t fucking funny!” and gathering up my things and running out and leaving them with all my work to do. never coming back, ever.
i didn’t do that. why? because i didn’t want the opinion that women’s lives are worth saving to be forever tied to “that crazy girl that ran the fuck out one day.” because i had just had a very expensive medical procedure done the day before & feared my insurance wouldn’t cover it. because i was so angry i knew once i opened my mouth i’d just be able to say FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. because i know they don’t give a shit about anything, because compassion has no place in their worlds, and anything i say or do doesn’t matter. because i didn’t trust myself to not break anything and i didn’t want the cops called. because i am afraid, of my own voice, of my own power. and, last but not least, because i didn’t want them to see me cry.
so i sat there, i fucking sat there, as emotionless as a glass of water, i turned my ipod up to drown out his voice (because of course he didn’t stop there.) tried to remember that they’re the crazy ones. tried to remember that compassion is a good thing, even if it is woefully unpopular. mostly i just struggled not to cry. that’s all work is, these days, one lengthy struggle to not fucking cry. i held off until my lunch break, wept under the mulberry tree at the bus stop while listening to bruce springsteen. after work i got the cutest tattoo ever at my friend o’ryan’s house (pictures to follow once it’s healed) and then ate thai food and had a good time and then came home and cried in my lover’s arms. he was sympathetic and i felt better. only a little more than a month to get through, until i save my money, until i quit.
wow, these past two weeks have been fucking ke-razy. literally the best and worst moments of 2010 thus far. i’m an aries & i love rollercoaster-ish emotions, even though the bad parts were so fucking bad, the good parts were amazing. such a relief after the unrelenting boredom & mediocrity of this year.
i rolled up to toronto with a carload of dykes & one sweet tranny. i cried a lot in a bathroom diner in buffalo cuz i was having issues with the aforementioned sweet tranny, but then a poignant postcard in the postsecret book set me on the right track. roadtrips are relevatory. had a lot of good conversations with everyone in the car. we made each other laugh a lot.
when we got to the border the border guard asked what brought us to canada. ali said, “gay pride” and he said, “oh, yes, the parade is tomorrow. and the dyke march is going on today–” at which point we giggled, because it was so weird to hear this square border dude say dyke. “well, that’s what they call themselves!” he proclaimed to us, as if we didn’t know.
toronto itself was a whirlwind, every day took weeks it seemed, just crammed so goddamn much into 48 hours. pride was fun and surprisingly not that corporate, i bumped into my old pal amos for the first time in years, tried to see cyndi lauper but couldn’t, did yoga in the park, had a threesome (i’d love to expand more on this but i can’t due to the public nature of this blog. but if you’re my friend in real life & you want to hear the deets, feel free to ask, it’s actually a really funny story), ate some really damn good cheesecake, worked shit out with my love, saw candy and kelly (who are the funniest drag queens that hang out at my fave bar in pgh. they were so excited to see us! it was sweet). and now i am back in pgh and feeling ready to take my life in a more positive direction. i’m gonna quit my damn job soon, soon, i promise. just gotta save a few more bucks and make a few more student loan payments, and then i’ll be good, i’ll be alive again. this trip reminded me that i am still alive, even with this motherfucking job, even with everything else. still got a heart beating within me, still got good things to say, still have people who think i am fun and sexy and worthwhile. and oh, did i ever need a reminder.