Nurse Sean (dot) com

Last night was a fairly good night. Nothing too out of the ordinary. I did in fact leave here and head to the gay coffee shop. I couldn’t wait to sit back with a cup of coffee and chat with whomever I knew. Just like the good old days when I spent almost every waking moment meeting new people here everyday. Its been about a year since I indulged myself in this fun waste of time.

I was horrified to find that the coffee shop had been taken over by what I hate the most. Little, prepubescent, anorexic, feminine, horribly loud, abnoxious, snobby guys. What happened to the days when these people only went to Detour and the real people got to go to the coffee shop and boyztown. Its almost like they’ve taken the worst stereotype of gay men and decided it was the “in thing” and it spread around the youth of the world. Its sad when I’m twenty-two years old and I get looked at by these kids with their nose in the air because I’m “old”, I’m not acceptable anymore in what they’ve decided is “their” community. I can’t wait until they turn twenty-two and have a nervous breakdown because they’ve become old! Its mostly their attitude though. I don’t judge them on their looks or on the feminine way they act. I do judge them on the fact that they hate every gay man that came before them. I’ve never had to work hard in my life to be accepted as gay. However, I do look at the men who still surround us and I think “Wow…these are the guys that gave this to us…these are the ones that fought for us” These guys who have had it even better than I did laugh at anything older than them because its apparantly “sad” to get older. I worship the idea of getting older, but only because people will finally stop grouping me by accident with these people.

I remember when I was seventeen. Nobody came out of the closet in high-school (remember this was only six years ago) for fear of death by schoolmate. We were forced to hide and wait for the moment we could get enough self esteem to say “fuck you” to these people that forced us to stay in the closet. Usually this comes when you find yourself safe in the giant gay community. These kids can’t wait to come out of the closet. Gay boys are all the rage. They are the popular ones, they are the respected ones. They are the rebels that every shchool kid aspires to be. They are worshiped by the older men that seem to prey on the young boys. They’ve never seemed to have experienced hatred and it shows in their nasty, overconfident lifestyles. I’m just saying that I wish someone would slap them in the face and let them know that they aren’t the stars of the community! That respect is earned. If one of them died today, nobody but family would care. When a sixty year old gay man dies, he’s given a heros funeral with hundreds of people showing up.

Stop ignoring us boys, because trust me…we ignore your ignorant fucking attitude first. If you want to be a star in the community…grow up and earn it!

So…anyways…I headed out to the bar. What a strange night it was at first. There were a lot of wierd people there….all of them scary. That’s never bothered me. If I were a Jesus, I’d be the first to run naked into a leper colony (That’s a metaphore…I’m neither Jesus…nor would I run into a leper colony). I’m always the first to dive head first into the darker side of life. Ross was complaining the other day that he had to work at the leather festival as a bouncer. He was worried about the VERY strange fisting and golden shower videos he’d have to see. Now, I’m not interested in that stuff, but I love to see it. Where the hell was I going with this….

Right…the normal people started showing up for the bar. The bar became normal, but not boring. Sexy coffee shop guy was there. I have the biggest crush on him. There’s just something about him though…I’m very closed to being convinced that he’s an undercover cop looking for drugs (A very fruitfull career in a gay bar). He bought me a couple beers, because he owed me a couple from last week. Now how’s last week for customer service…he’s a regular customer so I paid for him to get drunk, and then helped him into a cab so he got home safe. When was the last time your coffee shop guy ever did that for you? Not much else happened last night…

I did hang out with Rob (As in Rudy’s puppet master). I mentally rolled my eyes a lot at what he said, but still he is fun and funny. Perhaps He’s not Rudy’s puppet master, but instead Rudy is his annoying puppy dog that Rob feels he needs to train. I dunno…I’m so sick of the Rudy/Rob issue.

Ross was hilarious last night. He was about as horny as a person gets. It doesn’t help that he was completely drunk…and yes he was working. If he didn’t get laid he was doing something wrong. Working in a gay bar leads to getting laid whenever you want. He kept begging me to let me give him a blow job. He’s always good for a laugh when he’s drunk. Wierd…in the straight world its sexual harrassment…in the gay world its comedy. hmmm….

I went home and went to sleep….upon waking I did nothing all day unil now when I wrote in my journal.

Do I seem like I’m in a good mood? I feel like it….nah…its just the eight cups of coffee I just drank:)

Nope…its cause I finally did my yoga workout again. I always forget how wonderful it makes me feel.

WeeeeeEEEEEEEEeeeeeeee

I’m thinking of spending some time at grabbajabba tonight. Its the gay coffee shop here in Calgary. I haven’t done that for so long. It was only two summers ago that this place was my entire life. My day revolved around when I was going to be there. I’d wake up and the first thing I would do is go there. Usually I’d spend hours upon hours there. I basically spent an entire summer there.

Now, my job doesn’t allow any time there. Nobody goes for coffee until late at night, and I have to be in bed by seven or eight. The place alway relaxes me and gives me a sense of belonging. All the staff know me well, and all the clientelle is gay. Its my home away from home.

So, I’m thinking of going there tonight and spending a few hours checking out the scenery and chatting with whomever shows up. In the olden days of two summers ago, if I was bored I would walk across the street to the used book store and buy a book. I’d then read it and sell it back. Perhaps I’ll do this tonight if I’m bored.

The place is also a haven of sentimentality. I spent many many many hours at the coffee shop chatting and spending time with the men I love. I can feel the mermories surround me everytime I smell the interior or feel the discomfort of the patio chairs.

My day has been a series of nothing important. I woke up and did some computer stuff. Then I watched the dvd of Rocky Horror Picture show for the millionth time. I watched tv, played on the piano, made myself some Starbucks coffee and here I am.

I’m just writing because I wanted to mention some of the dreams I had last night. I meant to write them this morning, but neglected to. I’m not sure what I ate last night, but I was having some strange vivid dreams. In one, I had cancer and the whole dream was me pooring yellow coloured poison into my blood veins to kill it. In another, I was travelling the world and ended up in Montreal. I wondered around and realized that all my friends had moved here. In another, humans were made up plastic bubbles, and I was plotting different ways to pop the bubbles and kill them. Then in the next, as punishment for reading other people’s LiveJournals, the people of Livejournal handed my journal over to my parents, and they made fun of me and laughed at me for hours over what was in it.

I wish I remembered to write these down this morning when they were fresh, and more detailed. I forgot though. Oh well

I’m off for coffee….

I stood at the cusp of the dance floor staring out at the crowd of happy dancers. This was Dan’s spot. If I ever wanted to find him, he would always be in this spot on the edge of the dance floor staring out. I continue his tradition and stare out over the dance floor. Thinking about the day.

I woke up for work…on time. Work was incredible fun. I had the chance to work with Sandy again because Lucy is sick. I love working with people other than Lucy. Although Lucy and I get along now, its still the same old story. She’s all about working and working harder. She doesn’t know how to add fun to her job. Working with Sandy is the opposite. We had so much fun. It reminded me almost of the good old days when every shift was fun beyond belief and we still worked hard.

After work I came home and slept for a few hours, and watched tv. At 8:30pm I showered and shaved and got ready to work again. I was in charge of inventory for the millionth month in a row. The sad thing is that my position dictates that I’m not aloud to do inventory. It must be someone above me. However, its always me that does it and that doesn’t bug me too much.

Dayle, my favorite person ever decided to volunteer her time and help me out. We whipped through inventory and barely noticed that we were working. I was having fun again at work. I even forgot to watch the last few minutes of Survivor to see who got kicked off. (Darnit…I wanted it to be Colby!)

When we used to have two people working at nights, we would always go out for beer after work. Dayle and I did this last night and as always chatted about life, gossip, and how much we hate work. It was a wonderful time filled with a few beers too many. It was just like old times.

There was an incredibly hot guy there at this more than straight bar. He couldn’t keep his eyes off me! I was loving it and trying to hide our eye contact from Dayle. We had a secret interaction going on all night. Then he left…darnit! Why couldn’t he just have the guts to talk to me? Why don’t I have the guts to talk to people.

So, thinking he might be at boyztown, I broke off the evening with Dayle and headed off to the gay bar. What a sight it was. It was filled with leather and drag queens. There were special events going on this week for both groups. What a strange sight it was.

I only found a couple people I know. One of them being “muffin”. Thats what he like people to call him. I’m not sure why, I’ve never asked. He was complaining that his really hot seventeen year old boyfriend never wanted anything but sex (Muffin is thirty)! I gave him a verbal slap upside the head. Its quite normal that a seventeen year old has no interest in anything but sex. In fact, I’m not sure a seventeen year old gay man is even capable of having an emotionaly based relationship. So, if you’re going to insist on dating someone that young…don’t expect too much. I had an insight into men that only date very young men. I know this is a generalization, and not applicable to everyone. Perhaps, though, men look for these men because all they want is sex. Subconsciously, they are afraid of commitment, and know that they won’t have to worry about commintment with these young men. Just a thought though.

I went back upstairs among the leather men and drag queens, not knowing anyone I retired to the cusp of the dance floor and watched the happy extacy dancing. I imagined Dan was next to me and that we were silently overlooking our teritory.

It was just like old times…

I’m happier now though.

I’ve known more than one person who I’ve met before becoming surrounded completely by gay culture. They’re usually nice, normal, caring, considerate, happy people. Then *poof* they hit the gay scene and like an actor accepting fame and fortune they change. They become arrogant, hate filled, deppressed, rude people driven by they’re need to be accepted by a community. A change happened to me. However, my change came in the form of becoming more free, outgoing, and happy.

I just talked to Wendy. Do you remember Rudy? I had a crush on him and was his best friend for months. We had a group of friends that spent all our time with each other that included him. Then one day he met Rob and fell in love with him. He disappeared from everyone as a friend abandoned us for Rob….and Rob changed him. He became a snobby, arrogant, bitchy fag. Why? Because Rob said that’s what he should be like. He didn’t spend time with certain people or at certain places. Why? Because Rob didn’t like them. Of course, Rob had no feelings for Rudy, they just became best friends.

Apparantly now, Rob is telling Rudy to dispise his wife, and change all the agreements of their divorce and to reject his kids and his famiy. Rob aparantly knows what’s right in this situation. To Rob, rejecting everything in life that includes responsibilites for your own actions is the way to go.

Rob even once went up to Dylan and told him that Rudy is “his” friend now and asked him to leave Rudy alone. “He’s going through a lot of stuff and I want to be the one to get him through it!” Just last weekend I remember Rudy mentioning “I wonder why Dylan won’t talk to me anymore…I miss him” Honestly, If Rob said that to me I’d mention a happy “Fuck you”, I’m his friend until he or I says differently!”

I guess the moral of the story is that you should never allow someone to dictate your emotions or your actions. When you do this you are the only one who is fooled and the rest of us just laugh at you and feel sorry for you.

My favorite Tori Amos song. “God sometimes you just don’t come through…do you need a women to look after you.” How’s that for blasphemy! I love the thought that God is just hired as managment in a giant corporation and his workers are starting to complain that life for the pee-ons just isn’t acceptable. The meek are inheriting the world and they want God’s power to go with it! Is it true that if a women looked after God the world would be a better place. My thoughts…when men rule the world, too much action and violence without thought creates a shitty atmosphere. Women ruling the world, too much talking and discussing and sharing of conflicting feelings and solutions leads to nothing getting solved. Have you ever felt this way at work about a boss? I still thing the work place runs better with one male boss and one female boss. I’ve had every combination. I still think the universe would run better with female AND male energies watching over it. Well…that is what I believe and use as my spiritualality. I better believe it!

Unlike Sarah Mclauchlan who brings out the darkness within me and throws it out as tears, Tori takes every thought and emotion I own, smashes them together into a ball and stomps on them and molds them into a pretty statue of what’s truly bugging me. It burns a beautiful storm in the back of my mind. It takes me on thought paths that I didn’t know could be followed. Incredible.

Work was better today. Nothing went wrong. I stayed longer than I should have because Lucy was sick. By the way, I no longer despise Lucy. After working together for a few weeks we’ve truly become comfortable with each other and our place in the organization. She seems a lot more relaxed and able to have a good time. I’m glad things have changed with her, it makes work bearable again.

“I want to be a real estate agent” I say, “Do you think anyone would buy a house from me?”

“No” she says honestly

“Me either”

We both laugh at our honesty.

“Why would you want to do that” she adds

“Cause I’ve always wanted to be the person who walks people around show homes in fancy new neighbourhoods.” I explain

“Oh come on…you would just spend the day organizing a volley ball game using the plastic television as the ball and the island in the kitchen as the net.” She says with a straight face.

“True…but you’d get nothing done because your entire day would be spent obsessivly compulsivly adjusting and readjusting the plastic television, because you just can’t get the angle right.”

“We know each other too well” she says.

“yup”

So, aside from an extra clutzy day and almost being fired the day before, work seems to have calmed back down into habit. Things seem normal, our routine is written in stone and we are used to it and enjoy it. Therefore I just KNOW its about to change for the worse. This pendulum swing towards happiness always indicates worse things to come.

I haven’t talked to Montreal Mark in at least a week, so if you’re out there HELLO, and I miss you too:) Super sweet men like him are so hard to find, and when you do they’re always 3000km away.

Rain, my cat, who I don’t think I’ve mentioned in my journal has seemed to be capturing my soul more and more every day with her intellegence (When a doors closed, she’ll jump…trying to turn the doorknob…its the sweetest thing). I forget why I’m mentioning this. I guess my thougts are still a million and scattered.

Wendy just ICQ’ed me telling me to call her immediately. I love her dearly, but I’m tired of her emotional trauma, and I hate talking on phones…I’m bad at it. I owe the world a shoulder to cry on…I know I’ve used a phew myself. I guess I should go call her.

I’m just going to stop giving good emotional advice. Too many people keep on coming back:)

I’m listening to Loreena Mckenitt. Haunting, dark, fitting. Today was just one of those messy days. One of those days where it feels like you’re treading water in a beachless sea. You’re in a hole and people keep throwing shovels of dirt on you.

I woke up at 6:33am. The moment I looked at the clock I was unsure as to whether or not I would have a job the next day. My shift starts at 5:30am and I’m the only one there to open for 6am. usually this would be a slap on the wrist. A painful slap, but just a slap. About three weeks ago however, I received a written warning because my truck got stuck in two feet of snow and I was fifteen minutes late for work. One more time being late could mean the loss of my job. Fortunately it takes three warnings to be terminated, and this would be only number two

So, I arrive at work take out my key to the drawer with my float. My float wasn’t there. A voice rose from the back of the front desk. “Trever has it in his office…you forgot to put it away last night”

Money money money. That’s what hotels are all about. A bottom line driven organization. I knew that this would result in a written warning. Now if you’ve been listening…that would be three. Termination.

I worked the entire day waiting to hear the bad news. I wasn’t quite sure if I had a job anymore. Truthfully, this idea really didn’t bother me. It just felt aweful after a year of putting nothing but sweat and blood into an organization that you’d be fired for one 24 hour period of stupidity. That’s life in the new millenium. Hey, I work an extremely well paid, unskilled, no education required job. Like they give a shit…they probably have thousands of resumes to choose from.

Fotunately My boss chatted with human resources and was able to combine my pile of mistakes into one single warning. Still, my job is hanging by a thread and I feel like lots of people are running around with sharp objects all the live long day….and just a little bit too close to my thread. By the way, this is the same thread that hotels use to control your ever thought and movement as though you’re a puppet. No, more like a drone. A hotel drone model #384738-B version 4. That’s my hotel name. They try to make it personal, but its too hard with that many employees, and resumes.

So, I’m just sitting here listening to various women sing about their horrible lives. I’m quite happily singing along. I refuse to quit. I’d love to quit, I really would, but not without another job. I applied to corporate Starbucks accross the city, but with no call backs. I had great interviews, so I wonder what was wrong. Of course, It could be a million different things. So, I’ll just wait until my hotel drone puppet string gets cut and I’ll fall into a pile of unemployment insurance. I’ve never had the chance to try UI. I’ve always found jobs too fast. Fuck pride! I want free money for a change. Is that greedy? Yes! However, if that drunk heroine addict on the corner can get free money from the government to support is homless habits. Why can’t a hard working loser like me get a few free checks a couple times in his life. Fuck pride! (Except for gay pride…though parades are just too damn fun)

Not much else is new. I’m still numbing my way through life, barely getting out because my job starts too early in the morning, and if I’m not in bed by 8pm, I sleep in. I’m still addicted to the Sopranos. I still fantasize unhealthily about joining the mafia….I still believe its just my way of fantasizing about wealth, power, and respect….and James Gandolfini. I’m still lonely and bitter. I’m still obsessive compulsive, but too lazy to do anything about it. I’m still inbetween everyone and everything…every emotion and thought. I sit on fences because I’m afraid of both sides.

Here’s an interesting dream I had. I’m in my childhood home and my sister (A very successful person) turns to me and says “I have a solution to our failure as adults. We’re going to live in this house again. Just you and me…Mom’s making the down payment.

I dream of sexy rancher cowboys naked in hot tubs…..or was that reality.

That’s for me to know.

I’m scattered.

Drained.

Oddly happy

*Sigh*

Ok, I didn’t wake up and get a gun. I haven’t even seen or held a gun in my life. Its just a song that I have stuck in my head. Its the theme song from “The Sopranos”, a show that has completely captivated me!

The best reason I’ve read about this phenomenon is that it is what the article called a “Macho fantasy”. I thought “hey…I’m a fairy princess…why the hell would I love a macho fantasy?” The more I thought about it though, the more I understood it. I mean, when was the last time I actually got to act like a man? I’m not a women, I’m not feminine, I have no desire to act like a women. Unfortunatetly it seems that I’ve been “conditioned” to act and feel this way by a world wide community that tells you that to be gay you must act certain ways. Now, I’ve been sucked into a fantasy life that I’ve been missing my entire life. Heck, when I was a kid I watched my friends play “army”, or “cowboys and indians”. They were training for their lives as strong, dominant men. I was much more interested in cooking, cross-stitching, and playing house. I find myself dreaming all the time, and fantasizing about being in the mafia. I picture myself as I walk through the bar…I’m the mysterious stranger. I’m on the hunt for a man that owes me money. I find him, I beat the shit out of him, I blow his head off. I would never do these things of course. It a fantasy, and the main theme of the fantasy is power. I lack power and respect from people in my life. I think this fantasy allows me to deal with that.

Then again…I have a wild crush on James Gandolfini….maybe that’s just what it is.

I’m listening to Sarah McLauchlan (Darnit…I can never remember how to spell it!) and its making me want to cry. I mean, Sarah can make a hardened grown happy man cry for no reason at all, but for me it brings back memories. Truly ugly feelings that I don’t give as much credit to as I should. She makes me want to cry. Tears of hatred for the way I felt for months. I can feel the tears coming now. I feel the joy I felt when I first listened to these songs, and the pain I feel when I listen to them and remember that shattered joy.

It was the summer of 1999. The summer I was dragged out of the closet by love. I have nothing but joy for the moment the door was swung open by a man who saw that I was a better person than I thought I was. He knew I was too good to be locked away from a world that needed my light. He was right, and I love that feeling. I to this day feel like a valued part of a massive family. That strange cousin that people can’t wait to see, because he’s mysterious, gentil, odd, but always fun.

I fell instantly in love with him. I didn’t care about love till I met him. I cruised the internet for random, casual sex. The thought of a relationship didn’t enter my mind. It never does when you’re in the closet. Just sexual gratification. I don’t remember details, I just remember we chatted for a long time before I finaly decided to meet him. For an extremely shy person as me it was painfully torturous. I fell for him on the spot though. His smile, his laugh, his intelligence.

His dark side…I had to of known it was there in hindsight, but I was blinded. I know my intuition is better than that.

It only took two weeks of my blushing romanics to turn him off and tell me “We can only be friends”

This is horrifying when for two weeks you’ve planned the rest of your life, and someone burns your datebook of future happiness. I cried and cried and cried. Every Sarah cd is covered with my tears. Her words are the story of my hopes and dreams and hate and depression. I rarely listen to her anymore. It hurts too much. I’m a sentimental person.

she is the flag that represents me.

I couldn’t let go of this man. He was my first love, and I was determined to make him my only love. It was too much for him. He turned from being entranced by me, to enjoying my company, to despising me, to thinking of me as a stalker (Hey, I had my moments…but I stalker I was NOT!)

We had this incredible energy. Like in the movies where two people despise each other. Hate each other with all the passion of the world. They always end up in bed, and falling in love. That was us.

Through all this turmoil and hatred of each other I had one thing I could hold onto. Sex. We had sex all the time, no matter how much we hated each other. Unfortunately, for someone in love, this is an excuse to assume that you love each other and will eventually fall in love and be together forever.

Oh there’s so much more to the story. Enough for a movie of the week…a three part special.

I remember crying on the shoulder of everyone that would listen. My favorite was Feith. I had been drinking heavier than I ever thought possible. Finally discovering that alcoholism really does run in the family. I was at her place and I drank and drank and drank and drank. I cried for hours. Then she told me to drink now because you have to stop after today. I drank and drank and drank and cried. She was more there for me at that moment than anyone ever has been.

See Feith…I never forget you…and I miss you more than you know:)

I haven’t stoped drinking. I just don’t come home from work every day with a case of beer and drink myself to sleep. I drink on the weekends, but not much.

The whole point of this is that I’m listening to Sarah, and it brought back these emotions. I feel horrible though. I got a call Sunday night from work asking me to work for Amanda. She is too emotional to work. I was just on my way out the door to meet friends and enjoy a Sunday night at the bar. Something I rarely get, because I always work mondays. I finaly had one off…and Amanda was emotional. I was furious! I hated her. I wanted to call her and tell her how much a gave a shit about her emotions at the moment, and that I would never let down the team, because something emotional happened. I didn’t call her of course…I love Amanda to bits and I knew I would regret everything I would say. I regret even thinking it.

It was just as I suspected. She broke up with her boyfriend, and was too emotional to work. I was still angry. I wondered when I would be rewarded with a day off for not bringing my emotions to work. Then I heard Sarah…when I was told by this man that I would only be his friend, I cried for so many hours in a row. I pounded walls, I cried, I wondered where I could buy razor blades, I laughed at that though…killing yourself over a man….I cried. I listened to Sarah. Over and over and over again her words told my story. I didn’t have to work for a couple days after that, thankfully, I would have been useless. Heck! Three days later when I did work I was useless.

I’m sorry Amanda. I understand the feeling you’re having. I’m glad I was there for you to work for you. I just wish I was a better person and could have REALLY been there for you without having aweful thoughts about you. Thank you Sarah for putting me in my place.

And thank you Dan for taking me in your arms when this man yelled at me that he never wanted to see me again and whispering “Its ok…its over now” I understood closure.

The funny thing is that even to this day, I still see this man every couple of months. Every second time we chat as great friends, and every second time we fight like cats in heat. At least we have no desire to have sex with each other…..ok….well every now and then we almost end up there. I resist as good as I can….

I’m not doing a good job of keeping my promise to myself to write in my journal every single day. Or to do yoga every single day.

When I first start something new, I dive headfirst with every ounce of energy I can draw from myself. The first days of my journal, I was quite impressively creating many many entries. Sometimes many a day. When I started yoga, I would do yoga three times a day. Now its usually about once a week. I started university with so much ambition that I didn’t even recognize myself….it petered out, and I quit school. I used to work at my job, putting all my heart into it. Working countless hours to get what needed to be done…done. Work is a different story, I’ve lost every ounce of care or desire to put my all into it. I give it a 10% effort, because that’s all they deserve from me.

I call myself an ambitionless obsessive cumpulsive. One day I will work towards making this an actual psychological disease. I am very obsessive cumpulsive. Sometimes I think I could be diagnosed with the disorder. However, when I see something that creates these feelings within me, I am too lazy to do anything about it. What this results in is my obsession grows and grows and grows, and causes me to become so hateful of the situation…that I leave it behind.

Anyways, Saturday night was the night of Jason’s BBQ. It was very enjoyable. Just a bunch of gay guys hanging around playing card games and drinking more beer than they should.

Sunday I was supposed to meet Jason for coffee. When I left my house, I was shocked to see a freak storm had dumped about two feet of snow onto the ground (I live in a basement…I don’t notice these things) My truck got stuck two blocks from my house and I didn’t make it for coffee. I did however try the roads again a couple hours later and made it to the bar to have a couple drinks with Ross and Stewart (Bartender and Drag queen extrordinaire!). They are always great to watch the drag show with because they are an endless stream of hilarious comments on why the drag queens aren’t very good. You’d have to be there to understand the hilarity.

Monday was my last day off of my long weekend. I didn’t do anything at all….just sat around….numbling watching the clock count down the hours until work….and then I slept.

Tuesday was a wierd day. I walked into the Starbucks Calgary head office with resume in tow. They were having a job fair that day and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to get into a real Starbucks and perhaps begin a career. I went through about an hour and a half of interviews. No word yet.

Wednesday…just the usual day of work with the Ice queen bitch. I actually had to go to the valet and calm her down. She cornered me and proclaimed in her thick Asian accent, “that Girl you work with is a bad, bad, horrible person.” She said it with such conviction that I was shacking. She went on and on about how mean she was. I believed every word she said. Then she proclaimed, “Why can’t she be like you….you’re so nice.” I was flattered. Do you know where my niceness has gotten me though? Nowhere!!! The managers hate me! Her bitchiness has gotten here everywhere. The managers love her. At least my coworkers see her for what she is. A lazy fucking bitch!

ok…I’m done with her for real! I promise! I just pray I get a call from Starbucks.

My life has become a series of events. I still lack emotion. I couldn’t care less if my coworker hates me and vise versa. I couldn’t care less if I get fired, or hired. I don’t care about anything. I’ve spent my life caring too much about everything that I think I’ve run out of emotions. I want them back. I want to be able to feel again.

I can’t even remember the last time I cried.