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Saturday, December 8
All is well. If you can see this post, it's because you're at my old site and not at my new one. Thanks to Jonty the all conquering great one for hosting me. You should be redirected. If you're not... click the link, fools. @ 5:29 PM || link || || Thursday, December 6 living in three dimensions Started out today waiting. Watching the morning hours scratch by as I hung around waiting for my mum to get back from a function my sister was at. At 11:45, 3 hours late, mum got home. We decided to go shopping, I was depressed and felt the need to spend money. We drove half an hour out of the way to go to a different shopping centre, I got out of the car, and discovered I'd let my wallet at home. I burst into tears. I didn't want to go shopping unless I had money. Mum was willing to loan me up to $300 if I paid her back. I didn't want to spend her money. After half an hour of me silently crying, we went home. I can't explain the crying. Normally I'd curse and kick anything in the general vacinity for a bit, and then I'd be over it. Right as rain, so to speak. But today, it was a trigger. A trigger of anger over my last job, and the people there. Mostly the last one. After sniffing and wiping away crystal drops of sadness for half an hour on the way home, I got myself out of the car and lost it. At home, the only place where I am myself and not the person I am expected to be, the person people think I am, I cried as myself. Mum sat down with me, we talked for an hour. We didn't sort anything out or improve any of my problems, but we talked. And granted, it's only a way of burdening someone else with problems that don't make sense to anyone but the one that carries them. But now I feel slightly better for it. More so, working tonight, after pulling myself together and being the smiling fake Amy that's perfect in every way that everyone expects to be right and stable and honest, two great things happened. Work was great. My boss was great. The two girls I worked with tonight were great. Even after dropping one of the massive metal grates into the walkway and nearly killing four people, while giving half a dozen others heart attacks from the resounding bang, I felt okay. Mum picked me up, ordered me a coffee at a cafe upstairs. And as we waited, my phone rang. It was him. And the sound of his voice felt oddly similar to a shot of caffiene, like I'd been asleep up until then and had needed that jolt to remind me of where I was and who I was. And now, I don't want to cry anymore. @ 10:26 PM || link || || Too true
So work yesterday. Yesterday a girl brought a resume in to work. I saw myself doing the same thing three weeks ago, and laughed to myself. There were no positions available. I gave the resume to my boss, Jody, and she groaned. I thought about it. She gets them all day every day. She must have picked her favourite 20 resumes out of the pile of 60 she had, called them in for interviews. Then she picked her favourite two interviewees - Me and some other guy. Mum is of the firm belief that when things like this happen, it's for a reason. My dad was moved around a lot by his employers as he was promoted, he was used as a tool to improve bad areas of finance, thus the whole family was uprooted time and time again to be placed somewhere different. That's great. I don't want the fucking job. Hey, here's a thought. Maybe the other person they hired, a guy called John, is good looking. And if anything happened, my mum would crow indiginantly, 'See! Didn't I tell you things happened for a reason!!' Knowing my luck, 'John' will probably be a 35 year old balding pedophile. I dont' want to work tonight. @ 9:51 AM || link || || Wednesday, December 5 Ohhh. Myyyy. God! So I knew that I'd be getting my annual leave paid off. I knew that Coles owed me about $300 for that. And I knew they'd be paying me $30 for my last weeks work. So when my bank balance was sitting at $20 yesterday, I was feeling not so bad. I knew I'd be getting some money today. Picture the scene. I log on to check my bank balance, while talking to Simone. The account they've paid me in, previously sitting at $20, is now at $680. amy jo says: Oh. My. God. Okay Coles. You wanna pay me $660, that's fine. Fine. I knew I deserved more outta working there. Webcam, here I come. @ 9:31 AM || link || || Tuesday, December 4 Struggling I have to stretch four Panadol to last from now until tomorrow afternoon. I'm dying. Strange searches today: All from Google. Is anyone surprised? @ 3:22 PM || link || || Sitting around Thinking secret, silent thoughts. The soft, constant woosh of the air conditioner permeates the quietness of this house without people, just me and the keyboard clicking away as my fingers meet the keys. And I wonder what it would be like to be with you, after talking on Friday night because I was tired and you couldn't find a better excuse. Your friend's in hospital, dying, because she's lost 90% of her blood during child birth. She won't take a blood transfusion because she's a Jehovahs, her baby isn't going to make it. You're melancholy, I'm disbelieving, I can't understand and don't want to understand why anyone would stand and watch this happen without questioning the ethics behind it. That girl, the girl that's slowly dying, that could be me. You and I, we talked about it once. About what it'd be like if we were together. And I think about the two swollen bull-ant bites I have on my waist, from swimming yesterday in a dish-water pool at dusk, from floating on the surface and watching mum's palm trees scrape the star filled sky. The stinging had started out slow and hollow, and I had pressed my hand to my side as the pain increased, ascending into a sharp, biting pain that left me gasping as my mum and brother looked on curiously. Three successive bites in the same area, it's lucky my allergy hasn't flared up and that I got the antihistamines in time. The bites throb, now, a pinky-red colour against my pale white skin. I need a tan, but can't pull myself away from this air conditioner, from this steady clicking, from these thoughts. I struggle with Melbourne, with leaving, with deciding to go the whole way and just... let go. Simone will have the courage to do it, I know. Whether it be to proove everyone wrong or because she genuinely wants to get away, she will do it. I have two families to leave, my immediate, and my chosen - my friends. I have contacts here, people that will stop me in the street and ask me how my life is. I have neighbours who bring me nectarines and party invitations, parents of siblings friends who talk to me about school and tell me how great I'm going. I have pets here, I have history. I have familiar places that won't reject me and decieve me with newness and shadows. I have memories. What can Melbourne bring me? University, rent, and the love of someone who doesn't deserve me. I think I need more than hollow feelings and echoing rooms. I need him to deserve me. I need Simone to understand and be patient. I will do this. I can do this. I push aside my new job, my five hour shift tomorrow, my first shift tomorrow. My bright red shirt that I will brandish with sullen pride, that I will wear on the walk from home, through the haunts of my old work, and on the sticky, hot seat of the bus. All taking me to a place I don't want to be, in a job I don't deserve, wearing a t-shirt that doesn't suit me. I wish my mum could drive me tomorrow, that her presence would be with me until I left for work. But she too is working, and I'll while away the morning on my own, each minute dragging as my pulse accelerates towards certain disappointment and anguish. I don't want this job. I really don't want this job. I remember lying awake last night, at midnight, my fan spinning precariously above my head. It was silent and dark in my room, and a sudden movement outside awoke a flock of Mina birds. At midnight I lay there, listening to the birds chirp and shriek and call to each other, and the darkness felt out of place. I pulled the covers up to my chin and closed my eyes, praying that what ever had disturbed the birds wasn't going to disturb me. My imagination knows no bounds at midnight. And still I sit here, clicking away. A plane is humming over head, descending towards the airport half a city away. I'm alone in a house that knows me, that has watched me grow and change and laugh and cry for five years straight. Maybe it's time for some music. @ 9:44 AM || link || || |
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