A Demon In the Door and Other Fun Stuff

"I don't understand how the last card is played but, somehow, a vital connection is made." – Elastica

First of all, I finally took the time to fix the script error that was rendering my "comments" link useless and the "comment" link invisible. I want to thank everyone who looked for ways around that annoyance in order to leave me notes – that means a lot to me. Some of you I've known forever but have been getting reacquainted with while others are new and improved. Dear Diary, it is a pleasure to read and write you back.

The music some of you sent me via my Mix CD Xange post has been precious. There was one rough night in particular when I went to bed drunk and depressed, that 'crying while my bloodshot eyes see the terrible truth about everything' moment, which left me beaten and hungover the following morning. But goddammit, there were friendly packages for Autumn May on the counter and I WAS AUTUMN MAY! Your willingness to go that extra length, I'll have you know, meant the world – my world, to me.

Thank you.

Not long after that sorry night when I became obnoxiously intoxicated and wanted to pull my hair out from being good & loaded with no one on my level (worst feeling ever) I laid out on my bed and turned my head to one side.

'And son of a BITCH, there is a demon in that door' was my thought, exactly. As in, 'as if I don't have enough things going absolutely wrong with my life'.

Look at it for a moment. Follow the swirls. Tell me you don't see that.

Behind this cut I have drawn over the door to show its outline.


Past Inspiration

I designed this in 2010 as my fantasy landscape. The problem with fantasy, though, is that it’s not reality. I moved into a house with a rectangular yard going the other way, rendering this design moot. Since then I have borrowed from elements illustrated above but have yet to come up with a concept that makes a trellis work for me. Maybe in 2012!

From left to right.

(From left to right, how the day began.)

Yesterday I sat at my desk, spinning an explanation titled The Britney Thing and I got about halfway down the page before a cord to my very spirit was unplugged. I re-opened my eyes and asked myself what the hell was going on. It eventually occurred to me: that stupid little allergy pill.

I do this thing, for better or worse, where I raid the cupboards for supplements fortified with things that will give me a boost. Or maybe just be for the better. Multi-vitamin, vitamin C, Dayquil, aspirin, fiber – these are usually what I have to choose from after I’ve run out of the regular stuff. Which is a form of ephedrine.  It comes from always feeling tired, always struggling with chemicals and feeling like I’m never getting whatever ingredient that normal people must produce in greater quantity.

I saw a pink box for allergies and thought: I had to blow my nose like three times this morning. That could clear me up, clear me out, clarity. Actually, no – soon after the initial buzz I felt that awful tsunami pushing through until it took over completely.

I was so upset because there were so many things I’d wanted to accomplish within my house and myself. I needed time to groom obsessively, trimming nails, shaving peach fuzz, plucking eyebrows and other scrutinizing modifications from the horror of my natural self left to nature.  And dammit, I’d wanted to read my Dear Diary so I could take in everyone’s world and share my thoughts because it has been so hard finding the time to contribute. I would hate for anyone to think that I didn’t care – but there I was, crashing back over the bed, angry with myself.

It was a feeling of alienation. In my head I saw everything pulled away to a far distance and I was stuck with the absolute opposite of what I’d wanted to be.  I was alone.

A few hours later I woke even without the comfort of having myself, and that worried me. I asked myself what I wanted to eat and the answer was: no food is really good. Then I asked what of the things I love to do, did I want to do first and I said: none of that matters. Well then what about the responsibilities? I answered: I feel no inclination to do any of those things. Stupid.

Uh oh.

For a while I just stood on the wooden floorboards between rooms, waiting for a brain signal.

When I finally decided to feel the sun outside, it felt like light falling over a dead battery. Everything I drove by, that I’ve known for so long, was strange. The very definitions of the buildings almost changed and yet stayed on some brink where I merely marveled and said inside:  something is not normal.

Be careful not to alter the course of history.

Fast forward to the late night when the day was spent. Brad came into the bedroom where I was curled up with a space heater hitting my legs, listening to foreign Japanese CDs through a small boom box.

“Are you feeling okay?”

I felt embarrassed not to be, as I have ever and always sympathized with my long-suffering boyfriend. He is so innocent. Every intention is good. His love reminds me of my love.

The previous day he had spent his time off taking down the Christmas tree, wrapping up little ornaments with phone book pages like I normally do, when I’d gone walking by and must have sighed. He had to ask, “Are you sad.” And he asked in that way that I knew meant: have I messed up again and missed keeping you happy?

But he hadn’t done anything wrong. I’d just gotten tired, like I was now. Scattered over the place, having spilled forth from a huge pink bag were stationary sets about a panda that eats chocolate and turns brown. Erasers shaped like desserts. Scissors with pointed handles and a red bow to one side, the blades joined by a heart that only Hello Kitty Scissors have. And there she was, Miss Kitty, dressed as a geisha, kneeling on a satin pillow in her pretty kimono. Apparently I had come up with some ideas for happiness and no way had any of this shit been cheap.

 “It’s okay,” he continued. “I unclogged the sink.”

The bar. The leftovers. The chunks.

I covered my face with my hand.

Sometime after I had fallen asleep Brad came in and scooped up the discs with photos of men and women that I had been glad were unknown, different, singing words that I was content with being unable to translate. He cleared off the bed and went to sleep next to me.

I felt him hold my hand.

Work Reflection from last night, or, How Are You?

My loss prevention position is going well. Today I received the good news that, because I had independently completed so much online training, I earned some sort of gold badge.  The head boss asked if she could present it in front of everyone else.  She wants the other associates in different positions to strive for the same thing. First of all, I thought those little rewards were just virtual benchmarks and secondly, there are people who have worked there for years and I’m the first person to dive into that company’s virtual program and pass it. So, half proudly and half a corny cog in the machine I will be fixing a badge to my blouse every day.

I’m good as long as they don’t dress me up like a cop, like the last place did. It was nearly impossible to stop thieves when kids were clinging to your uniform, telling their parents to get a photo. If I start earning a Maglite and shiny shoes we’re going to have a problem.

One of the sales reps, Joshua, noted my rate of acceleration and asked if he could recruit me. Tonight I thanked him for the opportunity and told him that I would give it serious thought. As much as that flatters me and as much as I want to learn new things, I am looking in a different direction.  The sales floor is another world and I will have to politely explain how I see my career path.

Another cool thing about this place is that it has a community committee that meets every month to decide how we can volunteer for charity. I have decided to take part in that for personal growth.

There is still work to be done, despite my achievements. Tonight one of the showcase keys went missing and was just the sort of thing that I should always be on top of. Imagine trying to prove yourself without having the proof! I looked into it and discovered that the key had gotten lost on my day off – which is better than being responsible – but that lack of communication is a serious problem. I took a deep breath, meditated on it and decided to propose a solution.

It’s all part of doing better.