After spending five minutes talking about me and my job and how awesome I was, it turns out he just wanted to share with me the wonders of his pyramid scheme. I mean, it’s a national thing, you’ve probably got some idea what I’m talking about, but I barely take care of myself in my free time…can anyone really imagine me cold calling and shilling products to hit my quota so that I can get my free car and go to the conference? If you can imagine that, well, fuck off. If you can’t, well, neither could I. I can’t believe I fucking got up at 6:30am for this.
At least I just had the coffee and didn’t let him buy me breakfast so I didn’t feel that I had to put out, so to speak. It was more amusing than anything else. He is a nice guy, albeit with a name that makes me laugh/involuntarily retch because I’m the only one that hears it for the epic porn name it actually is and the horrors that necessarily ensue with that thought. He is slicker than a pig in shit, though, and you can kind of imagine how without sensible people in the world how he could make this enough of a business to buy his groceries from its proceeds much less however much he purports to make.
I feel that this is something that could only happen to me. But alas, tis truth.
Also, truth, I am a kind of hapless chump times deux when I turned up at the market and got wrangled into working it. So I sat in the shaded sun listlessly and sort of thought nothing about no one and nothing except how maybe I should cover up a little better.
Psychic and internal numbness continues to be a sucky experience.
Things I know:
I don’t have something to work for. I have to invent something. Someone. Some reason to drive me the way the concert drove me to make myself pay attention and get right with myself.
I have to get groceries.
I have to let myself rest. Real, honest, stupid stillness. Story time.
I have to clean up.
I have to get water.
I have to have a schedule and a schedule that includes writing and games and rest.
I have to forgive the waywardness.
I have to refuse numbness as a natural course. Lop it off at its knees.
So, I can’t just tell you that I need to do these things even though, for you, that’s all that can be done. For me, I will be cheered by the thunder and get out my charwoman gear. Working on myself gives me a joy, I know that much. I have a long way to go, but doing it, even if we never move from this nebulous spot, heals wounds I have forgotten I have.
There will be another concert. I will be ready.