Today was going pretty well; I once again bumped into Baldwin (happens a lot lately) and smoked up with him this morning before heading to Cindy’s place. I just sat at Cindy’s, didn’t get to work at all; Lenny’s sister stopped by and Cindy said doc was pissed about me failing to show up with any cash, that really sucked to hear while stoned!
Anyways, I cleared out (I always do) before going into work. Tess was working (that miserable bitch) and it was very slow so I was off to the side just doing prep work. After about three hours I was pulled to the side, the office in fact, by Elta. For the next 30 minutes I was “quizzed” about my entire life! From the medications I take to the people I associate with. I had to vigorously defend my little pity 7.50$/ hour job because I didn’t “look myself” today, and some phantom workers (it’s f**king Tess, that whore) don’t “feel comfortable” closing with me. I think I did a damn good job defending myself in the face of this bullshit. At one point I offered my agent’s card to Elta and told her that if she had any concerns to call her up and discuss them with her. She refused the card!! I even offered to take a UIA [couldn’t read this well, so may be wrong] for her, anytime, anywhere. She refused that (for the moment anyways) too.
I can’t believe this happened. I never go to work f**ked up, EVER, and today I didn’t even feel especially sick, even though it’s day one and I had bad diarrhea all day–maybe I was a little pale, but I know it didn’t affect my workmanship in the least. A lot of this I’m convinced has to do with Tess and her incredible bullshit, f**k her, now I have to dream up an intelligent way to twist the screws on her miserable ass.
What a bad day, but strangely, I don’t feel it because I’m convinced I did a great job defending myself. I’m still really worried because I suppose I really am a “hardcore” user. But, I know that nothing I’ve actually done has indicated to anyone that this is the case. I’m careful, but I suppose this is a warning that I should be even more so. F**K!
Intake: ø, day one–smoked
(I remember talking to Matthew about this issue. How beneath him restaurant work was I thought and said. I tried so hard to convince him that he could be a journalist; he could travel the world taking pictures and reporting back. So unafraid he was of foreign lands and strange cultures, and he loved politics. We talked about achieving dreams, getting away from small people, and living our potential. He chided me for not traveling more, as I did when he was a kid; he lived with me in Rome, Mexico, Guatemala, and the Rockies. However, he hated all the moving and hated the food even more. All he ever wanted to do was come home. Now, he was reminiscing on the wonderful childhood he had and how my living in the woods, closed, hermit like, was not good for his little sister. I wanted more for him and he wanted more for me.
Seeing me work as a waitress for years until I earned my degree I thought maybe he would not do the restaurant thing. I still have nightmares about waitressing: I have a tray and keep wandering through room after room getting sidetracked with a ticket to fire, and I keep walking past that table expecting me to serve them. Such guilt and avoidance as I pass by knowing that I have been sidetracked with their order. Strange how our children live our nightmares. Being sidetracked is so easy, so convincing, so immediate. How we tussle over a morsel when the door is straight ahead, easy to push, and illuminated by the sun outside. The customers come in and go out, but there we stay, serving, thinking that this is the all important thing–make them happy. If I had it to do again, I would take off the apron and march straight into that sunlight. I guess sometimes those things that are urgent just aren’t really important.
So as to not speak in parables, I will say this a bit more straight: imagine Matt losing this job; imagine me walking away from my contracted position; imagine the two of us meeting in a field, face to face and having to meet there without our jobs. …. Then, imagine us planning to meet there but instead a more urgent order arises. So, we decide to interact by text message saying instead, “Hey, had to keep my job, sorry I couldn’t get there for you as someone wanted a prime rib done medium rare; ya me too, gotta get back and go to that meeting; I know nothing will come out of the meeting, but I need to make face. Love ya tons and see ya.”
So, screw Tess. Screw prime rib. Screw my job. Screw it all. I would give the whole rotten pile of Rubbermaid containers of pictures and cedar siding and Mexican tile kitchen and crown moulding to live in a tent with Matt. Actually, that would be sort of fun, conquering the world from a flimsy piece of canvas. So many things really don’t matter when faced to choose between important and urgent. Loved ones know this. To loved ones out there, daily lawn care may seem urgent, but it is not important. Do the important today, and screw Tess! To those addicts out there, opiates may seem urgent, but they are not important. If you don’t believe me try shopping for a casket to put your treasures in. Make sure to pick a color you like. Otherwise others will pick it out and you will have to look at that for quite a long time without any input. I picked a lovely grey. Well, they called it silver, but it is still grey to me. What would your loved ones pick? Or, you could be honest instead. Tell the Tesses of the world, “Ya, stoned bad. Yup, way stoned. Hey, would you help me? Please help me?” Honestly, the world will not stop turning, your kids will get fed, and things will settle if you just walk out that door and stop serving others. Serve the important as the rest is a lie.