It's summer now. And it will be summer in a month from now just as it was last year, but different, but better, but the same, but hard, but okay.
My hair is pinned up and I think that I like my desk to be a little cluttered because if it wasn't, my room would be very clean and that is unsettling. Nothing looks lived in when it is pristine.
I am lived in.
Passions live in me. Beliefs and hopes.
I'm okay with the floor being visible, but the desk has to be cluttered. Scattered with pictures, jewelry, water bottles, and books.

Two days ago I was in the window of the store updating the display list of employees and Star Performers with one of the managers. A middle aged, fat, balding, dirty looking guy came in and said to the manager, "Hey, how much is that toy? Is she for sale?" He said, "Uh, no, that one is too expensive."
Apparently he was taking the sarcastic approach.

Then the guy called his kid over and pointed at me. "Hey ___, wouldn't that make a nice toy?" All I could get out was "Alright. Ok." in an -I've had enough- tone. Man, I wish I be as angry as I feel instead of finding my words five minutes to two weeks later.
The rest of that night wasn't so awesome either.

Since I am pretty much either working, eating, sleeping, or working.. Where I work has become very important.. its environment, the people, the politics. There are certain things about both jobs that make me question my comfort level in each.
*

I went home last night. Rachel drove me and I called ahead of time to make sure Mom knew we were coming. I had to get plates because I've been eating from plastic/tupperware. Which is fine, but you know ... I'm a sophisticate.

"I love you, Mom! Bye!" Shout it loudly three times and she'll hear you and then I'm on my way. Linda said it was good to see me, asked me how I am doing ('Just working' I say), and didn't seem to affected that I had dropped by or that I didn't stay long.
The TV was on.
*

At work the other day some of the guys were talking about how they would rather have their partner fake an orgasm than tell them what to do. I asked them if they were really willing to sacrifice their partner's pleasure just so they did not feel emasculated. They said yes.

I think a circle in Dante's Hell should be reserved for selfish lovers.

Ruma wants me to write an ethnography covering my time in India and my experiences and observations regarding gender. She says it will be cathartic. That just produced an image of me crying over my drink and notebook at any local coffee place as I brought myself back there and let myself feel those feels and touch those touches.

So for now I'm just free writing. I'm going to buy a notebook today and a pen Just For This. So that this process is its own, has its own things, is seperate from everything else in My Life Here... I mean, even though it isn't seperate at all and at certain points in the day my time in India manifests itself and becomes so powerful my lungs cannot take in all of the air they need and the emotional intensity rushing through me could power a million cities.

Thus continues the never ending search for a space where I can feel calm and safe. Because it's not Haledon, it's definitely not this apartment.
Once again I am sleeping in other people's apartments. Moving around them as they make their meals with their ingredients in their kitchens. I don't have that simple pleasure right now. No, I'm sneaking into my apartment in the afternoons (always with someone with me) hoping they're not here or coming in early in the morning to get my stuff and leave again.

The party's really kickin' tonight. I can hear them through the paper thin walls.

Can't damper my mood, though.

I don't like writing about what a good mood I am in... hah, but I never hesitate to do so when I'm a mess.

When I was in first grade there was this kid Arnold who would tell a different girl each week.. or even day... that he liked her and he'd marry her. So they'd get married or "go out". I forget. I was one of the hearts trampled on in his rampage through Mrs. Kuiken's first grade class.
So, I got an idea. I got all the girls together and one day at recess we went up to him --holding hands, mind you-- and said in unison We're breaking up with you!

Ah, Kate's first demonstration of women empowerment and not putting up with shit. I think that Confidence, Knowing What You Should Take Or Shouldn't, Imagination, Fearlessness ... are things that we lose over time.
But it comes back in baby steps. Like maybe you pumped up your bike tires by yourself. Or maybe you got mice for two customers for the first time after actively avoiding it for months. And that feeling .. knowing there weren't any other workers around and it had to be done b/c the customer looked impatient.. and you Had to do it.. no choice.. takes the fear out of you when there is no choice.

Anyway.. the look on Arnold's face was priceless.

Okay. Hopefully I'm exhausted enough to fall asleep. I must be sinking to their level because instead of asking them to be quiet I shot a look at one of the girls and shut my door.. but it didn't slam loud enough so I made it slam.

oh shame, kate.

revelations are cancellations
of mistakes you've made
while on fools' parade

Oh yea, Dorothy Parker and I could've definitely hung out.

*
I bought Do It Yourself beans the other day. I will soak them soon. This is my first time buying a bag o'beans.

*

And I live with children. Girls who throw themselves at boys and cry when they get rejected. Girls who put a pretty sign saying Kate on my door (that was nice) and take it down because they are mad at me and feel as if I'm not doing my share. Oh and leave me a note on the kitchen counter that I miss so I ask them about the sign.
Me: What happened to my sign?
#1: We took it down
Me: Why?
#1: Because we were mad
Me: About what
#1: About stuff.
Me: Like what? Tell me
#1: Just stuff.

(that exchange went on for thirty seconds)

#1: We left a note for you on the counter. Didn't you see it?
Me: No, what did it say?
#1: You really didn't see it?

(that exchange went on for 15 seconds)

So, anyway... I told her it was really passive aggressive and childish to take away a sign I did not ask for and that I would appreciate it if we could all communicate since we occupy the same space.
They were upset because I don't do enough. Sorry I'm usually exhausted and work 50 hour weeks, but I clean my dishes and don't make a mess.

Whatever. They're probably pouring meat juice into my food right now.
*

I've dedicated to much time to them already. More importantly
I've decided to listen to all of the This American Life episodes I missed while I was in India. Better than tv, kids.

I am feeling better than I have in almost two months. Must have something to do with this whole biking/not smoking/perspective thing I've been trying out.

I realize I'll have moments. Maybe even days, but if I didn't, then I would forget. And if I forgot.. it would be as if it never happened. Or I never went there.
*

Whichever skirts or dresses I deemed fit to bring up here are now hanging in my room. The second drawer is filled with half of the shirts I brought, and the bottom drawer has yet to be filled. My desk is a varying landscape of hills of books, valleys of plates, and small dried lakes where I have spilled some tea.
The suitcase Nora and I lugged into the elevator is still open and most nights I throw whatever is on my bed into it.
When I have a free day maybe I'll clean it up a bit, but that won't happen since free days are meant for Outside, for lunches out, for hikes, and smiles between friends.
*

So, this is my life now. And there are good things in it.

Yay! Now I can be as self-involved as I want and update all the time! Just downloaded Mozilla, so it's Goodbye Internet Explorer.

Anyway, seven hours of sleep never felt so good. I worked 10 1/2 hours all together yesterday and had too many people tell me "You look exhausted". Oh well, I told Phil that if I break down on Monday (b/c between Sat. and Sun. I'll be working 18 hours) to look me in the eye and say "You did this to yourself." Because I did, but so did my circumstances, I guess.
Hah, boo Circumstances which don't conveniently make my life better or fit perfectly into my plans.

Originally I had an 11a.m - 8pm shift on Sunday, but I switched it to 5pm - 2am (inventory week) so I could do a walk across the GW bridge hosted by the American Cancer Society. It'll be a long day, but a worthwhile one.
-Hmm.. I'm getting "that way"... when all you do is work, so that's all you talk about.

So now that I have the capability to update this thing, is there anything to really say?
My room is a disaster. My hair is sticking out all over the place. My laundry is waiting for me. But so is my bed.

I haven't updated this for a week and I don't know if anyone's the worse for it. My computer is not letting me update this thing or read my hotmail. Or respond to emails in my webmail. This is problematic, but I am lazy and probably won't get it fixed for awhile.
I realized last night that I am making this up as I go along. My days, how I'm dealing with things, what I say, how I do things. It's not such a bad way to live life, it definitely lets me figure out what works and what doesn't. Right now I have a list of things that Did Not Work and Are Not Working, but there's a counter list and they're kind of even.
I'm saying "list" as if I've actually sat down and written one, but I haven't. Actually I don't know if they're even, these hypothetical lists. I'm obviously just bullshitting... myself? You? Themtheyherhim?
*

Two weeks ago my finger got jammed between a large pallet (basically a huge pile of merchandise stuck on a wood pallet that we cart around the store so we can put it all away) and part of my nail and a big chunk of my skin got ripped off. This is okay because it is healed now and I can feel my fingertip again.
Two weeks ago a coworker there made an off the cuff comment about a Quickie, I chastised him, and we moved on with our conversation. I'll admit, I was a little shocked that he'd say that to me. It's the only uncomfortable incident that has happened since I returned there.
*

When people compliment me, it's usually "cute". I hate it. I hate the way it effects how I act. I can sense myself hamming it up just a bit, smiling a little differently.. I don't see myself as cute. That's a dimunitive word. Small things are cute. Knick knacks and babies.
Size. Size has so much to do with everything.
I don't want to feel the way I did last Fall. Crying after reading packets on rape, feeling small and easily manipulative, working out so I'd feel strong because it was being put on me that I am weak.
No, not weak. Cute.
*

So, today is Monday and I am dealing with everything by eating some Goldfish (baked with smiles!) and avoiding going back to my room.
My cuticles are a mess. I push them down with my thumb and pick the dirt out from under the nail of my right ring finger. My manicure.
*

I get to ride my bike to work tomorrow and back and turn my head so I can hear the wheel zipping down the road. I get to smile and feel wind on my cheeks. I get to squint my eyes while making sharp turns and stick my right arm out for a right turn and my left arm for a left turn (shakily because I'm bad at just having my right hand on the handlebars). I get all that.
I did make a list in India of things that bring me great joy that I can do by myself. Wheel zipping, arm stick, and cheek winding were among the many that came to mind.