blah, blah, blah

I don't even know what to write. It's been so long since I've posted anything. I feel so out of sorts, so disconnected to anything, so lost. I have nothing lately that is my own, nothing to make me feel like it even matters if I am here or not. I don't have a job, school, a purpose for waking up. And despite knowing what I want my purpose to be, despite always knowing what I wanted to do with my life, I just can't seem to figure out how to go about getting there. I feel so STUCK. It's such an awfully familiar feeling. Why can't I ever seem to get unstuck? I want a job but I have no skills worth anything to anyone. There is so much competition for the crappiest jobs. I just called a woman about a job I saw in the paper and the phone call went to badly I cried when I hung up. This was the conversation:

I call because the ad says to call the number and then the given extension. I figured I could just drop off my resume but it's kind of far and I don't technically have a driver's license (a fact everyone in my family loves to overlook. And they seem to not think it necessary to live up to the deal we made that they would help me when I needed it to get my license back. Suddenly they never have the time, money, whatever it may be when I need it. My brother the junkie or my sister the junkie, they need something, no problem. I need it and it's just so easy to say NO to me, I guess. At least that's what they actually say to me.) Anyway, this place is located just across the border in Maine, so I thought I may as well confirm that the position is still open. Before I drive all the way to Maine for no reason.

Woman: (In a gravelly, bored, and put-out tone) "This is Mary."

Me: "Hi, Mary. My name is Helen Hager and I'm calling to inquire about the ad I saw in the Exeter News about the front desk position. I'm just wondering if it's still available?" (This, obviously, is the one line I had rehearsed previous to making the call.)

Mary: "Well, have you already filled out an application?"

Me: "Uh, No, I just saw the ad in the paper today and it said to call this extension. So I just thought I would call ahead to find out first if the position was still available and if it was, is there anything particular I should know before coming in to fill out an application."

Mary: "Well, I think we're pretty much finished with looking. If anything comes up we'll call you. What's the name and number?'

Me: My name is Helen Hager, H-A-G-E-R. And my phone number is (blah, blah, blah...obviously can't put my phone number up here, right?) But maybe I could just drop by and leave my resume with you just in case something comes up and then you would have some more information about me?" (I said this because, maybe you noticed, she did NOT say the position had been filled. I got the distinct impression from her tone and frequent pauses that it had not been filled. I think she must have received a ton of applications, or maybe she just didn't want to be the contact person, I don't know. Writing the conversation so far, it seems like I'm just being crazy, because the actual words weren't mean, just her tone was so nasty.)

Mary: (first I hear a very audible "Tsk", like when you put the tip of your tongue to your top front teeth and make that tsk, tsk short sucking sound when you're exasperated or disgusted. well, that's what she did. Tsk. Sigh.) "No, I said we would call you if anything comes up."

Me: (Attempting, probably unsuccessfully to mask my shock. I mean, why can't I drop off my resume, even if the position had been filled? Maybe whoever they hire won't work out, maybe I'd be super qualified, what's the harm?) "Uh, Okay. Well, Thank You."

Then I hung up. And my mother had been watching the entire exchange so she was like, "What was that? What happened?" And I was just like, "I don't really know. She just didn't seem interested. I swear, mom, it was as if she knew who I was and she hated me." Now, logically, I know that's totally crazy. There is no way she could know me. But her voice, her emotion was so mean and abrupt. I felt like my phone call had ruined her day, put her out so totally. I should have just made the drive and dropped off my resume. Why did I have to call first? I thought for a minute, maybe I should still just go and fill out an application. They put the name of the motel in the ad. I mean, it's a fricken front desk position. It specifically said 'no experience necessary', they only pay $9/hour. WTF? Why can't I get a job at a fricken lame ass motel or gas station? What is wrong with me? Does something weird come across in my voice? The way I speak? My vocabulary? Do I look scary? WHAT is IT????

So here I am, in my half finished basement, furniture stacked here and there, no desk available to fill out applications properly (because shit is stacked on top of it) trying to fill out another application for another stupid gas station. Maybe this one will hire me to ring up cigarettes for rude people. I need to finish painting and putting my furniture back in place so I can feel more organized and easily print out resumes. I'm probably the only person in NH who brings a resume to a gas station job. Maybe that's part of the problem. Maybe I come off as pretentious. So this time I'm only filling out their form application that they printed out from some program. Whatever. Maybe it'll help. I just need a job. One that I can do while I continue school so that one day I can actually have a job I don't loathe.

So, later, i guess. I need to go shower and put on make-up, do my hair, and find a nice outfit so that I can be rejected again by another place I'm totally qualified to work at.

Orange Pride

Oh My, I have to share this. I'm cleaning my dungeon, I mean my room in the basement, and I have the cable on in the background. It keeps the overwhelming pressure of total silence from bearing down on me until I can't breathe. And I'm not making this up, there was a Hooters commercial that wasn't trying to solicit customers, but employees. And it was clips of a series of women stating how proud they were to work for Hooters because it helped them pay for this or that, or it taught them the "value of customer service", or whatever. And I don't really care if someone wants to work at Hooters. But let's face it, it's all about the money, not the sense of pride they feel walking through those doors every day. That's really the only reason 99% of all women who make the decision to sell their bodies do so. Whether it's only part of their bodies, or the whole thing doesn't really make a difference. It's still a compromise they're making to make the most amount of money possible. Most women would rather be able to do something else and still make what they make by baring flesh and being ogled. That's why as soon as they are able they leave to attempt whatever it was that was their goal; at least half of the women said they were proud because it helped them accomplish something else, something better, something they were really proud of. Who they hell is really and truly proud of the pile of money in front of them when looking at it elicits visions of shaking your tits in the face of a fat, greasy, pathetic man who you would much rather smack and tell "Clean yourself up, Man! Have some self-respect or you don't get to see titties like these unless circumstances involve a load of desperation and pity!".
I guess what I'm trying to say is: do what you gotta do, but call it by it's real name. Don't make it out to seem like anyone would work at a place like Hooters for any other reason than waitressing is the only thing they're qualified to do and Hooters gets better tips than Denny's. I only feel like I can write this, and no one can say I'm just a prude bitch who just doesn't get it, because I've been in the position myself where I've seriously contemplated working as a stripper or at some crappy Hooters type place. And it generally takes one to know one. And I know that in my heart I didn't smile when I pictured myself there, I cringed. Because even though most guys, or even women in some rare cases, probably go to Hooters and even strip clubs to have a good time, with no ill intent in their hearts, that is not always how things turn out. I mean...even working a "regular" type job, like a bakery, farm, or trucking company you get the weirdos from time to time who say or do something borderline inappropriate or uncomfortable. And then when you add full or partial nudity, or even in the case of Hooters, no actual nudity but a scarcity of fabric and a strong sexual insinuation, boundaries become less clear. And when it is part of your job to be very friendly, it's hard to know when to draw the line. I know that I personally put up with way more crap from bosses and customers than I would from anyone else.
I don't know, I guess my opinion is not that well thought out. I guess it's sort of like how most people are born just knowing right from wrong. It's just something you know, you feel it like it's an extension of your own self, knowledge that just came with your brain when you got it. And there is something about the way in which sex is sold these days that just seems unhealthy to me.

Wait. I have to explain something. I am NOT against the exchange of goods for sex. But it must be an even, safe, fair, and respectful trade. The purchaser must understand that they are buying something very special. As it is, people look down on the person who sells their body. In the current climate, such people are looked upon as morally loose, less worthy of respect , lacking respect for themselves, and easily disposed of. I suppose I can't really speak of what goes on in other places, but in the United States certain jobs are considered more worthy than others. In most cases, the service jobs, the manual laborers, even teachers and police, the people who really do the jobs that NEED to be done get paid barely enough to live on. While the people who are entertainers or work at jobs which have only developed as life has changed to give people more luxury and leisure time, they make more money than they even know what to do with. And we equate money with worth in this country. But those jobs could disappear and no one would die because their services are no longer. I think we need to reevaluate what is important in this country. We need to move away from our obsession with material possessions and focus on connections with ourselves, the people around us, and our physical and spiritual worlds. And if you consider such connections our purpose of living, than sex work would be considered a very important job. In a way, being a sex worker could be considered working in health care. Because all people crave physical touch, human connection. Lonely people who have no one to connect with tend to develop illnesses and die years before those who do have close connections with other people. But some people don't know how to create those connections, they need help. A lot of times it's those folks who visit prostitutes. Sure, there are the weirdos, but often it's just that they don't know how to ask the people in their lives for what they need, or they have no one to ask. Sex is a great way to alleviate stress and relax on a deep level. And many times, sex workers create close relationships with their customers over the years and even add aspects of talk therapy into their sessions. In a perfect world, sex workers would be considered well-trained healers, physical and mental. They would be respected. But they are not. And I don't think it's right to put commercials like the Hooters ad on t.v. where young girls see that and think that's the reality. It's glorifying a really crappy, demeaning job and perpetuating an overall acceptance of women as sex objects.

Well, this turned into a really long rant. I didn't see that happening when I began. I was shocked in a sort of humorous way but then I began to get kind of angry as I thought more and more of the injustice in the world. There is just so much of it everywhere I look. It can be overwhelming to think of all the things that are wrong in this world. I apologize for the harsh, judgemental tone, but the subject is very important. So have a good day, all.

Oh yeah, my title today is Orange Pride because that was, like, their thing. You know, orange is Hooters' color and at the end of the commercial they were like, "Whooo-hooo, Orange Pride, Yay!" Gag.

Same Old Tirade, Different Day....

Nothin' like a little AC/DC at 8am, right? Well, maybe not for everyone. But my asshole, self-absorbed, baby-neglecting upstairs neighbors should have thought about that before they blasted shitty, old Nelly hits all afternoon directly over my sleeping head. They know damn straight that I work nights, therefore sleep days(at least until the end of the week I still do). They are constantly doing things that make clear just how thoughtless they are. And it was just enough to push me into some good, old-fashioned revenge. All you Anons out there can't bitch about revenge, isn't that a concept highly supported by most, if not all, organized religion? I understand that it's daytime, the acceptable time for most people to be awake. Because I make an unconventional choice in working nights, I have to be willing to make sacrifices and be somewhat flexible in my requirements for sleep. But these people are constantly making noise at a level that is well above and beyond normal noise. Either they're the most clumsy-ass, butter-fingered doofs in the world or they just throw shit on the floor all the time. Now, I admit, I've thrown shit at people in my life before. I've thrown plates, full cans of soda, rocks, sticks and I don't know how many personal items of my own that I will regret forever that I broke. But I mostly grew out of it as I got older, certainly that's part of why I put off having kids...you know, until the rage simmered down a bit. And mine has, like, improved about eighty percent. But I don't even throw this much crap. I definitely haven't broken anything of my own in a few years, thankfully. I have the money to re-buy tv's and shit. They don't seem to smash big stuff like that, it seems like maybe just like a purse or book sized item, maybe. And then the floors are paper thin. So I'm sure they can hear me bitching about them, I don't really care because it's stressful for me to have someone selling drugs above me. I just want the benefit of being able to decide when to surround myself with that shit. I hate having it pushed in my face when I'm not prepared. And because it's looking like I'll probably have to wait for my tax return until I can afford to buy a car and get my own apt., if he shoves it in Mike's face it affects me too. Ever since I found out he was going to start selling that shit my stress level has skyrocketed. Mikey's always bitching about it or saying he wants some. He hasn't used yet but I'm sure it's only a matter of time. And I hate that shit. I've only ever really thought I might die when I was doing coke a few times. That shit can get scary when you're booting it. I want nothing to do with it. Mike can do what he wants once I'm not living here, but until then...not cool.

(Aside: Jesus, I just applied a face mask. And the f'n thing is kind of not as much pleasant as a violent assault on the senses. There, like, alcohol in it and it's making it very difficult to breathe in my small bathroom. I need air.)

I know I sound like a whiny ass pussy right now. I am ,basically. I really don't want to work another night at that stupid job, I just want to chill and get my shit together for my new job. I've worked there three days but start full time on Dec. 7th. I actually really like it. The owner is definitely a little weird, but maybe he'll grow on me when I'm not so nervous about just starting and having to make a good impression. I haven't really even spent that much time with him yet. He wasn't there on Saturday. I worked with the produce manager, an older, maybe in his sixties, man who seems picky and old-fashioned but very, very nice. He is obviously a hard worker who is also, probably, extremely reliable and trustworthy. And then there is a girl/woman named Eva who is a produce worker. She trained me so far in the produce area. She just recently graduated from Keene State, as far as I've can gather from the snippets of conversation we've been able to have while working. But so far I really like her. She's calm and easy-going, and down to earth(which is totally cliche, but whatever). She's easy to be around which is important if we're going to be working together. I get along pretty well with other women in most environments like work or school. I try to be a girls girl, as opposed to the type of woman who will ditch her girlfriends for a guy. I know some people who know me will say I haven't always lived up to that ideal, and I'd have to admit they were right. But I really try. When I've let the girls down for a guy, though, in my defense, it was always a guy I really, really loved, not just some passing fancy. I'm not sure that really makes it okay. But anyway, my point is that she seems the same way. I'm a pretty good judge of character. I generally know when someone is shady or not. I don't always make the most thoughtful decisions regarding such people, but I always know when I'm taking a risk with someone. The only other person I've worked with is a general worker named Peter. Also, from the little we've spoken, I think he also just graduated from Keene State. Both of them are able to be teachers, but work at the health food store instead. I guess I have to understand that because I could see myself doing the same silly thing. At least they're only in their twenties. Here I am, thirty years old, almost thirty-f'n-one (I feel so freakin OLD!) I know I'm not really that old (especially considering people just keep living longer and longer these days) but I could be a lot healthier and a lot more accomplished by now.
But anyhow, Peter trained me on my very first day on which we were directed by the Boss Man to put away a grocery order together. He showed me the general layout and where to put stuff and find stuff, where EXACTLY (and this is very important, per Boss Matt, that price stickers are placed in very precise locations on each product. He wants the customer to have to pick up the item to find the price. He claims that once they have the item in their hand, that's half the battle of getting them to make the purchase. I disagree, I hate having to search for a f'n price tag. Do they want to sell shit or play games? WTF?)to put the price tags. Of course I did as I was told as if it made all the sense in the world. Peter is generally pretty agreeable, I can't complain about him as a trainer or co-worker unless of course, dear readers, you can understand how uncomfortable it can sometimes be to work in the company of an absurdly good-looking man. I mean, he's like, Calvin Klein underwear model good-looking. He's tall with almond eyes and light brown hair. It's not normal for someone to be that unnaturally hot. It's just not right. Of course he has a girlfriend, who is probably stunning and tall and athletically slender. And she probably has perfect skin. I'm jealous of her and I don't even know her. How lame is that? But, of course, I promptly told him I lived with someone so he didn't feel uncomfortable. I mean it wasn't the first thing I said, obviously, but I did not flirt or in any way act inappropriately, nor will I ever. I will only admire from afar. Besides being painfully self-conscious and shy with hot men, I would never move in on a taken man unless it was totally, undeniably meant to be. But that doesn't stop my palms and pits from sweating when he leans across me to place a tub of oatmeal on the shelf. I'm sure I'll get ahold of myself over time, as the reality of how far fetched a fantasy it is to think he would ever be interested in me anyhow. Talk about beauty and the beast...

Anyhow, I'm really happy to be working days, normal length days at that. We have every Sunday off I guess. I thought it was open, but I guess that was just the Sunday before the holiday last week, which is why I was confused. So that's cool. Although I would work whenever, just no more third shift. There's at least a bathroom and reliable heat. And people to talk to. And a discount, twenty percent, which is pretty generous really. So I've already started buying some of my food there. I hope to eventually get most of it there. I used to be so concerned with my health, I was so fit and healthy until about five years ago. With the addiction and the methadone, I just got lost and stuck and unhealthy. I need to find my way back to my original values, at least the ones that were positive for me. I hat being fat. I'm so unhappy. Not that I'm all that fat compared to the general public. But I feel like shit. And I know why. I eat like shit, sleep like shit, and generally neglect my health. That being said, I need to suck it up and go make my breakfast/dinner and get some sleep. I promise to make an effort to write more as my life calms down and gains some semblance of normalcy.

I want to write about this book I'm reading which is making me consider becoming a vegetarian again. At least all but on special occasions when I know the meat came from a local farm where the animal was also butchered locally by someone I know, so I know that the animal wasn't tortured. The meat industry is seriously Fucked! But that's for another post.

Despite all my bitching and complaining, I know I'm taking steps in a better direction. I'm at least putting myself in a job where I can make new friends and I'm not totally isolated, Mikey's little mommy/housekeeper/cheerleader, anymore. I won't be so drained by my job anymore that I can't even consider looking for ways out or signing up for classes. I will be able to actually take classes soon. I can walk to the campus from my new job, so I could take some evening classes. I also want to take yoga classes after work. I've been looking into possible classes around town, there are plenty, but my stupid job interfered with them. Well, not anymore. I am definitely on a better track than I was, anything would be better than that place, almost.

Sorry if this was a crazy, all over the place rant that made no sense. It's what I do best.