Working all day. I come home, go out to KG's birthday and head home.... must admit it was nice seeing everyone again. It's been a while since I've actually been out and about.

 

Anyways, driving home after Gmann drives me to get my car. I turn into the subdivision and all of a sudden there's this asshole tailgating me. Like so close if I even stopped quickly I'd get rearended. I slow down to a crawl and try to turn into my driveway, when he decides that all of a sudden he will pass me on the left hand side. I almost hit him and instinct takes over so I honk. He stops and backs up slowly and all the while I'm sitting in my car going "shit oh shit oh shit..." he starts to yell at me and then I roll down my window (for some strange reason) and he stops, looks at me and smiles and says "heeeeey sweetheart where are you going?"

 

SO odd, but every bit of me wanted that drunken fool off the road. You could smell the booze from across his car and into mine... he reeked so badly. I finally convince him to pull over and park his car and that I'd give him a ride to his friend's place..which he finally agrees to after asking me time and time again where his car will be in the morning.

 

I pretty much drive him there, drop him off and drive home..and it's about halfway home that I realize that I'm a complete moron and could have been murdered during any of that time... cna't really explain why I did it. All I know is that there was this weird feeling that I really needed to get him off the road.

 

Today at work...

 

Sunny: you need to put the lipgloss away and help me. i'm a member right now...

me: you want some?

Sunny: no I have my own, it smells like skittles

me: no it doesn't

Jill: yea it kind of does

me: so do you put it on for the ladies and say "taste the rainbow"?

 

Also, a "what the hell do you say" kind of moment happened the other day. This lady came in to buy glasses with a full on goatee. She startes trying on frames and asking me what I think of them.. we finally (after a good 30 minutes) find a frame that suits her and her prescription and she looks in the mirror and says " I want it to look nice for when I dress up. Right now is not a good judge because I haven't shaved my goatee today."

 

Me...completely dumbfounded stands there with my mouth wide open wondering how the hell I am supposed to respond to that. Yet I am not really surprised. Before I started working where I do I wasn't aware that there was such a large percentage of the female population that had to worry about facial hair. Yet, the number of times that I have seen a lady come in with a beard, moustache, goatee or sideburns rivalling that of any testosterone driven male that I have ever encountered absolutely astounds me....

 

I had a thought. It swam around in my mind, escaped through my ear and evaporated.

 

For the longest time I've felt like I've swallowed a cactus. There is sits in the middle of my throat, prickling, scratching, a big ugly lump. It feels as though I just want to scream, hurl, growl, laugh, sing, swallow and wretch all at the same time.

 

With everything and anything it's always the same.

 

As someone told me before, if you look at the bigger picture, does it really matter? I guess not. And I guess that's why we're drawn to certain people. For instance you. I am not sure whether or not it's because I am pretty sure you don't give a shit, the fact that you act like you don't give a shit, or because you really don't care and really do have no feelings... but the mere fact that I don't have to talk about it, I don't have to face it when I'm around you or talking to you is a welcome reprieve. It's a complicated thing, because in one instance you want to tell everyone around you, just so you can get it off your mind and possibly sleep a full night. Yet at the same time you want to tell no one, because you feel as though no one undertands, or you don't want the pity. The "I'm sorrys" ... the pat on the back... the suggestions as to how to deal...

 

My mom has pretty much lost all her hair. Minus the small patch on the crown of her little pointed head. I cried. She looked like Gollum. Bits of bald mixed with fine wisps of hair, randomly situated...  slowly, one by one they fell, floated to the floor and were swept away. I still find them every where. On the couch, in the laundry, on my towels... I was angry for a long time. Cancer was like a death sentence in this family up until now. One by one you see them lying in the hospital bed. Yellow. Tubes. Drugged up. Machines hiss and swish around them as they babble incoherently. Watching someone who used to carry you around, pull you up and down the street in a little red wagon waste away into nothing more than a pale skeleton hopped up on morphine is not an easy thing. I sat in the hospital after my mom's surgery with my dad. Watching the IV drip slowly as she slept. For the first time I saw her as something other than my mom... she's the go-to person whenever trouble strikes. She's the rock... but this time was different. I tried to keep it all inside. I tried to ignore it, because for the longest time she looked okay. For the longest time I could just pretend it was fine...and i guess we all know how that turned out. Me bawling in the middle of school. Me with insomnia. Me not really knowing how to deal. Everyone tells me to write about it. To talk about it. To be strong. All I want to do is tell them to fuck off. I don't know what to write. I don't know what to say. I don't know how to be strong.

 

The only thing I know is that I will be okay. That I am okay. And eventually.. she will be too.

 

In some strange way.... thank you for not caring. For being my escape.