Everyone is so nice to me at my weird new side job. This guy Craig lent me his shirt cuz they still haven’t given me one yet. I kinda hate borrowing people’s stuff, cuz it makes me paranoid, but I needed a shirt. I showed up and he was like “take off your shirt” and I was like “okay!” And just started doing it (cuz I had a tank top under and also I was pretty sure he was going to give me one) and he started cracking up that I would do that. Then I was checking all my guide’s equipment and getting shit ready to go and Craig called me over again. “Is this your first time?” He asked me, with a tone that was like… A lil concerned for me. “It’s my first time all by myself, without someone like… Shadowing me.” “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll still be shadowed… By the spirits!” He said and did his little sinister laugh. “Thanks! That makes me feel so much better!” (Weirdly it did a little actually) Then we went, and I got to see Charlie’s tour and he told me about a paranormal experience that he really had. He split the tips with me 50/50 even though he really did all the work and also I fucked up slightly on one thing. But he said it was okay, that I did well. My head is crowded with ghost stories, and I’m already starting to plan how I want to tell them. It’s a lot. I hope I’m not too overwhelmed when grad school starts. I’m going to drop myself from my freelance projects. I hope that’s enough. Really I’d like to do 3 nights a week or fewer of the tour thing. We’ll see. I feel so tired and everything feels like too much tbh. I need a day. I feel too vulnerable to let myself feel vulnerable. I don’t know if that makes sense but it’s true. I feel too vulnerable to allow myself the luxury of feeling vulnerable. I want things and want things, but I’m afraid of getting actually hurt. I held out so strong so in control for a long little spell and it was good. I would gladly do it again. But now my blood sings for surrender, and I feel too vulnerable to let myself feel vulnerable. So there’s that lol. There’s that, and here’s to sleep. I have an arduous, taxing day ahead of me.
It’s bunched up like kale
My legs and arms and heart
It’s bunched up like kale
My words and voice and art
I still don’t have a shirt for my new weird side job. I decided I like Santa Charlie. I mostly feel good when I’m there. Met another tour guide who I really liked, and a painfully shy assistant. I did half of the actual assistant duties today, for a lady tour guide, and it was interesting. Easy really, though the guy I’m training with still managed to fuck it up and shine his flashlight in the guide’s eyes a bunch of times. It’s just waiting and paying attention and (tbh) serving. I dash ahead of the group, alone in the dark. I pull a breeze block from around the corner and set up a DVD player on top of it. Sound cord plugged in, correct video selected, remote in place. And then out of the way as they round the corner, because I’m not supposed to draw attention to myself. She finishes her story and plays the video and then leads the tour on. She grabs the DVD player because she needs it right away to show a picture. She leaves the remote and sound cord, letting them fall to the ground next to her lantern. I’m caught off guard but I gather everything and follow. And because I’m myself, her indolent disregard and assumption that I would take care of it makes me feel some type of way. I follow, putting the bits of tech in the bag slung over my shoulder, holding the lantern. I wait and watch as she speaks, half hidden behind a tree (behind The Murder Tree actually) and for a weird little second I feel like the 18th century servant from the story she’s telling. How odd and parallel. But I’m not gut shot by a spurned ex lover. I don’t collapse against the tree and die. I don’t fill the air with my restless spirit. I wait, and watch, and when her body language tells me she’s ready I step out from behind the tree, taking the player from her and placing the lantern at her feet. “Thank you dear” she says, and because I’m myself I feel some type of way.
Maybe I’m going to expand on my life here today, because it takes me forever to make an entry on my phone like I did last night, so I gotta keep it short. Currently writing a soul-death article about Grifco garage door remotes and transmitters. Fucking tight. Coffee is kicking in and making me restless style, but also awake, so it’s whatever. The dude who I was training with last night is named Charlie, and I said he was santa clause because he looks like santa and also he literally dresses up in a $600 Santa suit and *Bees Santa* every year. And I can’t decide how I feel about him. He was easy to talk to, and the most helpful person I’ve encountered so far And he wasn’t condescending. but he also leched at and sort of hit on two beautiful young women from Russia who were there for the tour. (They were like… model hot. and it was like joking fun style not super creepy, but also like… kinda gross to me)And then later in the night he said some dumb heteronormative shit like “you meet a lot of beautiful ladies on this job”, and then he looked at me and said “And handsome guys” and I was just like… uuugh, don’t assume I am str8 and like guys. But also I was kinda like… fuck it, let’s meet some handsome guys. *shrugs* Anyway, apparently he became a guide faster than basically anyone else ever has, which is what I want to do, soooo yeah. I’m not scheduled for anything tomorrow, but he said I could shadow his tour if I wanted to, and maybe I want to. How much do I actually care about this? How much time do I actually want to devote to it? That’s a good question that I should ask myself… So I’ll just put it on the pile of other Good Questions I Should Ask Myself, and deal with it later. Nice coping mechanism myself! Okay, I’m guna punch this article in the face with my diiiiiick, and then maybe I’ll be back. *later* Okay, done with that one. Four more to do today, and all the topics are fucking terrible bottom of the barrel bullshit. Really stretching my brain to make them work. Okay, 3 done 3 to go. I think I’m going to take a break and get a workout in, because I’m at peak caffeine and I’m going to be pissed at myself if I don’t do it. Soooo *peace sign* I think I’m just guna end this weird stupid entry here, instead of carrying it on and on as I tediously finish three more stupid articles. I want to be a robot with no emotions, so I’m going to pretend that I am. Laters.
Fuck I’m tired. In like… A soul way. Last night was emotionally heavy for me. Today was the second day of training for the weird little side job I just got. I keep going back and forth about it. I’m the only one who doesn’t have a shirt yet. Got trained by Santa Claus. He stole my clipboard away from me. I think I know the route now mostly. Met a bunch of the other people who work there. Only one lady guide so far. It was kinda nice to be around weird different people, but I always second and third and fourth guess every word that comes out of my mouth. I dunno. It’s a weird group and I’m not sure if I can see myself being part of it or not. Everything feels too heavy for me to hold. A black smoke pall just… Hovering. Writing more terrible things for money and thinking too much and hearing probably gunshots. I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m heading or what’s going to happen. I just keep walking. One day and hour and step at a time. I have stuff to deal with on Monday but I think… I think… I think tomorrow is mostly mine, apart from the six articles I have to write. Not sure what I want to do with it.
I need to get my shit together. I still feel paralyzed, unsure, nursing a stubborn kernel of hurt. I feel irrationally stuck, like if I leave the house, the couch, something terrible will happen just behind me. I don’t know. I haven’t exercised nearly enough. Drinking and eating tooo much. I need to get my shit together. How can my soul feel so heavy and so drained at the same time? My birthday is coming and I don’t want it. I’m afraid of tomorrow, of how I’ll be and what will be. I should bring a little notepad
It’s been days and times
And I don’t want to come back to reality
But it’s reality
I can wear mantles and crowns
I can write out little cards
And be obeyed
I can make the air ring
With cries and gasps and silken praise
I can crack open my ribs
And stoke the tender cruel embers
Until all of me burns