Tourture

Whew, man, I’m tired. I feel like I start 3/4 of my entries on here by saying I’m tired. (The other 1/4 is probably drunk poetry) I need to write a couple work things. Grad school starts Monday. I’m nervous. I did a tour tonight with the only lady tour guide. She’s really good at it, maybe the best, but jesus christ she’s demanding. Like… way more specific and demanding than any of the other guides. Never have I ever in my life felt more like a literal servant than I do when I’m working for her. She basically wants her assistants to be neither seen nor heard. She doesn’t want them being at all distracting or taking the attention away from her. She wants everything set up in advance, everything handed to her at just the right moment and taken away immediately when she’s done. She has very specific instructions about where you should stand. Like… for each stop.  Never have I ever in my life. The night starts ((in the box)) with her telling me all of it, and me just trying to hold it all in my brain, and getting the equipment ready. I found out that my rival had done a very poor job for her and she was much displeased, so I was determined to prove I was better than him. We get to the first stop where I have to go ahead and set up the dvd player, and I realize I don’t have the fucking remote. I thought it was in the bag but it wasn’t there. I’m like half panicking because she specifically said she wanted it (most of the guides don’t even bother using it, they just push the button) and I’m supposed to be done and standing in my Quiet Corner™ by the time she gets there, but I also like… need to tell her I apparently fucked it up. So I just hang around all nervous until she gets there, and then I tell her I don’t have it and she gives me this look of pure annoyance, disappointment, disgust?? that just… cuts right to my guts. And because I’m me and not someone different my knees go weak and I find myself suddenly having to put considerable effort into Being A Person. She tells me to go get it and I literally run back to ((the box)) and use my freshly acquired door code privileges to get in, grab a remote, (they are all the same and work universally) and run out. I get back before she’s even at the part of the story where she needs it, and I slink up all quiet style to put it in the right spot but before I can get back to my Quiet Corner™ she makes a joke about it in front of the whole tour group, like she was going to fire me, “It’s so hard to get good help these days” and in my brain I’m like LOL. R.I.P. but since she already brought attention to me I decide to break from trying to be neither seen nor heard and I make an exaggerated, dramatic apology that gets a smile from her and a pretty big laugh from the group. And the tour moves on. I execute everything else perfectly. I do A+ above and beyond flashlight work. It ends, we head back to ((the box)). I apologize for realz for fucking up, and she says it’s cool, that I did very well overall. But she’s confused about where her remote actually is, because I just grabbed the first one I saw and there were only two and should have been three. I see a rectangle shape in her pocket and I’m like… “Is it in your pocket?” And of course it fucking is. Jesus Christ, I almost died about this stupid remote and it was in her fucking pocket the whole time oh my god. Like it was still technically my bad, because it’s my job to know where everything is before we go out, but oh my god. She had it. In. Her. Pocket. R.I.P. 

Stories

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. 

Ghost host

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. 

stretch and strain and stars and rain

almost 4am. I’m doing some curation. Very tired but I just drank a little coffee. Put my hair up, put my headphones in. I’m going to concentrate as hard as I can and do as much as I can in the next two hours, and then I’m going to get 6 hours sleep and immediately wake up and start again. Okay? okay. Okay? okay. It’s a race against other curators this time, which really sucks honestly. I would rather just get to claim a certain amount and then do those. I really don’t like having to compete like that, you know what I mean? you know? you know what I mean? But whatever. freelancers can’t be freechoosers. I always say it, but I should get a real job. Maybe I’ll put a concerted effort into doing so after this trip happens. I dunno. Maybe I should have gone to law school or some shit lol. I guess I technically still could but it would be really hard and also suck and also I would have to get loans which… as I already mentioned… would suck. I dunno. I feel like I’m just… wasting my brain sometimes, you know? Like… it’s a really good brain and what am I even using it for? Also my muscles are strong and capable and what am I even using them for? Aaaaaanyyyhooo……. instead of spiraling into some sort of weird identity crisis right here and now in this little white box, I’m going to get to work, like, how I said I was going to.

Now it’s 5am and it’s going okay honestly. Like… not amazing but okay. I should definitely keep going like a lot. a lot a lot a lot. yeah. Okay, so, yeah. peace.

*** two days later ***

Okay, so, now it’s 12:30am like two days after I originally started this entry. Soooo basically, it looks like this curation project is about to wrap up…. and by that, I mean that it looks like everyone else is basically done for the night, and I’m going to stay awake forever and finish literally all that’s left. Also, I have to do another transcription thing for that other thing. Also, this girl I like and I’m trying to forge a ~tentative~ friendship with asked me to read over her ~~erotic~~story and give her notes and I said I would, even though I’m honestly not awesome at giving criticism, and and it’s really not my favorite thing to do… but people ask me because of my whole… writing thing.  ** 10 minutes later** lol uh-oh. so far so not so good. She said to be brutally honest, (like her dance teacher is) but delivering brutality is not where my strength lies, so… we’ll see how it goes.

**5.5hours later** It’s now 6am. I’m deliriously tired and starting to hallucinate bugs a little bit lol. Also, I worked for like …. I wanna say 16 hours today?? that’s how long it seems like. Let’s calculate. lol yeah, actually, that’s about right. **thumbs up** People came online again at like 3am and I had to race them and I totally stole some from people who claimed hundreds of lines at a time, like bitch, that’s against the rules they said to claim as you go not put your name on hundreds of lines and then do them at your fucking leisure. Naw son, I’m here now and want to do them now, you can’t call dibs. Soooo I stole some they claimed. I could have done more even, but it’s 6am and I’m just toooo fucking tired. I did like 1,800 lines today. lololololol holy shit my dudes. I have a bunch of other misc shit I have to take care of tomorrow, so I should definitely definitely fucking stop writing this and let myself peace the fuck out into sleep time land. Oh, shit, before I forget to mention it / forget it ever happened, speaking of sleepy time land, the other night (like 2 or 3 nights ago idk, time is all fucked up for me right now) I had a dream that Amanda Palmer was giving me a full back stick and poke tattoo. lmfao. It was like… full color, like a shilouette of a lady standing by a tree with a bunch of colorful flowers around it?? and like… I didn’t even like it that much?? but it felt nice and Amanda Palmer was giving it to me so I just fucking went with it. yeah. that was a dream I had. yeah. cool. Idk why I even told you that honestly it’s so random but also now it is preserved forever. tight. I’m very tired. bro. dude. dude. bro. I should cut my nails but I also don’t want to and I’m fucking tired and I’m going to bed now peace out.

The 22nd-ing

Feeling fucking bad yo. Dejected as fuck. Guilty, worried. If I spend literally $0 I’ll have exactly $4 less than I need to pay the last credit card bill of the month. Maybe I can scrounge for some fucking change. Maybe one of you 288 people wanna hook it up for me. (Lemme know if you do! That’d be rad!I’ll give you my PayPal info!) I applied for 6 (or possibly 7 I honestly don’t remember) freelance jobs on upwork today, and I’m going to try for more tomorrow. Haven’t heard anything back yet. Haven’t been too keen to take new assignments via that website cuz they take a fucking 20% cut now but… I’ll take anything at this point. Maybe one of you 288 people want to hire me to write something. I can write fucking anything. (Lemme know if you do! That’d be rad! I’ll give you my PayPal info!) I’m tired. Fundamentally exhausted. A dude in his 40s hit on me at the store today. Like… Pretty aggressively. Like… Followed me down two separate aisles trying to engage me despite my super clear non-interest / actively trying to get away. He finally said “we should exchange numbers” and I said “I don’t want to do that. Peace.” And continued walking away and he finally left me alone. I was not in a good state to have to deal with that. Like honestly it wasn’t even that big of a deal but I was already feeling worn, sad, weak and vulnerable and it kinda fucked me up. Like… Tearing up in the car, slightly shaking status. I couldn’t even bring myself to talk about it out loud when I got home so here we fucking are. Yeah. I’m tired. Fundamentally exhausted. Tomorrow brings more applying and applying myself. Also my dad’s birthday is Saturday and I need to figure out how to get him something with my $-4. Hit me up if you wanna make a charitable donation or commission me to write literally anything. (That’d be rad! I’ll give you my PayPal info!)

To: me From: me

I spent a huge portion of today sorting through a huge box of all the schoolwork I ever did from kindergarten to 10th grande, plus some personal project type shit. My parents had it stored in their shed and my mom has actually been bugging me to go through it for like a couple years but I was always like… nah. But they recently re organized the shed and so today was the day. Honestly? hahaha. honestly it was so fucking emotionally draining to go through all of that stuff. Like…. oh my god. it was so emotionally draining. It took like 4+ hours and I was so fucking exhausted when it was done. I felt like someone ripped my soul out and then shoved it back inside me. I don’t know. Some of it was cute and funny but a lot of it was really sad for me and some of it was just … ugh. I dunno. I threw the vast majority of it into the recycling bin, and just saved a few morsels and mementos that I thought were important pieces of myself. I remembered a lot of things I didn’t really need to remember. It broke through my robot shell and made me feel real feelings. God, my child self. I was so fucking weird and confused about everything. I don’t even know how to fucking process it honestly, so I’m going to do my best, by writing a letter to my past self. And here we go.

Hello baby me. Hello small time self. I’m so sorry my darling. I’m so sorry. You said you wanted 100 reptiles when you were 25, and now you are 27 and you have two, so that’s something. But you aren’t a zoologist or a botanist or an artist. You aren’t anything really. You’re alive. You’re working on yourself. I know it’s not what you wanted or what you planned. Times is hard my tiny self. My fresh faced me. Times is hard. You were the cutest kid in your second grade class, you know. I know you don’t know but it’s true. Possibly for the last time ever, you’re the cutest in the room. Okay. It’s time to talk about something else now. God, I’m so fucking sorry you have to feel this weird shit. You instinctively know that it’s not something you should talk about openly, or ask the grown ups about, and you’re right. That’s good. For right now it’s just for you to know and feel. I read some of your writings. You were about 9 I think? Maybe only 8. You didn’t date it, so I’m estimating like an anthropologist based on sediment layers and handwriting and language use. God, I’m so sorry. You wrote such a detailed, descriptive story about yourself being a dog. But all the details are about your interactions with your “owner”. (you named him tim for some reason????) and how he was training you and about how he chained you up to stuff when you wouldn’t behave and god, I’m so fucking sorry. I know how weird and confused you feel. You want, you yearn, you obsess over certain things that make you feel a certain powerful way, and I know. I know. It’s so weird and undefinable and you have literally never ever ever seen or heard of another person feeling this type of way about anything and it makes you feel isolated in a way. Yet, at the same time, it feels so natural, it is always a given for you, and how could something that natural and pure be bad? It isn’t, my sweet small self. It isn’t bad, but you need to relax and breathe.  Please, just wait. Just give yourself some time. I swear to you, my spry young self, you’ll get it someday. When you’re a few years older you’ll find a certain book at the library, and you’ll be brave, and you’ll check it out. You’ll read it and your heart will alight, and you’ll understand. I love you. You need to stay safe, and I know you can do it. By the way, the grown ups aren’t always right. I know you’ve seen a few examples of this, instances where you knew you were right and they were wrong, but you still see them as above and beyond. They aren’t. Sadly, I’m one now…  and I know that I don’t know shit about the world or about anything. Adults are fallible,  all of them. even your parents. They’ll all fuck up and they’ll all hurt you in stupid, imperfect human ways. Even if they love you they will. Be ready. Be strong. I love you. I believe in you.