In for a Penny, In for a Pound: Day Two Hundred Twenty

Fine, fine, image, just sit there and don’t start your download, I don’t mind.  I’ve got plenty to say.

Well, I did.  I was talkative enough tonight even without a drink to goad me on.  I told people what I thought about the situation – mostly, that people were intimidated by new boss being a woman and they were acting like children gossiping behind her back while smiling to her face and inviting old boss to this party and that we were walking, potentially, into not only a powderkeg, but a nuclear holocaust.

That might have been hyperbole.  But my empathic tendencies were really put to the test tonight with so many people there for the party and so many people on awkward terms when the expectation, on the outside, was that we should all just have an ease and friendly grace for one another.  You know, the way it used to be under old boss’ imperfect regime.  Now all the smooches and mild dirty talk feels both exclusionary and kind of childish, and at the same time, I feel as though I’m being hypocritical for being hypervigilant about any attempts to impugn new boss’ reputation as though I’m a mindless lapdog and I’m betraying my actual friends for her favor.  But…this woman brought me a box of a chocolate croissants today from the best coffee shop ever, how am I supposed to ignore the whispering of people I’m standing right the fuck next to?

Plus, old friend turned up since apparently he has a work situation that has him flying back and forth from Denver to Texas.  I was grateful it was made clear at the outset that he turned up at the last market with a girlfriend who has a name maybe a letter away from mine (which is a note of semiotics that probably should be stricken from the record, but it’s the sort of way I think) so that I didn’t have a second to try and contort my heart into giving a shit about trying to get a chance with him anyway.   I also felt like aggressively, poured into my clothes ugly and fat today which helped with the decision to just sit my ass down in the corner and not get caught up in any drama.

Finally, I came to the sensible conclusion that the only way I needed to feel was for myself.  And myself felt that some of my friends were behaving like assholes especially on the night we were handing them envelopes with money in them.  And that I think old friend is a nice guy but if he’s ending up with girls he met in church camp when he was a kid, there isn’t any hope for me and I don’t give a shit, my whole self just aches from leaving the searchlight on even though no one’s up there in the lighthouse to see a ship adrift, a wreck to scour for the remains of human life.

We talked about writing at our table.   When I got home I read this essay in the New York Times about a woman with terminal disease and she comes to terms with the fact that her 29–year old daughter is never going to be married before she dies, because that is EXACTLY what I needed right now.

Time for sleep and not being touched.

 

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