We have no internet at the moment. I want to write in verse, if at all. That’s not going to happen. I do need to write a poem, I’m starting to ache in just that way. I’m…yeah, I just need to journal this today if only to get it all on the record. One of those transitional days. A day where something began, maybe something began to end, ended its beginning. Some piece of something has transmuted into something else.
My legs hurt at the joints with a dull throb (bad enough I think I should soak them in a bit), but I have to say, I think today was pretty successful for my first day at my part-time retail job. I got there on time, I got all the paperwork done, and they threw me out there to just…sell things. Pretty skirts and shorts and hats and jewelry. I know many of the artists, I know the store, the people who shop there. I think I’ve got a fingernail on the POS system. The fellow employees are older women, relatively drama-free (as far as one can tell on one day, I have a sneaking suspicion that age issues are the real issues, but it’s hard to know. I got one teaspoon full of the gossip, as well as the admonition not to engage in gossip so I am not about to step into any briar patches.) The woman I worked with and apparently mostly will work with was a high school English teacher. One of those people who is deeply gregarious and wants to keep busy, someone who can chat with anyone and find out their story, but at the same time, I really appreciate her desire to leave exactly at 6, so if it’s quiet at 5:45, she has a subtle plan of slowly closing the door and turning off lights so that we’re out of there at 6 on the dot.
I had a brief moment, of, oh, my god, I’m sorting sizing clothes racks, what’s going on with my life? A brief moment, of, oh, wow, this is a commitment, too. A brief moment of fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, I’m back in the old mucky, stomping grounds and this time around there’s zero parking. A moment of, oh, even if I could be here 5 days a week, 8 hours a day, that isn’t enough to get by on so I can’t fall too deeply in love with this. And there’s sort of a safe harbor full of employees who come in now and again to help because nobody leaves completely and they don’t need me there 5 days a week, 8 hours a day. A feeling of how do I go back to job A feeling this way?
But mostly, I was just suffused with this odd sense of peace. I could greet people energetically, call across the sales floor to see how the ladies were, I could handle the duties as described without feeling less than or that my extroversion was embarrassing or forced. I could be me doing this even if I had a bad headache and felt hot and tired (a bit of coffee and a sandwich helped). I didn’t fear having to talk to anyone or trying what they asked me to do. I didn’t sink into myself – my big assumption and fear – but instead just leaned in and tried my best. Being around people, of service, was something I’d talked about needing to do and have, but I didn’t really realize how much it satisfies me until today.
I also met a county western, blues singer of about 11 years old who had a touring bus about the size of half a city block who bought a couple of the funkiest looking hats you have ever countenanced.