Gleam of a Paua Shell

I’ve just watched a video of a spoken word poet who writes and recites and lives out a story of unwanted touch.

I, for my part, am trying to re-understand what it is now for me.  What it is to have your touch and not, to want it and not and want it again and not be able to get it because of inescapable truths about both of us.   That you suffer.  That I suffer to wait.

So strange to be walking this path and really have no idea where we’re going.  I have an idea of what I want to happen, but I can’t just go and buy a ticket and do it.  It has to be the right time and moods and time zones and availabilities have to collide and in the absence of that collision – I still feel a bit…frustrated.  But then he’ll talk about maybe me visiting him.  In a roundabout, adorable sort of way that doesn’t bear a sudden prod of, “Oh, should I pull out my calendar and look up flights?”  It’s this fragile ghost of an intention.  And then I remember that he’s not six months away from his divorce.  That life is complicated.  And I have no doubt of his feelings.

I am just selfishly desirous of a world in which we’re physically together.  One I don’t even know if I could handle especially on top of everything else happening now.

I have just completed all of the paperwork – all done digitally now – for the new job.  The new job that will lift me out of poverty and into a corporate universe.  A universe that I either will sink or swim in.  As part of the corporate onboarding (a term I’ll use now because that’s the kind of person I am aiming to be), there’s a website and as an aside on this website, a video of corporate values.  I wonder if, after today, I will mention work or what I will mention or where or if some additional layer of secrecy will be demanded upon my venting.  I have resources, but this is…home for all of that.  It’s just, maybe someday, some measure of the meat on the massive bones of this place will become known and attached to me and if there would be trouble if I’m ever anything other than utterly pleased.

Right now, there’s no reason to be anything other than utterly pleased.  It’s all done without a phone call.  I’ve passed the tests and all I have to do is agree not to act as though other people’s business is my own and to write out exactly how I’d like my pecuniary dispensation sent to me. But there is a video of the people who work at the company.  A very nice video, and I am pondering, how I cannot imagine being show in this video.

But then I imagine these techs, these corporate-looking bodies draped in suitedness, all of them go home and have their own weird lives and circumstances.  And I start to see myself, suited. Sitting at the same desks surrounded by the same dry-erase white boards and speaking in legalese as though I know anything.  I won’t know, but I can see myself capable of faking it until maybe the faking isn’t everything.  I can let myself visualize myself taking this on as a role, and not suddenly mutating into some sort of corporate husk.  Or, necessarily, falling on my face because I’m such an obscure and esoteric free spirit.

It is, in the end, just marketing.

The video, shot in the summer, where everything looks green and clean and enormous, has no words, but an obvious subtext: you will be happy here.  I want to fight against that, as I lay in bed, feeling the pudding in my brain.

But who is to say that I won’t?

And now I begin to think of losing weight.   With a pizza party tomorrow to celebrate the job, I’m wondering about how I gather the reins.  I am wondering how vital it is to break the chain Day One or if I’m setting myself up for failure.

Tomorrow, looking forward to getting some order around here.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: