The Truth of Luck and Chance
2nd March, 2017. 5:47 pm. It's starting to seem like a series of exhausted nights & days...
Don't get me wrong; I love my job. I don't even mind the 4 am part. What's wearing on me now is seeing Sergei as exhausted as he is, working 6 days a week, and sometimes his computer gig in addition, all graveyards. No matter what, graveyards fuck you over. They're not normal hours. They make you batty. And working all of them, with barely a half a day off, aggravates that even more. He's tired all the time. His eyes flutter in his sleep, which they never used to do. He talks in his sleep, which he never used to do. My boyfriend... what is becoming of him??
He's ultimately taking all this like a champ. He's not getting testy. He's still showing up and doing it. A weaker man would have said fuck you and walked away. He told me today that the one nice thing that happened all week was when we went to dinner together at the hidden pizza place next to Erin's old place. The sweet older woman who always serves us was there. We had the chef's special and got to spend time together and just talk... until I had to come home and catch up on some errands, and he had to get a long overdue haircut, and then we both had to go back to sleep, just to work, and do it all over again.
I haven't been caught up with anything since getting back from Michigan. I feel like all I've been doing has been chipping away at social obligations, cleaning the apartment, keeping track of bills and other tasks that I need to accomplish. Michigan was like a fake lull in life, false relaxation. (More on all that later... I want to give that chapter the due diligence it deserves.) And I won't lie; Sergei's situation is stressing me out, well, because I love him.
I'm not even scratching the surface of all that's gone on: I want to write about Sosthene, the engineer from work, and how he got fired, and it's some bullshit, and his bright personality, and how I think he had a little crush on Felicia. I want to write about mid-American horror stories from Michigan. I want to write about my family, and how our matriarch passed away, and how it was beautiful and perfectly memorialized. I want to write about having seen Mom and Dad and Eric, and maybe gone on our last "vacation" together to Frankenmuth. I want to write about how Otot and Ben got kicked out, and what's going to happen there, and how my neighbors really are all coming together to help each other out, because that's what neighbors are for. I want to write about how wonderful our Erin is, and about other Erin and Nikki and Dave's chocolate shop. I want to write about how Olivia is starting to be scandalous with her liaisons with hotel employees, and how I get it, but how I can see it all fucking her over in the end. I want to write about Belem and Rabin's baby Camila, but honestly, I don't know much about her, because I've yet to see her. I'm forcing myself to go in just a few minutes, because I have to. Regardless of how exhausted I am. It is appropriate to see small children when they are born. I want to write about all the adventures Sergei and I (and Erin) are going to have once any of us gets the time off, including seeing Roger Waters (!!!). I want to write about some serious considerations that he and I are having, also ;)
I'll get back to this soon. Time to get ready to see a baby.
17th January, 2017. 8:29 pm. Return to Innocence/Enya kind of day
I finally feel like I'm done with all the chores I planned on doing today, which seemed to drag out terribly. That's my own doing. I really wasn't feeling it at all today, but I have this nagging in my conscious (yes, it may actually be a 'conscious' thing), that I must keep the house clean or I will disappoint my roommates and myself. It's not proper to have a dirty house! Where did I get all this Victorianism/compulsion over the years?? Nobody is telling me to do it. Least of all Sergei, and Erin has never voiced any complaints about dishes in the sink or an un-vacuumed rug. Whatever. I'd make a perfect housewife if it ever came to that, at the end of the day with my book and a glass of wine. I do have wine... I should have some before I head out later. :)
Sergei's schedule is whacked; my schedule is mildly less whacked. He woke up this morning at 5 am for some reason and started a conversation with me, which I egged on with a proclamation and desire that I wanted pork katsu don, and the search for it was on. The plan was made to get it the next morning, because evidently, it is a typical Japanese breakfast. That I did not know, until Brian from work knew exactly what I was talking about when I described it. Then I fell back asleep, and he watched a movie...
When I did wake up eventually, which sleep is nice~, Japanese food was acquired, and I was still so tired. It's like the sun puts me to sleep. I drive Sergei to work; it's brilliant out; I know that I only get a few hours of sunshine because of the winter time change, and yet, I fall asleep on the couch. It took some serious having to motivate myself + coffee to get moving this afternoon/evening, but now here I am with the apartment mostly clean (not the bedroom... that doesn't nag at me as much), and a decent amount of night energy. I'm not entirely sure if I like the idea of being a night type person. I mean, I guess it works with my going out to bars and maybe some of my baking stuffs. First thing in the morning I've got all the energy! Late at night I have all the energy! Middle of the day, not so much.
Being alone in the apartment all day and switching between little projects and reading The Master and Margarita
put me in an "Orinoco Flow" and "Return to Innocence" kind of mood. I haven't listened to that type of music for years, but today it worked with me. Ultimately, today has been a gentle day, and I like that. I really like the peacefulness of it and the quiet. I get so much energy and conversation at work that it's nice to just relax for a minute.
Tomorrow is the employee party at the hotel. The theme is masquerade ball, which I can get behind. Last year's theme was cowboy, and fuck that. It was boring, the food was not interesting, and there was maybe a smattering of people that I wanted to talk to. This time, I've got Sam and Stephanie (and Lauren) at least signed up to go, and the rest of the bakery as maybes. Sam and I have already acquired masks from The Wizard's Chest--unfortunately the same ones, because there was such a limited selection. I figure I'll wear my glittery black and purple dress, don my metal lace black mask with the peacock feathers and my black lace gloves and call it a day. We'll hang out for the requisite amount of time, then duck out and head across the street to La Loma to grab some margaritas. Unfortunately, boyfriend is working at that exact time, so he will only be able to pop in and say hi. Too bad, because he cleans up nice.
Well, as a pretty uneventful conclusion to a pretty uneventful day (which is not bad, actually quite pleasant), I'm going to shower and head to the bar for some reading and writing.
7th October, 2015. 2:29 am.
Of all of the fucked up things that I've been involved in, and that I've witnessed, this is the worst. It's the worst, because I love him, because I believe
he's a wonderful person, who loves me. And yet, here we are. And it's fucked up. He's my partner, and he's so far away.
26th March, 2015. 11:15 pm.
According to Poppy Z. Brite, who is now Billy Martin, we must continue to use Livejournal, and post everyday--but not just stupid shit.
19th September, 2014. 12:04 am.
It might be the rum runners, but--albeit everything else, I work at a place called Grateful Bread and bake for the Mutiny Information Cafe. There's got to be something cosmic about that.
9th August, 2014. 5:42 pm.
I've been worried about how exhausted I've been lately, but then I remembered that I'm working a lot
, baking for Mutiny, somehow managing to build a relationship with Kenny, still read a book almost every 2 weeks and keep up my social contacts, and, oh, I'm going to Florida next week. Beaches. All the time.
4th April, 2014. 3:13 am.
I was wrong.
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2nd April, 2014. 7:31 pm. Spring
I really like this person. Like, I'm kind of stupid in love with this person. I haven't told him this yet, but for no particular reason. I was about to yesterday, when at Grateful Bread, two of the dough hooks were sitting on the bench, and with the light from the window shining all sunset-y brilliant on them, they were hooked together just like a heart. I was gonna take a picture and text it to him, but didn't want Kandra to run out of patience with me for, you know, snapping pictures at work.
I'm waiting for him to wake up from drug-induced sleep to go out to dinner. My boyfriend's going to be a toothless hillbilly by this time next week. That same sickness that he's been having (and giving me every once in awhile) is caused by not having insurance and his teeth. So he's getting them yanked out. I told him he's not going to be able to yell at people in the kitchen if he can't talk due to lack of teeth. He said he would get a white board and write in really big letters. This is going to suck a lot...
I wouldn't be anywhere else, though.
The scatterfuck of jobs and work has settled down a bit. I'm still working both jobs, but now the Grateful Bread shifts are on the same days each week, so it's manageable. I'll be putting in my notice at the Brown this week, and done by the end of the month. I think. Brett's been having me bake for Dougherty's, but not in any kind of organized way. Basically, he's asking me real nice, and I'm coming up with formulas for him. And then baking them the first time around, because, you know, he's busy. The Irish soda bread project for St. Patrick's Day & the Stabbing (can't comment about one without the other...) went over really well. I made giant biscuits to counter the Denver Biscuit Company's brunch down the street, which also went over really well. Why? Because the chef can sweet talk a pretty baker girl. I'm not quite sure what's going on with baking for Mutiny, but I'm letting it be until I'm fully recovered from moving and sickness.
I got my bedroom for the most part unpacked!! It's all coming together. The apartment is small, and we're cramming two studios worth of stuff into it, but it's getting there. We had a lovely fire going a few days (or a week) ago. We have plants in all the windows. We have Johnny Cash (Beth's) and Pink Floyd (mine) posters in the living room. When I have more time off and more money, I will grill all the time in my courtyard. It will be glorious! So far the neighbors we have met consist of: the manager of Sassafras, the Southern Eatery in the Highlands, who hangs out at Dougherty's, and a guy who works at Sweet Action Ice Cream. South Broadway is getting smaller and closer...
I like things right now.
19th February, 2014. 8:41 am.
Love is like crack. And then you don't have it.
15th January, 2014. 1:23 pm. Sad Little Goth Girl
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So this is what had happened--I think I met someone amazing. I know
I met someone amazing, and now I'm feeling human emotions and thinking in terms of relationships and co-habitating and such. It's not quite Facebook status official. (The running joke in my head, because, you know, us twentysomethings and the internet...)
I brought Brett, the chef from Dougherty's, chocolate for Grinchmas, because that's what I do. When I asked him when I could drop it off for him, while I was walking to my car and he was smoking in the alley beside the restaurant, he said anytime, but I should leave my number too. I said I was pretty sure I'd already given him my number. And he said, yes, I had, but like a dumbass, he'd lost it. So I left him my number in a box of chocolates, and he called me that night and insisted upon taking me out for dinner. We went out for Thai food at the Thai Monkey Club down the street, which is surprisingly good for a hole-in-the-wall restaurant with a weird name and slightly creepy monkey paintings on the wall. We went down South Broadway and had drinks; we met up with Brent for a minute at The Historian and had horrible beer-battered cheese curds, which Brett insulted very openly, which was awesome. We hit it off.
We talked about everything
from traveling the world (he worked in the Caribbean for awhile, went through Europe, lived in Boulder, grew up in New York and New Jersey), to post traumatic stress (he was there during 9/11 and went to many, many funerals), to bikers, to books, to food, to sex. Of course sex. I told him about my 'situation', and he stopped me from explaining myself in my most feminist and sex-positive way and said, "But I really like you, and I still want to be with you." And we danced to Sinatra, but not "My Way" because I'd burst into tears with that song, and it felt normal and right and beautiful. Be unapologetic. That was my new year's resolution. I told him everything he could dislike me for, and he still thought I was awesome. I think that's how it's supposed to be.
He called me up the next day and asked me what I wanted for lunch. I was literally still gummy-eyed and crazy-haired, but he insisted on bringing me lunch. Convenient, right? Working right below me. Living two buildings away from me. He brought me lunch and we fucked, and it was kind of the most awesome way to wake up, ever. He went back to work, and I went back to sleep, and he woke me up later that day telling me he'd bought me a present. I'd already planned on getting him a present! I knew
Mutiny had The Buddha of Suburbia
, and he'd told me that he'd lived that life when he was growing up. So I ran over and got it, and when I saw him that night he gave me a book too, and it's actually a good book. Like, eerily good, and maybe just the segue I need back into magical realism. The whole thing was super cute. :)
He kept saying that I should be his girlfriend and he should be my boyfriend and that he couldn't stop thinking about me, and he couldn't get my smell out of his head. For the first time in 6 years, I really thought I had a boyfriend. Like, this was legit. This was real. This was happening.
And I opened up, and I trusted him, and I had feelings, and I put myself at risk of having my feelings hurt. I felt sexy and beautiful and normal. I didn't regret a thing about the people of the past, and I was only concerned with the future. Stuff was happening so fast...
Then he was upset, because he had to fire his sous chef, because his sous chef was going back to prison. So I brought him beer and bud (which was a total random occurrence--the new creepy cook guy from Sobo offered me some when I was talking to Deborah about the whole situation) and we talked and kissed and such. That was pretty much what happened. I saw him the next day in the alley on the phone firing the guy, and he called me over, hugged me, kissed me, and said he'd call me later. I texted him that night about the aurora borealis thing, but he said he was tired and he'd call me the next day. I didn't get called, and haven't gotten called in days. I texted him 2 days ago, and he said he was tired. I offered to make him dinner, but he said he just had to go to bed. I texted him yesterday saying I missed him, and he said he missed me too, but it had been a tough week. I'm torn between being upset/angry/hurt because we went from everything to nothing and I got no explanation and wanting to be supportive and sweet, but not creepy and overbearing, but if I scare the crap out of him, it wasn't meant to be. I've been moping around and going to Sobo every night to cry to Deborah and drink rum runners. Filip and I had a heart-to-heart, which is always a bad sign. I don't know. I don't know. I wish things would work out. If we just saw each other...
I kind of sort of want to build a life with him. That's hard to say.
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