Maybe things are beginning to look up.

I want to be better. I’m not really good at showing that. I’m always afraid of failure. Whenever I can’t do something, I just stop. I hate myself for not being able to bike up that steep hill. I hate myself for not being able to keep up with my boyfriend in anything that we do. He always gives me encouragement, praise that makes my heart swell with happiness but sometimes it’s just not enough. I shouldn’t strive for just his approval. I should strive for my own, too.

Dawson is racing in the Presidio 10 mile tomorrow in San Francisco and he’s so fucking excited about it, it almost hurts. I love seeing him so excited, so happy about participating in the race. We went to San Francisco today and saw Crissy Field, the area where he will be running. It was extremely pretty with a view of the entire Golden Gate Bridge. I was happy for him, I’m still happy for him, but a part of me feels sad.

I can’t allow him to go the rest of our lives running alone. He deserves to have someone with him.

One day.

On another note, I’m up to a few different things that make me rather anxious. In a good way. Kind of. I should be hearing from the anthology soon to know whether my poetry was accepted (I’d die of shock if it was), and I’m writing a novella to keep myself amused. I could tell you what it’s about, but that would just ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it? You’ll be able to read it when it’s a New York Times bestseller. Haha.

I will say this, though. Included in the novella are drugs, gay sex, drag queens and lots of filthy language. See, you’re interested already.

Today I saw a posting on Craigslist for a job new Dawson’s house at the cutest little patisserie. The man that owns it is apparently this awesome French chef (aren’t all of them awesome?) and he and his wife manage it together. After Dawson’s race I’m planning to go down to the shop and talk to them about the position. It sounds fantastic, plus I already have experience dealing with specialty foods (hooray working in a chocolate boutique) and desserts, which I’m hoping will give me some kind of edge that they’ll appreciate. The patisserie is only about ten minutes away from Dawson’s house and it has fantastic hours. It seems like the perfect position for me and I think that it would be idiotic of me to pass it up right now.

Sure, I like my current job, but sometimes you just have to know when to move on.

Fast Car

I heard this song on the radio in my car while driving home from work. It’s probably one of the most beautiful songs in the world.

You got a fast car
I want a ticket to anywhere
Maybe we make a deal
Maybe together we can get somewhere

Anyplace is better
Starting from zero got nothing to lose
Maybe we’ll make something
But me myself I got nothing to prove

You got a fast car
And I got a plan to get us out of here
I been working at the convenience store
Managed to save just a little bit of money
We won’t have to drive too far
Just ‘cross the border and into the city
You and I can both get jobs
And finally see what it means to be living

You see my old man’s got a problem
He live with the bottle that’s the way it is
He says his body’s too old for working
I say his body’s too young to look like his
My mama went off and left him
She wanted more from life than he could give
I said somebody’s got to take care of him
So I quit school and that’s what I did

You got a fast car
But is it fast enough so we can fly away
We gotta make a decision
We leave tonight or live and die this way

I remember we were driving driving in your car
The speed so fast I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped ’round my shoulder
And I had a feeling that I belonged
And I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

You got a fast car
And we go cruising to entertain ourselves
You still ain’t got a job
And I work in a market as a checkout girl
I know things will get better
You’ll find work and I’ll get promoted
We’ll move out of the shelter
Buy a big house and live in the suburbs

I remember we were driving driving in your car
The speed so fast I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped ’round my shoulder
And I had a feeling that I belonged
And I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

You got a fast car
And I got a job that pays all our bills
You stay out drinking late at the bar
See more of your friends than you do of your kids
I’d always hoped for better Thought maybe together you and me would find it
I got no plans I ain’t going nowhere
So take your fast car and keep on driving

You got a fast car
But is it fast enough so you can fly away
You gotta make a decision
You leave tonight or live and die this way

“Fast Car” – Tracy Chapman

Sunshine, how did I ever get along without you?

Brian Kinney & Justin Taylor

I find it odd just how attached I can find myself to characters in a TV show versus people in real life. Dawson and I have been watching Queer as Folk like maniacs, going through two or three episodes a day. We both find ourselves falling more and more in love with the characters and feeling like their fictional lives somehow affect our real ones. It’s a silly feeling, that’s something that I certainly cannot lie about; but I’m sure that a few would be hardpressed to say that they did not have some kind of television show or movie or book that made them feel the exact same way. Why I feel so connected it’s hard to say. The truth is I don’t really know the answer. All I know is that these characters, these people that someone somewhere just made up and Gale Harold, Randy Harrison, Peter Paige and countless others just imitate, just “pretend” to be… these characters are probably more real to me than many of the people in my life.

Perhaps that’s just because, on TV, you’re the one that gets to see everyone’s secrets without having anyone know. It makes you feel so much safer than venturing out into the real world with the knowledge that the person behind the glass can see you just as clearly as you can see him.

I blame Dawson.

Um. I worry about Dawson and myself. And our sanity.

We are very busy people.

I have about half an hour before my next class starts, so I figured that I might as well give a little update as to what’s going on in my life. Someone out there must be interested, right? Heh.

About a week and a half ago my manager magically disappeared from work. And when I say magically, what I really mean is that the district manager came in, talked with my store manager, and then all of sudden my manager didn’t work there anymore. This happened on a Friday, the 6th I believe it was. I walked into the store on Friday to pick up my paycheck and Ohlala! there was some supertiny, superblonde, superRussian lady standing behind the register counting the cash.

You can see why I’d be confused.

One of my now ex-coworkers said that we had a “new manager” and for the moment it’s all we have. The TinyBlondeRussianLady is now our temporary manager, and our store has ads on sites everywhere from Craigslist.com to Careerbuilder.com. You know, those really professional sites. We’re probably on Monster, too, but I haven’t had the desire to find out yet.

No one really knows what happened to our last manager other than she just… left. We don’t know if she was fired (it could be a possibility, because TinyBlondeRussianLady was on her way to the store as my manager and the district manager were talking) or if my manager had quit without letting anyone else know or giving any kind of hint whatsoever. Which doesn’t really seem like something that she would do, but what do I know?

Since the departure of our manager, the store has become 100% cleaner, 75% more organized and 589% more unfun. I went from having about twenty hours a week to zero due to the scheduling of TinyBlondeRussianLady, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that were at our district manager’s request. She’s nice enough (district manager) and while I can’t say that I think she hates me, I don’t believe that she thinks that I’m entirely competent due to the fact that I tend to break down whenever she’s around. Eh.

The thing that really pisses me the fuck off is that one of my coworkers, who was getting little to no hours due to the fact that she majorly pissed off our former manager, is getting twenty hours a week while I’m getting absolutely fucking zero because she whined to TinyBlondeRussianLady that she didn’t have any hours. Now, here’s the thing that really annoys me. She lives with her parents. I, essentially, don’t. She’s said before how she doesn’t need her job and that she would be fine without it. I NEED to have a job. It really isn’t an option if I want to, you know, live. She gets twenty hours a week and what does she go buy with that money? Probably some makeup or a new outfit. I work only twenty hours and what must I spend my money on? Food. Gas. That is fucking it. Every single week I barely have enough money to cover just those two things and often I’m breaking even.

TinyBlondeRussianLady doesn’t seem to understand that I, too need to eat, not to mention get around in my car that SHOCKINGLY! doesn’t run on hopes, dreams and starlight.

Cut fucking hours my ass. If you’re going to do that, at least make an attempt to give everyone equal hours. It’s only thanks to our assistant manager that I’ve managed to get any hours at all. Thankfully.

I’ve been silently searching for another position in the San Jose area that would not only pay me more but give me, if not more, then at least steady hours. I’m hoping that things at my store will change but I’m really not all that sure of most things nowadays.