Welcome to Gaia! ::

Not to interrupt this fascinating conversation, but I've got some news.

I talked to Timmy today.

It's been terribly awkward the past few days, and I didn't know if he didn't want to...(fill in the blank, but clean those mind-gutters!) me ever again. I'm not sure I would have blamed him, really.

Anyway, we talked again today. It was after lunch, again, which seems to be our cross-over time. He told me that he had gotten into another fight. I didn't know what to say except my usual "I'm sorry". He told me that he was going to talk to his guidance counselor today (who was mine, too). I told him to tell her I said hello.

But as always, I sift the conversation for silt, and leave you with the shining pebbles at last: somewhere between the awkward greeting and the strange closing, I apologized for making things awkward. And for coming on so--I lost my word there, and he filled in "strong?" with a smile. I gave him a look--both warning and playful--and corrected: "suddenly". He laughed. I started to ask if we could go back to being--he finished with, "good friends", and a little smile. I laughed, and nodded.

We walked on and talked about what we've missed, and when we left, I waved goodbye with a grin; I didn't trust myself with a hug, or a handshake, even. He smelled so good it was kind of...repelling. Like I imagine sunlight must be to a creature of the night--beautiful, but painfully so. Better to dance in the moonlight betwixt the witching hour and the waking, than to risk scorching under the shining sun. But a part of me doesn't care, that a life without Sol's sweetness is no life at all.
-----
I met this cute guy at the gym today. Brown ringlets, pretty eyes, also brown. Good figure, not too shy or outgoing. Forthcoming about himself, interested in conversation. In other words, I liked him a lot.

I'm not crushing. But I am intrigued. He didn't even know who I was, although I'd seen him around school. Not to sound arrogant, but I'm pretty well-known. I'm either famous or infamous, depending on who you ask. Some people who've never met me talk to/about me. People I've met only a couple of times remember me clearly. Everyone knows my name, whether it's uttered in praise or curse.

But he didn't. He wondered why I should--if I had killed someone or something. I laughed and said I'd come close, but no. I quickly changed the conversation. He likes Brad Pitt, too. I just thought that was curious.
---
Anyway, it was another three hour workout today, much lighter today. I like getting to know people there--this may seem weird, but I really like most of them. They aren't arrogant at all like I used to think they'd be. It's humbling that people so big and so strong and so pretty could be so down to earth.

Love and Vale,
-Andrew

I wasn't very popular in high school, well school period... but a lot of people knew me, mainly cause I played the piano in a talent show in elementary, an well advanced song for someone my age at that time.

Actually, I completely agree. *sigh* But let me give a back-story....

I tried explaining to a *new* friend of mine at the gym why I work out. When I say it out loud, avoiding the point, it sounded like gibberish. At first I told him it was because it was fun and it got me out of the house. He accepted that, and went on about his business. (I should say that this last bit actually happened a few days ago.) When I decided today to come out with it, it sounded something like: "Have you ever done something crazy that you really wouldn't enjoy so much, except that you're doing it in the name of self-improvement?" *sigh, and again*

In the end, I changed the course of the conversation, and asked him what he thought I should do (workout-wise), which he answered quite well to talk to the nice man in blue. *laugh* The personal trainer.

The truth is, I couldn't bring myself to tell him. Why should I, why does he deserve to know? What has he done that should win from me this last little secret of mine, to reveal this last little shallow torture? How could he understand what it feels like to melt away the last barrier that keeps most of the world out? How could he know what it's like to be both imprisoned and secured by his body?

You know, I can't help but feel a little like Colette from Tales of Symphonia. For those who aren't familiar, Colette is a girl/angel/thing that is trying to save the world, when things get way twisted. With each Seal she breaks, she becomes more of an angel, but at a terrible price: she loses her abilities to taste, feel pain, see, and eventually, control her own body. I feel like her, not because of the topic, but because of her sacrifices. You can't know what I mean until you've given up a flaw to become a 'you' that you've forseen, that you've felt under your heavy skin all your life. It sounds like such a bargain, doesn't it? In exchange for a weakness, you will receive (or reveal) a strength. At first, it seems great--become a better you, at little price. But piece by piece, your humanity dribbles away. You find yourself rationing out the flaws you will give for the greater good, and find yourself regretting them, just a little every now and then. It begins to seem too high a price, but no matter: it's not as though you can change it. It is the you you will become--the you you must become. You finally give in to that insistent thing inside of you, and give until you can give no more, not only from your head, but from your body, as well, and your heart. But further, in my case, I must be painfully honest about this painful transformation because dishonesty has already been given up.

I guess that's really why I ask myself so hard: Does he deserve to know how naked I feel in there, how unreasonably attracted and repelled at the same time? Not that it matters in the end. Don't you understand? Even flirting--at least the way I do it--will eventually be taken from me, probably to be exchanged with some boring pseudo-platonic virtue. But again, it doesn't matter.

I must become what I was meant to be.

But how do you tell someone that? How do you tell someone that you crave something with all of yourself, but are so afraid to give up what you must? It's true, you know: you can't have your cake and eat it, too--worse, in my case, it feels a lot like watching someone else eat their own and mine, too.

What's funny is that even now I feel this slipping away from me, this latest attempt to cling to a nature not inherently my own. I feel it slip away every day, between the cracks of my life. At lunch, when my words are weighed (relatively) heavily, I feel it slip like candle smoke into air. Walking to class, and a friend to either side of me walks beside me, not truly a friend to the other, and I know that they are walking with me because they want to, I feel it slip, like a little forgotten note into memory, and wherever memories go when they are lost. When a teacher looks at me with pride, and friends with admiration simultaneously, I can feel it slip, a resolution fulfilled or broken, but ended. When Haylie, my sweet, sweet Haylie, looks at me with those gentle eyes and tells me I look good in this color, or Robert sets those warm eyes on me and smiles, or Taylor laughs at one of my jokes, or Will looks at me without hatred or fear or cruelty of any kind, I feel it slip, like a ribbon from my hair, sand from my fingertips. And I know, in some silent corner of my soul, that it's only a matter of time. There is no running from the self. No sanctuary from Time.

I wonder when this agony will end, and when I will begin again.
-Andrew

He's completely right. Everyone dislikes their body at some point, and everyone tries to change it. I know I certainly did. My friend says she needs to lose weight even though she's 5'9" and 110 lbs, my boyfiend comlains about his height (which would be better if he stood up straight instead of slouching like a hunchback), and my brother complains about his lack of abs. Hell, I used to only wear mens clothes because I was scared of the attentionI got from boys. Until a few years ago when I discoverd the show Buffy and had serious thoughts about my sexuality. Until about the fifth or sixth season, when the show was basically, "Who's Buffy sleeping with now? Parker (who she only knew for like a week before she jumped in the sack)? Riley? Spike? Angel again? (Don't do it, he'll eat you!)" And what was up with Willow? She just decides to be a lesbian? You could've had Seth Green, Willow! SETH he's-so-tiny-and-adorable-but-my-god-he's-funny-I-just-wanna-put-him-in-a-box-and-keep-him-in-my-closet GREEN!! heart

And yes, I know I'm rambling but I'm not ging to erase it! Ha-HA! I'm gonna go get some candy.

And--I'm sorry, but I must ask--is your hair really long enough for a ribbon to slip through? Urgh.

Eh. Whatever. I'm burnt out--today I started my meds again after about a week of forgetting them, and I've spent my day washing all my roomate's dishes, eating an entire package of popsicles and crying for no reason whatsoever. *shrug* It's cool now, I seem to have mellowed somewhat.

I think you get the extent of it. "Armor against the world" is an excellent way to describe it. But...I feel like it's also beggar's rags, and even knowing that one day you'll have to doff them and don grand clothing, it doesn't make it any easier to face the court. But...I feel a queer anticipation for it. I think I'm ready to just be done with it all.
---
So tonight was a GSA party. Tons of fun, ups and downs at every turn. I founded the "lesbian superhero" inside joke, watched a great gay movie called But I'm a Cheerleader, talked to/caught up with friends, made friends, danced a lot, flirted even more, and generally let loose. That mad thing inside me took control, and I felt so...wildly free. So powerful, so in control.

I saw Timmy there, too. I'm so glad, but I will admit that it was awkward at first, and sitting next to him during the movie wasn't easy either. But even after the truly disastrous start, we fell in together, almost like it was meant to be so relaxed, so tense. Being around him is like dancing without motion, that tension when our eyes meet, the resulting heat on our cheeks, the rise and fall of our words, the wordless heaving of our chests when we think the other isn't looking. All an elaborate dance, that can only end in each other's arms, which it did, because it had to.

We were in the car on the way home, and I apologized for coming on so--he smiled in the darkness--"strong?" he supplies, and I smile again, warningly, "suddenly". We laugh. I know everything's okay. He tries to explain it, saying that he can't date anyone right now. I sigh a little; the poor boy doesn't know when words aren't needed--and I'm a writer and a bigmouth, so for me to say it was such a moment really is something. I look at him--and I have a self-conscious moment where I wonder if my eyes are shining in the darkness--and touch his arm. I say quietly, "I know, it's okay, hon." He smiles at me so tenderly that I can't help but smile and be glad for the cover of dark, for more reasons than a simple blush.

And so, the other friend in the car and her mother tried to sort out the root of a gossip-grapevine that had apparently been far overgrown, which I got in the middle of, and left Timmy sitting there quietly. Now, I sigh, because I know he must have felt left out. But really, he needs to open up a bit. It wouldn't kill him to give an attentive ear to gossip and win over a few people with that killer smile of his. *sigh*

I can't help but think he's mine. I know it sounds "strong" and "sudden", and maybe a tad bit arrogant. But I can't dislodge this suggestion inside of me. I want him. I want him with an intensity that frightens me. And strangely, it's not just the body. I'm drawn to him. I want him. Oh, Sweet Mother Of God, but I want him.

Oh, God. Is this the price of true warmth? That I can no longer frost my heart or gloss over my feelings.... Strangely, I don't miss it at all. I know it would be easier, but...I don't think I want this to be easy. No. I want this to be right.

Huh. I feel a little more like Justin. Now that's just weird. (Just kidding!)

Love and Vale,
~Andrew

Bkwahahaha! That was frickin' fantastic!
-LD

Ok. So. It took me long enough to type this up, eh?

Today at work I found the chair in one of the change rooms was wet. Very discreetly I said to my co-worker "I think someone pee'd in here." And we threw the chair away, told the manager, and cleaned the change room.

At the end of the night, the boss calls me in and says, with the union rep present, that two people said I yelled it. Now I know how things happened, and I did not yell. But my one co-worker says she was so shocked someone pee'd in there, she couldn't remember if I yelled or not, and wouldn't blame me if I did. But I know I didn't.

So, despite Jafe, the union rep, being on my side, the boss lady yelled at me, called me immature, and told me I'm being written up, because its my word against two witnesses. Considering the situation, I'd say I was actually very, very mature. Some a*****e took a piss on GoodWill property, and I dealt with the aftermath in an adult manner. I don't know who said I yelled about it, but if anyone was loud about it, it was actually my co-worker Nikki. I spoke in a level, quiet tone, because the customers didn't need to know. I am very, very angry, because I'm getting in trouble over something I did not do. She barely listened to my side of the story.

Now, I know what you're thinking. What kind of animal would piss in the change room of a not-for-profit store? People are sick. This is actually not the first time its happened. Usually they take some sort of container from the wares section and pee in that, though, and cleaning it up is a lot less gross.

One time, when Jackie still worked with us as assistant manager (I loved her, I miss her) someone pee'd in a juice jug and hid it under the linen section. Jackie knocked it over while she was dust mopping. We had to close the whole section for almost an hour to clean it up.

Another time, someone left a water bottle with pee in it in the middle of the floor near the coat section. It was just this bottle of pee, sitting there, all like it had every right to be there. I had to laugh, it was that horrible.

We don't technically have a public washroom. By law, we aren't required to have one, because GoodWill does not sell food of any sort. And we run on a septic tank, so when we did let customers use the bathroom, the toilets would back up, or it would clog, and refuse to flush, or something equally as gross, and no one would be able to use the bathrooms, both on our side, and in the Maytag store attached to us. So we stopped letting customers use the bathrooms.

But even when we did let them use the bathrooms, we would still find urine in change rooms and other places. What would be interesting to see is if we could keep samples, and have them tested to see if its the same person or not. Even if its not, at least we could see if a person does it more than once in a row. But I'm weird, which probably means that's a crazy idea.