Friday, the assistant manager at my store keeps me standing outside for about ten minutes as he rants about how little power he has. I shift from foot to foot with the new, automatic smile on my face. Yeah, I sympathize for him, that really sucks. You shouldn’t be treated this way. Inwardly I’m thinking that maybe the reason why nobody takes him seriously is that he’s a diva and has not yet earned the right to wield authority in the store. Just maybe. Finally, after one last discreet glance at my phone, which tells me that it’s just about ten o’clock, he gives an unceremonious wave and leaves.

I go home and watch a movie, and it’s the first time in a while that I have almost an entire weekend ahead of me, unadulterated, free. It feels strangely good staying up late and making some simple dinner and stretching out on the bed to watch the movie before finishing a few chapters in my book and then falling asleep.

Saturday, after having totally forgotten that I had planned to finish going through the old house and gathering the rest of my stuff, I rush back from the gym and see that the guys have chosen this day to move. It’s bright and early and a huge U-haul. I suppose it is fortunate that I have shown up; I do what I need to and clean up. Together we throw out bagsful of trash, setting it out on the curb for pickup the following week.

Aw, this is sad, my cousin says at some point. I give him a look.

You’re not sad, I said. You hate this place, and you made sure we all knew it.

He looks passive for a moment as we continue hauling trash out of the house. Well, you know, he says. It is kind of sad. We’re all moving.

I wonder if it’s that he means to say that he and I are going in different directions, since he and our other roommate are moving in together. So it’s not all that different for them. The only difference is that I’ll be living on my own from now on. Either way, I don’t say anything, only continue cleaning and moving things.

When the house stands empty, we part ways with vague allusions to making plans in the future. Really all I want to do is sit by the pool the rest of the day. I end up out there for only an hour since I forgot something to drink and don’t want to walk back to the apartment then back again, but during that time I read a bit of my book and watch a cute French couple with their adorable daughter splashing about in the end closest to me. The sky is blue and clear and the sun warm but not too hot for July.

I clean up, cook some food, put in some movies, and generally relax and have a good time basking in the solitude of my place.

Sunday I go out to the pool early and there is a man who, without my glasses, reminds me of Daniel Craig from the first James Bond movie. He wears the same Speedo shorts and has roughly the same build, but as I look closer (with my glasses on), I realize he really looks nothing like this person and is in fact old, slightly overweight, and has a pronounced limp. I smile and make conversation with a few people there before leaving to get ready for work.

I’m still not used to doing what I feel like when I get home. It’s easy to take for granted. Already the long year of living with roommates I’d started to dislike so early on is wearing off, the excitement and peace of having my own space making my life absolutely amazing right now. I feel relaxed, rejuvenated, and can’t wait to start the week.

SPOILERS!

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The new apartment is cozy, tucked away on the bottom level of my complex.

Immediately upon walking in is the kitchen on the left, the rest of the living room opening to the right. There is a fireplace and a door to the porch. The bedroom has a nice walk-in closet, and the bathroom is right next door.

Like I said, it’s cozy. Living there with someone would be difficult and cramped, but for a solitary person it is nice. Quiet and peaceful, the only noises an occasional thump from the neighbors upstairs, the hum of the refrigerator, the gurgling of the fish tank.

Right now it’s a mess. All the objects in my life, everything I own, is scattered about here, packed away in boxes, shoved unceremoniously into containers and bags and wrapped up. I can see the value right now of owning less. In fact, it feels good throwing old things away, things I know I will not be using again, things that have done nothing but weigh me down since dragging them here to Georgia.

Well, I’m happy. I had a pretty decent birthday, full of friends and laughter.  I also have three cakes sitting on my counter. Two angel food cakes (my favorite) and one chocolate cake, which I still haven’t dug into yet. I’ll post some pictures of the place when I get it cleaned up though!

My dreams have been rather sinister and confused lately. Last night’s was something about a sailing trip gone awry, where some of the members of my old writing group from senior year in college and I became lost on this cruise. We sailed past strange yet familiar locations while aboard a yacht. There was a library with low shelves. The sky was far away and very blue, and although I knew we were lost and the faces around me changed, I didn’t mind. I wanted to be lost for a while and not found, because I could always just find my way home when I was renewed.

Grievances:

• T.A.G. has the most annoying voice ever. She works at one of the county departments we deal with, and every time she calls, I want to reach through the phone, grab her around the neck, and strangle that whiny, shrill, little-girl-voice right out of her.
• I’ve been snapping at people left and right. Every little thing grates on my nerves. Every phone call jars me down to the core, every favor that’s asked of me sends a cold, uncomfortable chill down my spine. I can feel the bad thoughts and feelings curled there, in between my shoulder blades. This is not the week, I want to say to them. Shut your fucking mouth and find your own answers. This is not the week that I have any. One coworker asked, “Have you seen another mouse pad?” And I smiled and shook my head. She might have been scared if she’d been able to hear the mental reply I kept silently from her.
• Friday I worked until 12:30 in the morning, on ornament set up. This pissed me off mostly because I was not asked or informed that I would be staying this late. Instead, it was simply assumed that I had telepathic powers and would accept the news happily. But in reality I felt an inner rage at this news that kept me quiet for a long while until I could find some time to myself to swallow it and fully accept. It’s not like there was any alternative. I did say to my boss that perhaps next time, foresight should be exercised, and the assistant manager should be the one who has to stay, not innocent coworkers who have not volunteered for the privilege. And while I scored some brownie points, I did not make any extra pay, so I did the job joylessly.
• Speaking of Friday night and those brownie points, which vaulted me into the number one Hallmark Pet spot, my manager also spent quite a bit of time confiding in me about the troubles of the place. (It is never drama-free, at Hallmark). The assistant manager sucks, apparently, just sucks. He’s lazy, self-serving, and doesn’t really seem to understand his role as assistant manager.  They tell me he does nothing in the back room all day, and only comes out when my manager is actually present.
  It’s interesting though, because he and I bonded a bit during my shift yesterday, spending part of it talking about True Blood. Then later he bought me a package of chocolate-covered cherries. I feel a little two-faced, sharing my distaste for lazy people with my manager, but then turning around a few days later and ingratiating myself to the assistant manager and with the knowledge that he may be on thinner ice than he knows. Oh well.

Things are painful right now, very painful. I am in desperate need of a vacation, or a job that pays much more than my current one does (so I can quit Hallmark and have weekends to myself again).

I’ve taken up drinking any substance with caffeine in it again, mostly because I find it quiets the evil part of my personality, the one that craves nothing more than silence and isolation, the one that thinks of rude things to say and do when I let my guard down. In June I decided not to drink as much as I had been and to cut back my caffeine intake because I felt like it was turning my insides to garbage and affecting how I slept. But now, since I’ve been working a lot, sleeping and eating less, and going to the gym more, I’ve been dropping some of the random weight I’d put on and feel like it’s no big deal to indulge. Especially since my job is to be nice to people day in and out, I can justify a lovely, sweet chai frappuccino on the days that I have not slept very well.

I feel abashed when I vent in certain arenas of my life, because I should feel lucky to have two jobs, when many people have none and are still struggling to make ends meet. My second job allows me to have a few hundred dollars extra every couple of weeks depending on how many hours I work, and this seems a small price to pay for fewer days off. But I feel run ragged, living my days from 6 AM to about 10 PM with little to no time in between for thinking, reading, breathing.

I suppose that things are going fairly well despite all of this. I will be able to afford this place, and it will be my own, and life is unfolding rather pleasantly now, even if I feel a few shades away from being completely nuts.

Well, a few days until the boy visits, and then a few more days until I have to have my act together. Then maybe I can let down the mental walls and relax a bit.

Two weeks ago sometime, my land lady brought by potential renters to show them the house. This was fine, because I know that it needs to be done so that she can ensure that there’s no end to the income she’s been making off of us for renting. But it did worry me. There would be strangers walking through the house, my room.

I cleaned as much as I could, and on the day that they were coming through, I wondered if they would judge my room as neatly chaotic or messy or absolutely awful or something. But I put it out of my mind and went on with the day. Whatever they thought, it’s not like I’d be around to hear it. Oh well.

That worked fine for me, until I got home and my roommate told me that the girl who had walked through inspected each room, then went upstairs to check it out.

Our house is small, and going upstairs means you’re in the large space that encompasses the entire attic area. Basically, my room. Apparently while up there, she asked, “Oh, is this a boy’s room?”

Now, I’m not really offended, just perplexed. What was it that gives my room the supposed boyish vibe?

The color? All my furniture for the most part is black. Except for things I’ve been given, my drawers are black, my futon frame is black, my bed is black. The rug is black with gold swirls. My desk is black. Even one of the sets of curtains is black. But everything’s black because, I don’t know, it matches everything. My ugly walls (yellow), new apartment walls (white), everything. All the time. And this doesn’t mean my sheets are black. In fact, they were blue with green pillows. The blanket featured blue and red poppies with a white background. What’s masculine about that?

Was it the toys? Okay, I’ll grant you this. I have some toys that are probably more like toys for guys. Whatever. Action figures. Some mice with swords. A vault boy, from Fallout 3. And my only stuffed animal right now is Domo, who sits on my bed as a pillow. But why can’t girls play with toys too?

The electronics? Maybe the computer with tons of discs and game boxes didn’t help. Or was it the stack of computer-language books on the desk itself, or maybe it was having multiple phones sitting out, charging. Or the second computer, also on the desk? I pose nearly the same question as before: why can’t girls play with toys too?

Was it the books? The first books you see are my sci-fi/fantasy books. Harry Potter, LOTR, ASOIAF, and the Master + Commander series, not to mention a handful of others that can fit on the same shelf. I suppose you can’t really see the books unless you cross to the other side of the room, next to my bed. Maybe they didn’t go that far. Maybe they just saw the comics. Which I can see then, leading them to believe it was a boy’s room. But girls can read comics too, right?

So what then? Did the girl not see the lotions? The nail polish? The bottles of women’s perfume? The jewelry?

Okay, I suppose guys can like those, too.

Mostly, I suppose the lesson here is that not everybody fits into a neat category based on their gender. Like me. This girl was clearly thinking that if my room really belonged to a girl, that there would be white or flowy curtains, perhaps white furniture, more pillows and stuffed animals, and overall a girly feel to it. It probably surprised her that the girl’s room was so utilitarian, straightforward, and littered with androgynous stuff then.

But I’ve never known how to be girly, per se. I’ve always much preferred straightforward things, climbing trees, running around and getting sweaty, video games, and reading. I see nothing wrong with this, and now that I have my own space, I’ve always liked nothing more than to decorate it with things I like. Just because those things include sci-fi and fantasy  novels, Harry Potter paraphernalia, Fallout 3-related items, and technology doesn’t mean I like things a guy would like. It just means I like those things.

Oh well. I still like my room. I was thinking earlier what my new palette will be for the apartment, and right now it seems like it will be black and grey. With some other color thrown in (turquoise? Maybe. Pink would be nice but I’m not a pink person. So maybe turquoise, or blue, or something like that).

Life has been intensely crazy, which is why I have not been posting much lately. This is sort of what’s been happening:

• I’m moving in about a week to a new apartment. By myself. I cannot tell you how excited I am for this. People who talk to me on a regular basis will know how much this means to me, though. Trust me… it’s a big step.
• Did I write earlier that I have another job now? So far it’s not too bad. Working at Hallmark again (and yes, even though I vowed I would never step foot as an employee inside a Hallmark… they happened to call at a very good time), so I know I’ll have some good stories or something to add to the stash of notes I’ve kept since my last part time job.
• It’s my birthday next week. My plans are to move. Then maybe I’ll think about calling up some people to see if anybody wants to go out with me to celebrate, but if they don’t, then my back up plan (and possibly the first plan of action, depending on how I feel), is to get a pizza, some Michelob with lime, put on a movie, and watch and eat in the midst of all my boxes and what not.
• I went home for the 4th of July and celebrated with my friends.  For some reason every time I see them now, I wish I or they lived a little closer so we could hang out more often. I never really felt like this in school. Perhaps it’s because now, having been out in the “real world” for a little while, I’ve realized how difficult it is finding people you actually connect with, or feel comfortable with. I don’t have to keep the shields up very far with most of them. It’s refreshing, really.
• Oh, and my booklist for the past month was mostly just books by Charlaine Harris. You know, True Blood. That and I finished Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, and am currently reading A Storm of Swords.
• Continuing on the entertainment front… I saw Public Enemies over the weekend, and cannot wait for Harry Potter on Wednesday. SO EXCITED.

Well, that’s all I can think of. Now back to work for a few more hours… at both jobs…