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{Reservations} {Tickets} {Map} {Photos} {Souvaniers} {Postcards} {Design} 2002-12-30 | 1:22 a.m. So now, Did I do this on purpose? Did I intentionally care about folks who are scattered all over the globe, and accessable only thru the phone lines and my keyboard with the 'E' and 'R' keys wearing down -- while not caring even a little bit about anyone else (aside from my Mother and children)---Did I intentionally retreat, cold? It certainly feels like I've lost density or mass or something that used to be tangible. Expecting people to pass thru me when I get too close, I wait to move out of the way `till the last instant. Are we going to collide or will he put his hand right thru my chest to reach for the towels on the shelf? Our eyes rarely meet anymore. I can't look at him sometimes. I know he knows. He keeps diving for the phone to call his house, like tonight. Like a few weeks ago. In the hall, dim lights and on the quiet side, Rose sat staring straight ahead. She's one of my favorites, Diary. Because she really is a rose. Her skin is that sweet china doll color, and she comes out with some of the most outrageous, kooky things. I was walking near her, on a mission as usual, but I was able to steal exactly one second to bend over and tell her I really love her alot, and kiss her on the forehead. And, I do love her alot, but.... I think a little part of me wanted to say those words out loud within his earshot, also. He was in my field of vision and he saw and out of the corner of my eye I saw his face soften (which almost NEVER happens). He put his coffee down and almost threw himself at the phone, and called his wife. Instantly. Where I could hear him speaking to her. As long as we continue to work in the current manner, I'm fine with it. We're never in a room alone together, even for a few minutes. We keep discussion and chitchat down to a very bare minimum --- sometimes not saying even half a dozen words to each other in an entire shift, if we're not working on the same team. I don't catch him staring at me anymore. Somewhere inside I've decided that I would rather get as big as a house than remain attractive and put up with the possible consequences that make sore knees seem almost enjoyable.. but that's for another entry. The one thing that's helped me stay out of trouble is my hatred of the 'fan club'. Won't be a member, ever. Miss These? absence of life - 2003-07-28 |
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