Having quite the busy week, so haven’t had a lot of time for blogging, sadly. Hopefully things are slowing down a bit.
I wanted to keep up with my silly little Friday post, though, so, here’s a few more things that make me really happy.
Once upon a time, I was a clerk in a porn store.
For the most part, it was a pretty fun job. I found that I had to have a sense of humour, and that I couldn’t really afford to be embarrassed by anything. You’d be surprised what people will come in and ask you. Or maybe you wouldn’t.
The best was when men would approach the counter seeking my advice on what to purchase for their partners. “How’s the vibration on this one”? “Does this stuff feel good”? “Would you recommend this”? As if I’d personally sampled every product on our shelves, or that doing so was just part of my job description. There were a few things in the shop I could make an informed comment on, and if I could, I would, but for the most part, I’ve never felt a need for massive vibrators, dildos, or novelty lubes, etc.
One of the services offered at the porn store was DVD rentals. Now, just prior to being hired, there had been on-site private viewing rooms that customers could use. I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am that they shut those down the week before I started. My very first day I heard such horror stories of having to clean up those rooms from the veteran staff. Ugh.
But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have horror stories of my own to tell. So many times I sent customers back home with the DVD they were due to be returning telling them “You’re going to have to clean that up before I can accept the return”. There were times I wished it was store policy to wear latex gloves before accepting rental returns. I learned to keep a small bottle of hand sanitiser on my person at all times. Thankfully, despite having had to reject returns on many occasions, it was usually a one-time event with a given customer. Usually.
Overall, though, I had little to complain about. Most week nights it was pretty quiet, and I’d stand behind the counter with whomever happened to be on shift with me and make commentary about whatever porn was playing on the TVs above our heads. The adults-only version of “Mystery Science Theater 3000”.
Sometimes, just a little bit, I miss that job. On the other hand, it’s nice not to worry about having a bottle of Purell in your pocket at any given moment.
Last week I wrote a post called “Fourteen Thousand“, in which I made a short list of things that make me happy. I thought that maybe, in the spirit of never taking anything for granted, I might make a short list every Friday from here on out of things that, well, make me happy.
Yes, I know I didn’t write the first list on a Friday, but, “14K Fridays” sounds nicer than “14K Wednesdays” and Fridays tend to make me happier than Wednesdays, anyway. We’re going to call this Week 2. Right, enough babbling, on with the list!
Last night, for the first time in about two weeks (seriously, it’s a shame we Americans don’t use the term “fortnight”) I was finally able to sleep mostly straight through the night. I’d been trying to go to bed at my normal time each night, but at best I’d doze off and wake up anxious an hour or two later, unable to get back to sleep.
I really don’t recommend trying to function this way.
This morning, though, I feel rested. Alert. My head isn’t foggy, my limbs aren’t heavy, and my heart doesn’t feel like it’s been working overtime. It’s lovely. It’s amazing what a little sleep can do, and how little you appreciate what it does when you’re doing it normally.
Since I’m feeling so good, hopefully I can knock out some things on my ever-growing to-do list! Keeping busy may have the added bonus of providing me with a solid reason to avoid a certain friend of mine, as well.
I must be doing something really wrong, because it seems as if it’s just one thing after another with my friends, lately. Surely the common denominator is just me, when all of it seems to be going wrong at once?
A few days ago, a certain friend of mine asked me for a favour. It was an odd favour, to be sure, but odd doesn’t necessarily mean bad, and it seemed innocent enough. At least it did until the following day when he confessed something that, to me, seems directly connected to the favour he asked for, even though he swears it isn’t. The confession caused the favour he asked for to seem inappropriate, even disturbing and downright creepy. Now I feel sort of used… and manipulated. And I’m finding I really don’t want to speak to said friend.
Ooh, could I be more vague? The whole thing is so weird that I feel awkward and embarrassed just by nature of it having happened to me.
Again, though, all these things going wrong with friends all at once, surely I’m somehow the problem. The only thing they’ve had in common is me.
Alex has booked his flight to come visit me for two weeks.
For my part, I can hardly contain myself. Every time I think about it, my heart starts to race.
The last time we tried this getting together thing, it ended disastrously. I either hit my head and had a seizure, or I had a seizure and hit my head; I can’t recall much past feeling a bit funny as I was walking through the airport in Houston, Texas, so the order in which it happened is unclear. (He thinks I’m clumsy enough that I may have just tripped over my own two feet and hit my head first).
So, I’m crossing my fingers and my toes that this time everything goes smoothly. I mean, he’s a little less accident prone than I am (I think), so I imagine his odds of arriving in one piece are significantly higher than mine.
We’ll be celebrating our one year anniversary during his visit. I think it adds a very nice sense of occasion, of course, but it would be a special occasion if he showed up on any given day. A stormy Monday would be the best day ever, if it was the day he showed up. For the record, I hate storms and Mondays.
I can hardly believe it’s been almost a whole year that we’ve been together. I just hope it’s the first of many, many more.
It’s six weeks yet to go before he gets here, and already I’m wondering how I’m going to bear seeing him off at the airport when it’s time for him to leave. I joke that I’m just not going to let him leave, but must confess I may only be half joking. I probably shouldn’t be admitting to that, because now if I drug him and chain him to the basement wall, well… you know. I’ve left a trail of evidence.
Some little punk decided that it would be fun to mark up the front of my house with “UK13”.
I’ve Googled. I’ve asked around. I’ve no idea what this “UK13” signifies. The little vandal is remarkably silent on the subject.
The neighbours caught him at his little bit of mischief just as he finished. Being that my landlord’s house is just on the other side of mine, my neighbour all but dragged him by his oversized ear straight there. He won’t explain what “UK13” is, but he’d apparently rather spend some of his free time trying to scrub it off the front of my house than have to pay restitution. The landlord thinks a toothbrush might be an appropriate tool for this job. We’ll see how that goes.
Why couldn’t I have been vandalised by someone with some artistic talent, though? I mean, really.
I’m not actually planning on listing 14,000 things here in this post, but I did own a book entitled 14,000 Things To Be Happy About. It was a cute, fat little book that legitimately listed that many things to be happy about,. Or, I think it did. I never actually counted, and it was not a numbered list.
I used to carry it with me everywhere that I went. When something would make me smile, I’d grab a pen and scribble it down in the margins of that fat little book. Somewhere along the way, I lost that book, and so I thought that I might start a new list.
I think that’s a good start.
NB: Thanks to The Cincinnati Zoo & Botanical Garden for the video of the red pandas playing!
As I wrote, though, some of what I wanted to say got a little lost in the flood that came when I began recounting my personal experience. I want to try to correct this. I hope that this time, by taking things one small step at a time, I can actually express my thoughts without getting lost in a sea of emotions.
People can be so quick to judge.
Most of even the most hard-core Pro-Life people I know or have encountered allow for “special cases”. Most of them will concede that either in the case of rape, or in the case of the pregnancy being the result of failed birth control and being a great risk to the mother, that abortion is “understandable” or “allowable”. When they know my story, they will tell me that they understand that I was in a terrible position, and that they understand why I would choose my health and life over carrying the pregnancy to term.
But, a lot of them, if I left the story untold, if I simply said, “I’ve had an abortion”, would immediately begin passing judgement on me. Thinking, or even outright saying, “murderer”. I have had this said to me, by people who don’t really know me, or know the full story. Hell, I’ve even had some people say it to me knowing, at least partially, what happened.
I wonder, honestly, if they think that I actually need someone to make me feel worse.
Here I am again, up well past my bed time.
There are a zillion thoughts running through my mind right now, most of them to do with two very specific and very traumatic events in my life. On the one hand, I feel compelled to talk about my perspective, and on the other, they are things that I have only really ever discussed with a tiny number of people, and there is so much anxiety wreaking havoc upon my brain that at least tonight I can say without doubt that I know from where my insomnia is coming.
Don’t read the rest of this if you think it might upset/bother/offend you. Please. In the rest of this post I talk about rape and abortion. Consider yourself warned.
I have no clue what the French toast is going on here in the past couple of days, but it seems that comments have been malfunctioning. Gosh, I am really sorry. If you’ve already had a comment approved here, you aren’t supposed to have to wait for moderation.
But worse than having to approve comments for the previously-approved is the fact that WP (or possibly it’s Akismet’s fault, I’m not sure) has just been shoving everyone’s thoughts into spam. Rude.
Also, I honestly can’t seem to figure out why in the world there’s trouble with being able to comment using WP accounts, or Twitter, Google+, Facebook, etc. It works for me when I use them (having just finished spamming the heck out of myself. That sounds dirty…) but I know that’s not necessarily an indicator of them working properly for anyone else.
I’m trying to sort it out. And for those of you lovelies who inadvertently wound up with your comments marked as spam, I believe I’ve corrected it, and I’m so sorry! I know you’re not spammers! ♥