i'm freeeeee-ee and i'm haaaaa-aapy. ~v. femmes

Today was a breeze!! I can't believe it. I am so elated about the change in my life. Everyone at work is so supportive. They are "bummed". They will "miss me greatly". "good for you!" Way to NOT be a secretary all your life!

I am so shocked and appalled. I was a total slacker at this job and I am praised for it!! Oh, the trillions of excuses I made up for the tardiness that was never noticed. I deserve some harsh punishment or at least a good stern talking-to. But I am begining to realize how unlike the world that is. Nobody actually says what they should say. It's skirted around. It's whispered between manager meetings and one-on-ones. Nobody is fired. Nobody is promoted. Corporate politics 101. Avoid the issue, promote the idiot, and above all else SUBSERVIENCE AND SUBMISSION to the corporate gods and whoever is above you. Do you know that I've been working here for 8 months and I still don't know what my boss does? He's the manager of the dept! I guess my worst punishment is my own damn guilt. What do I owe the company? What do they owe me? What does anybody owe the corporate world? What is it we are trying to find at the top of the big illusive pillar (Try reading: Hope for the Butterflies)

Last night I had the worst nightmares about encasing myself and friends in wax and shrink wrap in order to preserve our bodies until the earth (or whatever planet we were on) was healthy enough to support us. We were still alive, but in danger of disease or sickness or lack of air or sand storm or some kind of invisible deadly. I watched my friends die as I was dying myself. It was so sureal.

And awful. And I feel so priviledged to have had the dream, to have experienced it, to know that I thought of this. It makes me feel kind of hollywood. I have that pleasant unsettling feeling like that erie feeling after seeing Requiem for a Dream. Do we actually dream these horrid things? Why do I enjoy them so much? I love the horror of reality, it's like pinching or biting yourself to feel the pain. Perhaps it's the endorphines or the sense of mortality. Perhaps I like to look pain in the face so for once it is not looking back at me.

I didn't get to talk to judy about sex. Should a shrink dig enough? I need her to. I need her to say, now what about intimate relationships, Molly? What about sexual relations? What happened in your past to make you this way? Why are you afraid of commitment and la-tee-dah.. At this point she would break into the shrink song and dance and entertain me with a little number from Newsies in her very east coast way.

But i'm going to talk to her. I have to have some role in this self-help. I know what I need. I need to talk to someone about what has been bothering me for so long, and since summer has decided to gnaw at my brain... (Don't worry cats and kittens, the truth will be revealed to you in due time.) Next week have to tell her.

Every time I think I am ready I back away because I am not ready to face some aspect of myself. But this morning, on the way to the train I had an on-the-way-to-the-train epiphany. Perhaps, just perhaps, this new found knowledge, this special thing inside that broke a wall of my fortress somewhere inside is just the begining and who I am is waiting there. I like it -- then I don't like it. I've begun to crumble and for once it doesn't scare me.