Unity here. Individualized Support Worker, at your service. Well, not your service, really. Just Neil’s. The point is, however…

I’m complete rubbish at this.

Do you know what I’m good at? I’m good at selling books to people. And shelving books. And receiving, and returns, and opening and closing a book store. I’m good at re-merchandising, re-alphabetizing, re-organizing book shelves. I’m good at setting up displays – for books. I’m just good at books. I have been forever. I’m good at talking to people, making conversation; honing in onto a person’s wavelength – adjusting the way I stand, and the words I use, to make them feel more comfortable.

I can’t talk to Neil. I mean I can. He understands what you say, for the most part. But he has about 10 words that he uses, and when I ask him a question, I can’t be sure if he’s answering “Yeah,” because he understood me, or because he liked the tone of my voice, or something I said to him a few days ago. This job is very solitary, and I don’t do so well with solitary. In a work sense, anyhow. When we go to work at the drug store, I do 75% of the work, because Neil can’t. A manager told me to try to teach him to do the little tasks, like making sure a Kleenex box is put on the shelf the right way. But trying to teach Neil how to do something – like teaching anyone anything, really – requires a lot of patience, an obscene amount of repetition, and a level head in the throes of frustration.

And perhaps, if you hadn’t quite noticed yet, I have a very limited capacity for all of those things. In me pulses the blood of The Dragon, my father, a man who learned in the very beginning stages of his life from his stepfather, that when you get angry, you hit someone. Even though I had my dearest Mum there to counteract my dad’s acidity in me as I was growing up, I have still come to be the kind of girl who Breathes Fire first, asks questions later. There is in me an inherent impatience, that comes from both my parents, I think. I despise repetition; perhaps the root of my inability to keep a job for an extended period of time. I can’t keep a level head in the throes of frustration.

So, I’ve decided that it’s not worth it to try too hard to teach Neil how to do certain tasks, as it takes too much time, and hinders his productivity. Is this really the kind of person the Company wants working with their clients? The funny thing about that, is that since no-one wants to do this job, they’re pretty fucking desperate. So they’re willing to settle. At the end of my first week I was feeling very negative, after having to clean up adult urine - I wanted to quit. I mentioned my concerns to Management; that I didn’t think I could do it. “Oh sure you can, just do this, you’ll be fine, see you on Monday!”

Great. So here I am. I can do it, I’ll just do this, I’ll be fine, see you Monday.

~*********************************************************************~

I’m a bad friend.

I’ve really come to realize this, in the past few years or so. I think that there are a couple of factors that contribute to this.

Firstly? I’m a selfish person. Not all the time, and certainly not in all ways. But I do what I want, with very little care or concern about how it may affect other people, although I am getting better at it. In most of the jobs I’ve had, I’ve always found several ways to fuck the dog, in order to make my work experience easier, regardless of whether or not it was making someone else’s experience harder. When I worked at Ipsos, for example, I decided that not going to work, without letting anyone know, and then having my mum’s ex-internet-flame pay for me to fly to England to have sex with him, leaving my roommate to fend for himself, was a really damn good idea! When I was partying a lot, that summer, it hurt Mum every time she had to see me drag my completely-burnt-out-from-Ecstasy-and-unprotected-sex body through the door at 9:00am, and listen as I lied to her about where I had been, and what I had been doing. And yet I still did it, because it was what I wanted, even though I knew her hurt.

Secondly, my imagination. Er, that is… When I was growing up, and fell in love with books, I discovered that being alone was the most fun I could possibly have. Why go over to my friends’ houses and watch movies, paint our nails, listen to The New Kids on the Block, talk about boys, and play Dream Phone, when I could stay at home, in my perfect comfortable room, and have adventures they couldn’t even dream about. So from an early age, solitude has been my preferred method of social interaction – which is quite funny given my interest in and talent for conversation.

PLUS, I have a bad memory. It was bad before I started smoking weed every day, and you know that only made it worse.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I am a bad friend. I never call you. I don’t make time for the things that are important to you. I don’t make myself available to you the way I should, the way you deserve. I get so caught up in my own little immediate world… I forget about you, I guess.

Illustrious… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that I’ve never made watching you my first priority, because it should have been, it should be. You and I have watched each other through some of the most tumultuous years of our lives – sometimes not even that closely, but always watched. There is so much good in me that has come directly from you. You are my Best Friend, and I am so goddamn thankful for that, because I know that I don’t deserve you. I just want you to know that I am aware of how I fail you in that sense, and that I’m sorry for it. I love you.

Lanimal… It’s the Dragon in me that makes me seem like such a fucking bitch all the time. That inherent impatience, that inexcusable maturity, which contradict everything that you are, and believe in. But you ARE me, and I’m you, in all of the ways that really count, and matter, and I’m sorry for ruining your fun sometimes. Beautiful people like you, you don’t see ‘em anymore these days. It’s such a fucking pleasure to know you, and to let you take naked pictures of me. You’re my Best Friend – the female version, and I love you.

Laurimus… We’ve been ‘round this pasture time and time again. But just in case you forget, I love you too. It will be impossible for me to ever not love you, because you were It for me, back then. My Hetero-Lifemate. There will never be another. I know that I wronged you, in indefensible ways, and once more, I’m so sorry for that. I’m so fucking glad that you chose me, and that we stuck together for as long as we did. Who would we be without the other?


Have a good Wrong Leak-end.


P.S
Lan, I found that Scissor Sisters cd you made me way back when. It is making so happy, I fear for my life. Heart you sobad.