precious moments [at work]

some things really need to be documented:

“What was up with that bitch of a dinosaur that always took the cookies from the cookie jar?!”
-Suzie (on Barney and Friends)

“I would suck that shit right outta there, eff that noise”
-Suzie (on Abortion)

“i’m still calling you back, bitch!”
-Deepta

“if i come to work looking tore up with some cornflakes in my hair, you better not say anything.”
-Kathryn

“He doesn’t look like he needs any more damn brownies.”
-Kathryn

“I just called a girl called Farnaz. You are not allowed to complain.”
-Kathryn

“so, i was just wondering… you said you worked at Michigan State. so you’re familiar with FERPA policy. or did you mean you mopped floors at Michigan State?”
-me

“Casey, go back to your corner!”
-Melissa

“I’m having such a Reciprocity HA day….”
Deepta

“damnit, JonBenet’s parents didn’t do it!”
-Stephen

“i was in Japan… AKA the future.”
-TK

“too soon. like the 35W bridge.”
-anon(ymous)

“bob dylan is not a Jew!!”
-me

“these shoes have skanked!”
-Amy

“if my total hours are 4 and a half, and i took a 15 minute break… that means i worked for 4 hours and 35 minutes, right?”
-Tenzin

<3.

current mood: angst.

angst,(noun): to be drop kicked by Jesus through the goal post of life.

<3.

loosing Esmé.

so, while on one of my many bus adventures on Friday, i left Esmé, my guitar, on a bus. somewhere. in the general Uptown/Linden Hills/Tangletown/Phelps/an

d-other-surrounding-neighborhoods-that-i-may-have-passed-through area.

and being the inattentive and horrible parent that i am, i didn’t realize that she was missing until about 9 PM on saturday. i called Metro Transit, and she has yet to be found.

this kind of hurts my soul because i WOULD loose Esmé merely days before our first anniversary. whatabitch. she could have stuck around 3 more days…. that is the denial of responsibility speaking.

frowny face with tears doesn’t even begin to cover it.

<3.

assault, molestation, whatever you want to call it.

i want it to get the FUCK out of my space.

you know something is wrong when it’s 3:15 AM and there are creepers wandering around your residence hall molesting people in their sleep. sick sick sicky sick mc sickness. it’s perverted that people actually go around committing perverted acts like this. and it’s even more appalling because you have to have permitted access to the building and walk past a CA on duty, and (at night) a security guard.

i do NOT feel safe. that is NOT okay.

dear 4 AM…

dear 4 AM,

we’ve got to stop meeting like this. i’d much rather sleep with you.

love, me

<3.

“je pense que mon chien lesbien cligné à moi.”

c’est vrai.

but seriously, i actually have something to talk through.

2 letters:

first letter.

my compliment, my enemy, my oppressor, my love,

my compliment, my enemy, my oppressor, my love;

you are all of these things, but in one entity. i can’t begin to explain or understand how exactly how all of these terms end up as synonyms in my book for one thing; my love.

my compliment because you know me quite too well. or not well enough. you know exactly what to say. and how to say it. and when not to say anything at all, but rather just look. between the glances we share across the open spaces, there is little need for words. there is some need for laughter, and there is no need for explanation.

my enemy because you constantly use the few things you’ve managed to wrangle out of my insides against me. you have definitely mastered “the art of war”. and your actions do indeed speak louder than your words. or lack thereof. and your pictures speak volumes compared to the 3 words ‘i adore you’ scrawled countless times across my own. thanks for that.

my oppressor because i constantly fight with myself on how to tell you what to tell you and what you’ll say. to attempt to speak to you is like running into an invisible fence. purposeful, and yet sadly deceitful. full of false hopes. to hear your voice doesn’t soothe my ears, but rather torments my mind with thoughts of “why didn’t YOU call?” “where have YOU been?” and “are you as estatic to hear my voice as i am to hear yours?” but rather than speak these words of doubt to you, i lock them up in the small heart shaped box contained in my chest.

my love: i often think that my feelings of resentment towards you stem from the suspicion that you are oddly too perfect. and you are. the fact that i search for your flaws in the very things that should make me hate your very being overwhelmingly simulates my need to highlight the specks of gold in your eye, the twinkle in your smile and the warmth of your soul.

second letter:

let’s push pause on the game and get to know each other by our real names.

we don’t know each other.

i won’t pretend to know your favorite place to eat, your favorite color, and who you were hanging out with last night.

i won’t pretend to know what has caused you to be so sad, so happy, so mad, or any other emotions generated by you.

i won’t pretend to know how to make it better when you feel like giving up, or say the words you need to hear when all you know is falling.

but i will learn.

if you will let me.

i’d like a do-over, so to speak. a chance to be real with you, but only if you’re real with me.

and this time, i promise not to list the same 10 facts you already know. like what color my shirt is, and how i wear my hair, and if i like boxers of briefs. we’ll be naked. just facts. stories on the scrapes and bruises to come later. but you have to do the same. i can tell you what color your eyes are. i recognize the dimple in your left cheek. i know that the real reason you have a dented kneecap is because denny rogers pushed you down on the sidewalk when you were 7. not because of a motorcycle stunt gone wrong.

but really; i wanna get to know you.

<3.