we dance
the inevitable question comes at 7:10 in the morning in a kitchen on the east side of this piece of suburbia we like to call �tha field;� �do these shoes make me look like a lesbian ??� i don�t have the time nor the patience to discuss why society dictates to us that only chicks who dig other chicks wear flat, closed in and entirely sensible shoes. all i am worried about is that my feet have unusual heels and blister at the mere thought of anything other than a cushioned heel. and it happens that the only shoes i own, suitable for business hours, that have a cushioned heel are flat, closed in and sensible. team this with my short hair and solid frame and chances are my sexuality may be in question. but fuck that, my feet are happy.
my new job is spiffy. it�s easy to do, the people are nice, and it�s on a busy street with lots happening for extended window staring when things get boring. and this happens quite regularly. i work in a call centre, and there�s usually a gap of 30 seconds to a minute between calls. it leads to co-worker conversations about strange things, like just how do agoraphobics get out to buy mobile phone credit? and games of naughts and crosses thrown over workstation walls on bits of paper.
i don�t know if i mentioned this, maybe in the old diary, but i work at the same place my mother does. except she�s night shift and i�m days. well so far i have been, i was scheduled to do my first overnighter not this saturday but next. unfortunately that happens to be the same night as dashboard confessional. disaster was averted when a nice guy i was talking to agreed to swap shifts with me because my mum is so cool and therefore i must be cool by association. out of all the people i�ve met in the last few days, this guy seems to be the most on my level. i was telling my mum that we were hanging out, so now she is determined to make him her son-in-law. yeah, no.
there�s many funny stories about the calls that i get. however if i was to tell them you would realise what it is that i do, and i am wary about disclosing that. after all the crap with the last diary i am highly aware about how public a forum this is. so i will just say this, when i get a call, i don�t get the person�s name on my computer screen and i don�t need their name to be able to do my job. yet when the call comes in, so many people answer my initial response with �yes hello dear it�s gloria wilson [or whatever their name happens to be] here� like we�re old friends. it�s enough to make one want to yell down the line �i don�t know who you are cockshoes, and i care even less about it!�
i�ve been making the train journey home with my friend emo. it�s been tops. every day when i finish work he�s standing outside waiting for me. we get coffee and head to the station for the long, and a lot of the time delayed, trip home. we talk about work and our families and his girlfriend. i say to him that i am giving up until either chris taylor or matthew caws or both come and sweep me off my feet. he laughed, i was serious.
but i was in a deathly foul mood yesterday. well more like despondent. i came home and listened to loud music on my ibook for a while. shut myself in my room. and then went to bed early. it was nice.
2004-02-18 10:53 p.m.