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2002-01-09 / 10:22 p.m. ~Now, and Prior to Now~ I am here now, but for the record, right now, let's try going back, in increments. I just fed the cats. There was no way around it, not with any comfort on my part anyway. I made them sit. "Sit", I said, and sit, they did. I like to do that, gives me a sense of power in our relationship. They like to take advantage of me, tell me what to do and when. "I will sit upon your lap now", says one, or the other. So I construct a lap, legs together, feet on the coffee table. "I'm now going to lie against your legs, pinning you beneath the covers". Okay, fine, I will let you, because one day you will die and I will miss you, so now I let you abuse me. You are warm, and sometimes that's good. But every now and then I remind myself that I am ultimately in charge and Norma and Gladys must do my bidding. Yes, this is MY house, okay, apartment, and I bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan, etc., etc., and they know how to "sit", I taught them, long ago. It's so cute, you should see it. If their little butts aren't all the way on the floor I make them wait until they are. All the way. A complete "sit". Tee hee. Prior to that, I ate a container of fruit I bought tonight after work, at Publix. Publix called it "fruit salad", but I'm thinking a "salad" should have some sort of dressing, even if it's fruit syrup. With no dressing at all, it's merely cut up fruit, right? I think so. So I won't call it a salad. I ate a container of cut up fruit. And it was good. I should eat more fruit. I thought so before I ate it, before I chose it for my hand basket in the store. I thought so as I was eating it, and again, after. I should eat more fruit. Fruit is good. And good for you too. Why don't I eat more? Ahhhh...it requires preparation. I am lazy. But cut up fruit, Publix "fruit salad" for example, pre-cut, is easy, quick, tasty, fresh, but semi-expensive. I digress. Prior to that, I watched "The Ice Storm", on WE, Women's Entertainment Television, a ridiculous cable network, but they show movies, commercial free, bleeped for purity. No dirty words, but no commercials. It's a tradeoff. I'd seen "The Ice Storm" before, once, in the theatre after it came out, when it was new and semi-unheard of. I sat in the theatre after it was over, watching the credits roll, as I am wont to do, listening to the end song, "I Can Read", by David Bowie, or is it "I Can't Read"? Anyway, I was blown away, and here, at home, years later, I was almost as blown away, again, but less so, on a smaller scale due to the smaller screen, the cat interruptions towards the end, the "Hey, it's time to EAT!" interruptions. That movie is cold, it's icy, everything about it is cold, not sterile, but cold, everything but the apparent temperature, which struck me as really odd this viewing. No visible breath from mouths outside, yet the trees are bare, the ice forms on branches. No shivering as people exit the warmth of interiors. No sign of cold, physically, of physical discomfort, but mental coldness is everywhere, emotions are lost, yet there is this constant yearning for any sign of feeling. Maybe they all wish they could feel the cold. Maybe they'd like to shiver. Maybe they're all constantly being asked if their feet are cold because their companions expect them to feel, look for them to feel because they can't feel themselves. Ang Lee is an incredible artist. He crafted an amazingly subtle, yet deeply layered film in "The Ice Storm". I love his movies. Love, love, love. The music is really wonderful too, and the parts where the only music is the ambient sounds, the clicking of the tree branches, the small and skinny limbs as they blow against each other in the wind before the storm. The glass wind chimes covered with ice, the sound of ice being broken from an ice tray from the freezer, the closeup as we watch, several times. Ice, ice. And it was all in the '70s. Maybe '74, '73, and I remember the big Ice Storm of '73. My mom and I slept with coats on, under heavy blankets, no electricity for our heat. We heated canned food in our fondue pot. Just the two of us. The 7-11 across the street from our apartment complex remained open, candles lit in the windows. Seeing the fashions duplicated, the toe socks, the tight sweaters over shirts with long pointy collars, that Mary Tyler Moore look, the wife swapping, the hints at a silicon chip future, and styrofoam peanuts to prevent "trauma" in shipping....the hints at modern technology, all apparent in the film, such tremendous attention to detail. And I thought yes, everything was simpler then. I almost wish it was then, minus the ridiculous fashions. Minus the disco music, although it's campy and fun now, it was embarassing then. Now, anything goes, music, fashion, hair, piercings, tatttoos, but technology has far succeeded us, our own personal development, our evolutionary development, it's gone too far, and I wish we could turn back time. Prior to that, to getting lost in that movie, again, letting myself be absorbed, needing to be absorbed, I watched "Jeopardy", to escape, to wind down. Prior to that, I shopped at Publix after work, and I realized I'm tense every time I go there, because I use my canvas shopping bags (and I saw they had more of them for sale than before, maybe I'm not the only one buying them, but do others USE them???) and the baggers don't know how to bag them. They're so easy to bag, they hold SO much, but every time I have to shake them out, show the bagger how much ROOM there is, Look, See?, I'm saying, You can fit it ALL! See?? It makes me tense, having to explain, and I wish they weren't there at all, I wish I could bag my own. Aren't there stores where you can do that? I want to bag my own, I don't want someone behind me rushing me to swipe my ATM card and get out, I want to bag, carefully, then swipe. Why is everyone in such a hurry? Prior to that, I was tailgated, as always, and every time I get in my car I am tense because of some asshole wanting to drive on TOP of me. And why? They floor it to the next stop light. You can see it red, up ahead, and they're passing me, faster, faster, I want to stop faster, they say. Why? I'm puzzled by life. Prior to that, work slowed down, finally, things are cooling off, the initial "OMIGOD, I'VE GOT TO CHANGE MY ADDRESS SO I CAN GET MY W-2!!!!" rush seems to be over. Next is the "WHY DO I HAVE TO WAIT 'TIL FEBRUARY 1ST TO GET A REISSUE SENT TO MY NEW ADDRESS, WHY CAN'T YOU SEND IT TO MY NEW ADDRESS NOW???!!!!" madness. Well, you missed the cutoff date to update your address. I promise, the IRS will not handcuff you and drag you away if you don't file by April 15th. Yes, it's true. They want you to be afraid, but there is no need. In fact, you should file on the 16th, just to be on the edge. Yes, living on the edge is advised. Oh, you have budgeted to get some fat refund? That was silly. Poor money management on YOUR part, eh? Indeed. And you moved, did you? And you didn't think to update your address 'til now? So, now your W-2 is going to be late? Know what? You, my friend, are what we call SOL. S. O. L. Sorry. Phase 2 begins soon. The stroking, massaging, it's okay, aw, you'll be alright, yes, I understand your frustration, etc., etc. Customer Service Hell. The part where I am close to screaming. Several times a day. Prior to the slow down, I trained a temp. Delandra. Two new temps, African American, of course. They no longer hire white people. Maybe white people don't want to temp in offices. I don't know. I look around the site, and when I see another white person our eyes lock. We look surprised. We are a dying breed.... Delandra is slow, very slow. Not like Lulu was at all, boy, she caught on so FAST it was insane. Delandra is slow, as molasses, as a turtle in a contest with a hare, as a developmentally challenged youngster in a special ed class. I had to tell her everything over and over and over and over....you get the idea. I'd say, "Now click the minus sign to minimize the window. The minus sign. See it? In the upper right corner? The minus sign. You want to minimize the window. See it? No, the minus sign." "Click on 'Inquiry Type', please. See it? Left side, 'Inquiry Type', no, it says, 'Inquiry Type', see it? Click on that." I - was - very - stressed. I took deep breaths, I leaned back in my chair, I closed my eyes, I stretched. I tried. I tried to relax. I was thankful I wasn't training the other temp, Quincie. Yeah, Quincie, a grandmother, a woman with a horrid, loud voice, slurry speech, sounds like she was born in a barn. I'm horrible, I'm judgmental, sue me. It's phone work, customer service, using computers...is it too much to ask for people who can talk on the phone? People who can type? People who can spell? People who know how to use Windows? Who is sending us these temps? A monkey???? Some monkey is at Spherion Temp Agency, picking people to send us for peak. And hooting and hollering, and throwing banana peels up against the walls to see if they'll stick. Five and a half hours training her. Once I got my cube back to myself it was bliss, sheer bliss. I decompressed, not too rapidly, no bends involved, just me, deep breaths, my free weekly newspaper, reading some alternative press editorials, I even almost laughed. But, I'm here now. I'll leave having to train during peak behind me now....training during peak...insanse.....my job.....hate it.....always, nothing's changed, must leave, must leave, must leave. Soon. How many years have I been saying that? Now. 11:00 p.m.. I don't want to see the news. I don't want to know who got shot, how warm it will be tomorrow, how soon it will be that it will be cold again, or how many people we killed in Afghanistan today, in the name of "war on terror", an oxymoron if I ever heard one.....I don't want to know. Being here, now, in this very moment, is sudden relaxation, the hum of my PC, the flashing of my cursor, the vertical line which flashes when I stop typing. Now. The sound of the TV left on in the living room, the movie I elected not to watch. The soft light from the lamp on the bookcase, the cat toys on the oriental rug. Warmth in my hands for the first time in weeks. So warm I know I'll wake up in a sweat later, now the down comforter is on the bed.....Gladys wanting to get under, me saying, No, it's too warm, it's too warm.....and me drifting off into one dream after another. Last night I dreamed I received formal written complaints about me from my ISP. From the Diaryland Design Gang..........And I thought it had escaped my mind. It was merely suppressed. Now, now is proofreading, editing, and signing off. Cost of the War in Iraq
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