The Worm Has Turned

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Lord Mango

*-TOO MUCH INFORMATION

It's raining. I love the rain. I especially love it when it rains so hard it makes little rivers, when the lightning flashes and the thunder cracks.

I didn't have such a good day. Worked a midday shift, nine to five. One of those days where nearly anything anyone did annoyed me. I don't know why it seems so difficult for people to attend to their own job and let me attend to mine. Stay in your goddamn deployment area, that was DRIVE THRU TODAY, and then when that creepy guy comes up to the counter YOU don't have to deal with him and I don't have to hear about it later. And hello! If he's so damn creepy don't be so nice. Civility is all that is required, not sugar. Don't whine later that he was bugging you when you were acting like it was okay. Christ, these people make me sick sometimes. It seems nobody uses the brains nature gave them. The ungodly amount of whining these kids do...one boy said he's going to have to cut back on his hours, he's sooo tired. It's not your job and high school both that's making you so tired. It's your job and school and the rediculous amount of partying you do.

They're pathetic and sometimes I just want to scream. Tomorrow will be better, I hope. The girl causing the trouble? Today was her last day. She's moving back to Florida. I have an opening shift tomorrow and though I hate the up at three AM thing (three AM is for staying up 'til, not waking up at) opening is relatively simple and most of the morning flies by during rush.

But I'm pretty damn tired myself, emotionally. I've been reading The Hand Sculpted House and it's just amazing...but it will be years before I even begin to do any practical learning. I feel so scattered and there's part of me that wants to withdraw more from the world than even I am now...it presses in on me, so-called modern life, the reality poisons me. But I know I can't withdraw. It is a prison sentence, in which I'm not locked away but thrust out into the poisonous turmoil, surrounded by endless noise and sythetic life. Only my children make it bearable, my fierce, funny, brilliant children, who are marching to their own drummers just as I taught them they could.

I have to try to sleep now.