Current Ramblings
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
Sparkplug! Light our darkest hour!
Took my new MP3 player to work today so I could listen to it while I vacuumed before we opened. It's really, really hard not to dance in some way to The White Stripes' "Hotel Yorba".
I had some terrible dreams last night, and I think I'm going to blame it on a co-worker's suggestion yesterday that getting contacts "gets you hit on more". Y'see, I don't wanna be hit on more. Sure, I may get the cream of the crop at conventions, where just being a girl geek gets you points, but in the real world the only men who hit on me are in some way creepy. They're all either way older than me (and I'm not saying older guys are creepy, only when they're hitting on me) or clearly..."mentally challenged" in some manner. I don't mean dumb. I mean special ed. Maybe normal guys my own age realize that I'm so nice to them because I'm at work and I'm getting paid to be nice, so they don't assume I would also be willing to give them my number. Maybe normal guys my age are, much like me, spoken for. I don't know what it is, but I know that more male attention is exactly what I don't need. Which comes back to my nightmares. The first had me alone in a house at night, housesitting or something. There were creepy stalky things happening with other guys as a buildup, but the part I remembered well, the part that made me wake up, was a creepy man outside a sliding glass door insisting that I give him my driver's license so he could find out everything about me and saying he would come by later, and howling "Noooooooo!" at him was what made me wake up. There were definite overtones of defenselessness and potential rape to all this, maybe because when I'm at work I can't really tell these dirtbags off. (I did have my boss run off a particularly creepy one once, though, who wanted "a female assistant" for a "computer project".) The second one had me visiting a friend in a sprawling single-story apartment complex that was plagued by an older professional-looking man who tneded to stare in people's windows. I ended up sleeping in this friend's room because I was crashing at his place for the night (none of that dirty stuff, now), and I laid there mortified by a shadow behind the blinds that had to be this peeper. I can only assume the second dream was a leftover from the first, but it all serves to remind me of why I absolutely must get through school and get out of retail. (It also reminds me why I was so keen to get a third-floor apartment rather than ground floor. The door has gouges from when somebody tried to break in 20 years ago, and there's no other way in without a tall ladder and a lot of attention.) I spent most of my high school years disguised by the androginy of grunge and alt-rock fashion primarily to ward off unwelcome male attention. I just need a way to moderate between looking acceptably in-style and presentable to myself and looking hot to dirty men. Most of you have seen me. I don't exactly dress like a ho.
But at least one of our ClearChannel stations here - a useless AM station that played redundant oldies for people who didn't have FM tuners - just changed formats to progressive talk radio, complete with Al Franken's show and one or two others from Air America Radio. That was nice.
posted@8:29 PM by:Trixter: 0 comments