The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

econoline crush

A. called this morning, much earlier than is her usual habit, and her tone was hysterically upbeat, in a forced way. We made small talk before she told me that she was really on edge, that her husband who is normally very laid back is suddenly morose and depressed because he's worried he will be jobless by June. Since he's in construction, and since I actually went to that information session last week about job/career training, I was able to tell her that the Canadian government is going to be throwing a huge load of tax money into the infrastructure, which means construction will be booming soon. Are you sure?, she asked weakly, and I said yes, that the H.R representative was very clear on that point. She exhaled dramatically and thanked me for being 'sparkly', and since it is not usually my way of dealing with things, she wondered what was different?

'I'm not sparkly,' I laughed, 'It's just that it's always easier for me to see possibilities and hope for other people. It's kind of like 'my thing'.'

'Well, whatever it is, I am so glad I called you.'

That was nice to hear.

We chatted for about a half hour about our shared disgust for the news agencies who are basically working their asses off to scare every single living person on the planet. Even gossip bloggers are documenting job losses in between saucy tidbits on the Brange and Gay Midget Dwarf. We are, once again, being thrust into a very contrived world of terror, and it really needs to stop. While job losses are obviously distressing (and I should know), this is a transitory situation. Right now, all the garbage and fat is being cleaned out, and it was really, really overdue. No, this doesn't help anyone who is in danger of losing their home right now, but giving up isn't going to help either. And let me just say this: higher taxes actually benefit you in the long run. Take a look at Denmark, a country with huge taxes. You have free health coverage, excellent old age pensions, free education, something like 2-5 years maternity leave, and it is supposedly the happiest country on the planet. I just can't understand how knowing you're investing in your own future is a negative thing?

But, I digress.

I'm glad I was able to make her feel calmer about things, which is nice if not incredibly funny. I told her about my night out last night. I met with S., a woman I had worked with, and I was disappointed only slightly that my 'boys' weren't able to come out. The gays are sensitive, you see, and T. was too cold to leave his house, actually asking if we could switch it to another night because it was 'fleezing outside'. He can't work his 'r's properly. And then R., my favourite, cynical boy couldn't get his mother to bring him out, and that he's twenty-eight and able to take a cab rarely occurs to him. I was fine with it, though, because I was really only interested in real conversation from the beginning, and S. is just the cheerful sort of person you like spending time with. We went to a pub, one she favours, and we spent about four hours chatting, laughing and revealing. She ate her chicken fingers with a knife and fork, and it took me over an hour and a half to eat my falafel and salad. While speaking with A. today I mentioned how much I missed female interaction, at least, face to face girl conversation, and she told me she was so happy that I ventured out on my own. So, I think I might invite S. to come over for dinner in the next few weeks. I haven't entertained since my old friend V., the one who was always eager to duck out and go home so she could sit in her bathtub and drink big glasses of scotch, alone. While I miss V. now and then, I don't miss her fickle way of friendship. I'm not opposed to speaking with her anymore, but I am fairly set on her being the one to initiate any kind of conversation. I am done being the one who waits by the phone. She's not even a guy, for crying out loud.

And, I registered for the computer course. I walked to the school (which is actually a high school but the course is designed for adults), and I breathlessly made my way to the third floor computer lab where I chatted briefly with the teacher. I am not nervous about the course, but I am nervous about whether or not I should be taking it at all. I need to make money, and somehow taking a computer course daily seems stupid when I should be out looking for meaningful employment. All that aside, though, I stand a better chance of finding a job I actually like if I get the skills needed to improve my resume. It's free, it's within walking distance, it covers everything from Word and Excel to Photoshop and Architect. Seems too good to pass up.

My mood yesterday was...prickly. It's only marginally better now, which is why A. calling me 'sparkly' could actually fit in a more negative way. I asked M. which song he thought would best describe our sex life and I have to say I called it. 'The 1812 Overture!', he exclaimed with a cheeky smile, and I flattened him with a 'Yeah, you wish'. Then he asked me what I thought would be better and I said something in the vein of Berlioz, or something else which might come off as dark, depressing and sinister. He frowned at this, and I had to wonder why I'd even said it, until I realized that passive-aggressive behaviour is sort of my 'thing' with him. No wonder we don't do it as much as I'd like. Then, he said that it is because of our various impediments, namely all the colds and flus we've been dealing with, my gallstones, his migraines, and yes, his mother's passing. I could have left it alone, but what did I do? What did Ms.Sparkly say? She said, Actually, it's more to do with utter laziness and lack of interest and imagination. He frowned again, looked hurt, even, and instead of issuing a quick, tidy 'I'm only kidding!', I left the room. Then, just to be even more confusing, when he was bending over later to tie up his snowboots, I rubbed his buttocks before squeezing them appreciatively. He looked at me confused. I realize that he was totally justified in doing so.

Most days I can't even figure myself out, but at least I'm sparkly.