I have a few things. About he and I, and about my ex, and about her, and about work (always about work, huh? it’s kind of disgusting), and about books.
First, about he and I:
I have been extremely anxious and hesitant to begin serious wedding planning because the reality is that we are just too poor right now to live together by ourselves and not face a paycheck-to-paycheck existence, which (and I apologise if I seem selfish here) I would NOT like to do.
Now, ever since the beginning of August, they’d been teasing him at his job…talking about getting him promoted into management, and talking about salary, but then…nothing. Until today. He got a text from his boss, and the regional manager who was supposedly reviewing candidates for the position FINALLY gave them the okay to promote him.
Ah. So exciting!
So now we can start actually planning things. And by this time next year, there is a very real chance that we will be married. (And I will skip about my ex and about her, and go directly to the anecdotes about my own job…)
I don’t know what is going on half the time anymore. I am increasingly thankful for my residual ability to dilute my emotions…when I gave in and relinquished my position as an administrative supervisor, I had hoped I would be more or less done with that role and would only have to focus on floor operations. Not so. They still have me doing both things, although it’s worse now because our other three supervisors have been in their respective positions for less than 6 months, and half the time they don’t know what they’re doing. Or they act like it.
I am trying to be understanding and not assume they do stupid things just to vex me, but it is hard. (Ye gods, you would not BELIEVE how trying it can be to work in a MOVIE THEATRE.) And add to that a man with a gun in one of the theatres over the weekend (I try to tell our bussers to STAY PUT while I find out if it is safe to go back out in the hallway, but do they listen? Of course not.), and one of our managers getting sick and going to sleep in the middle of going through closing procedures…
I almost wonder if that last was a test. Just to see if I could do things on my own. Which I could not, by the way…I know all about the paperwork side of closing, but not all of the cash handling procedures. It is hard. But at least I have been commended. I do enjoy that. (At least, I do when I am not feeling suspicious and wondering if I am getting commended because I am doing such a good job, or because they had such low expectations for me that they are that easy to exceed. Sigh)
Biannual reviews should be forthcoming in the next month though, so I guess I will know soon enough.
Now, about her…
We still have to be friends in secret. Apparently she is not old enough to be promoted, since she couldn’t legally work behind the bar. Doesn’t help that she’s told me she doesn’t even know when her birthday is. (Liar. I should Facebook her mom and ask. Except that would be creepy.) So since we liked her best (apparently), and can’t have her, we just haven’t promoted anyone. Add that to my list of work-related vexations.
On the bright side though, we are going to an art gallery on Thursday. Hopefully she will not be too embarrassed to be seen with me in a Halloween costume. The latter I would be doing anyway…the art thing…well…I am wracking my brains to think of indoorsy things we can go do that do not involve food, and I forgot that the art gallery at the university I went to is free. So we’ll go there. She likes art things. And hopefully it will not be completely dumb. And I can, I hope, restrain myself from appearing too interested in details about her opinions of my poems.
Truthfully, it isn’t even the writing I am curious about. No. Because I am narcissistic about my constructed self, and not necessarily as much about my writing, I want to know her interpretation of the writer as a character, based on what the writer has written. (Yes, that’s all well and good that in current critical theory we should be able to separate the writer from the works…but seriously, who doesn’t still think about that regarding every single thing they read or watch or listen to?)
I feel like there are two themes she probably liked in the poems: the constant death theme, and the one that would coincide directly with her construction of herself as “fake gay”…
Anyway. Writing. I haven’t anything else to say about my own, but I do have things about books I’ve read lately.
So, I can’t remember what the first story was that I read from Laird Barron, but somehow I encountered this writer in a book of weird short tales, and I must’ve liked whatever it was I read, because sometimes when I am itching to get a new book, his is one of the names I search for.
Toward the end of August, I managed to find a copy of a collection called The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All, in the giant Barnes & Noble by the theatre.
I liked every single story in the book. Although I need to go back and reread them again sometime because either my brain blocked out sections of every story, or this author has a sneaky way of NOT segueing from one thought to the next. Like, you’ll think you missed a part and you’ll go back and look but the title story was this ridiculous satire of writers who are currently involved in the weird fiction genre. The primary object of satire being an author whom I can only guess is Thomas Ligotti. (See what I mean about segues?)
Now I genuinely wonder if Ligotti really does insist on putting up such a show of anonymity as in the story, or if that is all made up…or if he genuinely is so reclusive that people make up stories about him not being a real person, but a creation of a bunch of other weird tale writers who wanted to write anonymous, paranoid stories about creepy things.
Not wondering in, you know, an obsessive way…just…moderately curious. And curious about who most of the other writers and editors are who were in attendance for this story. Obviously the whole plot (and for all I know, the characters) isn’t based on reality. The author kills himself at the end.
But…it’s the kind of story I don’t think I ever have read before. Where currently living authors are written about as characters. Interesting stuff.
(As an aside…I am still irritated that Borders went under, since they always had a better selection of stuff that was to my liking. I feel like the Barnes & Noble I go to knows about me though…because nearly every single book I’ve bought there for the last three years has been the only one in stock. Like they get single copies of things, just because they know I will come in eventually and they want to have something on hand that I might be persuaded to buy…and you might also be saying to yourself that I should try a used book store when I want to find things: that is not good advice. I have never once found a specific title or collection in a used book store that was of the type I have gotten into the habit of reading. I can only assume that people who are seriously into this type of writing–enough to actually purchase the books–usually buy them for keeps and don’t resell them very often.)
Ah. One last thing.
So. I saw that a girl we both used to be friends with has posted about her cat dying. Pets dying is always sad, so I clicked on her page of cat pictures and looked at the poor old kitty for a little bit…and then I went back to her page and noticed my ex’s photo in her friends list. So. I clicked it. And I am sort of amused to see he is in a relationship with someone who looks a hecka lot like I did when we started dating. That’s alright. I am pretty awesome, after all. Plus…I guess some people really do have a “type”. Can’t say that of me, since he and Jester look very much different.