this isn’t really part 2 ….

…. BUT I’m not sleeping so I just wrote this instead. It’s 2:10 a.m. and I needed to dump out some thoughts. It’s entirely stream of consciousness, really. So it’s probably completely incoherent.

There is little to no punctuation in this. There is no capitalization. Oh — and there are probably mortifying spelling errors! I’m usually more careful, but I wrote it in a frenzy on a document page elsewhere and pasted it here. It might be a little trying to get through it the way it’s written, but I’ve spent a large part of the evening crying and then just wrote this off the top. I did not censor myself. I wrote what came. For those offended by the “s” word, stop now, I guess. I’m sorry. That word comes too easily to me sometimes. But these are my ramblings and here, I guess, you see some of who I really am:

i felt like i wasn’t even made of solid today i did not feel i was there i was almost sure i wasn’t – yes, employees were interacting with me but i was able to pass it off as some secret club in my mind — almost — just us — until i dropped a stack of coffee lids on the floor and a customer nearby said well that didn’t turn out the way you planned. and it’s silly, but i thought — he saw me — he SEES me i am here i’m not a vapor or a cloud or something that belongs to the air and flight no i am here and he sees me and recognizes me as someone who works here i want to cry my job isn’t coming back to me i can’t believe ive thought that for so long that i actually was treating it like it was – say – a boy i loved and we were perfect for each other and he broke up with me and i spend the breakup – months and months – thinking we’re perfect for each other he didn’t mean it he’ll be back he’ll call me. i know. how can he not call me the one who’s perfect for him? but he doesn’t call and he doesn’t call and i realize i am this child this grownup child thinking this shit as i stack plastic coffee lids and drop them on the ground i am nervous and i show up in a mint green polo shirt and the uniform of black pants and black service job shoes and the shirt is green because she called and said if you look like an easter egg you’re okay wear pastels i remember thinking that didn’t sound right but i went out and bought several pastel polo shirts because i own zero pastel polo shirts because i don’t like pastel polo shirts or polo shirts in general. so i show up a perfect easter egg i feel like a moron i don’t wear this color – who wears this color – she looks aghast at me as i stand there between the two other trainees dressed in head to toe black they are the perfect heavily disassociated artist type guys and i am an easter egg with black sturdy soled service shoes. the whole day they call me the easter egg — easter egg will be the first to go — haha little shits — im almost old enough to be the little one’s mother. i ask him if he’s nervous he looks disdainfully at me no, what for? it’s no big deal but i am nervous i feel i am going backwards in my life i feel i am at my first job like i am 16 and yet i’m not, so i’ve no excuse and i went out and bought a pair of new black service job shoes to help me go backwards in my life and as i stand in them in their newness they feel wrong on my feet and it makes me wrong all over and they stand in the cool darkness blending in and i am the easter egg in the shirt i hate more with each passing moment. with a name tag on it – a name tag for crapsake. one of the guys says will you EVER wear that shirt again, i mean, REALLY? its high school i’m in high school, wearing the wrong thing and paying the price for it. she’s cool about it admits it’s her fault she miscommunicated duh and i can order a shirt and have it deducted from my check cheap place won’t pay for a damn shirt it’s all of 6 dollars i’m very excited about it. as the day wears on the mint color of my easter egginess doesn’t combine well with my nerves i notice i have growing sweat stains on the under arms of my minted egg shirt i am an all grownup woman in an easter egg shirt and sturdy soled shoes with sweat stains under her arms. i try not to move my arms much so no one will see i make sure not to drop anything else i clean the toilet in the bathroom and that is the best part because i can lock the door and no one can see me i am not there. at one point we’re outside on the patio with our free coffees – the three of us and her – and she gives the big harassment lecture how she has no tolerance for any harassment based on gender, age, race, sexual orientation, religion. she is adamant forceful zero tolerance for that. she leaves us to read the riveting handbook which i actually DO read while the guys talk. they are open about being gay i interact with them, we’re laughing etc and i go back to reading. they sit there. we’re being paid actually to read the damn thing so i figure i should read it “are you guys done” no, well, we skimmed it. oh. so the little one says out of the blue – so tracey let’s get this out in the open – he sounds all mocking, like it’s a big joke he can’t wait to get us all in on – what religion are you? religion — i HATE that word and i am stunned he’s asking me this and the other guy suddenly leans forward in his seat and no wonder i’m sweating they are both smiling and i can’t believe the question after her big speech and all-so i try to make a lame joke wow going for the hot button issues right off the bat are we? well come ON he says we want to know. and i sit there with so many thoughts that i swear minutes must have ticked by but it’s not that long and in my peasized brain at that moment i can think of no other light deflection and their eyes are weirdly looking at me and i have to say that i am scared to answer the question. in this neighborhood with its certain cultural sensibilities which don’t work in my favor on this particular question. and i feel as much as gay people are afraid – and SO often rightly so – of christians and judgment and mistreatment, that i feel that same fear right now, as he asks that question I don’t want to be misjudged I don’t want assumptions made about me either. and STILL i cannot think of how to change the subject. it felt inside like some bizarre spiritual battle raging – in those brief seconds while i fumbled for thought and they didn’t let me off the hook, either one of them. i didn’t want to say too much because it’s work and all – right – and it’s the freaking FIRST day and i don’t know you and i don’t want to be judged either BUT my mind would not let me be a sort of peter either. i could not deny what i believe. the only words my mind could think and say were well, i’ll tell you this: i’m a believer. and later on i cried and cried about this because i thought i’d said too much and i thought i’d said too little and i worried that i’d denied my God. i mean, i didn’t say i’m a christian so maybe i was a coward. now i think i was a coward – and i also think he had no right to ask – and i also think i shouldn’t have answered – and i think many things it is useless think now because it’s done. i looked in their faces though as i said it and the eager glow had disappeared. they had wanted to share a joke with me, that was the sure vibe. i know it. and i guess i ruined the joke clumsily but to me it wasn’t a joke it is part of me – and truly not enough of me. their faces almost fell and i felt awful like well can we be friends or did i just ruin it? nothing brings down a room like religion and politics, right? but he really put me on the spot and i am ashamed that i froze like i did. i had asked nothing of them – just hoped to be given a chance, just hoped to fit in on my first day. just didn’t want to seem too big an ass. and after that all i wanted was to clean the bathroom again, lock the door.