Friday, May 20, 2016

The People That You Meet

I'm finding all the good geeks. My people!  I need my people in this sea of strangers.

There's this guy we'll call Frank.  Why Frank?  Because he keeps introducing himself to me as Frank, knowing full well that I know his name is not Frank.

He works in the studio. Ther's a full studio/control room setup here for making videos (as you do in a studio).    My first day there went something like this:

Director: "Have you met Blogget?" (The answer is yes, several times.  But he says,,,,)

"Hi!  The name is Frank. And you're Susie, right?"

"Good memory," I say, shaking hands.

Director: "Everything you need is out here in the studio. Excet props. You have to bring any props you want."

Frank: "Except rubber chickens. We have the rubber chickens."

Me: "Of course you do!  What would a video be without rubber chickens?"

Frank: "Right?"

Director: "...ok... I'll be in the control room."

Frank: "That's where all the fun happens."

Me: "How so? They don't have the rubber chickens in there."

Frank stops. Gives me a raised brow. "I'm so glad you're on board with this!"

We have a lot in common, Frank and I. A love of Star Wars, Doctor Who, and Firefly. ("Hello. My name is Frank. And I have a model of the Serenity.")  We also have British significant others.  His wife is from Kent.  And BB is from Yorkshire.  We have a lot to talk about. ("How about that brown sauce?")

My geekdom has caught the notice of several technology people.  Woo hoo!

My mom said something when we were coming out here that has made me pause, though.  She said, "I have a feeling this move will be good for you.  I hope you meet the love of your life because I don't think you have yet.  And I want that for you."

It's true.  I've been in love a few times.  But I have not had The Love of My Life yet.  That makes me sad.  It's what I want now, more than almost anything, and I hve this dread that I will meet the end of my days before I meet that person.l  Before I have that Big Love.

What about BB, you say?  He could be that person.  We just don't get to spend a lot of time around each other to find out if that's how our lives will entwine. But I long to find out.

Oh how I long.  This makes my heart exceptionally heavy.  It pains me.  I've never had a "This is the Love of my Life" moment.  Experiencing love is so important to me, and I've never had that. 

It makes me a little angry, too.  I know people who have it and don't appreciate having it.  I've given my all, and I don't have the opportunity to explore it and find it for myself. 

What have I done so wrong to be so forsaken?

As I've said, maybe BB is that person for me.  I need time with him, for us to know each other as best we can and discover what we are together. But that's not being given to me.  I wait. And wait.  And it's making me tired. 

I feel the clock ticking.  I feel my mortality, and it is devoid of that enveloping, encompassing love that I long so much to share.

Oh, nah-fuck.

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

It's pronounced Nah-Fuck

Really.  It is.  Quit giggling!

And here I am. Things have happened so quickly!  I'm at my new job now, wrapping up the fourth week.  Can you believe it?  We've moved into a house.  The truck arrived just over a week ago, and we've still living with oh so many boxes!  Can't find anything.

I made the Big Drive with my mom and my dogs.  That was an adventure!  Four days on the road with the pups!  They traveled well, thank God!

When I left Colorado, I got ris of a lot of stuff.  I mean, a LOT.  Had to make some bold decisions about what to take and what to leave.  I decided that I'm done with heels.  I'm not comfortable in them anymore. With my vision challenges, I'm not stable in them anymore.  Doughter won't be home again for another year, so she can't take them from me.  So...I called Jacob.  Who is now living full time as a transgender woman.  I will now use the proper pronoun for...her.  She came and got the shoes from me.  It was actually good to visit with her again.  I wish I'd had more time that day, and I was a terrible mess.  not so presentable with all the packing and cleaning, but that's the best I cojuld do at the time.  I'm sure I was a shock to see and left a poor impression, but I suppose it's too late for worrying about such things.

I had to fly out here and start work well before the truck was ready to arrive at home.  That meant spending a few days on my own.  I picked a hotel across from my office so that transportation wouldn't be a problem.  I found a new eye specialist here and got my monthly injection in the "good" eye, to keep it as good as it can be. When the first day of the new job came, I got up early and had my outfit all picked out.  I was nervous, but ready to face the day and start the process of proving myself all over again.

Then, that morning, I had a moment of pure brilliance. Is the sarcasm coming through?  I decided I needed to trim my toenails.  Great idea. Pure genius.

Because I'm not blind at all....

And I'm not diabetic with a touch of neuropathy in my toes....

I sat down on the bed with my super-sharp clippers.  I felt the edge of the nail and lined up the blade.

And nothing. It felt like I missed.  I tried again.

And my hand felt wet.  So I pulled it away to check.

Blood.  Lots of it.

I Nah-fucked it up good!

My neuropathy proved worse than I thought.  I felt nothing, but a chunk of my toe was missing.  I'd cut into it, deep.

On the first day of work.  Blood.  Everywhere.  I mean, I made a real mess.  It was a warzone.  Blood stains on the carpet.with each step I took.  On the bedding.  On the towels. Oh so many towels.

I tried applying pressure.  No good.  I washed it because hotel carpets can't be the most sanitary of surfaces.  The bleeding slowed an hour later, but didn't stop.

I called my mom.  I sent her a picture because I couldn't see it clearly.  "Yeah, you cut it deep," she said.

"You probably need stitches."

"But it's the first day of my job!"

"You sure can't walk on it."

Shit.  I'd have to call my new boss and have her pick me up.  I did, and made up some story about stepping on broken glass.  I bandaged the hell out of that toe.  The stitches would have to wait.

As I went by the front desk of the hotel, I stopped the clerk for a word.

"I want to give housekeeping a heads up," I said.  "When they see my room, they're in for a shock and a mess.  I'm so sorry.  I'm okay, and there are no bodies to find.  But I bloodied the place up pretty good, and I'm so sorry."

She appreciated the warning.

That night, a friend of my sister's took me to an ER near where our new house is.  The place was bare and spartan and what was there was bolted down. Crime much?  The PA who saw me decided no stitches, just skin glue.  He put that on, bandaged it up, and sent me on my way.  No antibiotics to keep infection away, or any some such. It was probably obvious that I didn't need pain meds.  I can't feel the wound, still.

When I changed the bandage the next day, the glue came off with it.  Great.

It's been healing nicely, though, over the last almost-four weeks.  It still bleeds a tiny bit, but no redness and infection.  I'm religious with the bandages.

I'll leave this for now.  I have more to tell, but that's another story!