January 8th

Posted: January 8, 2013 in Uncategorized

Dear journal,

After last night’s bout of serious thinking with no way of getting answers, I didn’t sleep very well, which made getting up for my early shift a special form of torture. I went so far as to try to invent a coffee smoothie while I was waiting for customers, with mixed results. It mostly just tasted like I got coffee in my smoothie, but I drank it anyway.

I hate the idea that so much of my life is made up of events concerning “creatures” that I have never met and hope to never meet. I’ll never know who exactly killed my Mother, or Rick, and there doesn’t seem to be any justice in that. It isn’t as though I can take their deaths like a crime novel – who would have the M.O.? Why would someone want these people dead? Someone didn’t – at least not that I’m aware of – and it was a random occurrence by a random thing that is no longer a person and could have happened to anyone occupying the same pace at those specific times. I don’t know if I should try to live in denial of their hold over my life or start training so if it does come down to a situation where it is me versus them, I stand a fighting chance. I wasn’t ever picked first for P.E., but then again, that had more to do with me being invisible rather than being the least athletic. I used to run really well. Maybe I should start that again.

The only problem is when someone sees you running these days, they assume you are running away from something that has breached the barricade. Maybe I’ll try running around the park near my old school. If people see my running in circles, maybe I won’t freak them out. It would make a better hobby than searching Mother’s Stacks of Crap. I’ll have to check my closet to see if I still have any athletic wear, and maybe I’ll start tomorrow after work, since it will be dark by the time I get home (and I’ll definitely freak people out if I’m running around in the dark).

Orange, Apple and Banana Smoothie guy came in again not too long ago. I freaked him out by asking if he wanted the same as last time, and then telling him what he had. He agreed to it, which means I had less time ogle than when he spent what seemed like forever looking at the menu, but he looked about the same. Since we were alone in the shop, I was about to ask him where he came from, but the boss popped in to give me my break, hence my writing at work. Orange, Apple and Banana Smoothie guy is one of the few people I hope actually has a nice day when I say that ever-popular service standard. If I were a really girlie girl, I’d tell you about how there may have been a fleck of smile in his emerald eyes as his fingers brushed mine when I gave him his smoothie, but I’m not that type of girl. His eyes didn’t go right through me, though, which was a different sensation than I get from the regular clients. He can be my customer any time – that’s about as girlie as I’ll get on the subject.

My break is up in a couple of minutes, so I should mentally prepare myself to deal with the hoard of mid-afternoon drinkers. I just realized that it is really hard to tell between truth and sarcasm in a journal, so let me rephrase that – I’m going to stretch, put this journal back in my bag and then go lean on the immaculate counter I’ve already cleaned 3 times and watch the clock tick toward my quitting. Sometimes I don’t know if it is better to be busy at work, or if I can tolerate the silence enough that it doesn’t bother me. Either way, I hope enough people order things so that this place stays in business, because it isn’t a bad job and I would hate to have to look for something else.



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