Here we are, it’s July 11th, my favourite number shows up again quite unexpectedly. It is also more or less the same time of year that brought major changes in my life in the last two years. What is this one bringing to the table? Can I see it yet? Well, corona crisis seems to be over, I mean, I got the job back, but it’s still not normality. Is there any other breakthrough on the horizon?

Windows Dirty As Fuck

I keep beating myself for not getting the chores done when I had plenty of time for them. Actually, not only that, it’s not just about my never cleaned windows and the floor which I haven’t mopped for a couple of months. Maybe the most regrets come from not having developed my skills as much as I could have? Why didn’t I play the bass to death? I did try, can’t deny that, but did I have the discipline to grab it for a few hours daily, when there was nothing else to do, when I was pretty much forced to stay in the apartment?

Why did I only start my dealer’s training after I knew for certain that I’d be coming back? By the looks of it, this is going so well, that I could have mastered all the counting during the lock-down. And now I have to delay that… Which means, there will be struggles, anxious looks, nervousness, thoughts about lost potential. People will no longer call me The Star, my career might not develop so bright. Do I even want it still?

Even that stupid web-app I made for that purpose: there were some moments of great excitement about it, I wanted to work on it day and night, polish it, then use it and—most of all—showcase it before my colleagues, gain even more praise. But then I hated it; I loathed that code, I thought no one would benefit from it; almost gave it up. The tide turned again and I still have a couple of new ideas to implement. There still is a small spark, that it could turn into a useful product. For me, at least!

But that fucking floor! And windows! Dirty sheets… Fuck that, it is so overwhelming. Should I care? I did care when I was thinking of inviting J.; I don’t want her to be uncomfortable at my stinky little place. But why? Do I care about her that much? What if she thinks I’m a dirty bastard? Is this a problem at all? She used to say all the time that I have a very clean apartment. Are those inconvenient feelings a sign, that I still want her to think that way?

Pointlessness

I don’t know really… I’m getting this terrible mood again recently, where I see no point in trying. Ha, “Don’t try”, alright, Mr. Bukowski. I think I’m not gonna. What about your books, dear sir, when will I get the chance to read them? I bragged about such a lengthy to-read list to P., but the reality (which I luckily admitted) is that I don’t read shit. My excuse is that I need an ebook reader. Well, I’d better have an excuse, or I should be damned! There is a certain risk however, that even after reading all of the books I want, I will still be in this hopeless place.

Nothing makes me happy. God damn that, I recently made three or four run-outs versus Q. in Pik, a thing we thought was impossible. And I was chill as fuck, no emotions whatsoever. Like a fucking iceberg. On the tippy-top of the mountain, and not even halfway there. Well, maybe I was feeling a little good; I was looking good for sure, smelling good as well. But at the end of the day, what do I have from it? No movie, no news, no TV show, nothing can please me. Good performance at work? No, I want better, I need to be perfect! Shit. Seems like I’m forgetting my message on the night table, although I do repeat it so many times.

I’m pretty sure it’s going to be similar with all those books, but what the hell, I have nothing to lose. I’ll get that reader soon, after I come clean with money. And maybe buy that piano first.

A Test of Schedule

Yesterday I finally bought some books from Janek. Now there is no excuse for me, just need to apply to the work schedule. The new beginning is a little disturbing, as I am here right now on the fourth or fifth off-work day doing pretty much nothing (yeah, those fucking chores). Or maybe I shouldn’t be so harsh on myself, I did do some improvements to my DTG scripts, didn’t I? I sure hoped for more, but I can’t beat myself over this. It’s not the end of the world that my flat is dirty. My mom definitely wouldn’t agree, but she’s not here, and it’s not her apartment, right? Do I even want any guests at my house? Not so sure about that… Even J.? Well, it’s a very tricky situation with her. I felt embarrassed a bit last couple of times, when she used dirty toilet, smelled some foul things from under the sink. Why do I care so much about what people think? Oh, the worst moment of such a panicky situation was at work, when I sweated the chair soaking wet. Thanks God it was a guy after me to use it, not a lady (and he exchanged it anyway). Can you imagine if it was P. to feel that slime? She would think little of me. And since I’m writing her name for the second time here, it looks like I do care a bit about what she thinks…

Eavesdropping Is Bad For Your Health

She told me “they were talking about me and I should quickly go down there.” They were one of my managers with the camera guy, having a break and—from what I gathered—talking about relationships. If I’m putting 2+2 correctly, P. is 24 and already feeling some pressure for having a husband and kids. I’m guessing they wanted her and me to try getting together. Even before the lock-down, it somehow magically happened that all the breaks I had with her (if possible). We often talked, looked ourselves in the eyes, smiled pretty much. A few days ago we were even on the same bus back home. Talked about the usual. But god damn it, those stupid masks! I was not expecting them to be such a big obstacle in communication. I no longer can see the smile or crossed face. You have to speak louder to be heard and you sweat a lot more (at least I do). I really wish they will forgo on them soon.

So here she is. My super pretty female colleague. As I once described her (in my mind, of course): a skinnier, younger version of my last partner. Super charming lady. One which surprises me every time I learn a new fact about her. But… No… I just… I can’t…

Posted in: bad-romance
Tags: