It is 3:18pm at the moment.
I guess Saundra is the only one who shares my apprehension.
Saundra is a sixty-somethin year old woman who acts much like a person who hasn’t quite come out of teens in their thirties – if you get what I mean. (Celeste is a woman in her thirties who hasn’t quite come out of her teens.) Saundra has been working for Aaron, and she’s done all of the recruiting that’s been done so far.
Then there is Scott, who is a young man, probably in his twenties somewhere, who did work for Aaron, but got fired basically on my first day, which was yesterday. I’ve seen Scott a few times. I saw him when I met with Saundra to be an extra. I saw him when I met with Aaron to interview for the position of talent scout. I saw him briefly before he left when I arrived yesterday. I’ve been told he had been living there by Aaron, and Saundra tells me that the actual business is in Scott’s name. This is a questionable thing.
Saundra has been complaining that the clients need copies of their registration papers, because it’s not professional to not give them a copy. Aaron has apparently been blowing her off entirely on this matter, which is also questionable.
Saundra called me at ten o’clock this morning (to my utter unhappiness) to tell me about how she doesn’t think she can work for Aaron anymore because he disrespects her, and because he’s not professional enough, and because he’s constantly being sarcastic, and because she lost her keys yesterday (and she never loses her keys) and because she’s been having anxiety attacks (and she never has anxiety attacks) and because her friend has been having them too. (Get the feeling that she kept me on the phone forever after apologizing for waking me up?) And she feels like something just isn’t right, but she hopes it works out for me, but she knows it can’t work out for her, because after all, she’s going back to school, and that is going to take all of her energy, and do be careful because you know that Aaron is trying to take you away from your boyfriend.
Okay, okay, okay Saundra, I got it, now please SHUT UP! She must have went on for about ten minutes about all of that. And she brought up all the good points. Something doesn’t feel right when I’m there. I’m having anxiety attacks, but I just thought that was because I’m always having anxiety attacks, about everything. (Am I going to have to get a job? Will we be kicked out? Will Dad leave? Is My boyfriend as nuts about me as I am about him? Am I making a mistake? Am I really ready for all of this? I’m never going to get what I want out of all of this, am I? And other assorted things to have anxiety attacks about.)
Worst is the feeling of being trapped. Everyone wants me to do this. Even Saundra said, "I hope it works out for you." The closest I’ve had to someone not wanting me to do it was My boyfriend saying, "I’ll understand if you don’t want to do this." *extra heavy sigh*
I’m not getting paid on a salary, and that alone is making me want to run. I want to be paid for the trauma I went through yesterday. While I smiling, making stupid small talk, and Saundra was in the other room on the verge of tears, I was thinking inside my head; I have to escape, I have to escape, I have to escape somehow. But how? Mom said she expects me to give it at least three months, which means if I don’t, she’s going to be upset. Dad’s all happy about this happening, and I never wanted him to know in the first place because I never wanted to do this in the first place.
What the fuck is wrong with me? If it’s not about My boyfriend I have an intense dislike for doing it. His art, his laundry, his dishes, his room, his shelves, his love, his sex, his job, his touch, his everything. I want to do it for him. Doing things for Mom is okay too. Doing things for Dad or Mary is like doing something for myself – possible, but sometimes difficult. Everybody else can be torturous. I feel like I’m wasting my effort on people that don’t love me, on money that hates me, with time that I should be giving to My boyfriend.
This can’t be right. Maybe I just need some fucking B-vitamins, since that’s usually the case when all someone wants is out.
I woke up even more dismal than ever today. I felt like I had even less of a reason to get up. All I keep thinking is that I’m not pregnant, and I can’t be pregnant, because I’m not allowed to be pregnant, and I have to go back on birth control, so that I can feel even more worthless, so that I can be dragged even further away from what I want out of life, so that I can be trapped even more, so I can be crushed and despised in my misery.
If you understand what I mean. I’m dreading going back on birth control. (Ugh, I just remember part of an awful dream I had where my teeth with dangling, browning, rotting, and hurting terribly. I bet that’s a message to pay the $20 a month to continue my dentist coverage.) I’m dreading losing my sexual appetite again.
I wanted a baby so bad. I’ve never wanted anything so much. I’ve never been so happy about anything. I feel so worthless. Why, why, why won’t somebody just kill me? For goodness sakes, it made me stop giving myself death wishes. You can’t wish death on yourself when you have baby, or even if you’re pregnant with one. It’s a rule you just shouldn’t ever break.
What am I doing? Crying at almost four o’clock in the afternoon. I haven’t done a goddamned thing today because all I can think about is My boyfriend, My boyfriend’s baby, this fucking job I don’t want, my parents and how I can’t please them, this attic and how it’s not done... My boyfriend’s baby, did I mention that one? This job that I already hate. Working with Aaron frightens me. The guy is a creep.
I hate the way he stops talking, keeps smiling, and stares at me. I hate that I’m going back there tomorrow. I’ve already giving flyers to My boyfriend with my work information to find people. I’ve already called people letting them know. I’ve changed my myspace, and I’ve messaged a ton of people on myspace, vampire freak, and other places. But how much harder will it be to escape if I have a full-fledged office there?
It would be so much better if he didn’t drop ten-thousand hints about trying to date me. He’s fucking thirty-seven years old, and he’s a fucking creep. What’s worse is that he knows he’s intimidating me because he asked if he his sun-glasses (which are for an "eye condition") intimidated me. I cooly said that they didn’t and pulled out my own prescription sun-glasses.
If I were to work anywhere happily, it would be back at my old job. This just screams SCAM, and RAPE, all-fucking-over-it. If not tomorrow, then eventually. I caught him testing my number ability. If a client pays a certain amount of dollars, then someone gets a certain portion, and he gets a certain portion, and I get a certain portion, does that sound good? No, I said, it doesn’t. Where’d the last hundred dollars go?
I don’t trust him. I don’t like him. I don’t want a job in the first place.
It is 4:03pm at the moment.
Mom brought me breakfast. She also told me that she visited Aaron this morning to tell him to stop hitting on me. That’s great and all, but I’m still nervous about this. Scott has been fired, Saundra is quitting, and that means just him and I, alone in that huge house. Can anybody say creepy?
As My boyfriend said, all I ever talk about is children. And I don’t want to raise children and have a job simultaneously. That sounds terribly miserable, for them and for me. Already, when they’re ten, I’d been thirty, if I was pregnant now. I don’t want to wait, I don’t want to wait, I hate this.
My boyfriend says he’s sad that he’s not making enough to support a little one on his own yet. He says he’s upset that I’m not pregnant too. He’s terrified of me going back on the birth control. I’m terrified of going back on birth control, now that I know it was causing the mysterious pain that feels exactly like a terrible yeast-infection, except that there is no yeast. I even went to get checked for a yeast infection one of the worst times and they said I had no yeast, and that my flora levels that combat yeast were indeed very high. No creams helped. Itching, pain, soreness, the inability to have sex, discomfort when sitting down and while using the bathroom all so that I don’t have a baby that I desperately want to have!
I hate this fucking bull shit! Hate it, hate it, hate it.
The drive that we’re born with to have children must have been increased in me. Then again, poor cousin Colleen wanted a baby so bad at fourteen that she had one. Now she has three children and an abusive girlfriend. Then again, she also managed to get through the rest of high school, and through college, and hold a job, and take care of her aging father, my uncle Eugene even after the death of her mother. (My uncle Eugene and her mother adopted her incidently.)
As Mom put it, the logic that Colleen would have had was that she didn’t have her mother to love her, and her boyfriend wasn’t loving her right, and her father was getting her old, so why not have a baby to love her? But of course it doesn’t work that way at all.
I want a baby to love. The dependance sounds exciting. Someone who wants me to do everything for them, and who needs it, and who one day will appreciate it. Someone to teach everything I’ve learned about health to. Someone to pass my sense of fashion on to (even if they rebel and hate how I dress in their teens, I still get to try.) Someone to make like me. I can watch them stumble as I did, and pick them up, and teach them to fight back at the world. Teach them to care as so many of the new generation doesn’t.
I don’t want a job for money. I want a baby for love and for pride. Money will not buy me love and pride and joy. Money might possibly make having a baby easier, but then what, just to quit and not have the money anyway? Why work towards having a career I don’t want to keep?
I wanted to bail out of Mary Kay as well, and I stuck with it, and went no-where with it. Now I have something that might allow me to go somewhere with more things, and I want to bail again. Surprise, surprise, really? But nothing changes the fact that Aaron is a creep.
The attic needs rebuilding, and that takes more time and effort than it does money. We already have the drywall. We already have the tools. All I need are a couple of construction lights and some plastic sorting drawers and bins and I’ll be able to get started on the project myself. Currently there isn’t even enough light back their to assess what needs doing. A baby would need it’s own room as it gets older, and building the room while Cheanna is actually growing up doesn’t sound like the best idea to me.
I think I’m just going to have to convince my Dad to let me do it. I’m not interested in doing anything else with myself. They didn’t want to let me learn to read (at daycare) when I was ready, and then I didn’t end up reading until I was ten. (In fifth grade.) I still didn’t read much of anything until well into High School. I only read the same series over and over until somewhere in High School. (That series being Ever World, by K. A. Applegate.)
My point being that I know when I’m ready. If I wait I might change my mind.
My Mom says I’m not making sense. She says it’s my hormones that I’m not used to dealing with because of the birth control. Great. Another lead against what I want. What am I saying? My boyfriend is still partly in question, isn’t he? Oh fuck. I’m just going back to bed. I hate everything.
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