I owe three people now from this temp job from hell. And this is mostly for food. Jen gave me a bag of chips. Theresa gave me chocolate bars and a lunch meal. And Mike “accidentally” paid for my “double-balls” (snickering) of Falafel yesterday for lunch. He didn’t take my green-stripped, rolled-coins of $5 dimes as I told him I don’t use a bank.

But last night I took my laxative to purge the goodness at around 1:30am this morning. I read my favorite book on common sense and learned nothing except hang around with good company before my 6-month temp job contract expires. I’m messing up at this data entry position, too. I’m no good here but know good folks exist.

Again, during this morning’s mass I mentally “promised” to provide “raw food” after I get my paycheck. I’m going for broke.

Lucas is stinky. His teeth are bucked. His hairstyle is wrong. His clothes is wrong. But he’s a VERY smart Asian kid. Everyone in his team relies on him to pull reports via spreadsheets. Vinnie agreed how that guy is too much in a hurry.

Yesterday, he walked me over to the desk of Ross, a bald-headed, Asian Indian guy without concern in the world. For all we know, he didn’t grant access and had to call Colorado. I didn’t care as long it’s less work for me. I learned to hate lazy people, seriously. Where I used to work, turn around time was within one day.

Then Lucas walked and talked with an obvious slurping sound. He kept swerving into me, almost as if lacks coordination. I used the whole length of notebook as a shield. But his stupid right hand kept knocking into the binder rings. I used my left middle finger to hold the binder, knowing a tall Asian Indian guy saw I was flicking off the idiot.

For the past two days, he kept telling us old timers to use our common sense. He lacks social grace. I should have the nerve to tell him take a shower and go to the groomers. Why are intelligent people so uncombly?

I had to go to bed early, cursing the sound of Maw’s loud television, drifted off to sleep and awoke to another pooping session with my favorite book on common sense. I couldn’t resist blogging about how I noticed two things about the tall guy. Last Thursday, I heard the tall guy’s voice inflection. It almost sounded gay! He was at Bobby’s desk and offered to make a phone call. Then yesterday during lunch at the Greek restaurant, I caught a VERY brief glance at his right ear lobe. It looked like an old pierce.

I thought to myself this morning about earrings:

“The left ear was reserved for piercing by straight men and a pierced right ear supposedly signified that one was gay.”

“Left is right. Right is wrong.”

I cannot help but wonder why the guy talks about his path to commitment with a girl that he has been dating off and on for six years and how he envied my FREEDOM from family affairs and child rearing. I apologized to him about “gloating”. He apologized to me about him being a “bad influence”. I told him what Maw said about me being “very gullible”.

It breaks my heart that hear how people could have made better choices in life without the facing the sad reality of “the bad” of death and dying that goes along with “the good”. It makes me feel sad to know how he fears death, how he came home yesterday to find an old lady living next being wheeled away to the morgue and how his whole system shuddered in surprise while talking and when I pointed out a passing motorist zooming by from our left before crossing the street.

I wished he tells me the truth. He knows something. He is something. But I don’t know why he mentioned visiting Egypt.

Sadness. The feeling is like giving birth – all painful and full of slimy goo. That’s how I view relationships – good and bad. The ugly part is stepping out on someone because of lack of expectation. And I see the sadness on his face each time because of that choice he made – to just give up old habits and settle down with new ones, including the nagging.

I’m so sad I could throw up. Commitment is like prison. There is no escape from marriage and mortgage. The children make noise too and sometimes they could use apples in their mouths to make the noise stop. Oh, sure, they are young and cute now. But they will be old and horrible later on and find their own mates, leaving the original units to look, listen and stop for each other 24/7.

The staleness of just being in a different living arrangement leads to the need of finding replacements and newness to keep the “flames alive” that makes me sick, too. It’s never good to stay the same. It’s always good to change forever. But with commitment, it’s just like that – putting on a new mask – together or not. And I get that part – to pick up the stray dogs.

I feel sad all over again. It’s never the same person. But it’s always the same – long distance – an arm-length’s away. Off and on. Never staying. Always straying. Hello. Goodbye.