CONCLUSIONS OF AN AR TRANSPLANT
Kos. Brazil. Frenchman.
Retailo Techo. Hotel S. Postal Place.
Goth boy. Rape Victim. Grown-Up.
Four years.
It was hard to believe given that my self life in cities was three years. I had done it. I had been in San Diego for four years.
So...anything to show for it.
NAKED EYES
It had been a while since I've been under my writer Yahoo account. The last time I was, I had submitted REPRISE to an e-zine and HIS PATH IS AWAY FROM YOURS to the Writers Digest Annual Competition. Meanwhile, I had finished editing DARKENED SOUL...all expect for a new cover letter.
That was the way it had been this year. Very touch and go.
"Excuse me?"
I looked up from my laptop. It was yet another tenant. The setting was Hotel S.
"How can I help you?" I asked, hiding my annoyance.
"Uh,"the tenant began, "I...I locked my key in the door." I shot up from my chair. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I locked up the front desk and headed upstairs with a master key.
Due to Hotel S's renovation, there was an interesting side-effect to doors on the first five floors. When one of my co-workers made a copy key...it didn't work when it was suppose to. To counter this, the key had to be manually reset with a mechanical box. Problem with that, the time varied on how long reprogramming took. Cool if there are two co-workers around when this happened. Not cool when there was only one co-worker since usually there was various people that decide to show up while that co-worker was gone.
Guess who was usually the lone co-worker?
And if it wasn't a problem with a door, then it would be a phone call...usually with an obnoxious customer. If not that, then it would be a tenant with a complaint that they waited until the office was closed. It usually happened around the same time so it was multiple busy. Then I forgot the writing.
That was usually my life. When I grew an inch writing, some distraction came along. Life. Penis. Whiny tenants.
The only time I wasn't at one of my jobs...was sleep time. Nothing was getting done. The writer did not write.
Was that any life to live?
Like a spider weaving a web, life appeared to entrap me repeatedly over this year. I kept finding myself the same way. I kept going through the motion.
Was that all there was to San Diego? Where was the so-called fun? The so-called liberation?
PICTURES OF A JADED BITCH
I sat on the bus. I had gotten done with work at Postal Place. The gym had been a good workout. So it was off to home to get ready for work at Hotel S.
From when I woke to that point, there was only one thing that was obvious. What was that? There was a lot of fine guys out.
And that was how I saw guys now. Just things to look at. Maybe have a bit of fun. But...don't ever...never...grow close. Guys only wanted to rip out my heart.
***
I was at Postal Place. Most of the mail had been sorted. Now I put in the UPS packages in our Paklog system. Meanwhile, my manager worked on a notary.
I hated notarys. In terms of legalities, I understood it. In work time, it meant that the longer it took to work on a notary, the longer the line of other people wanting something done. They normally looked to me...and I was just a mail sorter.
A figure came into the corner of my eye. I kept typing in packages. I looked over at my manager. He was still working on a notary. I looked up at the customer. My eyes widened.
It...was Cancer Boi. For those people not reading my journal entries, Cancer Boi was a guy who I met at the bar I frequent. He came up behind me while I was at the bar, running his drunken hands all over my arms and chest. Since then there had been one more encounter. Sparks fell both times. And...here he was in front of me.
"Uh," I said, stumbling for words. "I mean...can I help you?"
What he wanted...was to drop off a package for FedEx. I wished I could say more. But...I was too lost in his eyes. And then...he was gone.
Hmmm, my mind thought. He was just...yummy to me. Then I frowned. Why? The grapevine said he already had a guy.
Figures.
Given how Frenchman ended...and Kos...and Brazil...why should I had been surprised? Why hope? If I had gained anything from San Diego, it was one thing. San Diego...and the experiences here...had turned me back...into Old School Me.
DARKENED SOUL
Carrie Bradshaw once said that no matter how you broke up with a guy, you will never get through it without the help of your friends.
I found that to be true. Christan. Rob. Kos. Who knew how I would be if Glenn, James, Carl, Tina, and the rest had not been around.
Then again...I had no support in San Diego. My only friends would have been...my co-workers Art and Joel. And my 'friendship' with Art was never the same after his betrayal with Brazil.
***
I had been avoiding finishing the last part of CLAY'S WAY. It was a story about a relationship between a skateboarder and a druggie surfer in Hawaii. It reminded me too much of my own relationship with Frenchman with its realness. It also made me realize that maybe it was time to let Frenchman go. Because the two characters in Blair Mastbaum's book...damn...dark.
On my way to work at Hotel S, I did it. I finished CLAY'S WAY. My back felt back to the bus seat, my mind relaxing in mental climax.
It...was time.
My co-worker Joel was in a rush. I paid it no mind. That was how he was. All my mind was on getting settled in to work that day, my vibe feeling really good.
Joel left. I sat down at the main computer. My hand moved the mouse. Its goal was the main system where I could figure out what rooms were available.
The screen came to life. I looked at it. My hand stopped.
Joel had left his Facebook open. And there in front of me...was his Inbox page. And in his Inbox menu...was an email...from Frenchman.
Now...I knew for a fact that Joel and Frenchman were THAT close. Nor did it matter. Given he knew the history between Frenchman and me, Joel showed a complete lack of loyalty to our friendship by even emailing him.
Apparently...he was not the only one. There was the time I was late to work. I rushed in quickly, turning the office corner, seeing another of my co-workers on Facebook...also with an email from Frenchman. Of course, I had to investigate...and found another of my co-workers...doing the same.
This was not new ground for me in San Diego. How I felt on what a true friend was was well-known ('What's in a Friend?' early March 2009). It was not a hard concept to wrap around.
A true friend would not even be talking to Frenchman. And if they were, they would run it past you, being sure you were okay with it. And finally...they would accept the wrath they knew was coming.
It was something I did not have to worry about in Arkansas. Each year, I had been in San Diego, it had become clear to me that people did not understand what true friendship was...unless friendship was like the 'friendship' you saw on the reality show THE HILLS.
***
The buzzer got my attention. I walked over to it. It was the gateway buzzer for tenants at Hotel S.
"Space and room number, please," I said.
"Diego, it's me."
I frowned. By 'me' it was my manager. I looked at the clock. It was 7:30 pm. He was out and gone by 4pm. It could only mean one thing.
Co-worker meet.
Occasionally, my co-workers met up at Hotel S. Along with a few tenants, they went into Hillcrest and dined and drank somewhere.
Two things should be noted. It was always the day crew. Also...even when anyone on the night crew...me, Art, or our midnight worker...was available, none of us were invited.
Some time ago, there was a note left for 'everyone' about favoritism.
"Take care, Diego!" the manager yelled.
"Take care!" I said back.
I waited. Then I looked, my arms crossed over my chest. My mind immediately went to that note.
What's that saying about a pot and a kettle?
TO THE ONES LEFT BEHIND...ONE WAS LOST...
Wake. Work. Home. Sleep.
Repeat.
If I had gotten anything from San Diego, it would be this. I felt like I was going through the motion. I had always struggled not to be that way. If anything, San Diego was must more seductive at giving the illusion of a person living. All it was for me was a beautiful lie. All I had to show for it...
I turned over in bed. I wondered if this new day would bring something...well...new. I got up, looking at my phone.
I frowned. I had several missed messages. They were from different numbers I've never seen. What in the world...
Then...it clicked. I frantically ran through my cell phone. I found the number...and dialed.
"Hello," my brother said.
"Where's Dad?" I demanded.
"Bro...he's gone."
The world...stopped.
All I had to show for living in San Diego...was nothing, but loss.
Diego
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