At a One-Time Membership Fee of Half Your Sanity and Dignity and All Your Common Sense (11/30/08 Sunday)

This anger at seeming to have to play by rules I can't abide is a refusal to compromise, because what I am ultimately compromising is my freedom, of doing, getting, and having things my way. Justified? Probably not--nothing more than pride. And that's significant--though no more so than the last time I revealed that startling epiphany. See how much I've grown?

Still, I've somehow jaded myself. I can't believe my own words, even when they make sense. Hope is cruel, ideals a joke. I was all set to rhapsodize about the marvelous way Julie started my work morning yesterday, the way first-sight of her made me gasp in stark wonder at her beauty. But my heart is tired of this hope and the head's cries of "Wolf!" over every seemingly positive detail. In fact, it was a very good day in terms of contact with Julie, but it's best I not get excited. It will mean something when it means something. I can't help it along. Right now, I'm just looking for normalcy.

Judy asked me yesterday if I would take the desk at ten. I said yes, and she said, "Something told me you wouldn't mind," and I'd swear there was almost a wink. We both knew Julie would be out there then. What else did Judy know? Of course, I wanted Julie's attention, but besides asking about her Thanksgiving I didn't try very hard. I gave a couple of female patrons more attention, flirting a little bit with them. (One was receptive, the other not.) A patron flirted with Julie, but she didn't appear to notice. It wasn't his first attempt. He usually chats her up about books, but yesterday it was about her Thanksgiving. She didn't give him too much eye as she answered, concentrating on the DVD she was cleaning, and didn't ask about his holiday. That was all he had. I gave him a knowing look as he passed on. He returned disappointment with a tight-lipped frown. Join the club, I thought, though I was careful not to convey it.

Judy asked Julie and me if we were going to the holiday gathering. Julie said yes, I said no. It was only barely tempting to change my mind. Julie never comes to these things, so I was a little surprised, but Julie at work or Julie at Bottom's Up is still Julie in a crowd of coworkers. I'd have a rotten time hoping she'd notice me and a worse time trying to talk to her. I don't need any more of that.

My birthday card is going around the office for signatures these days, I'm sure. I'd as soon Julie didn't sign it as leave some vapid insincerity. She knows what I wrote on her card. (The week after she got it she had a sample of my handwriting on a piece of scrap paper, asked if it was mine, and when I replied affirmatively, she looked at it again and went, "Huh!") I would love for her to return the creative effort. Hope.

Suddenly, I remember a time, when I was still driving, sitting at a red light when a minivan stopped abruptly beside me in the next lane. White knuckles clutched the steering wheel at the end of locked-straight arms. Bands of muscle stood out from the woman's neck. Eyes clenched against an impossible strain, her mouth gave way and her chest convulsed in sobs. Such a life. Such a world.