Leave taking.

My memories will always be with me, wherever i go.

Having snuck off early on thursday, k picked me up, and we went to collect the flowers and balloons that i had ordered. Coming back to an empty office, i got to work. i wanted calla lillies, but didn't have enough time to wait. I settled on gerbera's, their lively, solid colours matching the stationery i was using.. It was only later i realised that they symbolise love of absent friends. Sigh. And so it began. Letters and gerberas left on keyboards. The gerbera's were not packaged elaborately, with only a single ribbon round their stems.. As i worked, i looked at secret bear, the care bear that sher had left with me for my last night. It's strange so much done can be squeezed into only a few paragraphs, but for now im wrung out, tired and aching in every way to write much, or want to elaborate more. As i wrote in the cards, every now and then i would look out, trying to memorise the view. The sun set which has always hypnotized. At the myna's and occasional crow, their whirling, perfect synchronised flight. Earlier in the day, adel had pressed a package into my hands, petting my hair and shoulders, yet again making it difficult for me. I hate goodbyes. So much to say, so little inclination to write about them now.

Friday loomed early and cheery After a torturous car rally, dinner at steve's house with the beautiful grounds and sonmewhat damp drinks at tango, i was ready for home. My cheeks were numb with all the smiling at the cameras, and i was almost exhausted form the day, but bed just didnt want to beckon. I hit my bed at about 5 that morning, but i didn't mind, because some nights just aren't meant to be spent alone.

It still hasnt ended. Coming home today, i checked my mail to find mail from colleagues that only made me run to get the nearest tissue/toilet roll.

Dammit.

"Don't want to leave, but we both know sometimes it's better to go. Somehow I know we'll meet again, not sure quite where and I don't know just when you're in my heart, so until then, smile, don't want to cry saying goodbye." -The Muppets

Dawning.

Listening to: office pitter patter and paper shuffles

Stabbed my subjects arm. Waited for him to stop bleeding from the pricks. Wicked at it while he looked on in fascination. I looked at him and smiled while letting him examine the blood sodden filter. He gave me a toothy grin, he of the nice voice and veiny arms, and remarked that i had to encourage his arm.

Inflictor of pain : "What?"
Inflictee: "You've got to encourage him, ask him to stop bleeding.."
I.o.P:" Him? Don't you mean..it?"
While concentrating on his arm, i hear this through my haze of concentration.
Inflictee: " Yar. The prick. You've got to encourage him"

I miss the times when i was young enough to enjoy conversation without an uncrossable long kang (read: gutter) in my brain.

After i leave, the office will also be slightly more goof proof, not just a small mercy when in an environment with a great deal of sharps and biohazards. It's no secret that i belong to a special group of the handicapped, known as the terminally klutzy. I havn't fallen flat on my face for quite some time now, so the universe must be saving the moment for a more embarrassing one when it can savour it. It deviousness can be observed when you see how it has gifted me with intermittent gracefullness, all the better for marked contrast.

Lookee this - the colour of pain.
See the girl in the left? Yeah. That, my friend, is something i can probably relate to very intimately, given enough time.

Besides finding like minded people who share my penchant for the awkwardly painful, i've also plumbed the depths of employee uselessness. Having days when one simply can't do anything work related, it was to my sweet, sweet delight that i discovered i had colleagues who were capable of being just as innane, or worse. No images will be displayed to protect the names of the guilty. The fact that i looked halloween ready in them, is of course, of no consequence. But honestly.. we could have done this and i bet no one would have batted an eye. I could also bet that they would join in. Well..Some of them anyway.

Of course all wasn't fun and play. Long long hours when deadlines were near, much eye rollin and furi0us frantic whispering in the halls of the facility were more than common.. but i guess every ending is always bitter sweet..

Sigh.

heavyheartedness

listening to: every day you've been away
Bebel gilberto

I saw a disturbance making its way through the throngs. Patiently, knowing it must make its way past me, i stilled my companion and schooled myself to alertness. Holding my yet unpaid item to my chest, i first saw a little old lady, hair all mussed up, with an apologetic smile limping her way to the queue behind me.

First came the mutters of a man, then the man himself. Shorter than i am, with the meaningless smile of the intellectually disabled, he was scratching all over with insatiable fingers. Intelligible mutters and little twitches, that emaciatedness of frame.. Suddenly a great heavyness overcame me. This old lady, way past the age when she should be caring for a child, lines of her sacrifices etched so deeply all over.. why should she be apologetic about bringing her son, now a little past middle aged, into the public? I felt a great urge to shake the auntie in front of me, she with the horrible sneer and look of disgust as she looked at the pair. What gave her the right to think she was better than the old lady who probably had to look at the most basic needs of her child?

All around people were staring, staring. Didn't they realise that the man was a person and not an oddity to be gaped at? Don't parents teach their children manners these days? I am not asking for no looks at all, but for gods sake, not stares that make a man and his mother a freakshow.

Most of all, what pains is me is that the old lady had to not only get used to unkind stares, but also feel that she had to feel bad in any way at all. That apologetic smile, that dipped head, that gnarled figure..

I think on this, and yes, im greatful for everything that has been gifted me, no matter how small a blessing it is. My burdens are considered a "norm", my appearance nothing to be freaked out about. Relatively anyway.

If there was one thing i could ask of the people who read this, it is to emphatise with those who are less earthly fortunate. So maybe the person is a con artist. Will a dollar or 5 hurt you? Will it mean as much to you as to the lady selling those overpriced tissues? Will a smile at a person who is obviously poorer kill you?

It means nothing to feel a little more human once in a while.

Intrepidity

Listening to: Feels just like it should
Jamiroquai


I'm not elated at the news. The second interview with the opthalmologist is on monday, provided i can make it.

Last wednesday, i stepped onto the 4th level of the centre. Everyone was coiffed and heeled. Glancing through the forms i had to fill out, i grimaced when i realised that i would have to fill up the equivalent of my entire bloody resume. ~Fuck me~ Let them try reading my handwriting. That'll have them reverting to my c.v.

I've never dreaded interviews. Nervousness is a problem that disintegrates when i've started talking.

I greeted my iinterviewer by name, having had the receptionist think i was genuinely interested in her day.She had leaked the number of applicants so far, the name of my interviewer, and how long they had been looking. Karen, the HR manager, was youngish, snappy and suffered no fools. Her questions came fast and i could feel her weighing every reply. At the end of the interview- she told me that i might not have the job satisfaction i craved since the interaction with the patients were far and few inbetween. The blunt woman also mentioned that she had already seen someone that day whom she had her eye on.

I feel like.. i've been tossed a candy bar as a consolation prize.

A year ago i would have inclined my head and left it as that. This time after a bit, Karen gave me a wry grin. The second interview was mine.

I laugh as i remember what i told her. She must think me an impertinent chit. I had zero temper when i first started in the hospitals. I had more tolerance when i first started at the facility. I wonder what kind of person i'll be at 30?