The week has flown by. I woke up thinking it was Wednesday. One of those instances when it’s good to be wrong. Today is Thursday. I had to get into work early since I had two meetings to take care of, sign for breakfast, set up the breakfast, make coffee and arrange the food that is barely touched.
I am definitely trying to be positive in the new job. I smile, whistle, tell someone, “nice shirt, blouse etc”. I try to interact. The women who hosted the meetings thanked me and that was nice and kind. Most of the men don’t interact. I guess they are sussing me out. Trying to figure out what’s what. There’s a new guy, Justin who seems cool. I should perhaps gravitate to him. We can be newbies together.
Julio and Bill have been supportive of me in the sense to not give in and it’s greatly appreciated. I know my only option is that I have to hang in there. Bill and Julio have been resolute in talking me through this. Someday we’ll look back on this and it will all seem funny.
I do have issues with things like this, severe changes. Annemarie mentioned something a while back about how when she was in eighth grade and I was in first grade, they had to pry my fingers from the fence outside in the playground when classes began in the school. I was crying and screaming and wanted my mother to come back and not leave me with these people.
I had forgotten that for a long time and when Annemarie told me about it, it slowly started to come back to me. I remembered the feeling. I also thought about how it looked. Like I was looking at film of me being pried off the fence kicking and screaming. This happened frequently, if not daily. I never liked school, except for eighth grade. That’s about it.
I wonder what happened to a few classmates from grammar school. I saw two of them at my high school reunion. They wondered as well. But I never cross paths with anyone from those days. I hope their all doing well. After no contact with my classmates for thirty years, I really doubt we’d have anything in common. I’m sure I’m not the only gay person. I did hear that Gwen Garicki was a lesbian. We were voted class clowns back in the day. Somewhere there is a picture with Gwen and I stone faced holding an open umbrella amongst cardboard cutouts of a flood.
I still think it’s a funny picture. Makes me smile thirty years later. A surrealist at 13.
Who knew? I sometimes still dream of St. Francis de Sales school. I remember the smell when the parish had the Bazaar in June. That was magical. I only went to a handful of the Bazaars, but I remember the coin toss where you win a dish. I remember the smell of sausages cooking, the sounds of riders on the Octopus and the Tip Top. St. Joseph’s Boulevard was the center of my world.
Now it’s here.