[Sunday, Jul. 17, 2005 @ 10:32 p.m.]
[ My Gut Is Churning With Emotions ]

I've been envisioning what my last days at Wendys would be like ever since my manager looked me dead in the eyes and said, "Would you like to be working here and doing your job properly or working elsewhere because you weren't doing your job?" She wasn't kidding meanwhile I thought she was. After she walk away from me, her serious eyes were lingering and I felt a rock in my gut. I'm still thinking of where I'd rather work, otherwise I'll just write my 2 weeks notice and be done with them. It's so easy to contemplate your next move when you're not being shoved out. It's like being married to a physically abusive person and tolerating them until something comes and forces you to move. Just the thought of going back to work tomorrow bothers me. I'll be busy with my fringe play anyway, so I won't be in the same breathing space as her. Whenever I want to see her as a decent person, whenever I try to excuse her personality, she does something to remind me why I can't stand her. I'd hate to be her or to be her future offspring. I can imagine her as someone's mother and that image is something we'll eventually see on the news in the distant future. I catch myself fantasizing about hurting her, wrestling her to the ground, and not in an erotic female mud-wrestling sort of enjoyable way either.

Speaking of intolerable people at the workplace, Mr.Harrasser was all silent the last time I was there. He'd been bitched out by management. When everyone else was gone and he and I were on the line, he was trying to unload his displeasure about working there, assuming that I must love, not like, my job. He was interrupted and we didn't talk anymore.

Right now, I don't know if my gut is reacting to tomorrow's shift or if I ate too fast.

Yesterday, our cast was involved in presenting a scene for the media, CBC. I did my line and then I went blank. It might have been the booze The Artistic Director gave us after we presented the bottle to him, but I felt bummed out about my performance. I felt all teary-eyed about it when I was by myself. I was tortured with doubt about it, worried that the director's friend would criticize us, that our show will do terrible, that whatever other doubts I could muster would happen. It's still reassuring that the director has so much faith in us, whether he's putting on a good-face for us or if he's sincere, just the fact that he was doing all he could to get us to a place where we'd do our best and bring his vision to life. I mean, he created the stories, he directed this, he busted his ass to find a space and all. I feel so bad for ever having a negative thought about any part of this whole project that's his baby, practically. Sometimes I feel I'd cry if we got any bad reviews and I worry we will, just because it'll impact him. He's got a lot of strength in him to produce this thing. I really hope he cranks out something spectacular someday, especially after this show is over, whichever his next one is. I want to give him some sort of gift but I don't know what's good enough. A simple card seems too feeble. I'll come up with something. I was coming home from our technical rehearsal and went to a busstop. There was a black man in the shelter, dressed like he'd come from church, but I thought not much of it and sat inside. Another black woman came in and he greeted her with a "God Bless You" and I was hoping he wouldn't greet me like that. After she went away and after he wanted directions about a bus that took forever to come, he tried to chat me up. I hate when people try to get into religious debates with me, trying to weasel out who I am when I don't know them. If it's something feel comfortable talking about, that's another thing, but I don't know if he was looking for a christian wife or wanted to convert me or what. He's trying to get an idea of what part of Africa I'm from, how often I go to church and why I don't go often enough. I knew he'd try to judge me so I couldn't help but put an end to the conversation, as much as he tried to start it up again. I felt very uncomfortable and agitated. I didn't think it was important to tell him I was an atheist or too much about what my beliefs were, so I told him I wasn't interested in talking any further. Pissed me off! I couldn't wait to get home, cranking my neck as I searched for the bus to come. He may be another reason why my gut aches. If I know someone else is gay, an atheist, an actor, then I'll feel comfortable enough to talk to them, otherwise why put my neck on the chopping block for them to hack at? I'd rather talk about common things, not argue with a stranger. I hate when people who think they're passionate look for someone to vent or pick on, and I hate when someone thinks I'm that target. I use to hate it when a friend of mine, fully aware that I'm gay, that I'm vegan, that I was violated, would make statements to trigger me then go silent as he awaited my rebuttal. I hated being baited like that and I can't trust someone who does that to me. That may make me non-confrontational, but I'm not interested in starting fights and arguing about something that person isn't interested in learning, but only wants to be an asshole. The more a person knows about you, the more that person feels they have reason to use their mental thumbscrews on you to squeeze out your vulnerabilities. Man, I won't sleep peacefully tonight.


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