I was told tonight that I would make a great doctor because I know how to put a band-aid on real good. At work last night/earlier this morning, I had to apply band-aids to two people, both within like one hour of each other. First was my girl Autumn, she has joined me and Heather in the society of 3rd Shift Vampires. She's just as funny and evil as me and Heather are. We only survive because we keep each other laughing. We're just little monsters, we've no idea how we will return to actually have to put up with customers. We all threaten to kill each other at least several times a night. But then we'd have to work harder then we already are, so we decide to talk about things we don't like instead. I love them both, and it's going to suck like a leach when it's all over. But that won't be for another couple months or so. If it weren't for the constant headaches, mental breakdowns, bad logic, shitty sleep, unholy amounts of coffee and the ingestion of energy pills 3rd shift would be no big deal. I am loving the fact that it's like a work out three of five times I'm there. With all the moving and the removing of things, all of which are heavy, I'm getting sorta jacked. At least more then I use to be. If I ate properly and went running I would be completely GQ approved. Anyways. So Autumn sliced open her forehead so I had to clean up the cut and then put some band aids on it. She was so cute, she didn't want to clean it because it would sting too much. So I told her to squeeze my arm while I was doing it, she's a big sweetie. But she's got a mouth like a sailor, then again, we all do. Which is why we're so smooth with each other. So I took care of her, and then she told me I should be doctor because I'm good with medical things and was very good to her while she was upset. She thinks I could handle putting up with frantic people. Ummm duh, check the story of my life. So then the electrician apprentice cut open his hand, and he was too timid and embarrassed to tell his superiors(because he had already been taken to the emergency room once early last month)so we came to where me and Autumn were asking if we had band aids. It took me a mere .03 seconds to look him over and see where he was bleeding from, his hand. The poor stud had tried to cover it up with electrical tape, so as not to alarm anyone. It then took me a mere .01 seconds to hustle him away to the first aid kit and begin fixing him up. I could tell he was embarrassed about it, he's so shy to begin with, and needing assistance is never something men deal well with. So I tried to make it seem like no big deal, and I talked to him while I cleaned his cut and then put a couple band aids on top of it. I wanted to wrap it up with that white bandage tape stuff, but he didn't want it. Didn't want to draw attention to it. I watched him the rest of the night(what else is new)to make sure he wasn't bleeding through. By the time he left he had put more black electrical tape over it. What is it with men and not wanting anyone to help them? I think it has to do with trust. So I took care of his hand and then walked back over to Autumn to face her and her facial expression. She knows how I pine(d) for him. The reason I make it pseudo-past tense is because of the minor freak out I had the night/early morning before last. To summarize it cleanly: I caught myself thinking about how nice it would be to ask the apprentice to the movies, then remembered how we had a little talk about how him and his girlfriend broke up, which made me realize that once again(!) I had let myself fall for a hetero, which then made me march out to the parking lot and deconstruct scrap metal and wood in my own special way. It was going to be thrown out anyway! And my hands and fingers still function. The look of shock and fright on both Autumn's and Heather's face was something else. People never realize that my cute demeanor is only superficial. I fuck shit up when I'm angry. Neither one ever thought I would pick up entire metal shelves and toss them like a Frisbee. Nor would I punch through a wooden skid....several times over. I'm a very compact creature, but most of me is strength and muscles, I just appear real skinny. Scruffy like a puppy, but angry like a wolf. So I let Autumn stare me down for a mere .04 seconds before telling her that I didn't do anything more then bandage his hand. I didn't even let my brain wander to other scenarios. Which is a huge lie(damn you Grey's Anatomy and your ability to make suturing sexy!)but I caught myself and murdered the path my brain was running away on. Working third shift and being tired and always having a coffee cup in my hand makes it easy to draw parallels to Grey's. The stolen glances at the cute guy, the back and forth banter, the freak outs. My 3rd shift life and the 1st season of Grey's could be one wing each on the same butterfly. That means they are symmetrical! No one ever gets my metaphors. Grey's also has the ability to think that at any moment a surgical situation can turn into a sexy situation. That all it takes to go from unsure to unpants is eye contact. Once again the lines of reality and fiction overlap. Also like Grey, there is much to reflect upon and be conflicted over, like my nasty habit of falling for the men I can't reach. So the rest of the evening/early morning, even up to right now, I've been thinking about why I keep falling for the straight ones. Or the ones who "claim" to be straight. The only kind of actual fags who are ever actually interested in me are the girlie fems, the plastic jocks and the fatties. I want cute and sincere and dorky, with a shy smile and Iowa innocence. I'm doomed. I should just join medical school, at least then I'd have a legitimate explanation for never having dates; sorry, I'm much too busy saving lives to go on a date. Just call me McDummy. I keep making dumb romantic choices.
ps-I should be sleeping now, but I need to do laundry like it is no ones business. Plus I have to check my money situation. Why is it I never have has much as I expect? I'm all taxed out, and I still need to do my taxes. Grumble grumble!! Caleb and my bed are calling me....
"Communication. It's the first thing we really learn in life. Funny thing is, once we grow up, learn our words and really start talking the harder it becomes to know what to say. Or how to ask for what we really need." -M. Grey
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