just the degree
"I won't work for her. I won't. I hired her."
"I know. That's fine. You just have to work in the same department as her."
"In the tier under her."
"Yes."
"And I've been with the company for five years. Since I was eighteen. And I helped create this department. I caused it to exist."
"Yes. You did a good job."
"But I don't get the promotion because I don't have the degree."
"Yes."
There is a pause.
"So, what if I went and finished college majoring in, like, pottery. Does the major even matter?"
"No. It's just the degree."
Levels
Low temperature: you pretty it up. It's about the mirror, the high heels, the patterned legs with the seam dancing up the back, the red red lips and the meaningful eyelocks.
Warmer temperature: touch, tongue to tongue, lipstick smearing in the dark, hands on zippers, things moving.
Hot - no.
Nothing happens. Turns out he doesn't really want you; it's all about the game, the trappings. In the end, it's empty and there's nothing there for you.
So many degrees of self-deception, hurt, frustration, need, despair. And in the end, the mercury settles and life, for some reason, goes on.
Lately, I've not been very proud of what comes out. Maybe I'm picky...
Ha! I knew I'd backed it up.
Gound the disk with my RoughRough draft of my newest effort to hand.
Very set-up-y first 6 pages. If someones reads it, it will force me to meet my five pages a week goal for the spring semester. (Yeah, a small goal, but I'm student teaching, job hunting, and hopefullt working 25 hours a week somwhere this semester.)
anyone interested?
Erin, if you want to send it to me, I can give you initial feedback either tonight or in the morning. Early enough?
Erin, feel free to send. As I told erika, schedule for the next couple of days is sans breathing room, but it should loosen up a bit as the week progresses.
Erin, backflung last night. Let me know if you got it.
I didn't, Kristen! Dammit.
