I have to deal with copier salesmen from two competing companies at work. I honestly never understood how one could be purely a seller of copiers until they showed up. It’s a huge market, with lots of business and a ton of products to deal with. They’re both, very obviously, salesmen, and present everything with smoke and mirrors. The thing is, I’m actually looking to lease a new printer here, because the company could potentially save a few hundred dollars a month with the new, more aggressive marketing campaign that I’m trying to push. It’s a hassle to have to see through all the bullshit and sort out the relevant information. I’m trying to give them both a fair chance anyway, since a new printer would definitely benefit the company.

It’s funny to see how they try to handle clients my age. They come in with their suits and ties, have these generic salesperson characters, and talk with lofty words. I don’t think they expect to be dealing with someone my age, who looks and dresses the way I do. I’m extremely comfortable with it though; I communicate well with people who are older than me, and these guys must be twice my age. They think it’s going to be easy to get a contract signed, just by telling me what the company supposedly needs. I may be green, but I’m not stupid when it comes to business.

The only advantage to all of this is being treated like a real client with respect and having things presented to me the way I want to see them. I suppose it’s only fair though, if they’re trying to get a 60-month lease signed, with quarterly payments of over $1000.

I can see it in your eyes
I can hear it in your voice
the signs are obvious
that all we had has run its course

—Matchbook, Strung Out

The hardest thing isn’t knowing this’ll end, because the certainty of such a fact was clear from the moment we started. It’s knowing that the end is coming and still falling in love that’s the hardest.

How can I distance myself when everything you do draws me closer? If only it wasn’t so fruitless to keep reminding myself that this will never last. All that can be said is that it’s worth it. Everything I’ll be feeling soon is worth another night lying next to you, worth another morning waking up with you.

So give me one more kiss, one more taste of your lips, and tell me how much you’ll miss this.

The red in my hair was fading, so Trolley touched it up with some Manic Panic “Pillarbox Red”. Now it glows under a blacklight. I have the sudden urge to attend a rave.

(The system is down. DOOTDOOTDEEDOOTDOOT)

I usually try to sit as far back on the bus as I can; it lets me watch out for other people reaching for the stop chord. Sometimes I like to beat them to the pull as soon as I see them stretching up. Some people don’t pay attention to the chime, and tug harder until they realize it’s been pulled already. Others just stop reaching and sit back down. Occasionally, there’s one who has to look back and see who else is getting off with them. That’s when I slink back into my seat and pretend to look out the window.

What a nightmare. I just dreamt that I adopted another cat (few weeks old), but I had no car to take it to the vet, no money to feed two pets, no time to spend with it, and the helpless feeling of being unable to handle such a responsibility. One cat is enough for now, thanks.