some posts... post number 1...

i've been working like it's january in the inventory business... how strangely apt... or perhaps it's not strange at all, and all the supposed strangeness is just my ability to function coming apart at the seams in a disturbing way that lets the freezing saskatchewan wind lick between the cracks in a sweater that i thought for sure would last me for years, since it was too big when for me when i bought it and i've stopped growing...
gah...
randomness...
and to think, i had things to say...

and so the first post. i'm not going to have a chance to do this again until monday, and then probably not again until the monday following... i'm grateful to my employers for understanding that i need mondays off, even if i had to fight for it, and even though those days will often seem less like days off than the days i work, or the days during which i spend 6 or more hours in a van...
gah... again...

so...
for this post, an analogy that i can't shake out of my head, and so lodge here in the hopes that the spirits of interpretation, so vacant from the lot of my life, will dance by swinging conprehension and coherance in the form of wrecking balls, tearing down the condemned junk that stands where a shiny and functional edifice could be erected if only the funds were available...

gah.... third time's the charm...

so, my uncle owns a chocolate factory. he loves it, it's more or less a part of his family, his legacy.
this never used to be awkward for me. but a few years ago, it was discovered that i was, in secret, a chocolate kleptomaniac. my fixation for the brown confection knew no limits that could be bound by law, and i transgressed society in favor of satisfying my own needs.
my uncle is on his deathbed. in his will, unchanged despite the altered situation, he has decided to leave the factory to me and my brother.
i loved my uncle. i love my brother. i would like nothing more than to join in the family business, to make my family proud, to uphold the honorable name of my relatives. but at the same time, i'm terrified. not of my own weaknesses, staggering though they may be. not even of temptation, in its various forms, or the consequences of failure. no, the thing that i'm most afraid of is the look that i'm going to get all the time, the way my family, my brother, anyone who knows my past, will look at me as i work in the factory, that sideways glance, that suspicion.
i would be okay with them watching. i have been watched. i have been supervised. but it's that total lack of trust that i fear, and that i virtually know is coming... the questioning of motives... their thoughts about why i'm going to the factory at all, what i'm thinking, what i might be fantasizing about later that night... but i so desperately want to be a part of it, for the right reasons, just to show my love in any way i still can, without the horrible look in the eyes that feels so much like judgment, like condemnation, like they can read my thoughts, and that it's a valid basis for prediction of my actions.
i will not get caught with my hand in the chocolate. but it makes me so sad that everyone is going to expect it, and treat me like my fingers are already dark regardless.

how do i show them that i love my family? how do i show that, even if i would steal a chocolate bar from some random, faceless store, i would never do it to someone i loved?

how can i be accepted enough to make the contribution that is mine to make? so much love is wasted.