Thoughts from Texaco

Things I think about while working at the gas station.

Thoughts from Texaco (Unless otherwise noted)

6/16/11

Do you ever feel like beating your head into something? Seems as if that’s all I’ve been able to think about lately. Today my biggest temptation has been the cash register. I picture the machine beeping in its stupid way �" “Sale Required” or “Preset Not Used” flashing the screen as my ponytail flings over my head with each hit. I smile at the image and then scowl as I remember what sparked the image in the first place. That red Explorer, which I have be wonderfully & successfully avoiding, driving past the store with skinny little Rebecca Andrews chatting away in the front seat, nervously running her hand through her hair. So, they have been spending time together. I figured as much, but hoped he had better taste. With thoughts of them bouncing around with the thoughts of slamming my head into something hard and immovable, it’s been a long shift at the BQM. The only bit of happiness I can get is from Dean & Charlie, the two old men who visit the store every night. Dean is loud and pestering, but has the best heart of anyone I’ve ever met. He bought my supper from Helen’s tonight and reassured me that I’d find the “right boy” one day, whatever that means. Charlie, on the other hand, is quiet and kind. The few times he talks, it’s always something meaningful. Tonight he has been outside on the bench and I haven’t got the chance to say hello. Seems I have always placed my happiness upon someone else’s shoulders, just as I rely on Charlie and Dean to make me smile. Though, they are the first who I’ve actually believed they care about my happiness, and they are old men. I thought when I started work here in February, I would encounter a plethora of people whom I could look forward to seeing. I envisioned cute, young men who flirted shamelessly, friendly girls my age coming in regularly for their Camels. Instead I’m plagued with messed up parents and their babies at 11 pm, rude old men who never cease to surprise me with their lack of manners, and the random attractive man, who returns to his girlfriend in the car. Lord, I can’t even complain without a terrible feeling of guilt. I am blessed beyond compare: my beautiful home nestled right against the mountains, a simply amazing family and friends and plenty of common sense (unlike my terrible boss, who doesn’t retain a word I tell him and asks the same question every day. I swear I’m more of a boss to him than he is to me.). But I still get these awful feelings of hatred for this place and these people. And I’m afraid it’s all because I have been disappointed when people have shown they don’t care about me. Him, in particular. The one I can’t retract from my thoughts; the one I feel more strongly about than anyone else. My days with him are inked into my memory and they suddenly flood my brain and I have to sit down before I lose my legs. Last summer. Those were the happiest of times. I didn’t realize it then, but I see now that was my last summer as an innocent young girl, without any serious responsibilities. Now it takes all my effort just to be. My eyes return to the window with every passing car, hoping he is returning her. Not a date, just taking her to meet someone or something. But I know better; he wouldn’t waste his time on her if he didn’t care about her. That’s what I had hoped for when I was with him. But, he dropped me surprisingly easy, without a concern for my welfare. That recurring wish to headbang something, anything. The options in this place are so limitless, it’s overwhelming. Those clear glass doors, once again the oh-so-tempting cash register, the coffee pots, the nasty floor. Really, anything would work. And yet, I don’t headbang anything. Not because maybe there’s some last bit of sanity in me, or because I’m strong enough to resist. But because I know if I give in to the headbanging, it won’t be long before that river from my eyes will start flowing and soon I will lose all control. And I can’t do that, not here. Not in the middle of BQM, in front of all these druggies and rednecks. Maybe at home, in my hot shower or cuddled up with Vivan, my stuffed horse that’s been my companion since my 9^th birthday, eleven years ago. Those simple times. I got mad at Dora that day for making fun of the name Vivian.

 

If people treat you like something you’re not, do you slowly become whatever it is they are treating you like? I feel my brain start to morph; it loses its emotions, its feelings; whatever it possesses that is the least bit human, it is being drained away. All that remains are the basics, the instincts, and most importantly, the ability to obey. All day I am commanded, whether for gasoline, tobacco, or whatever it is people want. Before I started working here but after my terrible meltdown, I felt myself hardening to the world. Releasing all emotions and forgetting all feelings. I still had small amounts of freedom, with the little differences in each day. Now, however, this the shell of a being combined with nothing more than repetitive acts of submission as I take people’s money, my sense of being is nothing more than a machine. I have more in common, now, with my beloved yet hated cash register than I do with my customers. Where did this feeling come from and how can I get rid of it? The only option is impossible, to rewind time and avoid the last year of my life completely. To be shown true happiness and then to be told you will never have it can do this to a person. It can turn a joyful, loving girl into a cold and empty machine. Being, feeling, loving, takes too much effort.

 

Of course, customers notice and care. “Are you ok?” “You seem sad tonight.” And the exceptionally kind (but high) “Do you want to talk about it? You sure?” Yes, I’m sure. What would I say? “Ever since I became obsessed with this boy, I feel like an empty machine.” Haha! Sometimes there’s no one I want to talk to, not even Caleb, who loves me the most or my family who can’t figure out why I’m acting this way. No one should have to deal with me like this. Sometimes, I just want my writing, reading, and music.

 

This store won’t get clean. The floors are always dirty, no matter how much I mop. But honestly, no one cares. Then why do I? It’s just one more thing that fails, that lets me down. So pathetic. It’s not even worth it. Pretty sure there is no point to life. Blah

 

 

Thoughts from Home

 

6/16/11 6/17/11

What do you do when you’re no one’s first choice? You’re nobody that anybody wants to spend forever with. Accept it? How? Knowing that no one in particular cares for you, thinks of you, wants you as their own, how can I live that way? Everyone has someone. If it’s not a romantic person, it’s at least a best friend. Tiff would pick Elias over me any and every day. I’m destined to be alone. The irony is perfect.  My mind has been situated on boys/love/romance for as long as I can remember. Only to find out that that’s not the life for me. I’m sure I can adjust to this. I’m just realizing, that’s why life seems so pointless right now. I just need to surrender all hope now, remain detached. It hurts worse than �" almost �" anything. But I must endure. I can take to these hills. The rocks, the moon, the hills can be my lovers. Accept this, Nell. Forget love, it is not meant for you. Move on, be strong. Have faith in this land, if nothing else. Breathe.

 

6/17/11

I don’t think it’s fair to say Charlie and Dean are the only two old men that visit the store nightly. There is actually quite a collection of them:

 

Harvey: Harv is one of the oldest ones that comes in. he walks bent over and I think he got stuck that way after reaching for so many pennies on the floor. He greets me every day with “hey little doll” and rarely buys anything other than chewing tobacco, though sometimes with a yoo hoo in a can. I think he was in the Navy between the Korean and some other war. Hes been all over the world but he can barely hear anymore. He always wears little plaid shirts and a cap. Since he is almost deaf, he usually just sits in the corner and grins while the other men make random jokes at his expense. He drives a little green Subaru outback and always parks in the handicapped place

 

 Addition on 10/23/11:

I always try to take care of Harv, since the other men are always so hard on him. I save him parts of my supper and take up for him. The men claim he is just fooling me, that he has lots of money in the bank and mooches everything off his daughters, who are rough anyways. I defend Harv always, as he seems to have very few things to look forward to in his life. Matty told me that his only son died when he was (the son) was 25 and Harv has never been the same since, according to what he has heard. I don’t know, I just know Harv is innocent and kind to me, and I am not about to beat up on him like all the old men do.

 

Stokes:

First Stokes creeped me out a little bit but I love him now. He was really good friends with Mamaw and Dadaw and he knows Dad pretty good, it seems. He has the biggest belly of anyone ive ever met. He used to be the bakersville cop and one day a scary man was coming into the store. I pointed him out as a weirdo before he came in and stokes replied with a “well we’ll just knock him in the nose then” I never thought I could be comforted by an old man, but Stokes came pretty close that day.

 

Hayden:

One thing I don’t particulary like about hayden, his butt is always hanging out and if it is hot outside, he will be shirtless. He is such a good man though and always has something to say. He seems to be interested in what I have to say too. Though it seems he has a questionable past, drugs and roughness and people know not to mess with him. Dad likes him and says he is a hard worker.

 

Addition, 10/23/11:

Hayden hasn’t been to the store in at least  two months, since the cops came to his house after a neighbor called them (not sure what the original reason was). He had a gun and supposedly pointed it at the cops. I haven’t seen or heard from him since, but I need to ask the old men about him.

 

Boomer: actually, Michael. But he has been called Boomer by literally everyone since the 2^nd grade and he is in early 40s now, one of the younger loafers. He’d been married once but now is a real ladies man. All the women his age that come in give him a big hug and he keeps his arm around them. Harv says that’s the first thing boomer notices, whether or not a woman is wearing a ring. One night he called Harv in the middle of the night to tell him that he had two women coming over at the same time and asked harv if he would come over! What an odd relationship, I would never call old Harv and ask him to come hang out with me and my lovers! Haha! Boomer coaches a lot of the little league baseball and basketball teams. He loves his sports, esp Carolina, of course. He always gets refills on coffee. He always has on a baseball cap and a cut off tee shirt.

 

Addition, 10/23/11:

Boomer got married! Who would have guessed it! She is such a sweet lady, too. Her name is Buffy and they just got married last week. Though I have heard from multiple people that there isn’t much hope for Boomer and marriage…oh dear. Matty has told me recently of all the parties Boomer has had and how he is a pretty wild guy. But Buffy seems to have a wild side as well, so maybe they will last! I hope so. Boomer’s dad is about to die though, as soon as they got home from their honeymoon they had to go to the hospital to be with the family.

 

I don’t know why I feel it is so important to record the lives of these people. I think it may be so that I can look back and realize that good things and unexpected relationships come from taking chances, in this case from applying to BQM. Whatever, that’s terribly cheesy. But that’s all for tonight; I’m ready to close!

 

Also added on 10/23/11:

 

Ed! How could I forget Ed? I guess because he was sick when I first started working and didn’t really become a regular until lately. I love Ed to death. He was in the marines and lived up north for awhile. He has snow white hair and I am pretty sure he wears dentures. His wife’s name is Nellie (!) and he tells a lot of stories about her. I told  him I wanted to meet her and she stopped by the next night. What a cute sweet little lady. I had to jump all over Ed one night for being mean to Harv and since then we have a love hate relationship. I let him do my word searches though, so I guess we are friends.

 

I feel like I should write more about Dean and Charlie as well. Dean is such as jokester. We have such a strange relationship and dora has fussed at me multiple times for flirting with him, but he is just such a funny guy. He tells me how pretty I am and has smacked me on the butt twice and I had to draw the line there. He hasn’t done it since, thank the lord. He works at BuckStove and knows about every person that comes into the store. He always makes some remark when a good looking woman comes in. He greets every man with a “Hey Bud!” whether he knows them or not .He is so full of happiness. Love him to death.

And good old Charlie. The kindest man I have ever met. He knows everything about everything. Animals, insects, plants, cars, people. Today I told him, I said, Charlie, I don’t have a life! I am hanging out at Texaco on a Sunday night. He laughed and shook his head, telling me, you got a lotta life ahead of you girl. Yeah, you got a lotta life in you. Simple things like that, that if anyone else said would be cheesy and laughable, seem genuine and believable coming from Charlie. He has a little woman that has been helping him garden and cooking for him. Dean keeps cracking jokes about them getting married and when am I going to make them a wedding cake. I love my old men, as strange as that may sound. Charlie always has neat things. Saturday he showed me a purple rock he found and he gave me some Indian Corn once. He also gave me an orange thing to hang from my mirror: