Dexter

I'm taking a break from watching season two of Dexter.
 I sure love that show. I understand where he's coming from... I'm cold inside too... most of the time. And I don't know how to relate to people; it's all an act. The real me... who knows who that is.
 Work flowed today, as well as a diner can flow I guess. We sold all the specials I made, sold out. Steve was sick, and I gave him some cough drops. I also gave him my old cell phone. (prepaid).
 People give him stuff. He's charming. I know him though, he's a taker. I don't mind, I didn't need that crappy phone anyway. He'll repay me by helping me out if I really need it. I rarely really need it though.
 A woman came into the diner today, slovenly, overweight, with greasy dirty blonde hair and a frumpy attitude; her truck was parked in the lot, taking up two spaces. It's an old beat up pickup, with the rear window missing, covered with plastic;
 The front window had cracks spiderwebbed all across it. She had applied for  a job with us as a cook  yesterday and now had come back to see if we had looked at her app when her brakes went out. She had a master cylinder in the truck, a new one, but no money, no one to come and help her except her ex-husband, who wasn't really all that into it. I was not about to go get him, not having a strange man in my truck; I was not about to give him cab fare, although I did say I'd chip in five bucks.
 She sat in a booth for a great portion of the day until we got packed and needed the table.

I felt bad for her. I know I have been in that situation many times, but I would walk home after pushing my car into a better parking lot or space where I wasn't impedeing business traffic. When I'm sober, I have my baggage stowed pretty damn secure.
 I did feel bad for her. Real bad. But she has to trod the same road we all do when in trouble: look inward, fix the problem, walk the walk and talk the talk. She needs to clean up her act before applying for jobs, maybe get a rear windshield, stop marrying losers or doing drugs or whatever it is she's doing that takes her to a diner in a beater truck with no money or loved ones around.
 What could I do? We gave her something to eat and drink; I can't fix her problem for her. I left her there sleeping in her truck, in the eighty five degree heat. I've been there. It's a hard path to trod.
 First you got to admit you have a problem.

I have many problems. My biggest problem is ME.
 My birthday is in seven days. I'm on the downhill slide to fifty. I'd just as soon slit my throat as go to work tomorrow, but going to work is so much less painful so I guess that's where I'll end up.
 Things will get better. I'll get a decent job and start back in school. This is  a tough time.
Lonely, sad, but I'm well fed and surrounded by decent folks who love and/ or like me. I can feel the possibilities growing.
 Long as I don't drink, anything can happen. And will.

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