Thomas (the Thai guy) originally hired Mark to do signs and some lighting for the restaurant, but their personalities clashed, big time. Mark's imitation of an annoyed Thai person was so spot-on, I couldn't stop laughing. Thomas has been in America for 20 years and this restaurant is his dream. His whole extended family is here, and he is putting his life savings into it, but it's already a month late opening. The location is so prime, he's losing $400 a day just by not being open.

The other problem is that Thomas wants to do *everything* -- he has background in design, cooking, business, and he wants to not only own, manage, and design the restaurant, but be the head chef. He's overwhelmed, pinching pennies, a perfectionist, and he hates Mark's artistic ideas. They were at a standstill about this drawing, until I came along.

Mark is convinced that I am the perfect person to become the resident artist - personal assistant - muse -- I understand Thai culture, I'm an artist, I can do a lot of things, but I am quiet and won't clash with Thomas the way Mark does. Also I am willing to work for much less than Mark's wage of $50 an hour. Mark had this whole plan of how I should gradually make myself useful, until I become indispensable, and "You'll end up managing the restaurant!" in his words.

I never would have thought of anything he was suggesting, and I had trouble following his train of thought, it was so foreign to me, but I could see it made sense. I may be a lot of things, but I have never had a mind for business or how to make money off a situation -- I forgot to even ask Thomas how I would be paid. Mark was saying to play it like a game, to show that I have talent, but not to give too much until I make Thomas commit to an hourly rate and a certain number of hours per week, then gradually insinuate myself. The way Mark put it I would be doing Thomas a favor -- the restaurant is on the verge of failure and construction is in a state of chaos, nothing is getting done, and I could save it.

I wish I could think like that -- maybe I am too idealistic -- and humble -- I'm always completely open and "this is me". And I'm always willing to work for way less than I'm probably worth. It seems pretentious to demand to be paid a certain amount. It's so hard for me to think like Mark that I'm not sure I can follow what he said I should do, but I might as well try.

So I went to my therapist appointment today -- it's at a community center in Uptown, so it's free. I have been in therapy for very short periods of time, when I was 19, 21, and 23. The therapists at Reed universally sucked -- the first one prescribed me Prozac for social anxiety (??) and the Prozac *made* me depressed, the only time in my life I've had clinical depression. The second one would share details of my personal life with other Reed staff, including my professors, and ended up blackmailing me. The one when I was 23 was the "smile and nod" type -- she never advised me that if I would stop being an escort, half my problems would vanish. I figured that out on my own.

But I like my new therapist. Her name is Kristin. She has been to Thailand, to Krabi even. I made it through about 1/20th of the important details of my life, and she was completely overwhelmed. I told her all about last week. She said there is a drug treatment group there, but unless I relapse again she said it might be better if I didn't go to it, since it's mostly recently recovered addicts and it might be a trigger to hear about all that shit.

I told her my goal is very simple: to live and work somewhere, permanently, and have a stable life. No more traveling, ever! But that I don't want that permanent place to be here, so first I have to have a stable life here long enough to pay back my parents, and then decide where I should go. My parents have this dream that I will live here forever -- they're always leaving articles in conspicuous locations about how great Minnesota is -- but it just isn't home. Even though I was born here.

No need to hurry, though. I don't need to run west yet, San Francisco will be there forever. So will Portland. I have the feeling that my hatred for Minnesota is something I should get over -- why do I hate it so intensely? There must be a reason. Maybe it's important. Maybe I could learn to get used to it, to realize that not everything has to be perfect all the time, I don't always have to live in a dream, a fairy tale city, I don't have to have a charmed life 100% of the time -- maybe then I could accept my own imperfections too.

That's the mistake I made, one of the mistakes, to have wanted a story for myself, whereas life alone is enough.