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Stage 1: Denial - This isn't so bad. I can work here while looking for something better. Stage 2: Anger - WTF?! How do they get away with treating employees like this? Stage 3: Bargaining - Maybe if I work my ass off they will recognize my talent, promote me and things won't be so bad. Stage 4: Depression Ė Surfaces on mornings when snooze is hit 3-4 times with the hope that I wake up somewhere else as someone else. Stage 5: Acceptance - A year and a half to go till I have another job. I can do this.
If one more person says or rates me as having a good personality, I may just scream. I mean thatís great that people think that Iím swell, but sometimes you just want to feel beautiful. You want to feel desirable. You want to be wanted. You want to feel sexy. I understand that much of that is a state of mind, but itís nice to be rated as pretty too. Iím at a low point where I feel like I may never been able to pull myself up. Where is the man who is supposed to be looking for me?
DamnÖIíve got no game. I stood there in the copy room with my heart beating out of my chest. Surely he must know that I find him attractive. I ask him what heís up to. He says that heís waiting to use the copy machine as heís standing next to the guy who came to repair the machine. I asked how he was doing. He said okay. I asked if he had anything going on for the weekend. He said no. The repair guy smiles and chuckles to himself at this exchange. I just want to crawl into a hole.
Why canít I cut him out of my life for good? He can be so totally selfish and it drives me nuts. He never does what he says heíll do and it drives me nuts. So why do I smile when he emails to apologize for not calling earlier this week? Is he trying? Does he care? Will I ever know? Will I ever find the right mix, so that Iím not constantly hitting my head against the counter? There was a time where he met most of my needs, but not all. It is what it is. Just Sayiní.
Standing up at work for what you believe in is not supposed to suck so much? Why is it that employees in this society fear doing or saying what is right for fear of losing their jobs? Why is it that I get reprimanded in private for speaking my mind in public? Apparently as someone who is respected by others and looked up to, Iím supposed to put a positive spin on the negative. Would I really be respected and looked up to if I did?
An afternoon walking through the DIA with friends and their lovers is how I spent my afternoon. Not a lazy day for me. It was spent attempting to soak in as many paintings and artifacts as possible. In an attempt to making things current, the DIA has changed the format. Now, every one in awhile, the plaque that says who did the painting and when also gives the artists reasoning behind it. Itís stories that I love more than art, so that is the perfect combination of beauty and poetry to my eyes and ears. The free hot chocolate rocked.
It is amazing how so few words written in such a short format can be the most difficult to come up with. Writing little snip-its of daily life in an attempt to capture moments in time. There are days when I am overcome with too much to say and too much to think. There are other days when I wish to escape from that prison and think of nothing special. However it seems that what we want the most tends to be the most difficult to obtain try as we may. Does it ever become more simple or stay complex?
Sometimes I amuse myself. I get frustrated with the world and society about why certain things are the way that they seem. Why everyone thinks that a woman needs a man to be happy. I laugh at the idea. I do not need a man to make me happy. I do not need a man to complete me. So why is it that I want nothing more than to curl up in bed with someone and read a book? I have plenty of friends that I laugh with, but I want someone special to share things with. Iím fucked up!
My professor tells me today that perhaps my clientís issue is that she procrastinates as a response to her perfectionism because people who are trying to be perfect tend to put off ďperforming.Ē I think she is right. I think this is part of my problem. Iím so worried about not being a good counselor, that I do not know where to go with my client. I fear failure and that of being a fraud. I want to be good at my profession. I want to expand my frame of reference and kick some butt. Does it ever get easier?
His shyness I take a rejection in my own socially awkward insecure way. However when I see him my heart skips a beat. Is it love at first sight? Is it lust? Is it insecurity? Is it a fear of rejection? What is it that makes me smile when I see him and want to slink away into a hole at the same time? Apparently he is quieter with others than he is with me. Is this because Iím forward despite the insecurity or because there is a slight connection? He is probably clueless about the minutes spent overthinking this.
Every time I want to walk away and discard him, he comes back. And sometimes he says nice things. So my mind struggles between what I want, wish, and what it is. I do not know if I can be objective when it comes to him. I donít know why it is that I allow myself to be jacked around back and forth. Itís getting better, but at the same time it doesnít stop. When will I make it stop? Only time will tell what the cards have in store. I can only take it one day at a time.
My ďtherapistĒ tries to correlate the anger that I feel at work at times to the lack of myself that I feel in relationships. I donít quite see the correlation. At work, I fear sticking up for people (I do sometimes anyway) and fighting the oppression will result in being fired in an economy where itís hard to find work. In relationships I fear letting the total me out for fear of being rejected. Okay, maybe there is a slight correlation and they impact my life in different ways. They say that knowing is the first step, so now what?
Religion is a hot topic. Most days my views do not impact the rest of the world. I express my disbelief in organized religion. I tell the class that I am Spiritual and that I do have friends who come from a variety of backgrounds. Unfortunately, I express my anger with my grandpaís church where the preacher says that if you do not feel Jesus has saved you, you will never see him again in Heaven. My classmate struggles with that belief in a faith that she has come to embrace. I didnít mean to offend, Iím just so angry.
Treated to a lovely dinner by a lovely friend, I wish I could dine at the place every night. Itís a small French restaurant with a lot of class and a lot of flavor. Itís the only time I ended up trying every course. Smoked Salmon with cream cheese and capers to start, French onion soup to follow, shrimp and scallop crepe with a Newburg sauce and carrots, and crŤme brulťe to close. A fine red wine was shared with good conversation. Later we met up with her friend and had beers and more conversation. Thatís all I ever need.
Are you ever too old to party like a rock star? Drunk men who think itís fun to brush your breasts as they shake hands with your friends constantly? Plus the 40 something guitar player and the twenty something doe-eyed virginal girl who wants him to give her a tune up. Letís not get into the 3 beers, 3 shots of Jameson later finalized with green food colored water that passes for beer to some without good taste. Sometimes itís nice to pretend to be young and free. Sometimes I think I am and then I nurse the hang over.
Only women bleed, boy is that true on so many levels. Why does it have to feel so debilitating? All I have done today is sleep, chat with a friend, watch many episodes of SATC, drink tea and orange juice, eat salad and peanut butter sandwiches, and sleep some more. Iím on my way back to sleep. It is almost as though this day did not happen. Tomorrow will be another. I just want to curl up in a fetal position until it is all over. Can I please just stay home till I feel like a human being again?
Rootbeer and pizza, thatís life after two days of drinking and such. It was also a nice night out filled with acoustic music and friends. Songs were sung. Conversations spoken and hugs given. All in all it was a good night. Minus the part where a friend decided to be a schmuck imposing his views on me. Calling me out in a passive-aggressive way about my fears speaking to men Iím interested in. That wasnít nice. Too bad you think of things later to say like well at least I can love. I just never seem to get the chance.
Iím angry. Iím fighting a cold. Iím lonely. Iím tired. I canít write straight. I canít think straight. My throat feels like something crawled in it and died unexpectedly. My eyelids are heavy. The Boy called tonight. I was on another call and didnít take his. I was proud of myself for that decision not being a hard one. I called him back and got his voice mail. Apparently he does have other people to talk to beside me. Who knew? I wonder why he still bothers. That drives me a little crazy especially since I will probably never know.
Of course he calls back tonight. I knew he would. As usual we talk about work and school. I try to pause a little more to see if he will fill the silence. He doesnít, so I ask a question or two. We talk about how heís taking vitamins and working on his finances. It took him a year and a half to listen to me he says. I ask what else will he listen to me about a year and a half later. Is it then that heíll tell me he loves me? Will I care if he does?
Merde. My throat is raw and I am losing my voice. I never want anything more than to talk when I donít have a voice. The internet is against me as I was chatting to a perfectly hot 25 year old on OKC and now it wonít let me log back in. *sigh* I need to go to sleep to wake up for a beautiful day of work tomorrow. Iíd laugh at that statement, but itíll hurt too much. Spring started today and it may snow tomorrow. I just want sunshine and flowers to pour forth. Iím ready for spring.
Once there was a boy. He was tall, and 25. Younger than I like them to be, but he seems to have a little something about him. Itís as if he is an old soul trapped into the body of a 25 year old. Hopefully with the libido of an 18 year old if we end up hooking up. What can I sayÖIím a girl that needs a bit of action! Itís an odd scenario really. I kind of feel like Christina Ricci in Penelope. Could he be my James McAvoy? Or will there be pigís blood? Mixing movie metaphors.
Iím sorry did Saturday March 22, 2008 exist? Was there a beginning, middle, or end? I suppose my beginning was sitting up way to late talking to EM until 3 a.m. when she had to be to work at 8 a.m. The middle was sleeping. Followed by more Nyquil and more sleep. There was a bit toward the end of the middle where I watched a few episodes of Sex and the City and ate a meal. Then the grande finale was, you guessed it, more sleep. Pop...pop...fizzÖfizzÖoh how sick I is. Me no like-y sleeping through life like that.
Easter, for those who do not know, is determined by being the Sunday after the first full moon after March 21st. This year, the full moon was on March 21st, thus making Easter Sunday, March 23rd. Does it get any more exciting than that? Without my niece and nephew around, we didnít do the traditional coloring of the eggs and the finding of the eggs. Although at 31, I still get an Easter basket and we watched No Country for Old Men. Today was not what it should have been. Just another day of going through the motions sick. YeaÖJesus.
So yeahÖthis sick thingÖIím done with it. Truly, itís getting old. Funny how another crush on another boy lowers my crush on the hot Russian IT guy at work. Although heís still hot and he still makes my heart skip a beat every time I say hello. Iíd like to think that itís infatuation. Iíd like to think that itís a crush. I just need to grow a pair. Heís just a man, made of flesh and blood. What is so scary about that? He feels. I feel. It just may not be the same thing. And thatís whatís scary.
Some days I just feel lazy. It is like I take all that I have to get through another day at work. My ears were all foggy. I was worried I may be getting an ear infection. I couldnít hear people talking that well. Two people got fired on Monday. Nothing comes as a surprise to me anymore. Working at GP is sometimes like working in a war zone. No one knows if this was a causality of war or a warning signal of more to come if people do not stand in line and do as they are told.
My friends and I have become a story at a lovely French restaurant in Ferndale. It seems that whenever we have large parties of people, we close the place and stay at least an hour after closing. They love us there it seems. The chef is nice as is the wait staff. They rock! Itís awesome to be thought of as cool by people you hardly know even if they donít quite remember you. My birthday party is a story that the chef tells other patrons when he tells them itís to stay. That put a smile on my face.
What is there to say about today? All I wanted to do was stay in bed and try again tomorrow. I donít know if it is anxiety or if it is self doubt, but I feel like giving up this semester. But then what? In other news, the internet boy returned an email. I canít decide if he is interested or if heís just being polite. I suppose my answer will be clear when I write him back. Will he respond or will he just become a fading memory? Why am I so nauseas? I think I spelled nauseas incorrectly.
Fuck my job and everything it stands for as well as everything it doesnít stand for. Some days it feels like an abusive relationship that I canít get out of because of the financial security it offers. Iím better than this and I know better than this. Yet each Monday I return as if I didnít have invisible black and blue marks left on my body from the struggle. Itís almost to the point that I wonder if Iím doing something wrong to deserve this. Like I just donít get how things work or should work. How sick is that?
Why am I afraid to fall asleep? Itís not like I do not enjoy slumbering through the night. Hell, I get excited when I can manage eight hours of this activity. But every night it seems like I fight going to sleep like a two year old trying to be autonomous. Although staying up until 2 a.m. watching old episodes of SATC seems like a good time, and it is, it should not replace the coveted sleep I wish to get. I know though, with every yawn that I take, as soon as I try to sleep, I shall awake.
Another Sunday wasted by sleeping and watching many episodes of Sex and the City. You would think that I had nothing more to live for on a Sunday than my couch, the TV remote, and a good snooze after waking up at noon. The day was also filled with thoughts of everything I should accomplish and nothing that I did accomplish. Tomorrow, I get to wake up and dress for Hell. Hopefully the day will just blow by as if nothing happened until the next event that makes me want to punch a wall and break my knuckles. Thatís sexy.
Plunging into the cold water, I am allowed to escape from the world for an hour. For an hour, I focus only on myself, my body, and what it is doing. I move as fast or as slow as I wish. I feel my body come alive in the water as it warms up. I feel my head clear of all the cloudy and angry thoughts. I listen to the music and laugh with the instructor. I start to feel alive again after wasting away on the couch last night. I love water aerobics. And water aerobics loves me too.
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