I hate everything about this day.
Items of note: Deadlines (to me) blown, a forensic specialist scheduling a date to copy the contents of my phone (yes all of them), another problem child about to be added to my Calgon-take-me-away list, and a capable and competent friend getting let go.
And that ain’t the half of it.
It’s one thing to discover people aren’t who you think they are.
I can deal with that.
And have.
And am.
It’s just the confirming of who you suspected they were all along … when you were praying to be proven wrong … that’s far from pleasant.
And the trying to pretend that you didn’t arrive at that particular epiphany is the real pisser.
When something shady happens, and the Weakest Link is the lone connection to the shady event, it makes you wonder. Since god knows they didn’t work on any of your shit that you needed help on. But the thought of them doing anything “extra” is too ludicrous to even comprehend. And you could ask but they’re on vacation day 32 so far in 2016. Just like they were the last time something shady happened that connected these two parties.
I’m so bummed.
I had a friend in my work building back in 2009. We started here at the same time.
We both left and both returned at the same time in 2014.
Today he told me Idiot Landlord shit-canned him. His last day is Thursday.
Reminds me of the joyful people who shit-canned me the day after Christmas so many years ago. Way to celebrate Good Friday/Easter weekend.
These fools want to raise the rent 20%. But losing my buddy will make it suck 20% more. I should think that alone would justify a discount.
I’m trying very hard not to think about the Weakest Link on Team Awesome. How the guy who manages my building and removes my trash is more cooperative, thoughtful, hard-working, eager to complete a project and think a few steps ahead, make someone’s life easier, or basically just be pleasant and valuable in general that that toadstool who makes it a point to tell me that “they are to be told if they are needed past a certain hour” (cough cough FIVE P.M.) but that shit don’t come out when they are cc’ing the higher-paid set.
In any event. It makes me sad when people love their jobs and try very hard to do excellent work get let go, while others who aren’t worth much more than dog shit on a shoe will “stick” around forever and stink up the place.
I know a couple of people who vent about their spouses. Personal things. Things an outsider should never hear. Things I need to scrub from my memory when I see these perfectly lovely people on social media or IRL.
I also know other people who would rather walk on their lips than say a bad word about their better half. There’s one couple in particular that’s splitting up and honest to God, they are each other’s No. 1 reference. They want only the best for each other.
I am usually in the latter category. Don’t get me wrong. I can throw more shade than a beach umbrella. But generally I do want everyone to find their happiness. Oftentimes I’m just over the moon that the pressure is off of me to provide it.
But I genuinely, honestly pray that the asshole who lives above me dies a violent, horrible, long, slow and extremely painful death.
I’m also so exhausted by worrying about my mom constantly and not being able to make her OCD and in chronic pain self happy, that I really think my limits have found their limits.
I normally don’t have much to say on either topic. I just thank God I’m alive and ok and that things are better than I probably deserve.
But damn. Between upstairs and across the hall, I got no energy to deal with everyone and everyone else that was put on this earth to sap the best of me dry.
So. I don’t want to be one of “those people” who can’t keep their trap shut about the choices they made. But I also need a minute off from the things I’ve chosen (it’s a better perspective than feeling like it’s not a choice) because I didn’t choose to feel like crap.
I’m just so afraid to tell the universe I want a change because it might be a bad one. But I’m even more afraid of what will happen if shit stays exactly the same. What’s going to change is me and I’m terrified it won’t be for the better. And I won’t be able to get what I lost back. Even if I didn’t want it anymore while I still had it.
“Take a long hard look at my face
Take away the things I can’t replace
Take my heart, go on take it away
I’ve got nothing to say.”
— Grace Potter, “Things I Never Needed”
I often wonder why, when all is going haywire, people can’t show me grace if I lose my tongue or my composure.
So I don’t make it a habit of parting, however temporarily, with either.
But i can only tell myself so many times to think of the problems others have that turn them into less-palatable versions of themselves.
I get that they transfer their stuff onto me that’s meant for someone else. Or maybe I do deserve it, in their minds. I don’t know.
I won’t respond either way, though. I’m a safe recipient.
Until I’m not.
Grace is a two-way street. And it’s feeling pretty lonely right now.
Had the strongest urge to call off and write all day today.
Then I went back to work.
And I have to pay to park all week. Seems like a good time to get away from it all.
Too busy at work last week to go to the PostSecret event I paid for.
Purchased these on my anniversary date when I lost all my paid leave. Again.
There’s something depressing about working late on a Friday.
Any day, really.
And I’m talking past-dusk late. I ain’t in the 4:59 or even the 6:59 club.
It makes me think back to all my single years when my cats were alone … I needed a thousand sets of sheets and pairs of skivvies because I never had time for laundry … and I declined or ignored requests to hang out because, work.
I thought of that as I fought with my PC most of the day and week. And as I am bailing on another outing tonight I honestly didn’t bother fully committing to in the first place. As I broke two keys on my personal laptop because I was beating on it in frustration over the remote machine.
At least when I was younger, I should have gone out more. Now mom doesn’t want me leaving the house, and I’m so buggy-eyed tired that I don’t have it in me to be upset anymore.
There was construction upstairs all day. Jackhammers ahoy. And Fuckhead McGillicuddy (my newest name for him) will no doubt take his nap now and bounce off the walls all night.
I remind myself that I was not put on this earth for all this monkey business. But what if I was? What if my small tastes of power and joy and love are all I get?
In “Scandal” last night, Liv learned to live without her power. It sucked. She found a way to get it back. You can’t forget the taste of it once you’ve had it. And being at the mercy of others’ is about as appealing as death.
