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the red menace
March 15, 2007
When I got ready to leave for work this morning, in my red sweater, and my ruby earrings, pendant and ring, carrying my red day planner, red travel mug, and red purse, containing my red wallet, red card case, and red phone�I asked myself a question. Too much red? Nahhh, I replied.
I�m still around. Despite death, depression, Norovirus, and seriously major car repairs. Trying to find my sea legs in this storm-tossed reality of mine. And it isn�t easy. The only way I can properly process the kind of heavy stuff that has been happening lately is with huge swathes of solitude. Of course, circumstances like this are the always ones that deny me every shred of solitude. I�m never alone, except when driving to and from work. I think my substantial commute is the only reason I haven�t gone loopy. Well, completely loopy, anyway.With Spouse on straight 40/days, he�s there when I get ready in the morning, he�s already home when I pull in the drive at 5:00, and he�s there every goddamn minute of the weekend. Weekends�there�s another topic. It�s always something. Down to my folks (hey�I know they need me right now) or with his mom or�how hard is this on me?�taking HIS mom with us when we go to MY folks. No time to do more than minimal cleaning and laundry, constantly feeling exhausted because I never get a chance to stop, catch up, and rest. I can�t even spend any time on the Internet when he�s around. It�s overwhelming, and frankly, I�m finding it hard to breathe.
And there�s work, of course. I hate what I�m doing, and although a large part of it is because I was forced into it with absolutely no say in the matter, the core of my hate is based on the actual type of work I have to do. I like facts, I like code, I hate people. I love to DO, I love to be told very specifically what to to, I loathe having to tell anyone else what to do. I am not a facilitator. But my job is.Actual convo w/ my boss yesterday.
Me: (heartfelt honesty) I hate this�I can�t stand having to be the go between, always sitting in the middle and poking and prodding and reminding other people of what they need to do. That�s all I seem to be doing lately.
Boss: (chirpily) Well, it�s good practice!
Me: Good practice?! For what�years and years at a job I hate?
Boss: But you�re doing a wonderful job! Why in the heck is it supposed to make me feel all better to be told I�m doing a wonderful job? Like I should just go away and suddenly fall in love with my totally unsuitable job, just because I�m good at it. I know it�s uncommon to be able to do a good job at something you hate, but it isn�t friggin� unheard of! Why can�t these people get their minds around the concept? It�s called discipline, dammit. But it doesn�t mean I�m happy, you freaks.
In a sweet-yet-selfish, sadly misguided attempt to perk me up without actually having to do anything he didn�t want already to do, Spouse asked me out for Saturday night. Dinner (his choice) and a movie (also his choice). His selections include yet another iteration of the heavy, tired, nearly indigestible local version of Italian, and �Wild Hogs�.Ugh. Oh, well. At least he doesn�t want to see �Black Snake Moan� (Or as we�ve taken to calling it, �Muthaf*ckin� Chick on a Muthaf*ckin� Chain�.)
Reading:Short Stories��The Westphalian Ring�, by Jeffrey Deaver, �Everybody�s Girl�, by Robert Barnard, �Imitate the Sun", by Luke Sholer.
Beading: A strung necklace of aquamarine glass chips and silver beads that was commissioned by my mom after we went to a bead store together, and a set of DNA spiral napkin ties in yellow and green, also for my mom.
Listening: I can�t find a musical style that suits me right now. I listen to a lot of different things, but nothing is holding my interest.
At Random: click here
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