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primarily disappointed
February 20, 2008
Dog knows, I should be used to it by now. I should have accepted, a long time ago, that the people in this state are never, ever going to do something sensible.
But I am, apparently, an optimist deep down in my soul. I expect better of them every time.
So I am perpetually disappointed.
I�ve waited my whole life to vote for a woman in a presidential race, and it felt sweet, even if it was only a primary. I�m glad I took a moment to savor what I was doing as I filled in the oval next to her name. It may be the only chance I get.
And for the record, my local community managed to let me down as well, to the tune of two referenda and a mayoral primary.
I tried to talk to my friend-slash-AVP at work yesterday, but he simply wouldn�t engage in the conversation I needed to have. I am at the end of my rope with my boss, and I needed him to at least give me some mentoring on how to handle her. It�s getting lonelier and scarier out here with no support from anyone.
My basic--primary, if you will--problem with her is her rampant double-standards. She will insist on you becoming the resident expert in one subject or another, but she will never, ever believe what you have to say on said subject. She will insist on you being a team player, and then turn around and treat you like an afterthought--if she remembers to think of you at all. She will insist on double, triple, and quadruple documentation--and demand to be copied on everything--but she will never, ever read it. She manages with a bewildering combination of intrusive micro-management and leaving you hanging out to dry. Even if she hates you and doesn�t even want you off her team (not me, but a teammate) team, it�s common knowledge that the only way off her team is through the front door.
She is consistent only in her inconsistency.
I really wish I knew what to do. The situation is toxic.
Oh, right. The hair color. I used it on Sunday. I have to admit it was a pretty good match for what my natural color used to be. But the gray coverage was less that great. And I didn�t spend that much money, and subject my hair to ammonia, for 80% coverage. And honestly, I wanted it a bit darker than my own color. Mousy ash blonde has never been my fave.
I wish I could afford to get it done professionally, but even that doesn�t always work out. My mom�s stylist is fabulous, and Mom has been with her for at least twenty years, loves her to death, and trusts her implicitly--but the last dye job she did came out red instead of blonde. Mom didn�t mind that much; she�s willing to change it up now and then. But her stylist was ready to commit hara-kiri with a rat-tail comb.
I just read back through this and it sounds so much more grouchy than I actually feel. I got a massage today, and I�m feeling pretty good, actually. It�s so weird not having a tension headache at this time of day. I�m not used to it. But I could learn to be. Anyway, I felt like I had to add this so that when I read this entry some time in the future I�ll know that I wasn�t as wretched as I sounded.
Reading: �Seabiscuit: An American Legend�, by Laura Hillenbrand. Reading one of the hot books of 2001 in 2008? Yeah, that�s about my speed.
Surfing: Surfing: Big Happy Funhouse. Be sure to place your cursor over the pictures for maximum enjoyment.
Listening: The soundtrack from the classic MGM musical, "The Band Wagon"
At Random: click here
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