zeptember

Yesterday I got in to work and my boss was already there. She told me that the new coworker and I would be getting trained on billing stuff, and that she was going to have a talk with the existing coworker. I told the boss to leave me out of it, cuz I’m gone - I’m not gonna be here in a week.

The boss took the existing coworker out to coffee, so I knew there was going to be an intense talk between them.

When the boss and the coworker got back from their meeting, they were both quiet, so I knew that the coworker had gotten in trouble. I hoped to any deity listening that the boss didn’t phrase it like I was part of this reaming, because the coworker LOVES to take shit out on me every time she gets in trouble, as though I had tattled on her.

A few minutes later, the boss called me away from my training to have a talk with me. We stayed in the office and went to the back room.

This is where reality shifted.

The boss informed me that she’d reamed the coworker, yes, as I’d suspected. BUT, she and the coworker had also talked at length about the NEW coworker, and they both decided that she’s not cutting it. She’s too slow. She doesn’t take initiative. She cannot multitask to save her life. She’s afraid to greet and phone patients and her voice is way too soft as a result. She says she went to optometry school but she doesn’t know how to dispense glasses and contact lenses, and she’s never done billing….etc etc… so the boss is going to fire her.

Just one day earlier, the boss had said she was going to KEEP the new girl despite her slowness. And I’d said GOOD cuz I still want to leave.

So now with the new girl being slated for the chopping block, the boss eyeballed me, and I stared back with wide eyes, shaking my head “no… no….”

Boss pleaded with me to stay on at least two more weeks while she tries to find someone else. She knows I have an interview on Monday with a dotcom. After we talked a bit, I sighed heavily and met her eyes. I told her for purely selfish reasons, I NEED to continue paying my bills, and despite how bad this job is to work with the existing coworker with the way she treats me, I feel I have no choice BUT to accept the boss’ begging offer.

Of course, the boss was overjoyed with this response, knowing it’s for my own selfish reasons and all that I stay. She doesn’t care, so long as she has a quick person on staff to tide her through.

And then the shower of compliments.

She told me that neither the coworker nor I _have_ to continue working things out and being nicey nice to each other. She said the fact that we are _both_ trying to get along for the sake of getting the job done each day is a testament to our own awesomeness (paraphrasing here, not her actual words).

Yeah, she’s right, too. I had to smile and pat myself on the back for that, and hoped the coworker was doing the same, cuz we’d just talked things out again recently and shook hands and promised to try to get along again.

And as sick as it all sounds, I felt the depression lifting. I do NOT want to continue to stay in this job, but knowing _I’M_ the one back in the driver seat, calling the shots for the short term - that I am the one who will quit and not be let go… that makes me feel SO much better.

When the office closed for lunch yesterday, I was the first to return with my food. The boss was still there like she always is (she never gets lunch until the last second). She walked by me and mentioned, “you know you’re getting a raise too, right?”
I looked up, surprised, and said, “No! But thank you!”

Wow, so this is what job-related fellatio feels like. Cool.

Wonder how much the raise will be.

The reality shifting didn’t stop there.

Later on, when the new coworker was with a patient, the existing coworker found me in the lab and asked if I knew that the new girl would be fired. I sighed and said yes. The existing coworker, in a quiet voice, barked out, “Quit playin’. You know Doc wants to keep you longer. How long you gonna be here?”

I turned red from being put on the spot. I turned and looked at the calendar. I told her I promised doc til the 14th of October… 21st at the very latest.

The coworker softened.

“Really, what is it about this job?”

I looked at her and replied honestly, “It’s us. You know that. We work shit out and it falls apart again. We both admitted to a personality conflict. We both admitted to liking each other but at the same time can’t work with each other.”

She nodded, and told me she’d told our boss the same thing. We talked for a bit. Turns out SHE wants me to stay on as long as I can because I really help her out so much, and she’s scared at the thought of the new girl staying on and having to train her on everything when the girl was supposed to have gone to school for all of this.

“And how do you train someone to be quick on the phones and with patients?” the existing coworker asked me. I shrugged.
She told me she was thankful that I was up on it from day one.

…

What a truly mind boggling change of events.

I realised last night that this is the climax of my lesson I’ve been meaning to learn all these past months. I dunno how to write all that out just yet, but it precluded this job by many months.

I wonder what the finish will be like.

Got in to work today, wondering if the new coworker would be fired at the start or the end of the day.

The answer is neither.

The boss wussed out on firing the new coworker, even though she screwed up yet again today. Poor woman. I really like her, too. She and I have no racial issues and no personality issues. She’s mature emotionally and she’s about twenty years my senior. She’s just slow as all hell and doesn’t appear to have the training she says she has in this field.

Despite that, I fought for her to be retained, cuz I want out so bad. I had pleaded with the boss to give the new coworker another week. And this week was it. And boss said no. Boss told me the new coworker will be let go on Tuesday.

More later in this continuing saga…

I’ve never liked my depressions. I used to go a few weeks max before another depression would set in. It got worse with george. I used to go from one depression to the next, enjoying only a mere week sometimes of happiness.

When I stopped eating sugar, wheat and yeast back in April, I noticed that I was out of the pit for long periods of time. It felt soooo good.

In June, I started to really stress about moving and the new job, and I went back to eating sugary stuff, and minimal amounts of wheat and MSG (a.k.a. yeast extract, found in all kinds of “health food”).

And of course, within a few months, here I am, meltdown.

I know WHY I’m here. I know I can get back out. But when I’ve fallen into the pit, I usually have to stay awhile and set the broken bones, so to speak. While there, I have to reflect on stuff and Wait For It as it were.
Then, the trampoline arrives and I bounce back out.

In the meantime, I become a darker than usual person.

Today’s attempt to figure my mind out centers on why I am miserable in every job I’ve ever had, and how I can stop this cycle.

Clearly I’d like to not work at all. But I’ve never wanted to be a burden on anybody. I must take care of myself. Nobody wants to have to care for someone else when they’re trying to pay their own bills, unless they’re rich of course. I grew up in poverty. I’m dating someone who is in immense debt. As of this year, I’m over $5K in debt myself.

I was taught that money buys happiness, because my mom expected my dad to provide for all of us. He is bitter and resentful because of it, and gets upset when my brother or I have to call home for a loan. So I’d stopped calling long ago…until this year. I mentioned I MIGHT have to borrow money, and his tone showed disappointment in me, so I told him forget about it, and he happily did.
I have to grow up, cut the umbilical cord, take care of myself.

When one grows up with a set way of thinking, it’s hard to break free from that. I still haven’t figured out how to break free. My friend is a constant source of inspiration to me for all the times she’s tried to quit working for the man as it were. I keep trying to pare my expenses down. I keep trying to think of new ways to reuse and to part with stuff.
But I have too much materialistic greed, so long as I live with my boyfriend, who has the means to continue living above his means. It’s not his fault that I’m weak and I cave in. But knowing I have the weakness means I should somehow remove myself from it.
If I decided to get a one bedroom shack somewhere and get rid of my CD and book collection, as well as furniture and all the spooky knick-knacks, there’s no friggin way my boyfriend would go along with that. No way.
I could do it myself right? Live on my own again, right?

I don’t feel like that’s possible, either. It’s an emotional and financial tie I’ve made.

Can’t I make changes in the existing household for just my own self?

The answer is yes, hello YES. I acknowledge that I’m weak and haven’t been able to do that, though, not while living with someone who is materialistic.
So obviously, CHANGE the reality of the situation. That’s the correct answer.

It sounds SO easy typed out like this. I’m rearin to go like I’ve been to a pep rally.

I open up the want-ads and craigslist and I start the job search - and I feel depressed and nauseated all over again. I get stuck right at the starting line. I do not have confidence in my job skills. After all the jobs I’ve had since moving to California, I know a little about a lot of stuff. But after the dotcoms came crashing down, employers put their foot down and demanded specialisation. I’ve been displaced ever since.

I tried to go back to school when I was on unemployment in 2004, but the unemployment office demanded I quit, citing I was not taking classes to further my technical skills (I was taking a UNIX class, a programming class, and a Cisco certification class).

YOU figure it out.

The bastards halted my unemployment checks until I dropped out of school. I remained unemployed until the company that let me go took me back for a new contract after ten months.

Part of my whole problem is the whoring I have to do to sell myself to corporations. It’s a slimy business to write cover letters and resumes and go through interviews. I’ve never liked it, ever.
And I’m not good at lying or faking it. And I blank on critical questions due to extreme nervousness. And I don’t get jobs as a result.

I’ve thought of applying for mental disability. But one has to prove they are mental, too, you know. One has to go through a battery of tests and one HAS to take the harmful psychological pills and one has to demonstrate they cannot hold down a job.

Well, I got the ‘can’t hold down a job’ part. The brutal truth is that I’ve been fired and fired and fired again for attitude issues - for refusing to drink the kool aid.

But I can’t prove that I’m mentally debilatated. I’m just fine when I’m not working AND have money to pay the bills.

Ahhh, there’s the ‘M’ word again.

When will I learn to stop worshipping it.

I hate this capitalistic society. I hate the immorality it teaches. I hate the shame it teaches for nonconformity.

I hate that I cannot break out of it.

I should become a buddhist monk and forsake everything and go perch on a cold mountain somewhere. That’s what would actually bring me to the next incarnation. And yet, knowing this, I shrink back in abject fear.

Why?

Why is it sooooooo difficult to let go of this carnal world?

And you thought certain drugs were bad. Hah!

Okay, it’s officially PMS, I declare it so.

My cat jumped into my lap and meowed. I began petting her and looked at her fur - there’s some grey hairs growing in. I told her she’s not supposed to age. She still acts like a kitten.

I began to reflect on the past ten years. I’ve had these cats longer than any partnered relationship I’ve ever been in. These cats moved across country with me. They’ve always been there for me - in depression, in physical pain, in joy - always there. Always unconditional love. Always ready with a purr and a soft touch on the arm or face with their paws.

I began to cry and had to go into the bathroom to sob, because I realised that I will outlive my cats… like the realisation that hits a parent who knows they will outlive their child..

At the same time, I had posted to various forums a reminder of a Cure tribute night coming up soon. This led me to check out what Cure songs I had in my iTunes. I realised I only had the Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me album in there, so I grabbed all mine and my boyfriend’s CDs and decided to import them into iTunes.

The first CD I chose was Wish - one of the albums I figured I didn’t care much for. Get that one out of the way first and all that.

I loaded the CD in and it began to play, and immediately I found myself transported back to 1994, in an ex boyfriend’s room. I’d fallen in lust with Allen in high school. He was two years younger than me, but three years behind me, class-wise, because he was in special-education classes.

He was my next-door neighbor, and he was friends with my brother. They were skateboard buddies. By my senior year of high school, my brother caught wind of Allen and I making eyes at each other, and threatened both of us. He warned us against ever hooking up. He pointed out our flaws to each other. It didn’t matter. The lust was there.

I dated some asshole who claimed my virginity right out of high school, but I broke up with him within 18 months. When I was there sobbing after the breakup, it was Allen who came over to comfort me.
It wasn’t long before we hooked up. I took his virginity.
My brother found out and beat the shit out of him.

We dated for five years. We planned to be married on September 25, 1995. His mom gave him her old engagement ring, which he presented to me on New Year’s Eve 1991.

Me staring at my engagement ring. NYE 1991.

But he started doing drugs with my brother. Back then, I was militantly against drugs, so he did this behind my back. Then he started to fall in with gangsta-whiteboy-wannabes with my brother. Then he began cheating on me with several girls.
I left him multiple times. Every time, he’d sob and beg me to take him back, and each time, I caved in. Each time, I believed he’d change, and that there’d be time to fix us before our magical wedding date - 9/25/95.

It was 1994, just over a year before our wedding, when I realised that he would never change - that he would never stop doing the drugs or cheating on me, no matter how many times I left him. I realised too that I was in love more with his looks than his personality. He’s half Native-American, complete with the olive skin and raven-black hair. The hairless chest and face. The dark brown eyes.

When I visited my mother’s house in 2004, Allen was still living in the same neighborhood and found out I was in town. He knocked on the door. When I answered and saw him standing there, my knees went weak. After all these years, the attraction held strong.
My friend was with me at the time, so I felt safe to invite Allen in for a few minutes. We caught up on the past decade. He nearly bragged about dating another girl with my name, and that he was cheating on her, too. I smiled and told him some things never change, and then told him I had to get back to packing up my childhood belongings to ship home - to my new home - in California. He said he wanted to leave Michigan too, and that I was an inspiration to him that way - that he could do it if I could. And with that, he left.

Every year on September 25th, I find myself cringing as soon as I realise what date it is. I pine for the marriage that never was. But I do not miss the person or the relationship. It’s the idea of young love and marriage at the “appropriate” age taught to our parents and handed down to us. Marriage is supposed to happen in one’s early twenties for some reason.
Well, at the same time, the generation right after my mom’s, and my generation have both changed that by getting married and having babies much later.
But it doesn’t matter. We live by what we were taught. And I was taught to graduate high school and get engaged right away. I was taught to get a full time job and then get married and have kids.
And I have failed that.

And normally I’m quite okay with that.

It’s when I get all fucking PMSing hormonal, depressed .. or I play three distinct Cure albums that this all comes flooding back: Disintegration, Wish, Seventeen Seconds. It’s all definitive of a period of intense growth and change and heartbreak in my life - during college.

GodDAMN the fucking memory associated with our senses.

I want to stop being weepy now, plz k thx. I want to overwrite certain memories associated with music too, plz.

Last night I sent out two resumes.

Tonight I tried, I really did, but I couldn’t focus long enough to send out more resumes. I got really picky and yet insecure. I tried modifying the resume again but felt ashamed.

On the way home from work, I almost cried again.
I saw a tiny girl with shoulder-length blonde hair bounding after her siblings and father, and my brain imprinted on my niece.

Tears welled up as I realised that my niece is growing up and I’m not there to see it. I began to wonder if this is a form of biological clock ticking, or if I’m just PMSing or just depressed or what.
I focused on the thought of having my own children and again, it was a blank void because of the financial situation I’m always in (read: in the red). So I know it’s not biological clock. It’s just regret in general for not being near my family.

I contemplated moving back home and quickly realised the futility in that, since unemployment is much higher there than it is here. And so naturally with that, the need for specialisation is greater there than it is here. And I have a smattering of knowledge across several fields. I’m no specialist.

I come home and drink most nights lately. Today I had fleeting suicidal thoughts.

Don’t worry though - my outlook is such that my soul will have utterly failed if I kill it off via suicide. And I don’t take kindly to failure, or of having to come back to repeat an existence (yes, I believe in reincarnation). So as depressed as I get, it goes to the point of entertaining such dark thoughts before I bounce back, out of sheer stubbornness.

I’ve not been this depressed in quite awhile. I really do have to cut sugar out of my diet again. I promised I’d do this after the last george cycle, and I failed.

Everything is so emotional for me right now, that I think it MUST be PMS.

Today, the boss asked the coworker if there was something going on between she and I that she should know about. So the coworker then pulled me aside and said once again, “Do we have a problem?”

So I told her about the gum popping yesterday. I forgot to mention the printer episode as well. We talked about our personality conflict. She kept comparing me to the girl who quit whom she misses so much, while defending herself as not actually “comparing and contrasting.” She maintained that she can do whatever the fuck she wants when the boss is not around, because that’s her only peaceful time. I told her “oh, so as your co-worker, I don’t matter then? I’m a real person too who is affected by certain things.”

She said in effect that no, I DON’T matter, that it’s only the bosslady who matters in her behaviour alterations. So I called a halt to the conversation. I asked her to please let’s just get through the next two weeks without any further bullshit between each other.

That’s when she informed me that the bosslady plans to keep me past October 7th. So I told her straight back that she and bosslady are mistaken - that I’m gone - “I’m casper” - to quote Chris Knight. I had to reassure this girl one more time that I am NOT out to take her job or the new girl’s job, that I really really mean it - I’m leaving, and so she’d better do her best to train the new girl NOW while I’m still here to give her the TIME to do it. Otherwise, she’ll keep doing the job of three people and she’ll keep being burned out.

Ah hell though. It all won’t matter in a few months, anyway, will it.
I won’t be there. That’s all that counts.

I’d rather turn to the craigslist porn ads than continue working there.

In the meantime, I’m back to fantasising that I can actually make a dime working for the local club scene and supporting my subculture. HAH. Been there, tried that, 12 years ago. Had to have two jobs minimum to survive, and that was in Michigan. Who am I kidding to try that again out here?

WTF. I’m a basket case. I’m a wreck. I just want to write and relax and live easy and buy whatever I want and need. I admit to being a lazy depressed fuck in that regard. How is it that some people can have it all while others have to scratch and claw and fight all their goddamned lives for anything? I can’t NOT believe in reincarnation for that thought alone.

I’m here to suffer. I’m not suffering as bad as others I know, dear gods hell no. But I’m here to suffer and right the previous wrongs and learn in the ways that befit my own soul’s progress. And yes, it sucks, and yes there’s always a real danger that I’ll hit the big Reset button, damn it all. But you know, that hasn’t solved my problem in the last three lives now, has it? No, it hasn’t. It’s a bad habit of mine.

And yes I’m on my third glass of wine, fuck you.

…

I live the race-class society every day of my life. I participate in capitalism and materialism. All these things I hate so much, and here I am, a full participant, with no strength and support to quit these bad habits.
The one person I do know who could help me in all of this has herself even fallen. None of us are immune. Is it better to cave than fight? Is it a less painful death that way? Why not choose the less painful option? Is that brainwashing again? Is this how religions get started - naming a right and wrong, good and evil option out of which way to go in life?

There I go being rhetorical again.

Ahhh depressions. How I didn’t miss thee.

I’m certain that once I remove sugar from the diet again, the depressions will greatly minimise if not cease again.

Today’s madness at work….

me: “(stating coworker’s name) - the gum popping, it’s disturbing my concentration.”

her: whatchoo want me to do about it?

me: could you stop?

her: NO, i CAN’T stop. they ain’t no patients in here!

me: i know. I’M trying to concentrate.

her: you can’t concentrate with the radio on…

me: ooooooooooooooookay… *rage rising*

me: really, it’s bugging me.

her: i… CAN’T… stop. i can minimize…

me: …

it’s shit like this. day after day after day, as soon as doc is out of the room or leaves for the day, as in today’s case.

…And the gum was still popping 10 mins later.

I got home from work and was ready to cry again. But crying is so messy. So I reached for a bottle of brandy.

On this job, I boil with rage constantly.

The old me, circa very early nineties, would have socked her sideways.

The new old me, circa mid 1990’s, would have gotten into a shouting match.

The new me as of today just holds it all in and it comes out in tears.

I was listening to NPR on the way home from work. The musical interlude between segments was some lonely country type tune. That nearly brought on the tears. I must really get in touch with my Appalachian roots one day. I feel a lot of healing may one day be had.

But not right now. As soon as emotion welled up, I turned off the radio and steeled myself.

Crying is so messy. And wouldn’t the coworker just LOVE to see me in tears. Fuck her, that slit. That cunt. That fuckwhore. That bitchshitter.

I asked myself what would make it all better when I got home, and I reached for the brandy and the chocolate.

On drink number two, my boyfriend convinced me to have some dinner to absorb some of the liquor. I remembered I had some leftover Chinese food, so I ate that and had my second drink.

Dessert was a glass of two-buck chuck.

I may have another.

Flashing back to work again, when the new girl was out of ear shot, I got up real close to the coworker and whispered, “It’s in your best interest to make this work.”

She replied, “who’s?”

Still staring dead at her, I said with almost a doomy voice, “yours.”

She said ‘oh, ok”, which in coworker-speak means “fuck the hell off, ho-bag”.

I walked away.

Later, as we all walked out of the office together and the new girl split off towards her car, the coworker informed me that doc plans to keep me longer than October 7th.

I said, “oh really?” and gave her a look that said, “not if I can help it,” and I told her I’m interviewing, so she’d BETTER be sure the new girl gets trained properly.

Flashing back to even earlier today:
Boss lady came in today near tears because there was so much work to do over the weekend, because the coworker had the day off on Saturday, leaving just me and the new girl. But when I left the boss on Saturday afternoon, she was all rearin to go - I told her it looked like a lot of work but really it was easy stuff, just the charges needed to be entered on a lot of it. I told her to go through the files and see. She did. She said ok - it’s manageable.

Today however, barely any of it had been done over the weekend. Bosslady even forgot to order contact lenses for a patient that’s due back in tomorrow.

So naturally I’ll get in trouble for it again somehow.

She’ll insist she gave me the file like she always does.

I’ll tell her I always keep my files on the right side of my desk that she’s given me to work on, like I always do.

And the coworker will glare at me in the meantime, and then attack me once bosslady is out of sight.

On that note, it was my fault today that the printer broke.

You know why?

I tried to load envelopes addressed to patients through the Microsoft Word tool, and the printer wouldn’t take the envelopes, and then started eating paper.

So the coworker asked in a bitter voice, “Did doc tell you to do that? We always address envelopes by hand. You don’t do that - see now the printer broke.”

I laughed and said the printer should be able to handle such a simple task - that the printer is crap.

She told me again that I should never have done it unless doctor okayed it. When I tried to have her connect to the other office printer, she refused to let me go near her machine.

I’d like to state for the record that my employment background is in TECHNICAL SUPPORT, people.

I can hook up a goddamned printer and fix a broken printer. FUCK THOSE BITCHES.

But no. I wasn’t allowed to make it all better because THEY are afraid of hardware and technology.

I did fix the broken printer by the way, and nobody thanked me.

Because, you know, it was my fault that it broke in the first place.

Fuck them.

Fuck them all.

I just cause them a big ol’ headache by screwing up constantly, don’t I.

Well.

We’ll see just how fucked they are with the new girl, who as of Saturday appears to be off the short bus, let me tell you. Learning curve has taken a dive past age 40 on that one.

After I leave, it’ll all be on the coworker again.

And wait…

WAIT

Who’s problem is it?

Not Mine.

It’s time for more wine.

I started working for the optometrist on July 18. Because the cow-orker is so unbearable, I resumed looking for work after only thirteen days on the job.

I submitted a resume to a dotcom job agency on August 3rd and never heard back. I submitted another resume for a different job to the same agency a month later, on September 5th, and heard back within two days.

An interview was had on the 11th with the agency, and then a phone interview with the company the agency is representing was had on the 18th.
I went in to work on the 19th and my boss informed me that she’d hired somebody. She told me that my last day would be September 30th.

In a weird twist, I pleaded to be kept longer on this current job. The reason is that I cannot afford any unemployed time right now. I need to transition from one job to the next. I can barely make ends meet financially.
So I convinced the boss to keep me at most until October 7th, but she warned me that it’s tentative, and that she may still let me go on September 30th.

I went to the library last week and rented a bunch of technical books to brush up on tech support stuff, since it’s been awhile since I’ve worked in a call center (which is what this job I’m interviewing for will be).
On September 20th, the agency informed me that I was scheduled for an in-person interview with their client on September 25th. I agreed to it.

Then three things happened:

Last night I checked my email and saw that the recruiter had mailed me on the 22nd. She said, “I know the interview is 10 days away, but have you had a chance to try the product?”

I wrote back last night and said the interview is actually on the 25th, not ten days away from when she wrote me. I told her yes, I tried the product and I emailed her the results, did she get that email?

Then I barely got any sleep last night because my boyfriend had an allergy attack from hell. I could have slept on the couch but I didn’t. This morning, I had to cancel my dentist appointment to take him to the doctor because his throat was closing up on him (He has nasal spray and is feeling better now, thanks).

I figured I could get a few hours of sleep before the interview. I checked my email and saw that the recruiter had emailed me again:

“I am so sorry….I just read the email I sent you and I did put the date as today, but I meant next Monday, 10/2. Unfortunately, the hiring manager is out all week and it had to wait until next week. I hope this is not a problem.”

Panic set in.

If I were to have gone to an interview today, I could have conceivably had a job by next week at the earliest.

Now, with the interview set for next week, I’m facing unemployment for as long as two weeks. The reason I say two weeks is because if I nail the interview on October 2nd, likely I wouldn’t start until October 9th.

However, GEORGE is due on October 9th, so I CAN’T start working that week.
The earliest I could begin a new job is October 16th.

Then the earliest I may be paid for a new job is much later, thus setting my finances back as much as a month.

So… trying not to panic…I’ll be sending out more resumes today, but time is critical, folks.

Wish me luck.

As often happens after george leaves, I get a burst of manic energy that leaves me frantic and utterly lacking in the attention department.

Since getting home from work this evening, I’ve not been able to do a damned thing except sit in front of the computer and go haphazardly through my iTunes collection.

Oh!

I had a birthday and didn’t tell you about it, did I?

OMG.

So Sunday was my birthday. Here’s what occurred, in order:

1. We did the Alameda Home Tour
2. B bought me a documentary about the history of Neptune Beach in Alameda, CA.
3. B then gifted me with two DVD’s: Some Kind of Wonderful and Pretty In Pink
4. B and Sherpa gifted me with a 30G iPod!!!$#@!
5. B, Sherpa and I went out to dinner at our favourite sushi joint
6. B and I came home and played a round of Redneck Life at the very hour of my birth. (I won)

Yesterday, I had errands to run on my last day off before returning to work (I work Tuesday - Saturday). Today, I got home from work, and my brain went on vacation.

Actually, it’s been partially on vacation all day, but at least I kept finding stuff at work to keep me busy until quittin’ time.

Speaking of work though, I HAVE to include the latest thing to annoy me from the cow-orker:

I was checking the messages this morning and had a hard time listening to them. Well, I always have a hard time listening to them, because a) the answering machine speaker is a piece of shit and b) there’s no handset function to listen to the messages - you have to listen to them on speaker, so the entire office can hear you retrieving patient messages.

So I told the cow-orker that I’d resume listening to the messages in a few minutes because my hearing wasn’t focusing correctly.
She instantly became defensive and said, “I wasn’t talking!”

I didn’t bother to reply that I’d rather wait until the first two patients of the day were in the exam room and out of earshot of the answering machine, which may spew sensitive/confidential information from other patients. She has a defensive answer to everything. Why bother trying to explain things?

When the patients were in the exam room, I resumed listening to the messgaes, but the radio was playing scary “R&B” music, which is also next to the phone, so I turned the sound off so I could finish listening to the messages. Mind you, one has to turn the volume on the speakers up, so it sounds like a loud mouth talking. That’s the only way you can hear the content of the message well enough.

Despite that, the cow-orker got agitated and said, “It’s too quiet in here. My nerves is bad, I gotta go next door.” [to the coffee shop, which blasts music].

Ok. The answering machine is blaring away, and it’s too quiet in here? WTF.

So I resume listening to the messages, which are many, because we’d been away from the office all weekend.
Since cow-orker went to fetch some coffee, I was now left alone in the office, save for the boss, who was in the exam room with the patient. So the phone rang and I had to get it. I had to tend to a patient file. Cow-orker came back in as I was returning to the answering machine to finish listening to the messages.

She sighed loudly and said, “You’re still listening to messages? Damn, it’s too quiet in here….” and she began loudly shuffling stacks of paper, banging the stacks loudly on the desk. So I stopped listening to phone messages and handed it over to her.

She turned the volume on the radio back up and listened to the last three messages on the phone, having to repeat each message twice, because she couldn’t hear the message clearly enough the first time, probably because the radio was going.

I wanted to shove a dirty shoe in her mouth and smack her head down on the desk repeatedly.

It took me about twenty minutes to calm down. I logged into IRC and that helped quite a lot, because everyone was talking like a pirate.

It is due in part to my Cabal and in part to Talk Like A Pirate Day that I got through the day at work today.

I even told my bad joke to the cow-orker:

A pirate walks into a bar and orders a drink.

The bartender eyes the pirate warily and says, “You’ve got a steering wheel in your pants!”

The pirate replies, “Arrr! It’s drivin’ me nuts!”

…

It’s the visual that gets me every time.

ANYWAY…

OMG WTF I HAVE A 30G iPod AND I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO START WITH IT!!!

So now I’m back to staring distractedly at the monitor, pondering the many things that will fit on my precious new iPod.

Gah. In the last two days there’s been so much stuff, I dunno where to start.

I guess I’ll start by jotting notes and expounding as time permits.

• george
• diet
• school shootings
• depression
• the co-worker
• job hunting

Last month, after I was out of work for two days in a row due to george, my boss decided that the next time george showed up, we’d ALL take a day off work. I counted the days and predicted that September 14th would be the day I’d need to go out of work sick again, and we kept the schedule clear and warned our patients that we’d be closed that day.

Well, george showed up on Wednesday morning - the day before the planned Day Off. I immediately popped 600mg Ibuprofen and went in to work. I was mostly sluggish at work, and only had a little pain. I took 600mg more of Ibuprofen at lunch and made it through the day. When I got home from work, george let me have it all night and into the planned Day Off, so I did schedule well, after all.

The co-worker has been getting bitten by Karma, lately. She’s so mean to me and then so nice, and mean again. Then when shit happens to her, I’m always nice and understanding. Her youngest daughter’s father showed up at the kid’s school last week to pick her up, only it wasn’t his weekend to get custody of her so the school notified the co-worker, who panicked. I told her to leave immediately and wished her luck, and told her that by law, the school cannot allow the child to leave with the parent who does not have custody, until she gets there and releases the child. I told her I knew this from working in daycare for five years.

The co-worker HUGGED me for that, and left.

Also shitty in the co-worker’s life is that she got pregnant by her current boyfriend. They’d both talked about it, both decided “sure, let’s have a baby, we’ve been dating for two years, why not?”
But as soon as it became reality, the boyfriend said he’d decided he really didn’t want a baby, after all. So she scheduled an abortion.
Again, I was understanding and I told her about my two abortions over a ten year period. We bitched at length about guys not understanding that an abortion is not a trip to the nail salon.
I told her I’d call her to check up on her, and I did, even though I was medicated for my own southern region pain for just my normal monthly period.

I tried to go in to work today, but my boss told me no. She didn’t want to have to deal with me becoming sick with george at work. I had felt well enough this morning and told her I was pretty sure I could get through half the day. She still denied me and told me to stay home.
Then she said she’d called the co-worker to check on her, too, and found out that I’d called to check on her. Boss told me that co-worker had admitted to her that she’d gotten an abortion and wasn’t sure about coming in to work today, either. Boss wanted to know if I knew. I told her yes. She started to get mad at me for not telling her about co-worker’s pregnancy, but I cut her short. I told the boss, “You’ve told me something that you don’t want co-worker to know (that she’s closing the business at the end of the year), and I’ve not blabbed that to her. So why would I blab her abortion to you?”

Boss admitted I had a good point.

I understand that from Boss’ point of view, she needs to know that her staff might not be in so she can notify her patients that they have to reschedule. I feel for her on that. But in my case, I gave an entire month’s notice of my impending absence. In the case of my co-worker, it’s not my place to let Boss know that she’ll be out of work. I’m not being malicious by hiding anything. I have enough problems with co-worker on a daily basis to start becoming what she calls, “a snitch”.
Fuck that noise.

In any case, co-worker is possibly softening a little from all the Karma and the fact that I won’t engage her level of anger.

The woman who originally told me about this job is my masseuse, who used to work for Bosslady.
My masseuse called the office one day and asked to speak to co-worker. They talked for several minutes in the lab. I later found out that co-worker thanked my masseuse for sending me to that job.

THANKED HER.

My masseuse was so awestruck by that comment that she told Boss and Boss told me.

So all this time, I’ve been telling Boss that I know co-worker has a sweet side - I’ve SEEN it - it’s just that we have this huge personality conflict and racial issues that somehow we can’t get around *cough*because of her*cough*, and now we both get to hear about how this girl really feels about me after all the bullshit.

Well, it’s good to know, even if I also know that she’ll be back down my throat and humiliating me again Real Soon Now, because she hasn’t learned to rise out of her anger issues, yet.

Because of the constant emotional turmoil with co-worker, and also because george was nearing, I have been eating REALLY badly. I’ve been constantly eating junk food and drinking pop. I started eating chocolate again, too. This led to depression AND worst of all, the rash between my tits came back. I have yeast overgrowth again from all the sugar intake since June.

So after this weekend, I will once again cut sugar from the diet. And I’m sure to have quite an emotional meltdown with the withdrawls again.
I got through it once, I can get through it again.

My horoscope has been good to me this month, too.
Even the Yahoo! astrological forecast says good things about this month. These two forecasts have given me renewed energy in my job hunt, and last week I began sending out resumes again.
I got a call within a couple of days, and have already had one interview.

The jobs I am applying to are in the tech industry again.

After being outside of the tech industry working for a non-profit and then a mom-and-pop store, I can now see the error of my ways.

In corporate hell, I got spoiled and bratty and princessy. I started to expect to be treated like the company had everything to lose if they mistreated me.

I needed this little setback to see with renewed eyes just how easy I’ve had it these last eight years. Even though I was in job after job after job. Even though I was in one contract after another. I still had it SO good.

Reading Nickel and Dimed during this period away from corporations has also done wonders for opening my eyes (and reminding me what my mother went through and still goes through).

So yeah…I’m going back to the tech industry - to the corporations. And I’m going to save as much money as I can to make sure I don’t end up in the low place anymore, or worse yet, like my Ma, still working the midnight shift at age 62.
And I’m going to be much better behaved than I was at my last two contract jobs in the tech industry.

Hind sight and all that.

Growing is good.

The only thing I haven’t hit on in today’s post is the recent school shootings. I’ve no energy left to tackle that one right now, though.

Time to go lay down again with the heating pad. George better be gone by Sunday - that’s my birthday, dammit!

Ok, you know how I said I felt it was sick to mix a football game with memorialising what happened on September 11, 2001?

Here it is, the sickness of humanity, ESPECIALLY of U.S. citizens in particular.

Arrests, fights mar Raider opener

OAKLAND — If Monday night is any indication, it could be a long football season not only for the Raiders but also for Oakland police and the Alameda County Sheriff’s Office, who provide a law enforcement presence at the games.

“We were disturbed by the events that took place last night,” Trask said. “The safety and security of our fans is of utmost importance.”

I was fine all day regarding the day’s date. I had initiated a media blackout; I did not read anything online or in print, nor did I listen to the radio at all today. I had to also extend the blackout to LiveJournal for most of the day, because some of my friends felt the need to vent about today.

I just didn’t want to hear anything about the damned day, so I shut it out.

And I was successful until I had to go back out again.

Remember earlier, I said “I don’t want to go out anymore today, but sadly I have to”. I did take B to the Raiders game and dropped him off so he could meet his friend there. The sheer masses of people was crazy.

I don’t know anything about American football or any football, but I do know that the massive amounts of devoted fans sorta scared the shit outta me. It was pure chaos on the road I had to drop B off onto, because it was completely under construction. Cars and busses and even a big rig were zooming around very tight corners and barrelling down the road. As I waited my turn to get back into the roadway, a deafening roar was heard overhead. I knew that sound to be jet fighters, and yet I did not cover my ears. I looked up, waited to see them come into sight, saw the afterburners, and allowed the noise to shred my ear drums.

And seeing the jet fighters sent me into an instant depression as it all came sinking in - the jet fighters were there for the Raiders - they buzzed the stadium on purpose to not only excite the fans but to get them all rallied for patriotic testosterone. For some reason, these two always go together in the U.S..

Maybe it’s the same everywhere. As I said, I don’t know anything about football and hell I’ll extend that to sports in general.

But to me, it just seemed sick to mix today’s date with a football game. There’s been SO much bad taste surrounding the damned date this year.

As I sat at the stoplight waiting to make my left turn, I stared at the brilliant orange setting sun and pined for the opportunity to be at the shoreline taking photos. But I knew that by the time I made it back onto the island and made it to the shore, the sun would have already set. So I just stared at it in intervals and let it blind me as my depression deepened and my thoughts grew darker.

Today IS a damned date, truly.

I just kept thinking to myself, people die every day. A lot of people lost loved ones and families on that damned day, but it happens in large groups all the time, in this country and around the world, attributed to an infinite number of bad things, circumstances and groups. Let the people who lost their loved ones mourn in peace. We don’t need a goddamned national pity party every fucking year for the rest of eternity. Get the fuck over it. Move the fuck on. Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ, people, take a lesson from other nations who deal with worse shit on a regular basis.

As I arrived back on the island, my depression worsened further when I saw the fire station preparing hundreds of paper lanterns and a crowd gathering ’round. I know that this fire station had sent an engine to New York five years ago for about a month to help out, so they have a tie to that damned date. And firefighters in general the world over have a tie to that damned date.

Seeing that sorta pushed me over the edge.

I drove home, changed into pants and long sleeved shirt because it was getting cooler outside, and drove down to the shoreline. I stood out on the beach overlooking the San Francisco Bay. The sun had already set as I knew it would by the time I got there, but I didn’t care. I looked out at the fading salmon horizon anyway.

My emotions ran the gamut; I started out feeling near tears with frustration and feeling powerless over a seeming dictatorship in the U.S.. Then I reflected on how I’ve grown over the past five years. Then I felt better for a few seconds, and then I got downright angry….again at the U.S. government and how powerless I feel as a citizen under it.
The last emotion stuck with me, and I still had grocery shopping to do. I glowered at everyone and was short with people who dawdled in the aisles who wouldn’t get out of my path. In general, someone just looking at me either looked away quickly or gave me a long look of curiosity, my face was so sour.

Feh. I came home and contemplated my third alcoholic drink of the day, but settled on soy ice cream, instead.

I also looked up and confirmed the patriotic flyover on the Raiders website, and found out that this is their first game of the year - which combined with the damned date also explains the huge crowd:

Pre-game Fly-By
September 5, 2006

The 144th Fighter Wing’s fly-by will occur during the National Anthem. Kickoff is set for 7:15 p.m. on ESPN’s Monday Night Football.

Now I’m chatting on IRC with people in the Eastern patch of the Midwest (read: Michigan and Canada. I grew up saying I lived in the Eastern United States, but apparently Californians call Michigan the Midwest. Hm, a bit of research shows that the “official” boundaries are outdated, so Californians are the ones who are wrong!).

Once again, journaling (and IRC) has helped to stabilise me. I feel better. My cat has been finding all sorts of ways to get my attention to feed him, so I’d better break down and do that, now.

The summary of this story is: I need much distraction to keep from sinking into anger and depression over that damned date. This year, at least it was my day off and I could stay home for much of the day. Next year, I should call in sick to work or something. Maybe go sit by the ocean like I did originally on that damned day.