Dawn's Digression.
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
I really wanted to blog today, but I honestly had no time. We had a Christmas lunch today that lasted almost 3 hours, and then I needed to work. And shop for a new journal online.
Shopping for a new journal has proven quite difficult. I've looked several places online. After work today, Rachel and I went to B&N and I looked at the journals there as well. I found one I liked, but it was purple, and I just can't imagine myself drinking 3 glasses of wine, taking an Ambian, and being able to write on purple pages without feeling the need to vomit. I already have the purple truck, and believe you me, that is plenty of purple to last a girl a lifetime. Mom likes to remind me that I wanted that purple truck so bad. As though I need to be reminded. I'll never understand why no one stopped me. Not even Rachel, who never really fit in the truck. She looks like a giant driving a Yugo in that thing. Knees to chest, slouched over the steering wheel. It's comical really.
One of the local school districts called me yesterday about my resume. They pay crappy, so I called and withdrew, but it was really nice to get a call. Did I tell you I heard back from that city I applied at? They sent me this crazy ass list of questions. It was insane. It was basically a project. Probably a ten page project. I didn't bother. After reading the questions, I realized the position was probably quite a bit more than I bargained for. It seems though, that if they thought I was not qualified, they would not have mailed me the packet. Doesn't matter. The fact is, I walk on water with my current company, and if I go somewhere else, I'll have to re-invent myself. After the year I've had, I say screw it. More change could, most likely would, break me. I'm broken enough.
My therapist has crossed over onto my shitlist. Most likely he speaks the truth, but I don't want to hear it. Going on Monday night was a chore. I actually cried. I f'ing cried, ya'll. In front of a damn near stranger. Ugh, my pride. My pride is fucked. Perhaps it no longer serves me.
My first interview went well. Better than I expected, really. The guy was a decent interview, so it's not all due to skill. I weaseled some information out of him and Jennifer was proud. It was really all common sense, though. I mean, duh. It is just about learning where to dig. Our interview process is pretty tough. Jennifer makes people cry sometimes. You'd think folks would make their application match their resume. You'd be wrong. You'd think they would update their resume before they send it. Again, you'd be wrong. People sometimes send resumes that are obviously at least a year old. No wonder I get return calls, if this is my competition. Once again, reinforcing my belief that the world is full of idiots.
Well, you know, except for you and me. We're the smart ones. It's the rest of the fuckers. They're the idiots.
I'm poopy. I've been in a crappy mood for days. Ugh. The Stupid Cheap Therapist is now trying to peddle both seratonin meds and hormones. Whatthefuckever, dude. Am I to believe the pretty pills he pushes solve all problems? It's a crutch. Sometimes a nice crutch. Sometimes a necessary crutch. I'm not sure I'm ready to commit myself to long term usage of that crutch right now. He says I'm 'resistant' and that I 'sabotage' things. Again, whatthefuckever, dude. I can insult myself, I don't need help.
Told you I was pissy.
Apparently my word of the day is fuck. Sorry about that. It won't happen again.
That was a blatant lie. Give me three minutes, I'll say it again.
I took a break from Sylvia Plath and Hillary Clinton. Yawnfests. Both of them. I just don't have the attention span. So, now I'm reading Girl, Interrupted, which is much different from the movie in a negative kind of way. I read most of it Sunday morning. I think I have only a couple of chapters left, but I am so terribly involved in the characters, I don't even care if I finish it. I'll get back to Sylvia after this, I just needed a quick read. Ya know?
That audio tape, Middlesex. Oh. My. God. I'm on side 15 of 28. It's like watching paint dry. Yet somehow it is still better than sitting in traffic. Go figure.
Reply to comments:
1. Who told you I look at porn at work? Dammit. Don't tell the boss, okay? I thought that was a secret!
2. Yes, I may really like the people at the new office. But what about the nice bathroom I have on the second floor that no one else uses where I can go when I don't feel good? What replaces a private bathroom? Nothing, my friend. Nothing at all. Friends, yeah, those can be replaced. Not private toilies. ;)
3. I don't like the computer thesaurus. It sucks. Okay, to be more specific, the one I use that is connected to Yahoo! sucks.
4. I hate fish. Perhaps I should take an iron supplement, just in case? I am taking multi-vitamins daily, now, though. This chick at work said a friend of hers lost a pant size in one month by just taking the vitamin. Not sure I believe that, but there is certainly no harm in taking a vitamin.
5. Dawn2, I can't believe that idiot told you about working on hobbies at work. What a freak! No common sense, some people...
6. One time we had this chick ask if it was okay to go take her drug screen because she was on her period. No kidding.
Shopping for a new journal has proven quite difficult. I've looked several places online. After work today, Rachel and I went to B&N and I looked at the journals there as well. I found one I liked, but it was purple, and I just can't imagine myself drinking 3 glasses of wine, taking an Ambian, and being able to write on purple pages without feeling the need to vomit. I already have the purple truck, and believe you me, that is plenty of purple to last a girl a lifetime. Mom likes to remind me that I wanted that purple truck so bad. As though I need to be reminded. I'll never understand why no one stopped me. Not even Rachel, who never really fit in the truck. She looks like a giant driving a Yugo in that thing. Knees to chest, slouched over the steering wheel. It's comical really.
One of the local school districts called me yesterday about my resume. They pay crappy, so I called and withdrew, but it was really nice to get a call. Did I tell you I heard back from that city I applied at? They sent me this crazy ass list of questions. It was insane. It was basically a project. Probably a ten page project. I didn't bother. After reading the questions, I realized the position was probably quite a bit more than I bargained for. It seems though, that if they thought I was not qualified, they would not have mailed me the packet. Doesn't matter. The fact is, I walk on water with my current company, and if I go somewhere else, I'll have to re-invent myself. After the year I've had, I say screw it. More change could, most likely would, break me. I'm broken enough.
My therapist has crossed over onto my shitlist. Most likely he speaks the truth, but I don't want to hear it. Going on Monday night was a chore. I actually cried. I f'ing cried, ya'll. In front of a damn near stranger. Ugh, my pride. My pride is fucked. Perhaps it no longer serves me.
My first interview went well. Better than I expected, really. The guy was a decent interview, so it's not all due to skill. I weaseled some information out of him and Jennifer was proud. It was really all common sense, though. I mean, duh. It is just about learning where to dig. Our interview process is pretty tough. Jennifer makes people cry sometimes. You'd think folks would make their application match their resume. You'd be wrong. You'd think they would update their resume before they send it. Again, you'd be wrong. People sometimes send resumes that are obviously at least a year old. No wonder I get return calls, if this is my competition. Once again, reinforcing my belief that the world is full of idiots.
Well, you know, except for you and me. We're the smart ones. It's the rest of the fuckers. They're the idiots.
I'm poopy. I've been in a crappy mood for days. Ugh. The Stupid Cheap Therapist is now trying to peddle both seratonin meds and hormones. Whatthefuckever, dude. Am I to believe the pretty pills he pushes solve all problems? It's a crutch. Sometimes a nice crutch. Sometimes a necessary crutch. I'm not sure I'm ready to commit myself to long term usage of that crutch right now. He says I'm 'resistant' and that I 'sabotage' things. Again, whatthefuckever, dude. I can insult myself, I don't need help.
Told you I was pissy.
Apparently my word of the day is fuck. Sorry about that. It won't happen again.
That was a blatant lie. Give me three minutes, I'll say it again.
I took a break from Sylvia Plath and Hillary Clinton. Yawnfests. Both of them. I just don't have the attention span. So, now I'm reading Girl, Interrupted, which is much different from the movie in a negative kind of way. I read most of it Sunday morning. I think I have only a couple of chapters left, but I am so terribly involved in the characters, I don't even care if I finish it. I'll get back to Sylvia after this, I just needed a quick read. Ya know?
That audio tape, Middlesex. Oh. My. God. I'm on side 15 of 28. It's like watching paint dry. Yet somehow it is still better than sitting in traffic. Go figure.
Reply to comments:
1. Who told you I look at porn at work? Dammit. Don't tell the boss, okay? I thought that was a secret!
2. Yes, I may really like the people at the new office. But what about the nice bathroom I have on the second floor that no one else uses where I can go when I don't feel good? What replaces a private bathroom? Nothing, my friend. Nothing at all. Friends, yeah, those can be replaced. Not private toilies. ;)
3. I don't like the computer thesaurus. It sucks. Okay, to be more specific, the one I use that is connected to Yahoo! sucks.
4. I hate fish. Perhaps I should take an iron supplement, just in case? I am taking multi-vitamins daily, now, though. This chick at work said a friend of hers lost a pant size in one month by just taking the vitamin. Not sure I believe that, but there is certainly no harm in taking a vitamin.
5. Dawn2, I can't believe that idiot told you about working on hobbies at work. What a freak! No common sense, some people...
6. One time we had this chick ask if it was okay to go take her drug screen because she was on her period. No kidding.
Dawn, 10:37 PM
