2003-05-22 - 9:41 p.m.
Bitch, bitch, bitch
Life is a steaming, gaping hole of suck. Oh, I know it’s not, rationally. But it still is. Maybe it’s the hormones. Or the weather. Or the limbo thing again. Or maybe it just sucks at the moment because, well, life does that occasionally and it’s not such a huge deal and life ain’t always roses and daisies and cavorting kittens.
I hate cats. But I like kittens, so, whatever.
Anyway. I’m bored. I’m tired. I have a high school alumni thing tonight that I’m looking forward to but I’m still kind of dreading. Then I have a weekend with no plans. Now, that’s really not so bad. But it still kinda is.
Then I realized that I have alienated most of my friends here, but that I don’t feel bad about it. Maybe this makes me a bitch, I don’t know. But I realized a while ago that most of these women are my friends because of circumstances, not because of true emotional connections. Which is OK. The people I consider myself closest to these days are the ones who aren’t here, and that sucks too, because I want to be around them more often. I have a couple of good friends here, but I also know that I’ll be keeping in touch with them, so it’s all fine.
I’m seeing Mom and Ed on Monday. I’m looking forward to the barbecue at the club (mmmm.... hot dogs....), but I’m not looking forward to seeing Mom, which makes me feel like an awful, ungrateful child. She’s stressed. She’s anxious. She could probably use some of my Zoloft, but we can’t say these things to her because she will flip the fuck out. Her blood pressure is already high; have any of her doctors ever suggested that some of it might be stress-related? Has she refused to see her therapist more often or at all? Has she given them the whole “don’t tell me this shit, I’m a medical professional” song and dance? (Well, probably not. Mom would never say “shit” in a professional context—it’s un-ladylike.)
I got into an email argument with someone today. Well, it didn’t escalate, but I could feel it escalating, and he’s being a wanker. He’s under a lot of stress too, but he’d never admit it either. I offered support about that stress, and the response I got was “you must be bored”. Yes, I am, but that doesn’t give you the right to be a SHITHEAD. I’m trying to fucking SUPPORT you, dipshit. You don’t have to bow at my feet or burst into tears—a simple, “thanks, it’s cool” would be just fucking fine with me. I would have gotten the message and left you alone about it. Acting like an asshole doesn’t keep people off your back, it just makes them despise you. Do you honestly want me to hate you? You’re doing a good fucking job of getting that result.
Whew. Lots of “fuck” in that paragraph. Sorry.
I just want it to be over with. My period, my job, my celibacy, my time in this city, my birthday, which will probably pass ignored by most of the people I know. I’m miserable. I want to burst into tears right now, and I would, but chances are someone will come up to my desk and ask me what’s wrong and I’ll just want to scream about how much I hate EVERYONE, and a response like that will surely get me thrown in the loony bin.
I just want someone to call me and say nice things to me and take me out for margaritas and buffalo wings and treat me like I matter. Just once would be nice.
