I’m feeling pretty good today. My throat just now started aggravating me at 4:40 p.m., so that’s interesting.
I cried my eyes out last night. Like a baby. More on that later.
I’m hanging in there.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Last Night's Dream
The entire dream is a blur, except a part where I was coughing and coughing and I started to hack up blue and black bits. Then blue liquid. My lungs were being flushed clean but it was a brutal experience.
Nicotine Recovery, Day #3
Wow. Day three already! I continue to impress myself.
So, how do I feel? Well, I am wicked antsy. Restless. Hungry. Irritable. I think those are all normal feelings to be having at this point in the recovery process though, so I’m not alarmed.
I am also incredibly proud of myself. I didn’t know I could do this. I mean, I knew, deep down, but I thought I was weak. That quitting would be the most awful thing I’d ever been through and it simply is not.
Last night, I picked up flavored toothpicks from the health food store and sucked on them until I got home. Immensely helpful. The walk was so much easier than the day before. I also had grocery bags with me, so my hands were full and busy, which also seemed to help.
Until last night, I was still carrying around my lighter and a pack of cigarettes with 7-8 left. I kept thinking that I would give them to the next smoker I saw. I didn’t want them to go to waste. But then I realized that no one should have them and I don’t want to contribute to anyone else’s habit anymore. I was an enabler for many of my friends for a long while and I will no longer be that person.
I’m not sure who I will be. I have vast amounts of free time now. I never realized just how much time smoking took up. Last night I rearranged my bookshelves, finally went through the box of papers I’ve been meaning to address, sorted my change to prepare for rolling pennies, and made dinner. On a Tuesday. Wow. What a concept.
The one thing that really upset me yesterday was that CM wasn’t supportive or encouraging when I told him I’d gone two days. He of all people should appreciate my efforts. I waited for his response and he basically came back with, “That’s good. You know, I don’t understand how it’s so hard. It’s like, when I smoked (for approximately 6 months or something—not NINE years), I just stopped. It’s all mental.” No “that’s awesome!” or “good job” or “I’m so proud of you!” He just manipulated the conversation so it was all about him again. Fucking jerk.
Anyway. I plan on talking to him tonight about how he hurt my feelings. We’ll see how he responds.
So yeah, three days. I just gotta keep on keepin’ on.
So, how do I feel? Well, I am wicked antsy. Restless. Hungry. Irritable. I think those are all normal feelings to be having at this point in the recovery process though, so I’m not alarmed.
I am also incredibly proud of myself. I didn’t know I could do this. I mean, I knew, deep down, but I thought I was weak. That quitting would be the most awful thing I’d ever been through and it simply is not.
Last night, I picked up flavored toothpicks from the health food store and sucked on them until I got home. Immensely helpful. The walk was so much easier than the day before. I also had grocery bags with me, so my hands were full and busy, which also seemed to help.
Until last night, I was still carrying around my lighter and a pack of cigarettes with 7-8 left. I kept thinking that I would give them to the next smoker I saw. I didn’t want them to go to waste. But then I realized that no one should have them and I don’t want to contribute to anyone else’s habit anymore. I was an enabler for many of my friends for a long while and I will no longer be that person.
I’m not sure who I will be. I have vast amounts of free time now. I never realized just how much time smoking took up. Last night I rearranged my bookshelves, finally went through the box of papers I’ve been meaning to address, sorted my change to prepare for rolling pennies, and made dinner. On a Tuesday. Wow. What a concept.
The one thing that really upset me yesterday was that CM wasn’t supportive or encouraging when I told him I’d gone two days. He of all people should appreciate my efforts. I waited for his response and he basically came back with, “That’s good. You know, I don’t understand how it’s so hard. It’s like, when I smoked (for approximately 6 months or something—not NINE years), I just stopped. It’s all mental.” No “that’s awesome!” or “good job” or “I’m so proud of you!” He just manipulated the conversation so it was all about him again. Fucking jerk.
Anyway. I plan on talking to him tonight about how he hurt my feelings. We’ll see how he responds.
So yeah, three days. I just gotta keep on keepin’ on.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Nicotine Recovery, Day #2
It is the second day on my road to recovery. Today is a bit more difficult than yesterday, in that I want to eat non-stop and am super fidgety. I am taking Welbutrin to help me through this process and today was the first day I took the full dosage, so I think that is contributing to my jumpiness. I was taking one per day and am now up to two.
Last night was not a huge challenge, surprisingly. I went to the gym, busted my ass, and then headed home. I have to say, the walk home from the gym was the hardest part of my day. I wanted a cigarette so badly that I ended up buying a bag of salt & vinegar chips and munching them the whole way home. Once I was home I was fine. I managed to make dinner and chill out in front of the television for the rest of the evening.
I had trouble falling asleep last night, but once I did, I slept like a baby. My cough this morning felt different than usual. Less movement and harsher. Sudden and unexpected. I’ve been wheezing off and on since last night. My lungs are pissed.
I think the most surprising thing about this process is that it doesn’t feel all that difficult. I thought this would be the hardest thing I have ever done, but it’s not. I can totally do this. I’m not out of my mind with withdrawal symptoms. The world did not come crashing down around me.
I still have a few cigarettes which I plan on giving away tonight. I don’t need them anymore. I can do this.
Last night was not a huge challenge, surprisingly. I went to the gym, busted my ass, and then headed home. I have to say, the walk home from the gym was the hardest part of my day. I wanted a cigarette so badly that I ended up buying a bag of salt & vinegar chips and munching them the whole way home. Once I was home I was fine. I managed to make dinner and chill out in front of the television for the rest of the evening.
I had trouble falling asleep last night, but once I did, I slept like a baby. My cough this morning felt different than usual. Less movement and harsher. Sudden and unexpected. I’ve been wheezing off and on since last night. My lungs are pissed.
I think the most surprising thing about this process is that it doesn’t feel all that difficult. I thought this would be the hardest thing I have ever done, but it’s not. I can totally do this. I’m not out of my mind with withdrawal symptoms. The world did not come crashing down around me.
I still have a few cigarettes which I plan on giving away tonight. I don’t need them anymore. I can do this.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Nicotine Recovery, Day #1
I had my final cigarette last night at approximately 11:00. It tasted vile after reading so much information about the chemicals in cigarettes. I kept thinking, “This is it. This is the last one.” Part of my brain was saying, “You know this isn’t the last one. Don’t be so dramatic.”
It is now 5:15 p.m., the next day. I am roughly 18 hours in---18 hours into my recovery from my nicotine addiction. In six hours I will have gone a whole 24 hours without a cigarette---the longest I’ve ever made it. After 72 hours, the nicotine will have left my system entirely for the first time in 9 years. 9 years. Oh dear god. How did this happen?
I tried quitting once before. Once. I was smoke-free for less than 15 hours. I originally set my Quit Date for November 29th, but decided to give it a go today, since I so effectively grossed myself out last night reading about the alarming facts and consequences of cigarette use.
I can do this. I feel fine. A bit jittery, sure, but all in all, I feel fine. My cough is starting to get pretty nasty, but I expected that. It’s usually nasty so I’m unfortunately used to it. I’m a bit antsy so I am heading to the gym after work to work off some of my pent-up energy. I’m hungrier than usual, so I picked up some sugarless gum and hard candies to keep my mouth busy.
I kept smelling my hands today and loving the fact that they smell of soap. And vanilla. They smell nice for the first time in so long.
I got on the train today without using my breath spray or my anti-bacterial hand lotion to mask the smell of the cigarette I would have typically smoked during my walk to the station. It felt freaking fantastic. I’m a non-smoker.
It is now 5:15 p.m., the next day. I am roughly 18 hours in---18 hours into my recovery from my nicotine addiction. In six hours I will have gone a whole 24 hours without a cigarette---the longest I’ve ever made it. After 72 hours, the nicotine will have left my system entirely for the first time in 9 years. 9 years. Oh dear god. How did this happen?
I tried quitting once before. Once. I was smoke-free for less than 15 hours. I originally set my Quit Date for November 29th, but decided to give it a go today, since I so effectively grossed myself out last night reading about the alarming facts and consequences of cigarette use.
I can do this. I feel fine. A bit jittery, sure, but all in all, I feel fine. My cough is starting to get pretty nasty, but I expected that. It’s usually nasty so I’m unfortunately used to it. I’m a bit antsy so I am heading to the gym after work to work off some of my pent-up energy. I’m hungrier than usual, so I picked up some sugarless gum and hard candies to keep my mouth busy.
I kept smelling my hands today and loving the fact that they smell of soap. And vanilla. They smell nice for the first time in so long.
I got on the train today without using my breath spray or my anti-bacterial hand lotion to mask the smell of the cigarette I would have typically smoked during my walk to the station. It felt freaking fantastic. I’m a non-smoker.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
One of Those Moods
My sister asked me how I was doing today. My response: "I'm fine. Sort of in one of those "fuck you, motherfucker" moods, but other than that, I'm good."
It has just been one of those days. I don't know exactly why I wake up sometimes feeling like I could kill someone. It just seems to happen occasionally. And not necessarily at times when I'm particularly ... anything. There isn't a pattern to these emotions. At least not that I've noticed.
Perhaps I just need to start documenting my every thought and feeling and entering the dates and emotions into a chart. Perhaps then I'll notice a pattern and be able to tell my friends, "You are going to want to avoid me on the 14th, the 21st, and the 25th of next month." That would be helpful.
A new cafe opened near my house, and I happen to be there at this very moment. Here. The television is blaring a language I don't understand. I don't even know which language this is. I'm having jasmine tea and a "savory crepe" filled with all kinds of delicious goodness: feta, tomatoes, greens, roasted red peppers. Free wireless internet. This place is the bomb-diggs. There are five people in the building. It is quiet and the light is a reddish, mysterious hue. There are comfy couches and big tables. I like this place.
It has just been one of those days. I don't know exactly why I wake up sometimes feeling like I could kill someone. It just seems to happen occasionally. And not necessarily at times when I'm particularly ... anything. There isn't a pattern to these emotions. At least not that I've noticed.
Perhaps I just need to start documenting my every thought and feeling and entering the dates and emotions into a chart. Perhaps then I'll notice a pattern and be able to tell my friends, "You are going to want to avoid me on the 14th, the 21st, and the 25th of next month." That would be helpful.
A new cafe opened near my house, and I happen to be there at this very moment. Here. The television is blaring a language I don't understand. I don't even know which language this is. I'm having jasmine tea and a "savory crepe" filled with all kinds of delicious goodness: feta, tomatoes, greens, roasted red peppers. Free wireless internet. This place is the bomb-diggs. There are five people in the building. It is quiet and the light is a reddish, mysterious hue. There are comfy couches and big tables. I like this place.
Monday, October 23, 2006
How's This For Your Sign
We finally talked last night. I asked what his plans are after he finishes working out East. He’s going back West to tie up some loose ends and then he doesn’t know where he’ll be headed from there. He is waiting for a sign telling him where he is supposed to be. A stupid sign.
I told him this has been really hard on me. Having him here. Seeing him. I told him I love him. He told me he loves me too. He hadn’t thought about things from my point of view. I asked how he would feel if I were dating someone else. He was obviously quite upset by this idea and asked whether I am. I’m not. I sort of lied and told him I had been seeing someone. Not entirely true, but not entirely false either. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. I told him I won’t date anyone else.
He said that he was surprised that our connection is still so strong after so long apart. It’s like we never missed a beat. He said it is so easy for us to be together. He said I need you right now in my life. I need you. I love you. I’m not sure where this is going though. I need time. I need to talk face to face.
It’s always about what he needs, isn’t it? Screw that. I need some freakin’ answers, that’s what I need. Damn it. It shouldn’t be this hard. He should want to be with me enough that he doesn’t need some stupid sign, he just needs me. I should be enough, but I’m not.
I'm not going to stop looking for my person. I'm not waiting for him.
I told him this has been really hard on me. Having him here. Seeing him. I told him I love him. He told me he loves me too. He hadn’t thought about things from my point of view. I asked how he would feel if I were dating someone else. He was obviously quite upset by this idea and asked whether I am. I’m not. I sort of lied and told him I had been seeing someone. Not entirely true, but not entirely false either. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. I told him I won’t date anyone else.
He said that he was surprised that our connection is still so strong after so long apart. It’s like we never missed a beat. He said it is so easy for us to be together. He said I need you right now in my life. I need you. I love you. I’m not sure where this is going though. I need time. I need to talk face to face.
It’s always about what he needs, isn’t it? Screw that. I need some freakin’ answers, that’s what I need. Damn it. It shouldn’t be this hard. He should want to be with me enough that he doesn’t need some stupid sign, he just needs me. I should be enough, but I’m not.
I'm not going to stop looking for my person. I'm not waiting for him.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Mental/Spatial Reorganization
I rearranged my bedroom today. It's such a great feeling once it's completed. I've essetially inventoried most of what I own and know where everything is. The dust balls are gone. The floor is clean. It looks enormous. So much space. So much floor.
I love it.
I think that the process of rearranging the bedroom facilitates a mental cleanse as well. In college, if my room was a mess, I wouldn't be able to write. Homework came second to a tidy workspace. I'm hoping I will be able to think more clearly now.
I'm sort of in the middle of an emotional disaster waiting to happen. My ex-boyfriend has made a sudden and jolting reappearance in my life. He visited me three weekends in a row, this being the first he hasn't made the trip since it began.
He was planning on visiting in September and I told him I didn't think it would be a good idea for me. I told him I still loved him and that it would be too hard for me. He would have a great time and I would too, but in the end, I'd be miserable and he'd be fine.
I cancelled the visit. And then received a call during a night of drunken debauchery. He's going to be working nearby, he said, and I said, why don't you swing by my house on your way. I was drunk. The next day, the next two days, I didn't even recall the conversation. He called on a Tuesday and told me he figured he would get in around 11:00 on Friday. What? I didn't even remember he was coming here. What was I supposed to do? I invited him!
So he came and it was great. It was really nice, actually. Of course it was! I'm so stupid sometimes. It was great. He came the next weekend and the next.
Argh. I don't know what to feel. I want him to want this. To want me. I want him to move here and be with me. But then I don't.
I like being alone. I like having my time all to myself. Having no one to answer to. No duties to another person. I like waking up and thinking, what do I want to do today? Or, what do I have to do today? Not, what do you want for breakfast? Because, of course, I can't do anything until I know he has been taken care of.
I guess that is the mother in me----lying in wait. I was designed to nurture.
Argh. Not sure what happens next.
I love it.
I think that the process of rearranging the bedroom facilitates a mental cleanse as well. In college, if my room was a mess, I wouldn't be able to write. Homework came second to a tidy workspace. I'm hoping I will be able to think more clearly now.
I'm sort of in the middle of an emotional disaster waiting to happen. My ex-boyfriend has made a sudden and jolting reappearance in my life. He visited me three weekends in a row, this being the first he hasn't made the trip since it began.
He was planning on visiting in September and I told him I didn't think it would be a good idea for me. I told him I still loved him and that it would be too hard for me. He would have a great time and I would too, but in the end, I'd be miserable and he'd be fine.
I cancelled the visit. And then received a call during a night of drunken debauchery. He's going to be working nearby, he said, and I said, why don't you swing by my house on your way. I was drunk. The next day, the next two days, I didn't even recall the conversation. He called on a Tuesday and told me he figured he would get in around 11:00 on Friday. What? I didn't even remember he was coming here. What was I supposed to do? I invited him!
So he came and it was great. It was really nice, actually. Of course it was! I'm so stupid sometimes. It was great. He came the next weekend and the next.
Argh. I don't know what to feel. I want him to want this. To want me. I want him to move here and be with me. But then I don't.
I like being alone. I like having my time all to myself. Having no one to answer to. No duties to another person. I like waking up and thinking, what do I want to do today? Or, what do I have to do today? Not, what do you want for breakfast? Because, of course, I can't do anything until I know he has been taken care of.
I guess that is the mother in me----lying in wait. I was designed to nurture.
Argh. Not sure what happens next.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
She of All The Blogging
So, I’m officially a “blogger” now. One who blogs. She of all the blogging. I also have a myspace page with a mini blog, so yesterday I copied all of the material I had written from there and pasted it into Blogspot. As you will notice, as a result, there are multiple entries for October 18th, dating as far back as October of 2005. But, now, dear readers, I am in real time. And isn’t it exciting?
I have to admit, I’m deeply torn between announcing to all of my friends and family that I have created a blog and keeping it completely private and confidential so I can write without fear of who may be reading what. It would be nice either way, really. Nice to be able to write anything without worrying if I may offend or upset someone. A nice outlet for my deepest, darkest thoughts and feelings. I need that.
On the other hand (and boy is it a big hand) I’m a sucker for attention and comments. I want the people I love to read my entries and give me feedback. But I feel like opening it up to them will bring a whole mess of consequences with which I’m not sure I’m prepared to deal.
I guess, for the time being, I will keep my mouth shut. The biggest difficulty I foresee will be my own capacity for secret keeping. I mean, I can keep important secrets. But little, trivial secrets? Like what I bought my sister for Christmas or he likes her and she likes him and neither of them know it? I am notorious for revealing those types of secrets.
I also don’t enjoy surprises if I know there will be a surprise. I can’t stand the anticipation. I get anxious and impatient and feel all weird and antsy inside. If I am surprised without knowing to expect a surprise, however, that, that I can deal with. I even enjoy that. But it is knowing something surprising will be happening in the near future that I find really aggravating. I’m all, “When? Now? What about now?” It’s annoying. So annoying that I annoy myself. I drive myself crazy with the not knowing.
So yeah, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep this blog a secret, but I am going to do my damnedest trying. I love the idea of having something that is all mine. Mine alone. Mine. All mine!!!! Wuah-ha-ha-ha-ha……
I have to admit, I’m deeply torn between announcing to all of my friends and family that I have created a blog and keeping it completely private and confidential so I can write without fear of who may be reading what. It would be nice either way, really. Nice to be able to write anything without worrying if I may offend or upset someone. A nice outlet for my deepest, darkest thoughts and feelings. I need that.
On the other hand (and boy is it a big hand) I’m a sucker for attention and comments. I want the people I love to read my entries and give me feedback. But I feel like opening it up to them will bring a whole mess of consequences with which I’m not sure I’m prepared to deal.
I guess, for the time being, I will keep my mouth shut. The biggest difficulty I foresee will be my own capacity for secret keeping. I mean, I can keep important secrets. But little, trivial secrets? Like what I bought my sister for Christmas or he likes her and she likes him and neither of them know it? I am notorious for revealing those types of secrets.
I also don’t enjoy surprises if I know there will be a surprise. I can’t stand the anticipation. I get anxious and impatient and feel all weird and antsy inside. If I am surprised without knowing to expect a surprise, however, that, that I can deal with. I even enjoy that. But it is knowing something surprising will be happening in the near future that I find really aggravating. I’m all, “When? Now? What about now?” It’s annoying. So annoying that I annoy myself. I drive myself crazy with the not knowing.
So yeah, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep this blog a secret, but I am going to do my damnedest trying. I love the idea of having something that is all mine. Mine alone. Mine. All mine!!!! Wuah-ha-ha-ha-ha……
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Etiquette Schmetiquette
Last Saturday I had the pleasure/duty of attending a work-related, fancy-schmancy gala. My date, C.M., donned his finest party apparel and I curled my hair for the first time in several years, threw on some eyeliner and a dress, and even wore pantyhose. I didn't however, shave my legs, because I simply don't give a rat's ass. Plus, I figured the pantyhose would conceal my evil, evil leg hair. I like getting dressed up, but a girl has to have her limits.
The night went off without a hitch. The decorations were lovely, the drinks were yummy, and the food was delicious. Women and men paraded throughout the rooms, surveying the silent auction items and making their bids, eating hors d'oeuvres, and sipping wine and cocktails. C.M. and I played the part as best we could, before sneaking away to talk trash about our fellow partygoers.
I don't fit in at these events. C.M. definitely does not either. I mean, we can hold our own, sure, but it's just not natural for us. I'm in my element in comfy pants with a coffee mug of wine, chilling on my porch watching the sunset. C.M. is in his element in a pair of Dickies and a t-shirt, with a cup of jasmine tea and three computer monitors before him. I'm pretty content within my element, and though I can function well at these upscale events, I don't enjoy doing so. It feels false, fake, like a sham---and that's because it is.
Anyway.
So, C.M. and I were seated at our table, surrounded by my coworkers and their significant others. After the salad, the dinner arrived looking spectacular. My coworker, she of the incessant neck gazing (seriously, stop looking at my neck!), was in the bathroom when dinner was being served, so she didn't get a plate because the servers thought the seat was vacant. Everyone else at the table had their food and C.M. and I started to chow down. She arrived back at the table to find that she hadn't received any food. We continued to eat, and by "we" I mean, C.M. and I.
To my horror, I realized halfway into my chicken that no one else at the table had started eating. No one.
I realized with an internal gasp, we are those people. The people who don't wait. Who aren't polite. Who are low class.
I realized what was happening, but of course, C.M. was only thinking one thing: "CHICKEN. Mmmmm….." I flagged down a server and asked for a meal for neck-gazer, and oh, I forgot to mention, she's a vegetarian. "Can you bring her the vegetarian option?" I asked. "Um….yes…..hold on please."
The poor guy came back to tell her it would be a few minutes, as they didn't have a meatless entree prepared. And still, no one was eating. I was torn between being polite and fitting in with these people I can't stand, or sticking by my date and chowing down. I decided that I am glad I'm like him and not like them and continued to stuff my face.
Eventually, neck-gazer noticed everyone was waiting for her and released them of their stupid polite obligation. I felt like saying, "Your food is cold and mine wasn't. Nah-nah-nah-boo-boo."
I think I'll stick to my element. It's nicer there and the food isn't cold.
The night went off without a hitch. The decorations were lovely, the drinks were yummy, and the food was delicious. Women and men paraded throughout the rooms, surveying the silent auction items and making their bids, eating hors d'oeuvres, and sipping wine and cocktails. C.M. and I played the part as best we could, before sneaking away to talk trash about our fellow partygoers.
I don't fit in at these events. C.M. definitely does not either. I mean, we can hold our own, sure, but it's just not natural for us. I'm in my element in comfy pants with a coffee mug of wine, chilling on my porch watching the sunset. C.M. is in his element in a pair of Dickies and a t-shirt, with a cup of jasmine tea and three computer monitors before him. I'm pretty content within my element, and though I can function well at these upscale events, I don't enjoy doing so. It feels false, fake, like a sham---and that's because it is.
Anyway.
So, C.M. and I were seated at our table, surrounded by my coworkers and their significant others. After the salad, the dinner arrived looking spectacular. My coworker, she of the incessant neck gazing (seriously, stop looking at my neck!), was in the bathroom when dinner was being served, so she didn't get a plate because the servers thought the seat was vacant. Everyone else at the table had their food and C.M. and I started to chow down. She arrived back at the table to find that she hadn't received any food. We continued to eat, and by "we" I mean, C.M. and I.
To my horror, I realized halfway into my chicken that no one else at the table had started eating. No one.
I realized with an internal gasp, we are those people. The people who don't wait. Who aren't polite. Who are low class.
I realized what was happening, but of course, C.M. was only thinking one thing: "CHICKEN. Mmmmm….." I flagged down a server and asked for a meal for neck-gazer, and oh, I forgot to mention, she's a vegetarian. "Can you bring her the vegetarian option?" I asked. "Um….yes…..hold on please."
The poor guy came back to tell her it would be a few minutes, as they didn't have a meatless entree prepared. And still, no one was eating. I was torn between being polite and fitting in with these people I can't stand, or sticking by my date and chowing down. I decided that I am glad I'm like him and not like them and continued to stuff my face.
Eventually, neck-gazer noticed everyone was waiting for her and released them of their stupid polite obligation. I felt like saying, "Your food is cold and mine wasn't. Nah-nah-nah-boo-boo."
I think I'll stick to my element. It's nicer there and the food isn't cold.
Ramblings
Last night, for a few hours, I was convinced it was Tuesday. Not sure how this happened. Then Wife Swap came on and I was all, "Oh. It's freakin' Monday. Oops." I mean, I knew it was Monday all day and then suddenly, around 4:00, my brain did a flip-flop.
I dreamt about worms last night. Friendly creepy crawlies all over the floor. I released them from a satchel and they rapidly dispersed and multiplied. The floor was suddenly covered in squirmy worms and I was trying to walk the length of the hallway without squashing any. I tiptoed amongst and between them and then squirted a big pile of ketchup in the corner. One of the worms was unlucky enough to be headed right into the ketchup. He absorbed it and turned into a wormy, ketchupy blob. The other worms had all converged in the center of the hallway and formed a giant wormpile. I picked the ketchupy worm up with a stick and placed him on top of the pile with all of his friends.
I like worms, so the dream didn't perturb me as much as one might expect. It was a bit odd though, and as much as I'd like to say, "Oh, this means blah, blah, blah," I don't really believe it meant anything. I think it was just a random firing of neurons that evolved into a ketchupy wormpile. Definitely a bit odd though.
I dreamt about worms last night. Friendly creepy crawlies all over the floor. I released them from a satchel and they rapidly dispersed and multiplied. The floor was suddenly covered in squirmy worms and I was trying to walk the length of the hallway without squashing any. I tiptoed amongst and between them and then squirted a big pile of ketchup in the corner. One of the worms was unlucky enough to be headed right into the ketchup. He absorbed it and turned into a wormy, ketchupy blob. The other worms had all converged in the center of the hallway and formed a giant wormpile. I picked the ketchupy worm up with a stick and placed him on top of the pile with all of his friends.
I like worms, so the dream didn't perturb me as much as one might expect. It was a bit odd though, and as much as I'd like to say, "Oh, this means blah, blah, blah," I don't really believe it meant anything. I think it was just a random firing of neurons that evolved into a ketchupy wormpile. Definitely a bit odd though.
My Best Interests?
As you all know, I've been a bit, shall we say, dissatisfied with my current job as of late. I decided to rant as much as I needed on myspace and then move on and be proactive. I applied for a boatload of jobs last week and submitted my resume to two staffing agencies. My mom also managed to get me connected with a very nice woman in a very high-profile firm (yeah, mom!). I spoke with her, explained my situation, and somehow landed an interview with her firm for this afternoon. Sweet.
This morning I also met with this guy Jake from B.H. Staffing, who seemed, at the conclusion of our meeting, like he was my new BFF. I thought while leaving, "Jake knows what's best. Jake has my back. I feel better now."
Well, as it turns out, Jake is a backstabbing son of a bitch.
He asked me during our session whether I'd independently applied to any firms and I informed him that, yes, in fact, I had an interview lined up for this afternoon. He asked some details and I gladly provided them, not knowing he would turn around and use them to stick a knife into my spine.
I get to my interview this afternoon, all jazzed up in my new suit jacket and heels (god, I'm such a freakin' yuppie), and sit down in the conference room to await the attorney who will be interviewing me. My mom's friend comes in to meet with me briefly in the meantime.
GET THIS. She asked me if I am working with a staffing agency as well and I said yes. "B.H. Staffing?" "Yes." Then she proceeds to tell me that I need to be more careful with how much information I give out because that bitch ass motherfucking Jake called her after I left his office this morning.
He called and asked her, "Wouldn't you be more comfortable hiring someone with more experience for the position?" Maybe I can help you find someone more suited blah, blah, blah.
WHAT?!?!?!?! You've got to be kidding me! Who the hell is this punk working for? Because clearly, he isn't working for me. He's working for his own selfish self and doesn't give a crap that he may have jeopardized something that could be really awesome for me.
So, I called that jerkface jerk Jake (Jake the Jerkface Jerk, hereafter, JJJ) and we had the following conversation:
(phone ringing)
JJJ: This is Jake.
MJ: Hi Jake, this is MJ. We met earlier today.
JJJ: Hi MJ. What's up?
MJ: I just had my interview with X & X, and it went really well.
JJJ: That's great.
MJ: Yeah, except, the woman I met with told me you called her this morning and asked her if she wouldn't be more comfortable with someone who is more qualified for the position.
JJJ: (silence)
MJ: So, I won't be working with you any longer. Thank you for meeting with me today.
JJJ: I'm sorry about that, MJ, but I was just looking out for your best interests.
MJ: Take care, Jake.
JJJ: Bye.
I think I handled that with grace and dignity, considering what I wanted to do. I wanted to storm over there and kick him in the nuts. That's what I wanted to do. Bitch-ass-punk-face-stupid-prick. My best interests? I think it'd be in my best interests to go over there and put the smack down on his bitch ass.
Anywhoooo….my interview went really fantastically well, despite his deliberate attempt to sabotage it. We shall see what comes of it. Keep your phalanges crossed!
This morning I also met with this guy Jake from B.H. Staffing, who seemed, at the conclusion of our meeting, like he was my new BFF. I thought while leaving, "Jake knows what's best. Jake has my back. I feel better now."
Well, as it turns out, Jake is a backstabbing son of a bitch.
He asked me during our session whether I'd independently applied to any firms and I informed him that, yes, in fact, I had an interview lined up for this afternoon. He asked some details and I gladly provided them, not knowing he would turn around and use them to stick a knife into my spine.
I get to my interview this afternoon, all jazzed up in my new suit jacket and heels (god, I'm such a freakin' yuppie), and sit down in the conference room to await the attorney who will be interviewing me. My mom's friend comes in to meet with me briefly in the meantime.
GET THIS. She asked me if I am working with a staffing agency as well and I said yes. "B.H. Staffing?" "Yes." Then she proceeds to tell me that I need to be more careful with how much information I give out because that bitch ass motherfucking Jake called her after I left his office this morning.
He called and asked her, "Wouldn't you be more comfortable hiring someone with more experience for the position?" Maybe I can help you find someone more suited blah, blah, blah.
WHAT?!?!?!?! You've got to be kidding me! Who the hell is this punk working for? Because clearly, he isn't working for me. He's working for his own selfish self and doesn't give a crap that he may have jeopardized something that could be really awesome for me.
So, I called that jerkface jerk Jake (Jake the Jerkface Jerk, hereafter, JJJ) and we had the following conversation:
(phone ringing)
JJJ: This is Jake.
MJ: Hi Jake, this is MJ. We met earlier today.
JJJ: Hi MJ. What's up?
MJ: I just had my interview with X & X, and it went really well.
JJJ: That's great.
MJ: Yeah, except, the woman I met with told me you called her this morning and asked her if she wouldn't be more comfortable with someone who is more qualified for the position.
JJJ: (silence)
MJ: So, I won't be working with you any longer. Thank you for meeting with me today.
JJJ: I'm sorry about that, MJ, but I was just looking out for your best interests.
MJ: Take care, Jake.
JJJ: Bye.
I think I handled that with grace and dignity, considering what I wanted to do. I wanted to storm over there and kick him in the nuts. That's what I wanted to do. Bitch-ass-punk-face-stupid-prick. My best interests? I think it'd be in my best interests to go over there and put the smack down on his bitch ass.
Anywhoooo….my interview went really fantastically well, despite his deliberate attempt to sabotage it. We shall see what comes of it. Keep your phalanges crossed!
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