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Friday, June 04, 2004
In a stunning twist of fate, the new opportunity was thrilling, engaging, and excellent, and also, ultimately, incredibly short on funds. I’ve not yet given up complete hope, and have another meeting on Monday, but the money I was offered was so far from the mark that I hardly was able to keep my composure. And now I realize that one of the only reasons I’ve been able to handle the job I have now was the prospect of leaving as soon as this bigger, better thing finally worked itself out. I’m suddenly now thrown back into the sea of possibility (and that’s looking at it positively) of what else I might do with my time here. I do not want to stay at my present job for very long- where I am belittled, and ordered around, and talked down to. Oh yeah, and where I don’t make enough money to live. I feel abandoned a little bit, by both my man and this possibility, and it makes for a crummy day.
I know I need to move on from both, even as I still work through both, but it’s hard when you feel like… well. I feel like I deserve some good stuff to happen to me. Let me rephrase that. I feel as though I’ve put in a hell of a lot of work and I would like to see some results, on sort of a grander scale. I am so willing to work so hard and sometimes it feels as though I’m just wading through sticky mud.
In fact, sometimes I just don’t know what more I can do. I don’t know if I can try any harder, or work any harder, or wish any harder, or believe any more deeply.
I know I need to move on from both, even as I still work through both, but it’s hard when you feel like… well. I feel like I deserve some good stuff to happen to me. Let me rephrase that. I feel as though I’ve put in a hell of a lot of work and I would like to see some results, on sort of a grander scale. I am so willing to work so hard and sometimes it feels as though I’m just wading through sticky mud.
In fact, sometimes I just don’t know what more I can do. I don’t know if I can try any harder, or work any harder, or wish any harder, or believe any more deeply.
Thursday, June 03, 2004
I had the great delight and utter misfortune of seeing The Latest Catastrophe Flick starring The Latest Actor You Haven’t Seen In a Long Time and Here’s Why. It’s that “Day After Tomorrow” or “Yesterday’s Gone” or “Tomorrow is Never Today” or whatever movie. I’m not going to spoil it for you, because that is by definition IMPOSSIBLE, but I will agree that the special effects are pretty forking cool. However, in a tent, post-apocolyptic, having just lost his best friend (oh, the agony), Dennis Quaid actually says, “I don’t know what’s going to happen. It depends on if we learn from our mistakes.” Looks down, shakes his head, pauses pregnantly. “I only hope I learn from mine.”
I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. But I was captivated when tornadoes destroyed Los Angeles.
My man drove for 20 hours STRAIGHT yesterday. He didn’t stop until he was in Montana at his friend’s campground. Apparently he threw his sleeping bag pad onto the ground and fell asleep right next to his Jeep. He’s been very good, called me ten times at least already, but he’s gone. And not really mine anymore.
It’s been a torturously boring day at work, filled with sludge and dredge, oily and smelly and slow. However, I have a big fat meeting tonight, with a big fat opportunity, and I hope it knocks loudly.
My advice to you: eating popcorn and M & M’s for dinner is BAD NEWS. I promise.
I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. But I was captivated when tornadoes destroyed Los Angeles.
My man drove for 20 hours STRAIGHT yesterday. He didn’t stop until he was in Montana at his friend’s campground. Apparently he threw his sleeping bag pad onto the ground and fell asleep right next to his Jeep. He’s been very good, called me ten times at least already, but he’s gone. And not really mine anymore.
It’s been a torturously boring day at work, filled with sludge and dredge, oily and smelly and slow. However, I have a big fat meeting tonight, with a big fat opportunity, and I hope it knocks loudly.
My advice to you: eating popcorn and M & M’s for dinner is BAD NEWS. I promise.
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
My love is gone
His boots no longer by my door
He left at dawn
And as I slept I felt him go
Returns no more
I will not watch the ocean
Although, in his case, it would be Birkenstocks rather than boots, and the ocean is the gravel that covers my driveway. He’s not gone yet, not until tomorrow morning, but I don’t think either of us are really looking forward to tonight, our “last” night together. He still insists it is just the beginning. I know better. He knows I know better.
What is it like, being 23 years old? What does it mean to wake up each morning having lived only 23 years? When I was 23, I had just met Wayne, just graduated from college, and had no clear idea who I was. I moved to Chicago, did a bunch of terrible shows and a couple great shows. I flew to Kansas City about twelve times that year on Southwest Airlines. (Can’t imagine life before Jet Blue.) I called my brother Sean so many times because I was so terribly lost, and befuddled by my own actions. God. 23. I can’t even imagine.
Well. I’m curious to see how I feel tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, and how exactly I will move on. My stomach is in knots.
His boots no longer by my door
He left at dawn
And as I slept I felt him go
Returns no more
I will not watch the ocean
Although, in his case, it would be Birkenstocks rather than boots, and the ocean is the gravel that covers my driveway. He’s not gone yet, not until tomorrow morning, but I don’t think either of us are really looking forward to tonight, our “last” night together. He still insists it is just the beginning. I know better. He knows I know better.
What is it like, being 23 years old? What does it mean to wake up each morning having lived only 23 years? When I was 23, I had just met Wayne, just graduated from college, and had no clear idea who I was. I moved to Chicago, did a bunch of terrible shows and a couple great shows. I flew to Kansas City about twelve times that year on Southwest Airlines. (Can’t imagine life before Jet Blue.) I called my brother Sean so many times because I was so terribly lost, and befuddled by my own actions. God. 23. I can’t even imagine.
Well. I’m curious to see how I feel tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, and how exactly I will move on. My stomach is in knots.