Velouria (velouria) wrote,
Velouria
velouria

Old Skool Continued.

April 7, 2010

Wednesday and I'm in a bad mood. I think it's mostly due to the air conditioning being on here at the butt-crack of dawn.I don't feel it's necessary. Secondarily, I slept shittily. I started reading old, old chat transcripts between Ron and I from when I came back from Rhode Island. He's been coming around again, is why. I'm glad we're on good terms, but I really don't want to go down heartbreak Rhode with him again. He will always have the upper hand, I believe. I will always be more vulnerable.

I should just not even turn my computer on anymore. I tried to think of something to do after work yesterday other than going home, because I hate Tuesdays for some reason. There's never anything on TV. I had no food and I didn't want to eat anyway. So I went to Borders, but couldn't find a book to read. At leas not from the Metaphysical section. It's like I've read it all. All the variations on a theme I know is true, but that I can't seem to practice anyway.

And finally, my hair keeps coming in white. And I keep pulling it out. It's crazy how hopeless I feel compared to yesterday. Boss is acting weird. Architect is acting weird. Why can't people just say hello to me like normal people? God knows I'm not normal, but I can usually manage to say to hello in the name of being cordial. Can't you be fucking cordial instead of weird? At least once, in the morning? Fuck.

10:00. Shit mood continues. Air conditioner still blowing. I suppose that will never end. I would go sit in my car if I didn't think it would result in an extremely awkward Architect encounter. Endlessly clicking on things in Wikipedia instead. Ended up on the castle at Disneyland somehow, and feeling sad about never having been. (First world problems).

11:00. Shitty. Starvos. I suspect I look terrible. If everyone's weird behavior is any indication, then I must. I need something good to relay to you, journal. All I have is crap. I hate how Architect completely ignores me when anyone is standing within 10 feet of my cubicle. But then what don't I hate here?

1:00 something. Post Togos and sitting in a Christ Unity Church parking lot, staring horrified at all the white hairs on my head. You're not funny, God.

2:00. Welcome to the non-stop Karen talks about cats show. Plays Monday through Friday, 8:30 to whenever the hell I escape, excepting furloughs. Hear all about what ails Karen's cats. Come one, come all.

Dude. The lady with the putrid orange Nissan Extera which was hideous and made my ass bleed each time she parked it outside my window, has traded it in for the Nissan Cube - only the most ridiculous looking vehicle behind the Smart. Is she fucking blind? Shouldn't she not be operating a car (and I use the word loosely) in that case? I shudder to think what her husband looks like. Or her house. Inside and out. Barf.

I feel like I require electroshock therapy today. I wonder if my insurance covers that. Not that I'm motivated enough to check. Blahhh. There's Parking Lot Judd Nelson. He didn't seem to bring me out of my funk. I don't know who could at this point. I wish there were clouds to look at. I wish I would stop bitching. At least I'm not doing it outloud, about my cats. Another secretary just walked by weeping. I'm not quite at that point yet. I could be in another hour. I almost certainly will by 4:30.

3:00. Not weeping yet. Considering it. See you tomorrow, Architect said. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe one or more of us will throw his or her self on the train tracks directly across the street from his or her house.
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