So, I am having a good laugh about my Losers' Club day. One must realize, at this point, that I kind of revel in Losers' Club stories. They're Seinfeld-esque, they're David Sedaris-esque, they give me fodder for which I can utter the words (in true sincerity) "...mynovel's gonna be great!"
So, I relate the story to BFF, she loves it. I relate it to ChirpBoy, he loves it. We laugh, we share. Alls good. I get home, I get settled, I'm about to go to sleep and realize my brain is racing. No biggie - I just so happen to be in the middle of a trashy, vampire smut novel. (I alternate, thought-provoking book/junkfood book/thought-provoking book/junkfood book. Keeps me balanced.)
I'm in bed, quietly reading, when my roomie decides to start having sex with his "not girlfriend." I kid you not. Ever seen Secret of My Success?
Amidst all of this, GoodBuddy texts me. He's in "a mood." There's been a lot of this lately. I know he reads my blog and he's sure to argue, but it's true. Whereas he used to be mostly carefree and happy-go, now he's mostly serious, pensive and, above all, domineering. No more the silly laughter, now it's all "this is how it is and this is what I'm planning and you need to do this and you should feel this and this or that needs to happen." It really does make me sad sometimes.
So, yes, I was tired and cranky and probably a little ticked that my roommate was having sex and the last time I'd had sex was a long time ago (sorry, TMI but still). In the interest of full disclosure, I was also a bit ... tipsy. During the conversatin, I began to relate my Losers' Club story. I'll admit I could have been sounding bitchy to the outside ear - but boy oh boy did GB get all up in my grill.
In short: I'm better than that. I still have a job. I'm not stuck in Haiti. I'm above this bitching and whining. I need to get over myself.You don't get to feel sorry for yourself. Fucking man up.
Basically telling me the exact same message that I've been dealing with my whole life: my feelings aren't valid, they're "too much", my experience of the world isn't legit and I should feel shame for that.
(Thank you, yes, I did have therapy today. I heart it.)
So, I got upset. No. Strike that. I got fucking pissed off as shit. I wanted a friend. Someone to commiserate with, to laugh with. To understand that, yes, I'd had a shitty day. No, it wasn't the worst day in the world and I realized I wasn't dying of cancer or getting fired or living through devastation or elsewise having a life-shattering event. But, it had in fact been garden variety shitty day. And, geez, only me...
The net/net is that I'm still thinking he and I are not on the same page about this, or to be honest, much, these days. And as much as he wants to protest, I think a large part of it is the place he's in and not the place I'm in. Although, yes, of course, everything is in mutuality and relation. But I think that the path I'm on - and have been working towards - is telling me that voice inside my head that says, "fuck you, my feelings count" is the right voice to listen to. Because I am NOT striving to be some superhuman-Buddha-Guru-Englightened-Omniscient Being. I just want to BE. Utterly and essentially, be a human being. A me-flavored human popsicle. I'd be perfectly and amazingly content with that.
So there.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
A Tale in Two Parts
So, I have yet another tale to tell. This one will be in two parts. One happy. One not so much. Such is life.
So, yesterday, I had a total Losers' Club day.
Started off with a 7:30 am conference call, taken on the 7:33 train into Boston (express from Salem!).
Two hour meeting with CBL to go through budgets, punctuated about every 20 minutes with her telling me wildly inappropriate stories about my coworkers and her boss.
Then, the fit really hit the shan. We - make that I - needed to pull together materials for an upcoming "train the trainers" event happening in Mexico next week. Basically, we need to teach people how to teach people who teach people. There will be 20 of these "Master Trainers" in attendance. I had to create ONE folder for all of the trainers to use during their training and ONE sample folder of all of the materials they would be handing out when they actually started training people themselves. The problem is, a lot of the documents were duplicates. And some looked only very slightly different. It has to get to MX by Saturday so it HAD to leave yesterday. It was an operational nightmare.
So, I'm in the midst of all of this chaos, documents piling up around me, the phone ringing off the hook, me walking miles in circles around my cube (in heels because "sneakers are inappropriate workplace attire) putting together packets of information... At one point CBL comes in to ask me, "um, what's the name of the marketing platform we use again?" I was at that very moment on the phone with one of my copy/print companies telling them they produced 2x as many of one doc we needed and none of another doc we needed. I looked at ye olde CBL and nearly screamed. "Um. Can't do this now. Sorry. No." And turned back to my phonecall.
Later, I did actually her office, armpit sweat-stained and hair disheveled to answer her question (whilst waiting for alluded to document arriving). This must have kicked in the guilt genome because a few minutes later, she came over to my office, leaned in the doorway and casually asked (as I wore treads into the carpet) "anything I can do to help?" Um, yea. Join the assembly line, bitch.
OK, so, finally I get it all done, boxed up and ready to go. Oh yea - the mailroom guys are all new so I have absolutely no confidence at all that it's going to get there on time. But que sera sera.
I missed the 6:30 train, no matter, I'll catch up on email. Ten minutes to 7 - before the lights go out and the cockroaches come out - I left the building. I hoof it to the train station, stopping in at a nearby burrito joint on the way to get a veggie burrito to go.
The guy behind me orders a chicken burrito and we kill the more than 10 minutes waiting making small talk about the crazy weather, the election, and the earthquake relief efforts.
I get to the train station, tired, cranky, dissheveled and hungry. I unwrap my burrito and take a huge, honkin bite.
It's the chicken burrito.
I barely make it to the public bathroom in time to vomit and then begin dry heaving. Have I mentioned, the last time I ate meat was almost 20 years ago and the meal that turned me was chicken?
So, yes, folks, that was my day. I finally made it home, 14 and a half hours after leaving it. I was cranky, I was clammy, I was hungry, I was tired, and I was sore. But, it also gave me the best line of the year.
Me to BFF: "I have to tell you my Losers' Club story. I swear, I think I had a worse day than Martha Coakley."
BFF to me: "Niiiiiiiice!"
So, yesterday, I had a total Losers' Club day.
Started off with a 7:30 am conference call, taken on the 7:33 train into Boston (express from Salem!).
Two hour meeting with CBL to go through budgets, punctuated about every 20 minutes with her telling me wildly inappropriate stories about my coworkers and her boss.
Then, the fit really hit the shan. We - make that I - needed to pull together materials for an upcoming "train the trainers" event happening in Mexico next week. Basically, we need to teach people how to teach people who teach people. There will be 20 of these "Master Trainers" in attendance. I had to create ONE folder for all of the trainers to use during their training and ONE sample folder of all of the materials they would be handing out when they actually started training people themselves. The problem is, a lot of the documents were duplicates. And some looked only very slightly different. It has to get to MX by Saturday so it HAD to leave yesterday. It was an operational nightmare.
So, I'm in the midst of all of this chaos, documents piling up around me, the phone ringing off the hook, me walking miles in circles around my cube (in heels because "sneakers are inappropriate workplace attire) putting together packets of information... At one point CBL comes in to ask me, "um, what's the name of the marketing platform we use again?" I was at that very moment on the phone with one of my copy/print companies telling them they produced 2x as many of one doc we needed and none of another doc we needed. I looked at ye olde CBL and nearly screamed. "Um. Can't do this now. Sorry. No." And turned back to my phonecall.
Later, I did actually her office, armpit sweat-stained and hair disheveled to answer her question (whilst waiting for alluded to document arriving). This must have kicked in the guilt genome because a few minutes later, she came over to my office, leaned in the doorway and casually asked (as I wore treads into the carpet) "anything I can do to help?" Um, yea. Join the assembly line, bitch.
OK, so, finally I get it all done, boxed up and ready to go. Oh yea - the mailroom guys are all new so I have absolutely no confidence at all that it's going to get there on time. But que sera sera.
I missed the 6:30 train, no matter, I'll catch up on email. Ten minutes to 7 - before the lights go out and the cockroaches come out - I left the building. I hoof it to the train station, stopping in at a nearby burrito joint on the way to get a veggie burrito to go.
The guy behind me orders a chicken burrito and we kill the more than 10 minutes waiting making small talk about the crazy weather, the election, and the earthquake relief efforts.
I get to the train station, tired, cranky, dissheveled and hungry. I unwrap my burrito and take a huge, honkin bite.
It's the chicken burrito.
I barely make it to the public bathroom in time to vomit and then begin dry heaving. Have I mentioned, the last time I ate meat was almost 20 years ago and the meal that turned me was chicken?
So, yes, folks, that was my day. I finally made it home, 14 and a half hours after leaving it. I was cranky, I was clammy, I was hungry, I was tired, and I was sore. But, it also gave me the best line of the year.
Me to BFF: "I have to tell you my Losers' Club story. I swear, I think I had a worse day than Martha Coakley."
BFF to me: "Niiiiiiiice!"
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