Pixy-Led

I hate my job. I’ve said that so many times in my life at different places that the phrase should be meaningless. Yet here I go again, hating my job and thinking it means something. I have been having trouble sleeping at night, and I get just plain angry over nothing, and no amount of reassurance makes the anger go away. I’m afraid I’m skirting the edge of depression, and no amount of trying to re-align my thinking helps. I fear pills, I was on them once and it was the worst experience of my life. Oh, it probably saved me, but it also hurt me a lot, tolerating the toxic situation because the doc prescribed me some feel good pills instead of saying “You need to make a change.”

And here I am, not even in the worst situation I’ve been in, and I can’t stop thinking of how unhappy I am. I’m certain it’s because I tie up my identity in my work, and when I can’t excel, when I can’t achieve or move forward, when every project that comes my way is a train wreck before I’m even assigned, I lose my mind. I’m bored out of my mind. I resent everything about what I do because I’m not allowed to take pride in my work, instead churning out garbage.

And the thing is, it isn’t so bad where I am. If I were just a slacker that needed a paycheck, I’d do fine. I tell myself all the time that at least I’m there with people I like and getting paid. But I can’t talk myself out of feeling like shit every single day. I know it doesn’t help that there are just NO JOBS right now. The few I’ve seen and applied for have failed to get back to me. One head hunter contacted me, but he was looking to hire me for my job!

I’m not sure why I am writing this. Maybe getting it “out” will help? Probably not, self pity rarely does. I just need to stick my chin up and keep going.

And kick Jim in the balls.

I’m sick of all you tall people ruining it for us short people.

I needed a new computer chair. My chair of 10 years finally started to die. One arm fell at a 45 degree angle from the side, and just the other day, the back snapped when I was leaning back. So, despite being well worn and well loved, it was time for a new chair.

I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. But then I start looking, and I noticed one thing in common. None of them seem to go low enough. What. The. Motherfucking Fuck? My chair is just perfect, but all these chairs are so high.

I pick one out, one that seems to go the lowest. Its not perfect, but its a chair. I excitedly wait for my husband to assemble it, only to discover its 4 full inches higher than my old chair. Look, I know I’m short, okay, but I’m not the only one. What makes matters worse, it seems like there are no short people chairs anymore. I need something with  a 14″ height. But strangely, every job has always had ones that go that low. Usually the older chairs. So I surmise this is a change that has only come about in the past few years.  Oh, they have big and tall chair sections, but none for us small folk.

To make matters worse, my old chair is now disassembled (a failed attempt to make a franken chair to suit my needs.) And office depot won’t take returns on chairs that are assembled. but did I mention its impossible to take the base off once its on? And this goddamn chair is so uncomfortable. Sitting in the chair for 1 minute in the store it seemed fine. 20 minutes at my desk and I’m feeling all sorts of fatigue.

#AdditionalInfo > ul li > ul li a,

Beat that, beyotches.

I had a dream last night. It was one of those dreams that sticks with you in that odd way that some dreams do. I dreamt I was out with friends and one of them knew the band Geggy Tah, that just happened to be hanging out that the same club we were at.
And they were excited to just run into some fans in the middle of the midwest, and my friend knew of a club that had an open stage. So they agreed they’d perform for us. It was a lounge setting with the stage sort of in the middle. After all, what more perfect a setting for Geggy Tah.

I talked to the singer Tommy for a while. We talked about my water proof camera (which I kept dunking in my drink to show how it worked). And then I found out that they had a new album coming out called “Pump”.

I woke up shortly afterward, but it felt so real. I even looked online, but there is no news of a new album.

Gotta love cold medicine.

Today was the last day for another coworker.  In the short year plus I’ve been at my current job so many people have left. I feel like I started at the end of an era. What’s worse; I feel like I found a really great team to work with, only to have it shattered by poor corporate decisions and bad circumstances.

I work(ed) with an amazing group of people. Smart, innovative, creative. Friendly, funny, silly, even. We have shared some great ideas and to have that just torn apart by uncaring, underachieving management - Well, its just shit.

I often fantasize how great it would be for all of us to start a company together, away from the constraints of the corporate machine that keeps us from accomplishing anything. The 20-percenters. The thinkers and the doers, the innovators. Of course it is just that - a fantasy. We’re all mid-career, needing the guarantee of a paycheck and not the risk of a start up. Still, it makes me sad, so much potential lost.

Tonight, I saw another brilliant, talented person walk out the door. Everyone gathered. Including several of the people that had left prior. I was so happy to see them all, yet couldn’t help but feel angry at the company that fucked it all up. Still it was good to see them. Such vibrant people. I miss you all.

I reek of blood. Again. It wasn’t supposed to go that way. But I of all people should know better - it’s the nature of the beast. The nature of man, more like it. When you’ve got a half dozen highly motivated, highly aggressive individuals, it doesn’t take much to make a situation go from bad to worse.

Blood doesn’t come off. Not easily anyway. It’s thick, it sticks to your skin, it stains your clothes, even black. When it’s fresh, its the most striking of reds. The movies don’t do it any justice. Probably because no one would believe it, so they darken it for effect. Or maybe once movies tried realistic blood, and the audience couldn’t handle it, awakened by some caveman part of their brain knew and was afraid  in a way a piece of fiction shouldn’t feel. Whatever. I try to wipe it from my face with the trickle from the faucet. No towels in the dispenser, and the hand dryer isn’t going to help get the goo off. Fuck! I’ve got to get it off before anyone tries to use this bathroom. I’ve jammed the door, but security would probably find it a little suspicious and it wouldn’t take much to overcome the build in doorstop. Hopefully the don’t make rounds very often at 3 am.

So how exactly does one become covered in blood from head to toe at 3 am? Well, its all about the method. No one expects the petite blonde in a slinky black dress and Prada pumps to be carrying a 3 foot sword underneath her overcoat. And when the shit goes bad, the only thing that can save your ass from meeting it’s maker at the hands of trigger-happy hired thugs is plan old shock and awe. Slice a guy in two while covering everyone in a 20 foot radius with a crimson shower is a good way to do this.

I’ve got most of it off, save a little brownish maroon crust under my nails and at the roots of my hair. In the greenish subway station light, it looks no more than dirt. Hopefully that’s all anyone will see. Its a risk I have to take - I have to keep moving. There will be others.

I’m back.

This blog first appeared online somewhere around 2000 during a bout of sleeplessness. 8 years later, I’m back where I started. Everything has changed yet I’m still the same. Perhaps a little wiser, a little grayer. And years later I still can’t sleep.