I'm Having Such A Good Time, I'm Having A Ball

So, Muss blogged about why she loves her job - so allow me to blog about why I love mine. And by that I mean "why I don't entirely despise my job" because I was here until 11pm last night trying to catch up for month end and I'd be lying if I said I loved it today.

I sat in my boss' office this morning and stared straight through him until I could remember why I was there in the first place. While I was doing so, he noticeably glanced at my hair. Now, as I said - I was here late last night, got home with just enough time to chat with a very tired and disheveled Kiki, have a text-versation with Josh, wash my face and get to bed by 1am. So I'm exhausted - and, I'm not ashamed to say - not looking my best.

So here's how the conversation went:

Me: What the hell was that?
T: What was what?
Me: You looked at my hair. Don't do that. Don't look at my hair like that.
T: (laughing) I was just thinking that it looks better than it did yesterday when you had a paperclip holding back your bangs.

I'm beginning to think we've gotten too comfortable with each other.
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Stop and Stare

I'm getting my Social Work midterm back tonight. So ... in about 8 hours I'll either be delighted or disappointed. It's nice to have a glimpse into the future of my afternoon. Spooky.

I've barely worked lately (read: at all) due to days off for midterms etc. Having a hard time working up the nerve to tackle the pile of paperwork on my desk.

Becky is coming for a visit tomorrow! She's staying the night with Kiki and I and all the girls (aside from Kris, who has to work) have confirmed their presence at a fun "We Love Becky" dinner. Can't wait. Will be lovely to have a good portion of "my girls" all in one room. You know ... before the shenanigans of my birthday next week.

I'm so disturbed by the news of the triple homicide in Jennifer Hudson's family. NOT because she's famous and NOT because she's an Oscar Winner but because it's horrendous to lose ANYONE you love - not to mention 3 in one day to something like murder. Horrific. Makes me want to call my family and friends and make sure they know how much I love them.

In fact ... that's what I'll spend my lunch time doing.
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Dear Mr. President

I can't stand being sick. I'm such a baby and my poor room-mates are probably starting to learn that. I wish my Mom was here to make me tea and soup and tuck me in. But I'm lucky, Kiki does all that stuff - even if she does make me chicken noodle soup despite my vegetarianism.

So this weekend is going to consist of studying and self-medication. I've got class tomorrow morning but aside from that, I won't be leaving the house. Resting, studying, studying, resting. I'm nervous about next week's midterms - doing poorly on the first midterm of the semester tends to set the standard for the rest of the year. I need to do well because I'm smart and when smart people do badly on tests, it makes them look lazy. And stupid. I may be lazy but stupid I am not.

Every once in a while I find myself imagining what a conversation between myself and President Bush would sound like. Usually I decide that it would consist of me shaking my head, mentioning the genocide in Darfur, looking him in the eyes and asking "How do you sleep at night?".

In my head, he has no response. In real life, they don't let people like me near people like him.

Love, Pain, The Whole Damn Thing

Sometimes the memories overpower me - my resolve fades and I let myself dwell, if only for a second. I refuse to think about you because by doing so, I give credit to who you're not. The memories I have of you don't do you justice - that's not who you are. You're not kind or passionate, you don't actually give a shit about me. But I'll give you this - you're quite the actor.

I see how she is with you - enamored and floating, so completely unaware. I want to warn her, to expose you as the masked stranger you are - confused and self-obsessed, blind and velvetly convincing. The only reason I don't?

I refuse to be the girl who plays that game.
I refuse to give you the chance to explain and justify yourself.
I refuse to reveal to you who you really are.
I refuse to make self-discovery that easy and painless for you.

I want to see the look on your face when you finally take a long look in the mirror and can't stand what you see.

So go ahead and mime your way through another relationship. Take another heart, take another risk, take another step towards what will surely be yet another damaging collision of reality and fantasy.

Take another step back from me.

I see through you. I see through your thinly veiled apologies and smiling betrayals.
We're not friends. We're not okay.

I am. But we're not.
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Baby, You're No Good

I'm staring - why can't I stop staring?! Even as I type this, I'm still staring out the window. Seriously, what is MY problem?! I threw myself in the shower this morning in hopes of waking myself up and preparing for the day, but I kid you not - I got in the shower, got out of the shower and could have gone back to bed for another 24 hours. Wow, having no life is exhausting.

I've got my first mid-term tonight - film. Ugh. I'm so unprepared it's not even funny. I'm tempted to use the 13yr old excuse "When am I ever going to need to know that Orson Welles' swollen-fingered direction of "Citizen Kane" is a mirror of the two-thumbed direction of our own society!?".

Tonight in class we're watching "The Darjeeling Limited" which sounds good except for the whole watching "The Darjeeling Limited" part. Seriously - just MAKING the movie made Owen Wilson slit his wrists - what chance do I have of sitting through the finished product?! I'm hoping - no - PRAYING that I go into anaphylactic shock and end up seizuring down the aisles and straight out the door to my car.

What? A girl can dream.
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