Broken hearted.  He didn't call.  I don't want to go out by myself anymore.

This sucks all around.

I just want to cry.

Here, have an excerpt from my latest song:

Nobody ever lives happily ever after
Those words from fairy tales, they only feed our dreams
And so we fall asleep with visions of Prince Charming
But in the real world, who really knows what that means.


~FG };`^<

*sigh*

(The above *sigh* should by now indicate to you that I will be crushing for the remainder of this post.  Feel free to stop reading now ;-))

Lisa said "*thump thump...  thump thump*" (yes, she's picking up on the asterisks thing) when I came back in from smoking with my crush, but she didn't yet understand that it was a fairly awkward situation, rather than a heart-thumping one.

We were talking about plans for upcoming days/weeks/weekends and he started talking to me about the wedding he'll be conducting in a few weeks (yes, he's a licensed minister, but non-religious.  Go figure, it used to be a son of a preacher man and now...  *shakes head*).  As it turns out, the two people who are getting married happen to have the same names and he and I.  He was "practicing" the whole bit about traditional wedding vows and, I can only assume it was completely unthinking on his part.

"Do you, [my name], take this man, [his name], to be your lawfully wedded husband...  (blah blah, you know the words)"

In that moment, neither one of us made eye contact.  I was entirely focused on keeping my poker face, not blushing, not giving myself away while it was visibly dawning on him what the undertones of what he was saying really were.  It was one of those awkward moments that make you feel like a teenager again, and not just for me.  He was looking everywhere except at my face and the couple of times our eyes nearly met, it's hard to say who looked away faster.

"... for as long as you both shall live?"  And he looks at me.  As if I'm going to say "I do"!  Which, of course, would currently make me a bigamist (legally if not practically or spiritually).  The silence that followed was one of the largest silences I have ever had the pain to be a part of.  I hope I pulled off a wry, sheepish smile as I kept my mouth shut, but it was hard since the silence between us was less of a "silence" and more of a FUCKING SILENCE.

Finally, he mumbled "She says yes..." and then continued with the other side.  "Do you, [his name], take this woman, [my name]..."

You know, I feel more strongly now that he's thinking or feeling the same things I am, based solely on his reaction and awkwardness to this situation, but I must say, at the same time, this is a place I don't even want to THINK about going, let alone be forced to freakin' experience.  I mean, come on!  I understand that he was simply talking about this impending wedding that he is an integral part of, but holy crap did that scare me.

I wonder, though, if the irony of the names had escaped him up to that point.  I wonder if it's going to set his thoughts on a frightening course or if it will cause him to think of me.  More than anything I wonder if it will prompt him into action.

I am ready and waiting...  here's hoping I get to see him this weekend.

Here's hoping even more that he hasn't/won't google my handle and stumble across my blog ;-)

~FG };^>

But, I suppose, so far, in a good way.

Yesterday was interesting.  When we went out for our afternoon smoke break we saw a coworker sitting outside on the gravel looking like he was meditating.  He's not really the meditating type of guy.  So three of us went out to join him and the other two sat on the groun nearby.  I was wearing too short a skirt to pop a squat on the gravel *or* the grass, so I stayed standing.  To those inside the building (and on the other side of the tinted windows) it looked like I (standing) was leading some sort of group therapy session.

They always look at us when we smoke...  at least we are entertaining.

Today was also interesting in the smoke break kind of way.  Lisa and I decided to have a picnicfor our lunch break, such as it was.  Basically, it was little more than an excuse to sit in the sun for as long as we could manage, and we managed a good long time.

We were joined by all different people at all different times, but I must admit that my favorite part was when it was the same four of us as it was yesterday (part of that, of course, is that one of us four was my *sigh* crush).

It started with a socio-political/current events/historical kind of question by (of course) yours truly, asking for a definition of a Second World country.  I will spare you the details of the answers, but I was pleased that after having this particular conversation periodically throughout the past few years, I finally got answers...  two different ones.  It veered in many different directions including philosophical/comedic questions ("Why is palindrome, not?  Acronym and abbreviation...  far too long.)  At one point the Meditating Man stood up to get our attention and gather his charisma (probably trying to make a point) and he got the honor, today, of preaching to the rest of us.

Afterwards Lisa decided to lead stretching exercises which I, dressed like a girl with slits up the sides, again declined to participate in.  This one garnered a reasonable sized audience and a few people came out to inform us that they were watching.

... that I don't like to hear.

"Promise" 
"Never" 
"Always" 
"Sorry"

People don't seem to understand this, regardless of how much I say them.  These are words that people rarely, if ever, truly mean. 

Promise:
I think the intentions behind promises are usually genuine, but guarantees of this sort, regardless of the guises under which they are put forth, are futile at best, deluded at worst.  No one can truly make a promise that the know they will keep.  People change, circumstances change, the world changes around us and promises are designed to be forever.

But I don't think that forever ever really lasts.

Never/Always:

Good grief, after a mostly drama-laden weekend, I find myself happy to be at work.  I don't think that there was anything of import that went down this weekend.  I attempted to push myself and have a good time, but outside of Tulip Fest, there wasn't much interesting to report.  Being sick will do that to you...  at least on the other end it will.

Mother's Day was uneventful, though I did enjoy taking my mom out.  FyreSpawn spent the day with his father, only calling me after prompted by my mother and stopping briefly to deliver (very sweet) gifts to me.

Huge raging blow out with a good friend kicked off the weekend(I am not talking to him, petty though that may be, I need time to stew) and this is the second time it's happened in virtually the same way.  I'm at the point of trying to decide if we stick with the three-strike rule and let it potentially happen again or if I'm just fed up enough to write him off after 6 years of strong friendship.  Until I feel less petty and am finished stewing, this is not a decision to make, just one to think on.

I did learn, however, how to hang up on someone face-to-face.  It is rather gratifying I find.

Baby Mama drama continues.  It makes me tired to think about it.  I don't think that I could even begin to type that story from now and there is no way in hell I'm telling the whole thing.  It never ever ends and it's the child of Chaos who suffers.

Random comments shouted by strangers shouldn't affect me, but sometimes they do, especially when I'm already in a funky state of mind.  Called it an early night and walked home in the rain.  At least it was a warm rain.

Sunday, the disappointing Mother's Day, I found out about the death of someone I had fond memories of.  Not my family, but that of someone close to me and I'm grieving a little inside.  I'm also trying to be supportive and to assist (as possible) with the travel arrangements for the Dragonmaker.  Granted, I have my own selfish motives in this (namely that if I'm going to have this contest and put whatever plan I wind up with into effect it's got to be now or WEEKS - horrible, pining weeks - from now), but it's my belief that everyone has selfish motives no matter what they do.

Even though I'll be at work late tonight, I've been productive this week (all two days of it) and all I really have to do is babysit the process as others learn the ropes.  I don't really mind being at work this week, though.  I feel much better after hitting the point of actually burning out and think that I've staved it off for at least a week, if not longer.

Promises, promises, but next week may be the week I regain my life.

They always call me brave for stupid things.  Things people are too self-conscious to do that I do without thinking.  Even Liz called me brave the other day for something I did without thinking.  Now, I know that I'm brave, really I do...  how many people would chase the GMB around the house trying to get a decent picture?  How many people feel comfortable enough to speak their mind to people who have the power to fire them?  How many people ask the ghetto rats to ask politely for a cigarette and then jump out with "DUDE, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" when they cross the line?  I know I'm brave, but more often I'm either stupid or unthinking.

But, you know, the bravery wanes often.  Even when I do brave things, things that I consider brave either as or after I'm doing them, there's a good measure of fear involved and there are certain rules I set for myself to prevent my heart from breaking or my ego from bruising.

My pride is not my be all end all as I know it is for some people, but my ego is a lot more fragile than I let on to pretty much anyone.  I pretend to be so full of self-confidence that it's intimidating, but the reality is that I do it to keep my own doubt at bay.  I have a hard enough time with the doubt of others, but when the self-doubt comes into play, it's all over.

I can't handle rejection.  I can't even handle perceived rejection.  I have a hard time even taking criticism, though I often crave it and am trying, at this point, to warn people that I won't take it well, but I will take it in, think on it and appreciate it at some later date after licking my perceived wounds.

This is why I have such a hard time asking for things, whether it's a date (romantic or otherwise), a favor or even assistance.  I just can't take it when people say no.  I'm a pretty persuasive person and can usually talk people into almost anything, but part of that, I believe, comes from the fact that I simply cannot take it when people reject me, even if it's just as "No."

Little by little those rejections break tiny pieces of my heart.  They usually grow back, but when it comes in a rush, those little pieces add up and I find myself retreating into a shell of fear, waiting for regrowth before I am, once again, brave enough to put myself on the line again.  It just hurts too much for me to deal with it, but I would never let that pain show.

Emotionally cold is what they often think of me.  The reason that's the perception, though, is because I am too cowardly to let anyone know the pain that I feel over the little things that wound me deep.

I hurt today, but I will never tell him why...  or even that.  However, I will retreat, and even if he notices, he will probably never know it was he who hurt me.  As pathetic as this may seem, I wouldn't want to hurt him by letting him know that he hurt me.

Brave?  Not really.  Just stupid and a little too sensitive sometimes.

~FG };^>

When I was little I loved Garfield.  I had all of the however many books that were written until the point at around 10 (when I really discovered real books) when I decided it was lame and repetitive.  But for a long time, Garfield was the bomb.  I remember reading over and over again about how much he hated Mondays and, as time went on, I learned that this is a common feeling.

Everyone always talks about how horrible Mondays are, the start of the work week, the start of the school week, the last remnants of the weekend until the alarm clock rings and you go back to your mundane life.  I never really had that problem.

I kind of like Mondays.  I'm still rested from the weekend, flying high from whatever exploits I experienced.  The day flies right by, by noon I'm shocked that it's already lunchtime and I find myself to be pretty damn productive in the beginning of the week.

Tuesdays are similar to Mondays.  Still rested, the day still goes by relatively quick.  Even though it's my first late night of the week, I still have decent energy and get things done.  Lighthearted, happy-go-lucky me, I find that I'm still holding on to all of those things.

Thursday is planning day.  Setting up the plans for the weekend, starting to wrap up whatever is going to be left over for the week.  It's my second late night of the week, but I usually have a nice car ride whether with a friend or in a cab and I'm counting down the hours to when I can leave work on Friday.

Friday is the TGI day.  The first night of the weekend, one of the two going out nights.  Payday.  No matter what happens, you can usually take heart in the fact that it's almost over and you get a whole two days to yourself.

Wednesday, though, is a completely different matter.

Middle of the week.  Too far from last weekend to still be recovered; too far from the coming weekend to really start looking forward to it.  It's the longest day of the week and it seems like most people are just going through in a daze.  They call it Hump Day, but I can't remember the last time I humped on a Wednesday :-P

A friend of mine told me that he and a few others had conducted an unofficial study on Help Desk tickets placed throughout the week.  Wednesday was the day that most people called to complain and the day when they had the least patience for whatever fix needed to be implemented.

Even the spelling of the day is fucked up.

I firmly believe that everyone hates Wednesdays, they just don't realize it.  It's socially acceptable to dislike Mondays, but I repeatedly have to explain my utter loathing for Wednesday.  Once I explain, though, they generally understand what I'm talking about.  Regardless of what day it is, I find that the really horrible days get referred to as Wednesdays (though usually they also occur on Wednesdays, it's not unusual for me to say on, say, a Tuesday "Oh, man, I had a Wednesday").

People are listening.  They GET IT.  I've had friends call me to say "I had the worst day.  Fyre, I had a WEDNESDAY!" and recently I heard a co-worker having a horrible day (Thursday, though it was) shout out "Goddamnit!  What day is it?  Is it Wednesday???"  I'm affecting people.  They DO understand.

As far as I'm concerned, there's really only one redeeming feature of Wednesdays.

Lost.  8pm, ABC

The true irony of it all will be if the day I die just happens to be a Wednesday.  How much you wanna bet...?

~FG };^>

"I gotta go" was all I really could say as the room swam, my stomach turned and I shivered uncontrollably.  I don't know that I've ever quite worked myself to that point before, but there's nothing else I can think of to explain it.

I think that part of the problem is simply how intent I am on getting the job done, regardless of what it costs me, but the toll that's being exacting seems like it's going to be a harsh one.  Don't get me wrong, I love the work that I do.  I never would have made the career change 5 years ago if I didn't ADORE working in IT, but this project just keeps taxing me.

Something's gotta give and the promises that it will are not so much filled with hope as causing me to doubt that it will happen, making more stress for me.  I've had two miracle nights in a row where the job ran so smoothly that it was almost frightening (did I skip a step?  did I screw it up?  how many voice mails will I come into tomorrow?), but I'm trying to take it in stride.

My whole body hurts.  I'm freezing and I think I might be running a fever.  I want to sleep for DAYS. 

And there are enough people who would take all of that and take a few days off.  Not me, though.  I'm either just that dedicated or just that stupid that tomorrow at 6am I'll be up and getting ready for work.  I'll stay until anywhere between 7pm and 10pm (depending on the problems), come home, pass out (no dinner) and wake up on Friday to start the grind all over again.

I need to finish this project so that I can move forward and start working on something else.  The tedium of the details and the repeated process over and over and over again...  they're all factors in this ridiculous thing.  Other people are seeing it; shit, other people are SAYING things about it.  I'm so tired these days and trying to preoccupy my own thoughts with distractions like crushes and weekend plans are not working at all.

I guess I'm running on autopilot now.  The main concern is whether or not I'm going to run out of gas.

~FG };^>

I'm rapidly getting to the point of burnout.  I've been doing this job for six months and am now out of patience.  I have no patience for users, no patience for the scripts, no patience for my own ridiculous mistakes.

One friend of mine keeps referring to me as a raging bitch :(

I don't think it's quite that bad, but going from the exceptionally nice and sweet person that I am to this no patience "I don't have to take your shit" person that is becoming more and more often the outward projection, I can see where she's coming from.  Thankfully, the boys don't necessarily agree.  It was even said "Uh, no, we don't take that sort of shit".

Right on.

But I'm still burning out.  Rapidly.  I felt like I just wanted to scream or smash something or maybe just start crying last night.  Thank gods that it worked well and ended reasonably early.  The sun was still out when I left, for the second time I was not the last one in the office to leave, I actually got to have dinner and went out with the boys for bowling.  It was nice.

I've also been promised some measure of my life back, starting next week.  This is cool, but I worry it won't come to pass.  My boss says that it really will, he will see to it, and I think a lot of that is coming from the fact that you can see on my face and in my body language that I'm not going to last much longer if things keep up the way they are now.

Counting down now.  Three days to the weekend.

Oh crap.  It's Wednesday.

~FG };^>

... like I've been tied, to the whipping post, tied to the whipping post, tied to the whipping post.

Oh lord, I feel like I'm dying.

******

That's a little melodramatic, I guess, but it comes fairly close.  I feel like screaming.  I feel like crying.  I feel like maybe something inside of me is dying a little bit.

Today is a bad day.

Lack of sleep certainly doesn't help.  The dreary chill of the rain doesn't help and I feel like the slightest anything could cause my heart to break.  I'm pissy and weepy and fucking tired.  I don't want to stay late, I don't want to train people and I certainly don't want to be yelled at ANY MORE.

But I think everyone is kind of pissy today.  It seems like it's just a bad day for pretty much everyone I know...  and everyone I've spoken to...  and almost everyone I've ever heard of.

But damn, I just want to go home and get some real sleep.

~FG };^>