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|RagDoll (profile) wrote, |
on 12-28-2002 at 9:59am
|Well since it was christam i have not been able to get n line and write beacuse they all would tell me off cuz im always on here, so i just wrote it down day to day and then i can post um all one by one when i get round to it, so here they are..............
mood | sick ]
[ music | That damn Hamtaro Song ]
Head hurts, stuffed up, feel yellow. Bleah...
And I've got work tonight.
Well, time to quit bitching, get dinner on, and do laundry.
IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR MY KENSHIN ORDER TO GO THROUGH?!?!?
[ mood | enraged ]
[ music | Futureperfect; VNV nation ]
It's amazing how a simple phone call can set me off.
I'm sick. I'm exhausted. All I want to do is sleep and try and heal so that my vacation is worthwhile. I figured that on Monday, I could do that.
No such luck. At 1pm, I have to meet for my six month review.
Six months. Six months that ended July 2. Four months without a review. Four months without a pay raise. Four months without any acknowledgement of what I was doing. -Now-, I'm going to get my review. Because, at last, the superior to my superior has written his comments. A superior who not only has not interacted with me, but has made it clear that he wants no communication whatsoever with people subordinate to his subordinates.
I just want to transfer. I don't even want a raise. I just want to get the hell out of dodge before I'm forced to wear a uniform and handcuffs, sealing me forever in a role I took out of a foolish idea to give myself and my wife a degree. There was no point to any of this pain. NO POINT TO ANY OF THIS PAIN. I have gone through hell with this job, doing everything in my power to do my job to the best of my ability. What am I going to get in return? The possibility of less than nothing. The possibility of a review that could harm my chances for transfer.
There was no point to this pain. No point to the therapy. No point to the sorrow. I am going to be weighed, measured and found wanting by people less than myself. I will never have my dreams. I am empty. Hollow.
[ mood | thankful ]
I'm an hour away from getting on the trains to Midway airport. Not long afterwards, I'll fly away to Minneapolis and spend several days at a mellow convention with professional writers and S. I can't wait to hang out with S. I know that there are a lot of maritial benefits included, but hanging out seems to be ideal.
I've been so blue this year. There have been so many wonderful things, but the getting them seems to have really left me desolate. This year, I began college again, I'm on my second writing class, I've written more Squire's Tale than I ever have, and I'm months into a positive theraputic experience. I've gained new friends, and have been able to explore more intimate closeness with old ones. My brother's marrying the woman of his dreams. My other brother returns from Zanzibar, and I got to spend time alone with my sister. I found a forum of nice, if painfully young, people who have been extremely supportive.
It's amazing how one crappy job can make you forget so much.
But I haven't forgotten. Maybe this vacation will make me remember more.
And dearest diddle; I need your help. I'm hearing Roa's voice...And it's Rebekah's.
[ mood | tired ]
[ music | That damn Brunching Shuttlecocks Bjork song ]
Tomorrow is vacation and World Fantasy Con.
All I can see is an opportunity to sleep properly and be with Shauna.
I'm not concerned about my writing. Givewn my pace, I should be an author by the age of 75. After roughly 45 years as Depaul security.
Spent time with D last night. For the first time ever, he hinted at the possibility of collaboration. Wow.
I love collaborations. It always inspires me to do things, and with the right person, allows me in allegory to express things that fall in the 'better left unsaid' category. Which seems to be the proper location for most of my feelings.
Please know; I loved brass heart world. It killed me to do what I did. And I'm still having a hard time recovering.