Monday, March 03, 2008

I've Got One Hand In My Pocket

I've been staying away purposely. When I'm too overwhelmed the very worst thing for me is to be confronted by a webpage that is quite thoroughly me. I want to avoid more me, and so with every line written by me, the progress of thoughts dictated by my whims, avoiding me on my blog is hard. And I've been a bit overwhelmed lately.

What with the fear I was going to be fired, and the fear I was going to be thrown in jail, which fear was supplanted by a newer, realer, and highly more irrational fear that I was going to be thrown in jail, and planning and cooking for one hundred starving, young people - but get this, I wasn't allowed to actually cook anything on location, only warm it up; yeah, it was a logistical feat, and tangling with a mother/daughter team at work who are so backhandedly mean to me that I'm torn between an intense desire to fire them and a very actual fear that they will corner me one night and beat me bloody, because that's how they roll, and I was agonizing over the situation with my boyfriend and finally broke up with him - and this was all in the last week and a half, or so.

But some happier things have happened, too. I didn't get thrown unceremoniously in some dank prison - so no file had to be baked into a cake for me, sadly, but my future also remains unruined, so, bonus. I have a new computer on its way to me. I found pants that fit me.

Little triumphs fit together keep me going. I was so looking forward to today, to an end of the almost crushing stress that I couldn't even talk about, couldn't let anyone know that I was so scared and probably going crazy, and then two hours into my freedom, something else comes along and smacks me off my feet.

To which I say: Do your worst. But not really, because spring break is coming up, and everyone will be in the warm, swarming beaches, and I will be begging and scrounging the way only I can beg and scrounge, and I just want to feel a little of that sand-between-my-toes-nap-on-a-towel-warm-ocean-breezes feeling. So. Do your sort of worst, but then stop there and maybe hand me an ice cream cone.

Sweet, I just found a Twix in my coat pocket.



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