Originally posted 06/15/2005 8:31pm
I'm listening to the new Backstreet Boys CD. Yes, I like boy bands. I may be 30something but I happen to appreciate a cute, younger man. If he can sing, it's a bonus. Unfortunately, I've now reached the age where the "cute" boys bagging my groceries are almost old enough to be a son. Hmmm... oh well, I still have the Backstreet Boys.
In 1994, I hadn't discovered the beauty of the younger man. As I explained before, when I first got my computer, I was an on-line virgin. On-line dating was relatively new to the world and it was intriguing to me. I was really into pen pals when I was in school-- had them from all over the world. I also found something romantic about falling in love with someone based on mere words on a piece of paper. After the "V" in Vermont episode (scroll back a few blogs if you don't remember), you would have thought I would have been wiser about my on line exploration. I wasn't.
I met "E" in a similar fashion as "V". "E", from Kansas, responded to the same posting wherein I looked for "help" with researching a romance novel. "E" was also a few years older than me. "E" was very eager to help. Almost too eager. I've always considered myself an open book. WYSIWYG. (What you see is what you get.) Ask me a question, I'll give you an answer. "Too much information" has never really been a problem for me. (Unless, of course, it involves someone describing bodily functions then I'm outty.) Anyhow-- "E" was just as prone to diarrhea of the mouth (er, fingers) as I. He was willing to answer any questions I had... and I had many. I didn't exactly "click" with him romantically because he seemed a little on the needy side and I just don't do needy very well. I thought we were developing a genuine friendship, though, and I was thankful for the "male insight" he provided. It was a little intense at times, but we all have our hot buttons. He expressed an interest in dating me, but I never led him down that path. I maintained my "this is just for research" stance. Yes, I had placed the post looking for romance, too, but it wasn't happening with him, so I decided to actually do some research.
At some point in our friendship, things started to get weird. He became more and more strident with his attempts to woo me. I had told him on more than one occasion that I wanted to be his friend and nothing more and kept pointing out to him that I was just doing research. He kept insisting that he WAS the one for me. Nevermind that I never once really told him that I was actively looking for anyone. At one point, I threatened to cease all contact with him if he didn't stop pressuring me. He said to me in an e-mail, "No matter where you go, I'll find you. We are meant to be together." (insert creepy music here)
At that moment, I immediately regretted that I had been so forthcoming with my personal information as we were building a friendship. True-- I knew just about as much information about him as he knew about me, but I never intended to use it for ill purpose. I stopped writing "E" as soon as I got that e-mail. It was just too horror-film for me. The word "stalker" wasn't even in my vocabulary in 1994.
My disappearance from "E"'s inbox did not stop his attempts. I admit that I stupidly opened his emails, curious to see what he had to say. Mostly they were pleas for me to keep writing and promises that he'd stop being so persistent. I didn't respond to them. Then... the snail mail began. When he couldn't rouse me with e-mail, he sent me letters. The letters contained the same message for awhile-- "Please write me. I miss you. You are the best thing that has happened to me." I ignored them.
Then, one day, I came home to this thick envelope from him. I opened it and it was 6 pages, front and back, of the most graphic stuff I had ever read. It takes a lot to shock me and I have a rather large collection of erotica. This man went on for pages about all of the things he wanted to do with me, to me, near me, on top of me, inside of me, etc etc etc. Major ick factor.
I sent an email to the system administrator of the on-line service about his harassment and forwarded them copies of all of the emails he had sent me and told them that he had even taken it to real mail. The system administrator took my complaint seriously and blocked/closed his account, set me up with a new account and gave me instructions on how to block my private information in case he went looking for me again. I cancelled the service altogether and even got a post office box for my personal mail. It didn't even occur to me to turn his letters over to the police. I got one more after the "long creepy one" which I did not open. I wrote "return to sender" on the envelope and sent it back. I never heard from him again, but every now and then, I'd look over my shoulder a few times when I was out alone "just in case" he came looking for me.
As I told a friend about the encounter later, she said to me, "Isn't there a major prison in Kansas?"
That didn't make me feel any better.
I'm still pretty open (as you can tell) but I do have some trust issues and it takes me awhile before I just give out information like addresses, phone numbers, etc. I know that it's hard to hide everything in this technologically savvy world and I don't want to walk around fearful that everyone I meet will become a stalker, but I am a little wiser now.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Hidden Treasure
Posted on 06/07/2005 7:59pm
I was going to watch PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN last night but as I was about to put the DVD into the player, I noticed that the movie is about 2 1/2 hours long. It was already 9 pm and if I don't get to bed before 11 pm, I'm a real grouch in the morning when the alarm goes off at 5:30 a.m. for work. So, I watched UNTOLD STORIES OF THE ER instead and went to bed. I really want to see the movie, though, because I've always had fantasies about sailing the high seas and looking for buried treasure.
Whenever I think of "treasure", I think of "L". I met "L" the summer of 1997. He was a friend of a friend who had seen my photo and wanted to meet me. The friend told me and since I respected her, I told her that it was ok to let him know I'd entertain any conversation he wanted to initiate.
"L" and I would meet in a chat room in the on-line forum I belonged to and we'd flirt a little, joke a little, etc. He seemed nice enough and we quickly established a rapport. We even had this "private joke" about how our friend expected us to meet, fall madly in love and get married. Cute stuff. The hopeful romantic in me found those things endearing. We quickly moved from chat room to telephone and he seemed like a decent guy. Then, our mutual friend announced that "L" was coming for a three-day weekend visit and suggested (HIGHLY suggested) that it was time that we met. She was so sure that things were gonna be perfect, wonderful, straight out of a Disney cartoon with flowers sighing, birds singing and rainbows appearing. It was very stressful because I'm kind of shy when I first meet someone and it takes me some time to warm up. The thought of meeting someone under the watchful eyes of a friend who was so insistent that things were going to be wonderful was even more stressful.
Our friend and I agreed that a little informal meeting at my place followed by a trek to a nearby park for hiking, a picnic, etc would be fairly fun and a great way to get to know each other. Early on a Saturday, "L" showed up with our mutual friend, her husband, and her two rather rambunctious children. "L" wasn't what I expected. I had never seen his photo and had relied on my friend that he was a "good catch." I'm not exactly shallow but like everyone I do have certain things that I'm attracted to and certain things I'm not. I wasn't attracted to "L". There was just something about him that gave me weird vibes. I tried to not let it show. I was friendly and polite and hoped that as I got to know him better, we'd click more. I'm about the benefit of the doubt. There have been guys I've met who didn't do anything for me until I had a chance to get to know them better, pick their brains, see if they can make me laugh. I hoped, for our friend's sake that we'd click a little. We didn't.
Under the watchful gaze of our friend, I pretended to be having a wonderful time. I didn't want to hurt her feelings or "L"'s. I just figured I'd soldier through the weekend and politely say things didn't work out. "L" and I made small talk, took a hike in the woods, took some pictures, even tried holding hands while we explored some caves, but nothing. No spark. I'd try to get some space, but our friend kept pushing us to be together. I kept hoping for a moment alone with her so I could tell her that we weren't clicking. On the way back to my apartment, our friend asked "L" what "our" plans were for the evening. I was exhausted and grimy from the woods adventure. I just wanted to go home and go to bed. "L said that he had something "special" planned. So, we agreed that he'd return in a few hours to pick me up. "Dress nice," he said. In front of our friend, he was witty and charming, but then when we were alone, he was creepy, broody and not very charming.
When he showed up three hours later, he was still wearing the same dirty jeans and t-shirt he had worn on the hike. When I opened the door, he said, "I have a surprise for you!" and yanked off his shirt. Written on his chest were the words "TREASURE TRAIL" with an arrow pointing downward. I must have looked puzzled because he said, "Follow the trail, find your treasure." Then, he waggled his eyebrows. I just stared at him, then laughed nervously. Hello. Didn't we just spend a miserable afternoon together? What part of the awkwardness, the non-clicking, the inability to make conversation, the tense moments alone did he miss? When he realized I wasn't finding his "treasure trail" amusing, he put on his shirt and said, "Let's go to dinner." Being a trooper, I went. Then, after dinner, he said, "I used to live here. Do you mind if we drive around a little?" I said I didn't mind. I was a much more timid person back then. So, we drove past the apartment he used to share with some guys in the scary part of town, then we drove past the gas station where he used to get gas when he lived in the scary part of town, then we ended up in this residential area near the scary part of town and as we approached a house, he slowed down and turned off his headlights. We creeped by the house and I asked what was up and he said, "My ex-wife lives there." EX-WIFE??? THAT little bit had never come up before. We circled the house three times and each time, he would make some nasty comment about her. I finally asked "L" to take me home. I'd had enough. When we got back to my apartment, he walked me to my door and at the door, he said, "Can I come in for awhile? We don't have to do anything you don't want to." I just looked at him and said, "I have to work in the morning. I'm really tired." He said ok and left. My friend was rather disappointed (major understatement) that there were no wedding bells in our future, but after awhile, she stopped talking about it and I stopped having nightmares about creepy men offering me a one-way trip down the treasure trail. I don't even want to think about what kind of hidden treasure he had down there.
Moral of this story: DO NOT let anyone ever fix you up with someone unless you get a full background check, three references from previous relationships and a signed affidavit that nothing creepy will happen on the date.
I was going to watch PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN last night but as I was about to put the DVD into the player, I noticed that the movie is about 2 1/2 hours long. It was already 9 pm and if I don't get to bed before 11 pm, I'm a real grouch in the morning when the alarm goes off at 5:30 a.m. for work. So, I watched UNTOLD STORIES OF THE ER instead and went to bed. I really want to see the movie, though, because I've always had fantasies about sailing the high seas and looking for buried treasure.
Whenever I think of "treasure", I think of "L". I met "L" the summer of 1997. He was a friend of a friend who had seen my photo and wanted to meet me. The friend told me and since I respected her, I told her that it was ok to let him know I'd entertain any conversation he wanted to initiate.
"L" and I would meet in a chat room in the on-line forum I belonged to and we'd flirt a little, joke a little, etc. He seemed nice enough and we quickly established a rapport. We even had this "private joke" about how our friend expected us to meet, fall madly in love and get married. Cute stuff. The hopeful romantic in me found those things endearing. We quickly moved from chat room to telephone and he seemed like a decent guy. Then, our mutual friend announced that "L" was coming for a three-day weekend visit and suggested (HIGHLY suggested) that it was time that we met. She was so sure that things were gonna be perfect, wonderful, straight out of a Disney cartoon with flowers sighing, birds singing and rainbows appearing. It was very stressful because I'm kind of shy when I first meet someone and it takes me some time to warm up. The thought of meeting someone under the watchful eyes of a friend who was so insistent that things were going to be wonderful was even more stressful.
Our friend and I agreed that a little informal meeting at my place followed by a trek to a nearby park for hiking, a picnic, etc would be fairly fun and a great way to get to know each other. Early on a Saturday, "L" showed up with our mutual friend, her husband, and her two rather rambunctious children. "L" wasn't what I expected. I had never seen his photo and had relied on my friend that he was a "good catch." I'm not exactly shallow but like everyone I do have certain things that I'm attracted to and certain things I'm not. I wasn't attracted to "L". There was just something about him that gave me weird vibes. I tried to not let it show. I was friendly and polite and hoped that as I got to know him better, we'd click more. I'm about the benefit of the doubt. There have been guys I've met who didn't do anything for me until I had a chance to get to know them better, pick their brains, see if they can make me laugh. I hoped, for our friend's sake that we'd click a little. We didn't.
Under the watchful gaze of our friend, I pretended to be having a wonderful time. I didn't want to hurt her feelings or "L"'s. I just figured I'd soldier through the weekend and politely say things didn't work out. "L" and I made small talk, took a hike in the woods, took some pictures, even tried holding hands while we explored some caves, but nothing. No spark. I'd try to get some space, but our friend kept pushing us to be together. I kept hoping for a moment alone with her so I could tell her that we weren't clicking. On the way back to my apartment, our friend asked "L" what "our" plans were for the evening. I was exhausted and grimy from the woods adventure. I just wanted to go home and go to bed. "L said that he had something "special" planned. So, we agreed that he'd return in a few hours to pick me up. "Dress nice," he said. In front of our friend, he was witty and charming, but then when we were alone, he was creepy, broody and not very charming.
When he showed up three hours later, he was still wearing the same dirty jeans and t-shirt he had worn on the hike. When I opened the door, he said, "I have a surprise for you!" and yanked off his shirt. Written on his chest were the words "TREASURE TRAIL" with an arrow pointing downward. I must have looked puzzled because he said, "Follow the trail, find your treasure." Then, he waggled his eyebrows. I just stared at him, then laughed nervously. Hello. Didn't we just spend a miserable afternoon together? What part of the awkwardness, the non-clicking, the inability to make conversation, the tense moments alone did he miss? When he realized I wasn't finding his "treasure trail" amusing, he put on his shirt and said, "Let's go to dinner." Being a trooper, I went. Then, after dinner, he said, "I used to live here. Do you mind if we drive around a little?" I said I didn't mind. I was a much more timid person back then. So, we drove past the apartment he used to share with some guys in the scary part of town, then we drove past the gas station where he used to get gas when he lived in the scary part of town, then we ended up in this residential area near the scary part of town and as we approached a house, he slowed down and turned off his headlights. We creeped by the house and I asked what was up and he said, "My ex-wife lives there." EX-WIFE??? THAT little bit had never come up before. We circled the house three times and each time, he would make some nasty comment about her. I finally asked "L" to take me home. I'd had enough. When we got back to my apartment, he walked me to my door and at the door, he said, "Can I come in for awhile? We don't have to do anything you don't want to." I just looked at him and said, "I have to work in the morning. I'm really tired." He said ok and left. My friend was rather disappointed (major understatement) that there were no wedding bells in our future, but after awhile, she stopped talking about it and I stopped having nightmares about creepy men offering me a one-way trip down the treasure trail. I don't even want to think about what kind of hidden treasure he had down there.
Moral of this story: DO NOT let anyone ever fix you up with someone unless you get a full background check, three references from previous relationships and a signed affidavit that nothing creepy will happen on the date.
I'm Not An Addict
Originally posted on 06/03/2005 8:55pm
It's Friday night and I am ready for bed. Last night, the two girls who live next door to me decided to throw a party. Everytime someone would knock on their door, a rousing chorus of drunken yells would rise up to my bedroom window. It reminded me of CHEERS whenever Norm would visit. The thump-thump-thump of music lasted until 4:45 a.m. I think I got maybe 3 hours total of sleep last night. Needless to say, I'm kinda sleepy now.
Let's start my internet dating stories with the letter "A". I met "A" about 5 years ago. I had placed an ad on one of those more-popular dating websites. We wrote back and forth for a couple of weeks. He seemed nice enough. Then, we exchanged photos. I sent a nice little photo of me laughing with some friends. He sent me back what could be called "Male Boudoir Photography." He was lying on a bed, on his side, with a sheet pooled around his waist. The sheet was some kind of shiny material. Probably not real silk or satin, but one of the Wal-mart variations. Sateen or something. He had a knee bent and an assortment of unused condoms spread on the bed beside him. His reddish-blonde hair was mussed as if he had just gotten good use of those sateen sheets and condoms. The picture made me giggle.... and in a twisted way, kinda turned me on. I printed it and showed it to my co-workers the very next day. They immediately decided that I had to meet this guy so that I could see if he was the real deal. I emailed "A" that I wanted to meet and we agreed on a restaurant near my job. Well, the guy who showed up was NOT the guy in the photo. The guy who showed up looked like Barney Rubble. No joke. I checked the parking lot for a stone-age vehicle he had driven to the diner with his feet. As we were eating, he said to me, "I have a confession to make. I'm an off and on recovering coke addict. I just thought you should know." I didn't know what to say. I nodded politely and asked how things were going with that and instead of answering me, he asked me what kind of car I drove, where I worked, how much I made, if my car was paid for and if I rented/owned my own home. I didn't know if he was a date or a telemarketer. I had the feeling he was trying to see if I could help finance his little habit. I dodged the questions with half-truths and funny stories and then when we left the restaurant, he said, "You sure are pretty. Can I have a hug good bye?" I said, "Ya know, it's about 90 degrees out and I don't really feel like hugging. No offense." He nodded and sort of schlumped away. He sent me a couple of e-mails after our date, but I just couldn't bring myself to encourage the relationship. I don't know what bothered me more-- than he was an "off and on recovering coke addict" or that he wasn't the "come see me sometime" guy in the sateen sheet.
It's Friday night and I am ready for bed. Last night, the two girls who live next door to me decided to throw a party. Everytime someone would knock on their door, a rousing chorus of drunken yells would rise up to my bedroom window. It reminded me of CHEERS whenever Norm would visit. The thump-thump-thump of music lasted until 4:45 a.m. I think I got maybe 3 hours total of sleep last night. Needless to say, I'm kinda sleepy now.
Let's start my internet dating stories with the letter "A". I met "A" about 5 years ago. I had placed an ad on one of those more-popular dating websites. We wrote back and forth for a couple of weeks. He seemed nice enough. Then, we exchanged photos. I sent a nice little photo of me laughing with some friends. He sent me back what could be called "Male Boudoir Photography." He was lying on a bed, on his side, with a sheet pooled around his waist. The sheet was some kind of shiny material. Probably not real silk or satin, but one of the Wal-mart variations. Sateen or something. He had a knee bent and an assortment of unused condoms spread on the bed beside him. His reddish-blonde hair was mussed as if he had just gotten good use of those sateen sheets and condoms. The picture made me giggle.... and in a twisted way, kinda turned me on. I printed it and showed it to my co-workers the very next day. They immediately decided that I had to meet this guy so that I could see if he was the real deal. I emailed "A" that I wanted to meet and we agreed on a restaurant near my job. Well, the guy who showed up was NOT the guy in the photo. The guy who showed up looked like Barney Rubble. No joke. I checked the parking lot for a stone-age vehicle he had driven to the diner with his feet. As we were eating, he said to me, "I have a confession to make. I'm an off and on recovering coke addict. I just thought you should know." I didn't know what to say. I nodded politely and asked how things were going with that and instead of answering me, he asked me what kind of car I drove, where I worked, how much I made, if my car was paid for and if I rented/owned my own home. I didn't know if he was a date or a telemarketer. I had the feeling he was trying to see if I could help finance his little habit. I dodged the questions with half-truths and funny stories and then when we left the restaurant, he said, "You sure are pretty. Can I have a hug good bye?" I said, "Ya know, it's about 90 degrees out and I don't really feel like hugging. No offense." He nodded and sort of schlumped away. He sent me a couple of e-mails after our date, but I just couldn't bring myself to encourage the relationship. I don't know what bothered me more-- than he was an "off and on recovering coke addict" or that he wasn't the "come see me sometime" guy in the sateen sheet.
The Lure of the Romance Novel
Originally posted 06/04/2005 9:14pm
When I was in my early teens, I was really into reading teen romance novels and in love with Rick Springfield. Those were my two obsessions. It didn't matter that the girls and boys in the books were nothing like me and my friends. I still loved reading those books. The sweet innocence of first love. The happy ever after which usually meant that someone got to go to prom. Then, when I was 13, my best friend Karen snuck me one of her mother's romance novels. It was a Harlequin Romance called JOURNEY TO QUIET WATERS. (Yeah, I still remember the name and even recently bought a used copy on the 'net to add to my collection for sentimental purposes.) I remember feeling oh-so-naughty when I read about his hands grasping at her heaving bosom and how his manhood jutted proudly. WOW! Heaving bosom. Jutting manhood. Where do I sign up? Talk about a nice introduction into adulthood. I was hooked. The "innocent" part of me kept right on reading about shy girls who loved the handsome jock and wanted to go to prom. The "naughty" side of me waited for my regular dose of Karen's Mom's books.
Fast forward several years. It's 1994. I just bought my first home computer which came with a free 30-day trial to the on line service Prodigy. I don't even know if it still exists. These were the days before advanced things like these forums. We had "bulletin boards." So, I found a "bulletin board" for fledging romance writers and avid romance readers. I met the author Cathie Linz on that bulletin board. (This might mean something to anyone who has ever read a Harlequin romance.) Anyhoo-- I posted a note that I was writing a romance novel and was looking for "young men" to provide insight, advice and real-life stories of their own romance practices. OK, now those of you who just snickered and thought, "Gee, that sounds like a pick up line", you'd be right. I wasn't *really* writing a book at that time but I was looking for some inspiration. My muse. Heaving bosom and jutting manhood, too. (MY heaving bosom, of course.) This guy "V" responded immediately. We began a nice little pen-pal relationship. He told me he was a newspaper man from Vermont in his early 40s. (I was a child care worker in my early 20s.) It all seemed very Richard-Gere-Pretty-Woman to me. Older man. Experienced man. Plus, he was in the newspaper biz. Hello! Possibly career path! "V" started almost immediately with his flirting and double entendres. I'd throw out these hypothetical situations for the purpose of "my romance novel" (wink, wink) and he'd come back with "this is what I would do" type stuff. We started to get pretty involved nevermind he was married and had kids my age. (Yeah, I kinda forgot to tell ya that, huh?) "V" was becoming way more than lil ole Bevy could handle so I created an alter-ego named Ursula. (I was watching MAD ABOUT YOU at the time.) I introduced Ursula to "V" as my older, more experienced sister who was fresh from a bad marriage and looking for some no-strings lovin'. It was quite strange being two people at the same time. Innocent, sweet Beverly pretending not to understand the come-ons of "V" and brash, bold Ursula who had "V" wrapped around her siren-red perfectly manicured finger. Alas, as most stories go, things didn't last very long. "V"'s wife found out about his little on-line habit and he sent me/us a good-bye e-mail... and his address in case I/we were ever in Vermont and wanted a good time.
When I was in my early teens, I was really into reading teen romance novels and in love with Rick Springfield. Those were my two obsessions. It didn't matter that the girls and boys in the books were nothing like me and my friends. I still loved reading those books. The sweet innocence of first love. The happy ever after which usually meant that someone got to go to prom. Then, when I was 13, my best friend Karen snuck me one of her mother's romance novels. It was a Harlequin Romance called JOURNEY TO QUIET WATERS. (Yeah, I still remember the name and even recently bought a used copy on the 'net to add to my collection for sentimental purposes.) I remember feeling oh-so-naughty when I read about his hands grasping at her heaving bosom and how his manhood jutted proudly. WOW! Heaving bosom. Jutting manhood. Where do I sign up? Talk about a nice introduction into adulthood. I was hooked. The "innocent" part of me kept right on reading about shy girls who loved the handsome jock and wanted to go to prom. The "naughty" side of me waited for my regular dose of Karen's Mom's books.
Fast forward several years. It's 1994. I just bought my first home computer which came with a free 30-day trial to the on line service Prodigy. I don't even know if it still exists. These were the days before advanced things like these forums. We had "bulletin boards." So, I found a "bulletin board" for fledging romance writers and avid romance readers. I met the author Cathie Linz on that bulletin board. (This might mean something to anyone who has ever read a Harlequin romance.) Anyhoo-- I posted a note that I was writing a romance novel and was looking for "young men" to provide insight, advice and real-life stories of their own romance practices. OK, now those of you who just snickered and thought, "Gee, that sounds like a pick up line", you'd be right. I wasn't *really* writing a book at that time but I was looking for some inspiration. My muse. Heaving bosom and jutting manhood, too. (MY heaving bosom, of course.) This guy "V" responded immediately. We began a nice little pen-pal relationship. He told me he was a newspaper man from Vermont in his early 40s. (I was a child care worker in my early 20s.) It all seemed very Richard-Gere-Pretty-Woman to me. Older man. Experienced man. Plus, he was in the newspaper biz. Hello! Possibly career path! "V" started almost immediately with his flirting and double entendres. I'd throw out these hypothetical situations for the purpose of "my romance novel" (wink, wink) and he'd come back with "this is what I would do" type stuff. We started to get pretty involved nevermind he was married and had kids my age. (Yeah, I kinda forgot to tell ya that, huh?) "V" was becoming way more than lil ole Bevy could handle so I created an alter-ego named Ursula. (I was watching MAD ABOUT YOU at the time.) I introduced Ursula to "V" as my older, more experienced sister who was fresh from a bad marriage and looking for some no-strings lovin'. It was quite strange being two people at the same time. Innocent, sweet Beverly pretending not to understand the come-ons of "V" and brash, bold Ursula who had "V" wrapped around her siren-red perfectly manicured finger. Alas, as most stories go, things didn't last very long. "V"'s wife found out about his little on-line habit and he sent me/us a good-bye e-mail... and his address in case I/we were ever in Vermont and wanted a good time.
Massage Anyone?
Originally posted on 06/05/2005 12:12pm
It's Sunday morning and I have a stiff neck. By the time you read this, it will no longer be Sunday morning, but I bet I'll still have a stiff neck. I don't know how these things happen. I go to bed sleeping in one position and wake up in pretty close to the same position. Yet, for reasons unknown to me, muscle groups gang up while I sleep and decide to go on strike. So, today, I move through the world looking to the left. Looking to the right is just too painful. "What's that smell?" you ask. Aaah, that would be extra-strength Ben Gay. Lovely. I'd really like to have a neck rub or massage.
When I think of massages, I think of another one of my internet dating disasters. This time, it's 1998. I met "R" on a "friendship only" message board on AOL. He had just moved to the city from a nearby county and had just started a "really good job" in the computer field. I was just looking for someone to write to... and "if it develops into more, then so be it." That's what I told "R." The one thing I remember most about "R" was that he was really really into massages. Giving masages. No matter what I'd tell him about my day, he'd find a way to offer me a massage. "I had to work over today," I'd write. "Hey, did I tell you that I give a mean massage?" he'd write back. "I broke a nail today," I'd write. "Hey, you sound like you need a massage, " he'd offer. It became almost a joke to me because no matter how bizarre of a day I'd tell him I had, he'd offer up that massage. The longer we wrote, the more involved the massage offer would be. At first, it was just an "innocent" neck rub. Then, a back rub. Then, lunch and a back rub. Then, a swim in his pool, lunch and a back rub. Then, it would be dinner, a movie and... yes, a back rub. "You can even keep your underwear on, " he offered up once. OK, I know, where's the "disaster"? Well, after 4 months of writing him, I only knew that he was into computers, fresh out of the Army, liked to sing and wanted to give me a back rub. Oh, I also knew his home town and his full name. That was it. We hadn't connected on any level that made me want to go over to his place and yank off my top for a back rub. Then, one day, I was at my part time job telling a co-worker about "R" and she asked me what his last name was. I told her. She said, "You're not going to believe this, but I went to high school with him!" I asked her if he was so ... persistent.. in high school and she said, "Call his bluff! I know this guy. He's afraid of his own shadow. If you were to say yes to him, he'd probably pee his pants." So, that night, when I got home and sent "R" an email about how long my day had been, I added, "A back rub would really be nice. Maybe we really should meet." I didn't hear back from him for days. Then, he sent me the e-mail that most nice guys use when they want to end things but don't want to just come out and say it. "I'm going to busy for awhile..." he said and then a few months later, he sent me another e-mail that he was moving to Florida. I never heard from him again. The thing is... the more my co-worker told me about him, the more wonderful he sounded to me. (shrug) Guess he didn't want to go through life as "the nice guy". Guess he wanted to be known as "the back rub guy."
It's Sunday morning and I have a stiff neck. By the time you read this, it will no longer be Sunday morning, but I bet I'll still have a stiff neck. I don't know how these things happen. I go to bed sleeping in one position and wake up in pretty close to the same position. Yet, for reasons unknown to me, muscle groups gang up while I sleep and decide to go on strike. So, today, I move through the world looking to the left. Looking to the right is just too painful. "What's that smell?" you ask. Aaah, that would be extra-strength Ben Gay. Lovely. I'd really like to have a neck rub or massage.
When I think of massages, I think of another one of my internet dating disasters. This time, it's 1998. I met "R" on a "friendship only" message board on AOL. He had just moved to the city from a nearby county and had just started a "really good job" in the computer field. I was just looking for someone to write to... and "if it develops into more, then so be it." That's what I told "R." The one thing I remember most about "R" was that he was really really into massages. Giving masages. No matter what I'd tell him about my day, he'd find a way to offer me a massage. "I had to work over today," I'd write. "Hey, did I tell you that I give a mean massage?" he'd write back. "I broke a nail today," I'd write. "Hey, you sound like you need a massage, " he'd offer. It became almost a joke to me because no matter how bizarre of a day I'd tell him I had, he'd offer up that massage. The longer we wrote, the more involved the massage offer would be. At first, it was just an "innocent" neck rub. Then, a back rub. Then, lunch and a back rub. Then, a swim in his pool, lunch and a back rub. Then, it would be dinner, a movie and... yes, a back rub. "You can even keep your underwear on, " he offered up once. OK, I know, where's the "disaster"? Well, after 4 months of writing him, I only knew that he was into computers, fresh out of the Army, liked to sing and wanted to give me a back rub. Oh, I also knew his home town and his full name. That was it. We hadn't connected on any level that made me want to go over to his place and yank off my top for a back rub. Then, one day, I was at my part time job telling a co-worker about "R" and she asked me what his last name was. I told her. She said, "You're not going to believe this, but I went to high school with him!" I asked her if he was so ... persistent.. in high school and she said, "Call his bluff! I know this guy. He's afraid of his own shadow. If you were to say yes to him, he'd probably pee his pants." So, that night, when I got home and sent "R" an email about how long my day had been, I added, "A back rub would really be nice. Maybe we really should meet." I didn't hear back from him for days. Then, he sent me the e-mail that most nice guys use when they want to end things but don't want to just come out and say it. "I'm going to busy for awhile..." he said and then a few months later, he sent me another e-mail that he was moving to Florida. I never heard from him again. The thing is... the more my co-worker told me about him, the more wonderful he sounded to me. (shrug) Guess he didn't want to go through life as "the nice guy". Guess he wanted to be known as "the back rub guy."
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Beyond Day Seventy - Six
As with most things in my life, I had the best of intentions with this blog but to be honest, the combination of "I fucking hate my job" depression and the tedious toll of my part time work from home job, I have had very little energy, desire and time to really truly focus on improving myself.
Right now, my part time job doesn't have enough "work" for everyone so I log in and feel like a seagull scavenging for bread crumbs. I can't bill for the hours I "wait" on work so I can be logged in for three-four hours and only have a good solid thirty minutes of work. I don't have the time or patience for it. So, I log in and if I read any complaining in the chat room about lack of work, I log out. I still have a minimum of 15 hours per week though so I keep expecting the email at any point now telling me I've been kicked off of the project because I only average 10-12 hours per week of actual work. The project manager keeps sending these "hang in there" emails and hints that beginning in August, we'll have more work than we can handle. Shit, I need the money now.
Abby is fat. She weighs 12 lbs. After having a cat go 6 months eating hardly anything, it's a pleasure to have a cat that wants to eat. So I feed her. If she tries to bite me, I feed her. If she is trying to claw me, I feed her. So, now I have to stop feeding her so much... and play with her more.
I got my first paycheck from my part time job a few weeks ago and had the time of my life blowing it. I got a pedicure, haircut, bought a new pair of sandals, stocked the fridge with some of my favorite foods, filled my truck's fuel tank all the way instead of with "enough" to get by, went to Big Lots and bought stuff I don't really need but wanted anyway, bought some lottery tickets, got some food for a cookout with some friends, bought a book, downloaded some music.... even rented some movies. It was only $300 but it felt like a million after scrimping and saving for months.
I also refinanced my truck and got a debt consolidation loan. I paid off and closed my credit cards. Now I have one payment each month, starting in August for my car and credit card balances... and it's not falling at the same time as my rent, like my car and credit card payments did before.
So that's my life as of now.
Right now, my part time job doesn't have enough "work" for everyone so I log in and feel like a seagull scavenging for bread crumbs. I can't bill for the hours I "wait" on work so I can be logged in for three-four hours and only have a good solid thirty minutes of work. I don't have the time or patience for it. So, I log in and if I read any complaining in the chat room about lack of work, I log out. I still have a minimum of 15 hours per week though so I keep expecting the email at any point now telling me I've been kicked off of the project because I only average 10-12 hours per week of actual work. The project manager keeps sending these "hang in there" emails and hints that beginning in August, we'll have more work than we can handle. Shit, I need the money now.
Abby is fat. She weighs 12 lbs. After having a cat go 6 months eating hardly anything, it's a pleasure to have a cat that wants to eat. So I feed her. If she tries to bite me, I feed her. If she is trying to claw me, I feed her. So, now I have to stop feeding her so much... and play with her more.
I got my first paycheck from my part time job a few weeks ago and had the time of my life blowing it. I got a pedicure, haircut, bought a new pair of sandals, stocked the fridge with some of my favorite foods, filled my truck's fuel tank all the way instead of with "enough" to get by, went to Big Lots and bought stuff I don't really need but wanted anyway, bought some lottery tickets, got some food for a cookout with some friends, bought a book, downloaded some music.... even rented some movies. It was only $300 but it felt like a million after scrimping and saving for months.
I also refinanced my truck and got a debt consolidation loan. I paid off and closed my credit cards. Now I have one payment each month, starting in August for my car and credit card balances... and it's not falling at the same time as my rent, like my car and credit card payments did before.
So that's my life as of now.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Days Fifty-Nine through Seventy-Five
Bad blogger. Bad. Bad. Bad.
I swear I intended to write. I did. But, then I'd log in and have nothing to say. My life seems to be in a bit of rut right now.
I had two weeks of "training" for my work at home job, then I was released to work my heart out on the 18th, after passing three quizzes.
I've discovered that having "no set schedule" is both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing this past Monday when I came home from work with a horrible headache and wanted to go back to bed. It's a curse right now because it's late Saturday night and I'm 5 hours short of my minimum requirement of 15 for the week. The system was down for maintenance Thursday night so I couldn't work. It was down until 8:00 Friday night so I couldn't work as many hours as I had intended. Trying to get to bed early enough that I'm not dead tired for the day job means that I've restricted myself to only working until 10:00 p.m. on weeknights. Most of the people doing this project have more flexible schedules than I do and seem to be able to work all hours any day.
So, that said, I plan on getting up early tomorrow and knocking out the 5 hours. The work is not hard at all. VERY easy in fact. Point and click. Point and click. Could I do it for 8 hours straight every day? No. Not without my brain turning to mush. The good thing is that on the weekends, I can work an hour, take a break, work an hour, run some errands, work an hour, watch some tv, etc.
My day job is blah. I've developed some resentment for the person who replaced me as supervisor because he has no clue what he is doing and I hate watching things go badly. I keep trying to remind myself it's not my responsibility but I have a certain fiber in my being that can't stand the fact that the team is constantly mucking things up, missing deadlines, calling off, coming in late, dropping calls.... I feel like the only one who cares about our reputation with the client. The guy who replaced me is a nice guy and I'm sure he had no clue what he was getting himself into. He handles everything by ignoring it. It's like if he doesn't acknowledge the issue, he doesn't have to address it. But, as you know, crap rolls down hill, so when he doesn't respond, the client calls me. The client emails me. "You always respond. You always have the answer," they say. The team members do the same thing. They bombard me all day with questions and ask me to help them deal with issues they have. I refer them back to their supervisor. They roll their eyes and tell me that he won't know how to help. When they do go to him, he sends them to me. I've whined to my boss who just shrugs it off and asks me to be a team player. I hate going to work. Hate it. If I thought I could survive only working the work at home job, I'd quit tomorrow.
Abby and I are still getting to know each other. She's still quite wild and some days, I look at her and wonder if maybe I jumped too soon into having another cat. At least once a week, I'll have a moment where I think of Molly and how much I miss her and how I hope I grow to love Abby as much as I loved Molly.
So, that's my life. Twenty some days summed up in a few paragraphs. Hmph.
I swear I intended to write. I did. But, then I'd log in and have nothing to say. My life seems to be in a bit of rut right now.
I had two weeks of "training" for my work at home job, then I was released to work my heart out on the 18th, after passing three quizzes.
I've discovered that having "no set schedule" is both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing this past Monday when I came home from work with a horrible headache and wanted to go back to bed. It's a curse right now because it's late Saturday night and I'm 5 hours short of my minimum requirement of 15 for the week. The system was down for maintenance Thursday night so I couldn't work. It was down until 8:00 Friday night so I couldn't work as many hours as I had intended. Trying to get to bed early enough that I'm not dead tired for the day job means that I've restricted myself to only working until 10:00 p.m. on weeknights. Most of the people doing this project have more flexible schedules than I do and seem to be able to work all hours any day.
So, that said, I plan on getting up early tomorrow and knocking out the 5 hours. The work is not hard at all. VERY easy in fact. Point and click. Point and click. Could I do it for 8 hours straight every day? No. Not without my brain turning to mush. The good thing is that on the weekends, I can work an hour, take a break, work an hour, run some errands, work an hour, watch some tv, etc.
My day job is blah. I've developed some resentment for the person who replaced me as supervisor because he has no clue what he is doing and I hate watching things go badly. I keep trying to remind myself it's not my responsibility but I have a certain fiber in my being that can't stand the fact that the team is constantly mucking things up, missing deadlines, calling off, coming in late, dropping calls.... I feel like the only one who cares about our reputation with the client. The guy who replaced me is a nice guy and I'm sure he had no clue what he was getting himself into. He handles everything by ignoring it. It's like if he doesn't acknowledge the issue, he doesn't have to address it. But, as you know, crap rolls down hill, so when he doesn't respond, the client calls me. The client emails me. "You always respond. You always have the answer," they say. The team members do the same thing. They bombard me all day with questions and ask me to help them deal with issues they have. I refer them back to their supervisor. They roll their eyes and tell me that he won't know how to help. When they do go to him, he sends them to me. I've whined to my boss who just shrugs it off and asks me to be a team player. I hate going to work. Hate it. If I thought I could survive only working the work at home job, I'd quit tomorrow.
Abby and I are still getting to know each other. She's still quite wild and some days, I look at her and wonder if maybe I jumped too soon into having another cat. At least once a week, I'll have a moment where I think of Molly and how much I miss her and how I hope I grow to love Abby as much as I loved Molly.
So, that's my life. Twenty some days summed up in a few paragraphs. Hmph.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Days Fifty-Six, Fifty-Seven and Fifty-Eight
On Monday, I had my first "training" class for my new part-time job. Whoever said, "There's no such thing as a dumb question" should be shot. The trainer went over some very basic items -- the minimum number of hours, system requirements, the pay rate, scheduling hours and how to invoice. She had a nifty powerpoint (which she had already sent all of us prior to the training) to cover all of the key points. Sure enough, she got interrupted every few minutes by someone who would say, "I have a dumb question... " and then proceed to ask something she had just explained. The poor trainer would perkily respond, "As I just said...." and then proceed to answer the question. I was annoyed for her. The only thing that kept me from saying, "Seriously? Do you want these people working for you?" was the fact that I was getting paid (or will be getting paid) for putting up with their stupidity for an hour.
I'm actually kind of excited about the job. It seems easy enough. I will be reviewing "red flagged" ad content and either approving the ad or denying it based on Microsoft's terms of use for advertisements. For instance, there are certain words and phrases that Microsoft has deemed prohibited on their website(s) -- words that deal with terrorism, pornography, illegal drug use, etc. If someone submits an ad for their website(s) that has one or more of the prohibited words, the ad gets sent to an editing queue for review. An editor (me) will then review the ad content and see if the word or phrase really is harmful or if it's safe. If it's "safe", then I click "approve". If it's not, I click "reject". No phone work. No dealing with people. Just me and my computer mouse, clicking away. There is no maximum number of hours and the work is available 24/7. The project will last until the end of October. And I will get to put on my resume that I was an editor for Microsoft's Ad Center, which may impress someone someday, considering I wouldn't mind getting into editing professionally. My work is monitored for accuracy and speed. I have to do at least 875 ad reviews per 15 hours of work. Blah blah blah. I'm not worried. Plus I'm sure I'll get to see some pretty interesting advertisements. :)
On Tuesday, I signed up for a "walking challenge" at work. They are giving us pedometers which we are supposed to wear all the time and then every Monday, log the number of miles/steps we walked. At the end of the challenge (in September), there will be prizes awarded to those with high numbers, along with other prizes and such. What the heck, right? I get some exercise and a free pedometer.
Today, I got an email from a recruiter for a job I interviewed for a few weeks ago that the job has been put "on hold" due to company restructuring. I was disappointed at first, because the job had sounded pretty good -- closer to home than my current job, non-managerial, straight hourly work, salary close to what I'm already making, paid overtime, monthly bonuses, small office staff, and a male boss (no offense to my female friends -- but I work better with male bosses than I do female bosses.) Then, after the initial disappointment, I realized that it just wasn't meant to be at this time and having the job be put on hold now is better than me getting offered it, giving my two weeks' notice and then having the job fall through at the last minute and then be unemployed without any way to file for unemployment benefits because I quit my job.
Now, I'm going to go relax a little. My next training session is Friday night. I have a few 2-hour training sessions spread over this week and next week and then I can start working regularly. I haven't quite decided what nights/days and hours I'm going to work to get in my 15 hours. I guess I'll play it by ear and do a couple of hours a night... and if I feel like doing more, I can do more.
I'm actually kind of excited about the job. It seems easy enough. I will be reviewing "red flagged" ad content and either approving the ad or denying it based on Microsoft's terms of use for advertisements. For instance, there are certain words and phrases that Microsoft has deemed prohibited on their website(s) -- words that deal with terrorism, pornography, illegal drug use, etc. If someone submits an ad for their website(s) that has one or more of the prohibited words, the ad gets sent to an editing queue for review. An editor (me) will then review the ad content and see if the word or phrase really is harmful or if it's safe. If it's "safe", then I click "approve". If it's not, I click "reject". No phone work. No dealing with people. Just me and my computer mouse, clicking away. There is no maximum number of hours and the work is available 24/7. The project will last until the end of October. And I will get to put on my resume that I was an editor for Microsoft's Ad Center, which may impress someone someday, considering I wouldn't mind getting into editing professionally. My work is monitored for accuracy and speed. I have to do at least 875 ad reviews per 15 hours of work. Blah blah blah. I'm not worried. Plus I'm sure I'll get to see some pretty interesting advertisements. :)
On Tuesday, I signed up for a "walking challenge" at work. They are giving us pedometers which we are supposed to wear all the time and then every Monday, log the number of miles/steps we walked. At the end of the challenge (in September), there will be prizes awarded to those with high numbers, along with other prizes and such. What the heck, right? I get some exercise and a free pedometer.
Today, I got an email from a recruiter for a job I interviewed for a few weeks ago that the job has been put "on hold" due to company restructuring. I was disappointed at first, because the job had sounded pretty good -- closer to home than my current job, non-managerial, straight hourly work, salary close to what I'm already making, paid overtime, monthly bonuses, small office staff, and a male boss (no offense to my female friends -- but I work better with male bosses than I do female bosses.) Then, after the initial disappointment, I realized that it just wasn't meant to be at this time and having the job be put on hold now is better than me getting offered it, giving my two weeks' notice and then having the job fall through at the last minute and then be unemployed without any way to file for unemployment benefits because I quit my job.
Now, I'm going to go relax a little. My next training session is Friday night. I have a few 2-hour training sessions spread over this week and next week and then I can start working regularly. I haven't quite decided what nights/days and hours I'm going to work to get in my 15 hours. I guess I'll play it by ear and do a couple of hours a night... and if I feel like doing more, I can do more.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Day Fifty Five
I spent today indoors. Too freaking hot and humid. When I woke up at 7, it was already 80 and "feeling like" 88 according to the weather man. I don't mind the heat if there is an ocean or pool nearby to dip into to cool off.
Today, I read through 50+ pages of information for my new part-time job -- how to access their website, how to invoice, how to schedule hours, how to use AIM (AOL Instant Messenger) to contact my instructor, etc.
Tomorrow night is my first "training" session. I have 4 more before I can go live, but I do get paid for training.
The project is 4-6 months, 15 hours a week at $11.00/hour, which should give me an opportunity to rebuild my savings and pay down my credit cards. The best part is that I can do it from the comfort of my home and if I don't like it, I can ask to be re-assigned to another project. I'm really hoping this will open doors to a full-time work from home gig.
Today, I read through 50+ pages of information for my new part-time job -- how to access their website, how to invoice, how to schedule hours, how to use AIM (AOL Instant Messenger) to contact my instructor, etc.
Tomorrow night is my first "training" session. I have 4 more before I can go live, but I do get paid for training.
The project is 4-6 months, 15 hours a week at $11.00/hour, which should give me an opportunity to rebuild my savings and pay down my credit cards. The best part is that I can do it from the comfort of my home and if I don't like it, I can ask to be re-assigned to another project. I'm really hoping this will open doors to a full-time work from home gig.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Days Forty-Five Through Fifty-Four
My excuse for not blogging is that I've been on vacation and logging into my computer for any lengthy amounts of time reminded me too much of work. The only computer usage I've done is to update my Facebook status, apply for jobs, check email and maintain my farm in FarmVille. And check my bank balance. I don't know why I did that because it wasn't like magic fairies were going to deposit anything into it.
How I Spent My Summer Vacation
Each morning, my dear sweet new kitty, Abby, would wake me up around 6:00 wanting some breakfast and to play. So, each morning, I got up like a good mommy and fed her and played with her for about 30 minutes. Then, I put out birdseed and peanuts for the squirrels and she would curl up by the balcony doors watching the squirrels and birds. I would crawl back into bed for a couple of hours and then officially "get up" around 9:00. I'd watch some morning talk shows, game shows, or Law and Order reruns for a few hours. Then, I'd check email, update Facebook, look for jobs and then make lunch. My lunch usually consisted of something quick and easy. One day, I had peach ice cream with fruity pebbles for lunch. Another, I had scrambled eggs with cream cheese melted into it. Another, I had 1/2 of a small seedless watermelon. I have to admit I rather liked doing whatever the heck I wanted whenever I wanted. No work projects. No meetings. No schedule. Then, in the afternoon, I would try to do something "productive". One day, I vacuumed and spot-cleaned the carpets in my apartment. Another, I hauled several bags of magazines to the library for "recycling". I cleaned the kitchen floor. I cleaned the bathrooms. I watered my plants. I did laundry. I washed dishes. I organized the "junk drawer". I cleaned the litterbox. I reorganized the fridge, freezer and kitchen cabinets.
By mid-afternoon, I would take a short nap and then make dinner, watch television, read a book, check email again, apply for some more jobs, tend to my Farmville farm, talk to friends on the phone, play with the cat, rent a video, and then crawl back into bed around 1:00 or 2:00 a.m.
Now, before you think I was a complete slug -- there were some "other" things that came up -- like an unexpected trip to the "urgent care" facility because I was having very very painful cranium pains, blurry vision and a nosebleed. Turned out my blood pressure was high -- which was probably my fault because I hadn't been taking my meds regularly. My friend Janelle and I had lunch and then went on a dolphin watching cruise. I've done them before. It's my way of combining sun, sea and salty air in one trip and getting my tan out of the way. Abby had a vet appointment. I had a dentist appointment. There were some random trips to the store to window shop. I spent one afternoon calling various insurance companies trying to get cheaper car insurance. I also downloaded a bunch of information about my part time job that starts on Monday. I stopped going to therapy. I picked up a pool pass for my apartment complex, in hopes of actually going this summer and cooling off by the pool and possibly meeting some neighbors. Lastly, I firmed up plans with my college friend, Dorrie, who is coming for a weekend visit Labor Day weekend.
Tomorrow is the last day of my vacation. No sleeping in or staying up late, sadly.
Today, I took a nap and had a work-dream. I hate those. I haven't had one in 8 days. But, the harsh reality of returning to a job I hate is sinking in. I had really hoped to find something better/different while I was on vacation.
In my dream, it was my first day back from vacation and before I had a chance to even log in, my boss pulled me into her office and b*tched me out for something that came up while I was on vacation that the people who were supposed to cover for me weren't able to handle... and instead of holding them accountable, she was blaming me for not preparing them better. She went on and on yelling at me and then ended the brow-beating with "and just for that, I'm sending you to California for a week to work in our new office there."
I woke up with a headache. It's not an unrealistic dream. Now, my stomach is churning and I'm dreading going back to work.
Now, I'm going to go make dinner, watch a movie and try to block out "work" in my mind for a little bit longer. Just a little bit.
How I Spent My Summer Vacation
Each morning, my dear sweet new kitty, Abby, would wake me up around 6:00 wanting some breakfast and to play. So, each morning, I got up like a good mommy and fed her and played with her for about 30 minutes. Then, I put out birdseed and peanuts for the squirrels and she would curl up by the balcony doors watching the squirrels and birds. I would crawl back into bed for a couple of hours and then officially "get up" around 9:00. I'd watch some morning talk shows, game shows, or Law and Order reruns for a few hours. Then, I'd check email, update Facebook, look for jobs and then make lunch. My lunch usually consisted of something quick and easy. One day, I had peach ice cream with fruity pebbles for lunch. Another, I had scrambled eggs with cream cheese melted into it. Another, I had 1/2 of a small seedless watermelon. I have to admit I rather liked doing whatever the heck I wanted whenever I wanted. No work projects. No meetings. No schedule. Then, in the afternoon, I would try to do something "productive". One day, I vacuumed and spot-cleaned the carpets in my apartment. Another, I hauled several bags of magazines to the library for "recycling". I cleaned the kitchen floor. I cleaned the bathrooms. I watered my plants. I did laundry. I washed dishes. I organized the "junk drawer". I cleaned the litterbox. I reorganized the fridge, freezer and kitchen cabinets.
By mid-afternoon, I would take a short nap and then make dinner, watch television, read a book, check email again, apply for some more jobs, tend to my Farmville farm, talk to friends on the phone, play with the cat, rent a video, and then crawl back into bed around 1:00 or 2:00 a.m.
Now, before you think I was a complete slug -- there were some "other" things that came up -- like an unexpected trip to the "urgent care" facility because I was having very very painful cranium pains, blurry vision and a nosebleed. Turned out my blood pressure was high -- which was probably my fault because I hadn't been taking my meds regularly. My friend Janelle and I had lunch and then went on a dolphin watching cruise. I've done them before. It's my way of combining sun, sea and salty air in one trip and getting my tan out of the way. Abby had a vet appointment. I had a dentist appointment. There were some random trips to the store to window shop. I spent one afternoon calling various insurance companies trying to get cheaper car insurance. I also downloaded a bunch of information about my part time job that starts on Monday. I stopped going to therapy. I picked up a pool pass for my apartment complex, in hopes of actually going this summer and cooling off by the pool and possibly meeting some neighbors. Lastly, I firmed up plans with my college friend, Dorrie, who is coming for a weekend visit Labor Day weekend.
Tomorrow is the last day of my vacation. No sleeping in or staying up late, sadly.
Today, I took a nap and had a work-dream. I hate those. I haven't had one in 8 days. But, the harsh reality of returning to a job I hate is sinking in. I had really hoped to find something better/different while I was on vacation.
In my dream, it was my first day back from vacation and before I had a chance to even log in, my boss pulled me into her office and b*tched me out for something that came up while I was on vacation that the people who were supposed to cover for me weren't able to handle... and instead of holding them accountable, she was blaming me for not preparing them better. She went on and on yelling at me and then ended the brow-beating with "and just for that, I'm sending you to California for a week to work in our new office there."
I woke up with a headache. It's not an unrealistic dream. Now, my stomach is churning and I'm dreading going back to work.
Now, I'm going to go make dinner, watch a movie and try to block out "work" in my mind for a little bit longer. Just a little bit.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)