Wednesday, July 31, 2013

FAIL and more FAIL

Broke up with Murdoch. I decided to call it a day because we were clearly on different pages and I didn't like how I felt or who I seemed to be. I felt clingy and needy and I'm neither one and not about to let a guy make me feel that way. I tried calling but, surprise surprise, he didn't answer. So I emailed him, told him I hoped he and his were OK (this was Monday and I barely heard two words out of him since Friday early evening) and then told him I was ending it. He's a lovely guy and I wish him the best but I need more from a relationship. That's fine and it doesn't make me a bad person or high maintenance. He can't or won't give it to me. That's fine, that doesn't make him a bad person. Poor timing I suppose.

People keep asking if I heard back from him and I keep saying "at the end he barely spoke to me when we were together. Why would he talk to me now?"

Disappointing and a bummer but better to get out of it now when I know it just isn't going to work. I gave it a shot and tried my best but some things just aren't meant to be. I'll collect myself, get passed it, and probably sign up for a dating site when I'm ready.

I have no idea what is going on at work but this weird thing happened yesterday. I was in a meeting and I volunteered to do someone's testing and documentation. She was cool with it. I then proceeded to work on it only to find out that my manager asked someone else to do it instead. No explanation as to why but I kind of feel insulted or like I was just given a pat on the head and handed a bouncey ball to play with.

This, obviously, affects my morale, as did the hangover I had yesterday (yesterday was Tuesday and after breaking up with Murdoch I thought "yeah, I'm going to drink too much tonight because that is going to make me feel better"). Did you know you can google "how to waste time at work" and find options? One of my favorites was along the lines of "I've found that no one will question you if you walk around with a clipboard looking serious". That and looking at those demotivational posters is good for a few moments of time murdering. My favorite by far has the caption:
Coming to Work: I don't really mind but, I mean, this eight hour wait to go home is just bullshit.
It is my desktop wallpaper.

In other shitty work news, people can't stop telling me that an old coworker died yesterday. He was a really good guy and worked in IT in the Ohio office. Had been with the company for something like 15 years and was really part of what people like to refer to as "the culture." That office will not be the same. He was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer a few months ago and it moved quickly. It's very sad news and it doesn't get any less sad the number of times you are told.

Fucking cancer.

Monday, July 29, 2013

Rhetorically Rhetorical

This morning I received a call from a neurologist's office. The nice fella on the other side of the phone stated that I had an appointment scheduled for August 7 but wouldn't you know it? The doctor is actually out of the office that day! Nice fella than literally asked "can we reschedule?"

I didn't miss a beat before replying "what if I say 'no'?"

Poor bastard. He paused for a minute in awkwardness so I hurriedly said "sorry, just checking. I always wonder what people will say if I say 'no, I won't hold' and that sort of thing." He told me that he'd never had that reaction before but he laughed.

But honestly, what am I supposed to say? "No, you tell Dr. So and So that she has to show up for my appointment because I scheduled it ages ago and your staff shouldn't have booked me in on a day she wasn't going to be there." I don't know why those courteous rhetorical questions started bothering me today but I assume I'm just irritable. I'm thinking more and more about ending things with Murdoch simply because I'm not getting what I want out of the relationship. But at the same time, I don't want to break up with him. So that's awesome.

Work is being all stupid and annoying as well. We moved to a new floor and whilst I'm in a better cubicle (it's large, has high walls, and includes a sliding shower door for privacy), I am also located too close to King Shit for my liking and just want to throw things at him. KC and the Sunshine Band is two cubes down and although I like her, I get annoyed with hearing her condescend to the developers and want to sometimes say "just shut up and work." No, it's not even that. A lot of the time she is right but I don't like the way she talks to and about the developers a lot of the time. It's just not nice.

I would suggest that I'm on my period or something, due to all this irritability, only I don't get periods anymore, not since the lovely implantation of the IUD. Instead, I think I just have to accept the fact that I'm having a bitchy day. Bitchy days are stupid because it's all about your own attitude and you can easily break yourself out of it by just removing your cranky pants. Only sometimes you ruminate and marinate in your crankiness and just feel like being bitchy. Then you feel bitchy and stupid and embarrassed.

And if you are me, you draw a picture making fun of yourself to tell yourself to snap the fuck out of it.

Friday, July 26, 2013

The Eyes Have It

Eldest brother is the only one of us "kids" with good vision. Teacher and I are both like mole people, blinking and bumping into shit without corrective lenses. How EB managed to win the genetic visual lottery, I don't know. Even my mother needs reading glasses.

A little over two years ago, I was diagnosed with optic neuritis. This inflammation of the optic nerve is painful and your vision gets progressively worse until you can barely see out of the affected eye. It is no picnic. But it cleared up and whilst I do have residual damage to my myeline, I don't notice anything different.

Last night my mother called me. EB has been diagnosed with retinal melanoma. The tumor is tiny but it is inside the eye, not on the surface. A doctor friend of mine said that he will probably undergo radiation and that survival rate is 63%. Hopefully it has not disseminated to his lymph nodes or other organs. He went to the doctor the minute he noticed something was wrong so hopefully it is one of those "we caught it in plenty of time" deals.

The shock hit me today and I've cried a few times at work. I'm not really sure why. EB and I have never been close. I think it's just the shock of it. He with the wife who has had synovial sarcoma for the past four years, who lost half her leg to it. Now this?

Makes me happy for what I have and paranoid about what might happen to Teacher and his eyes two years from now.  

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Snobbery Lexiconery

One of the less pleasant aspects of my life in Texas is speech. OK, people have a tendency to think I'm stuck up when they first meet me regardless of my geographical location, but that is partly because I tend to be quiet in new environments. "What happened?!" Hardy har, to that old favorite stand by thrown at me by colleagues. Yes, I'm a chatter box and I'm a lot of fun, but initially I am really rather quiet just because I don't know anyone and don't know how to interact right away.

Then there is the language I use. Not the longshoreman's comfort and familiarity with such gems as "cunt" and "mother fucker" but my incredibly wide vocabulary. Hell, my url includes the word 'lexicon' so clearly I love me some words. But here in Texas I apparently sound like I'm trying to sound smart. That's what Murdoch said when I used the term "apropos" in a text message. You know why I use the word "apropos?" Because it is fucking efficient. My statement was "Apropos of nothing, I'm dressed like it is 1950." The only other way I can think of saying it is "Not that this has anything to do with what we were talking about but I am dressed like it is 1950." My version was much quicker.

The nature of my job means that I have to strip away a lot of my language and maintain a very dry, technical, informational, and pointedly detailed style. Apparently I have to do the same in casual conversations or I sound stuck up. That seems a bit unfair seeing as I majored in English and words are one of my few actual skills.

I told him that at least now I can feel more self conscious about how I speak (between the words I use and my accent, there is a lot of conversation) and his response was the very mature and understanding "Jesus. I said I'm sorry. Don't be dramatic." But it is unsettling to know that people assume, for no real reason, that you are trying to sound smart or going out of your way to drop 50 cent words when it's just habitual. I've said it before, Teacher is the only one who doesn't give me a hard time about it. He just accepts it. I spent a lot of my childhood reading and taking vocabulary lessons and words just stuck with me. Now I get to be made to feel foolish and/or pretentious for them. And I'm dramatic if I get irritated that my boyfriend of all people judges me for how I speak and assumes I'm putting on a show rather than doing what comes naturally to me.

You know what word I really wanted to use in this post? Taciturn. I wanted to say "I have a tendency to be a bit taciturn in new situations at first" but I honestly do feel really self conscious now.

Monday, July 15, 2013

In the News

What are the most talked about items when it comes to one Mr. Edward Snowden right now?

  1. The fact that he is stuck in a Moscow airport trying to get to a Latin American country that has offered him asylum.
  2. The fact that he leaked U.S. classified secrets.
  3. The possible ramifications of how this may affect 'the press' (e.g. if you print his words you will be deemed liable).
Do you know what I think we should be talking about? The fact that our government has been fucking spying on U.S. citizens as well as other countries. Snowden leaked documents about our government's monitoring our phone calls and e-mails and that has been determined by said government to be a breach of security. How fucking secure am I to feel knowing that my government is getting closer and closer to that of 1984. And why is no one talking about this? Yes, it is a bit comical, the poor bastard being holed up in an airport terminal but is that what this is really about? 

Why don't people care? A guy I work with, King Shit, says that if you have nothing to hide you don't have to worry. It isn't about having something to hide. It is about a violation of my rights. Monitoring my phone calls and emails, boring and harmless as they are, constitutes a violation of the fourth amendment and, put simply, amounts to illegal search and seizure of my 'intellectual property'. 

But no one seems to care. 

The long awaited verdict came in and George Zimmerman was found not guilty by a jury of six woman. People are crying out for justice and claiming that only white people matter when it comes to murder. According to the law, you cannot, in good conscience, find a person guilty of a crime if there is any reasonable doubt of their guilt. The jurors in this case evidently believed that there was doubt that Zimmerman willfully shot and killed Trayvon Martin for any purpose other than self-defense. 

That isn't what people want to hear. They don't want justice, they want vengeance or, at very least, a totem to represent this tragedy. They want a federal civil suit to prove that Zimmerman committed a hate crime. They want the family to suit for liable. No matter what, Zimmerman will never be innocent in the eyes of many. 

Another thing about this that really pisses me off is the race issue. This was not about race and would not have been about race if the media hadn't worked their magic. Every time they described Zimmerman it was as a "white Hispanic". How is that relevant? It isn't. It just makes it white against black. 

After the verdict, people said things along the lines of "only the deaths of white people matter". Does anyone remember the O.J. Simpson trial back in, what, 1994? If I recall, O.J., a black man, was accused of killing a white woman and a white man. He walked. Does that mean those deaths did not matter? 

That fact that a young man was killed is a tragedy. I'm sure Zimmerman regrets ever being on the damned neighborhood watch by this point and he is going to have to live with the knowledge that he took another life for the rest of his days. But crying out for blood or punishment when a man has been acquitted, when a jury believed this man was just protecting himself, that is not justice and that is not helpful. It just perpetuates racial divides and distracts us from what really matters. 

And the fucking media. I'm beginning to despise the fucking media. They fueled the fucking race issue from the word go. 

Sunday, July 14, 2013

Yee Haw!

Well my transition to Texan appears to be complete. On Friday evening I bought myself a pair of cowboy boots in preparation for the rodeo I attended last night.

That's right, ya'll, rodeo. The Mequite Pro Rodeo to be precise. Here's how it happened. A few times at work I saw a woman that I recognized from a few years back. She'd visited my old Westerville Office for some reason or another and, for some reason, I decided one day to accost her. I asked if her name was Jane Doe, which of course it was. She asked mine in that way a person does when she thinks she should remember you. I told her and explained that she didn't know me but that I'd recognized her from Ohio and blah blah. We chatted a bit and I mentioned that I was living in Mesquite. She told me there was a rodeo there she'd always wanted to go to so let her know if I was ever interested. Next thing you know I'm sending her an instant message with a link to the official website.

She purchased some VIP tickets that included access to the Raw Club (meaning free food and booze) and we agreed she'd pick me up at about 6PM Saturday since the arena is literally four miles from my place. On Friday I bought some boots and then finished the outfit on Saturday morning. Then off to the rodeo we went.

OMG it was fun! Junior bull riding, bareback riding, barrel racing, and then the pro bull riding. I even rode the mechanical bull! I did a pathetic job of it but it was fun as hell. The video is pretty hilarious and I just wish I could upload it. I sent it to Facebook but it's upside down :( . But I do have a photo of Cowboy Simply:
I preferred having my jeans over my boots but the lady I went with said I should show them off in the picture. My legs look hella long in the video of me on the bull. All I'm missing is the hat. 

I will def be going again before the end of the season. KB, the woman as I shall name her, said if I was interested in going again to let her know and hells yeah. Rodeos are fun as shit. I can't believe the riders. First of all, they start young. There is one event that features children from the ages of 4-9 who come busting out of the stalls riding lambs. Then there are the 13 year old children riding bulls. The adults who ride the bucking broncos are astounding. They hang on as best they can and when they are tossed off, they have to get out of the way before being trampled. One or two of the bulls were rather spirited and we could see them jumping up in the stalls before they were even released. 

And the barrel racing was incredibly fun. These chicks come sprinting out of the stall to run around barrels at a tremendous speed and it is just breath taking. You can see their legs bouncing up and down and yet they are able to maneuver rather tight turns around the barrels. The skill is just phenomenal for all the performers. Makes my 8.8 seconds on the tame mechanical bull seem incredibly lame (which it was). 

But, as I think I've made it clear, Texas is growing on me by leaps and bounds and I look forward to amassing a collection of boots and hats.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Office Time Murdered

I am in a very ridiculous mood. Disenchanted perhaps? I don't know. I think the hip young person terminology circa 2003 would be that I'm simply not feeling it. I am at work, retooling some UAT documentation, wishing I had an interesting task before me, and feeling bored and lonely.

Murdoch and I talked last night. I pissed him off by accident when I failed to use a gender specific pronoun when I texted to let him know I'm going to a rodeo on Saturday evening. I said "with someone from work" rather than "with a woman from work." Honestly, I said "someone" because the circumstances are silly and borderline creepy. I all but accosted this woman in the hallway, asking if she was So and So. She said yes and asked who I was and I had to explain that oh no, she doesn't know me, I just remember her from when she came to the Columbus office a couple of years ago. Why the fuck did I do that? Just to confirm that I remembered her name? That's creepy. But we chatted a bit and she said she'd like to go to the Mesquite Rodeo, I sent her a link and next thing you know, Bob's your uncle and I have $62 on my desk to give to her for my ticket (good seats and free food and booze).

But that is neither here nor there. Murdoch and I started talking about how you can't see yourself the way others do. Or else, he called me and started teasing me and telling me I was insane to believe that pictures weren't really what we look like or that pictures are the same as a mirror's reflection. I fought my side pretty hard. We weren't having an actual argument and it was all playful but I suddenly found myself really wanting to prove that I was right. In fact, I just took a minute to google various words yet again only to be met with defeat (FYI: If you type "Pictures" into the google bar, the first or second suggested phrase is "of herpes"). It was fun, even though it turns out I was wrong, and it was nice to actually hear from him for a change. On the phone and everything. I know, right? All fancy with my walking talkie box.

So that was that.

Now I feel flat and empty and annoyed. I feel weirdly hopeful as well. I guess it's a sense of baseless anticipation, like something good is going to happen any minute now and I'm just waiting for it only who the fuck knows what is going to happen next?

But at least I killed a few minutes. Back to whatever it is that I do. And a trip to the ladies because I have been drinking cup after cup of water. 

Monday, July 8, 2013

10 Wasted Minutes

She happily began her work day, feeling positive and empowered, willing to take on the world as though she and all the elements were one and she had only to wave her fingers or dangle an ankle to make wondrous things occur.

But then she regretted not meditating that morning, choosing to sleep in instead. The meditation helps the girl get out of her brain for a bit and things take on a new perspective. She’d planned on sitting for twenty minutes, iPod on, listening to a guided meditation to make her feel good, calm, empowered, at peace.
Instead, she slept in. Ghost Boy infiltrated her thoughts more than inner peace and tranquility. She was haunted. And that sucked.

Then it got even better when the girl’s boss and a colleague started asking her, yet again, to do things she had no clue about. She was given a set of crayons and asked to build a CB radio. People all around her were giving her difficult tasks beyond her scope.
So she turned on Radiolab and popped a Klonopin and just chilled to get through the rest of her day. The monsters and assholes will just have to wait. She’s busy.

Sunday, July 7, 2013

Waving not Drowning.

My father left when I was six years old. I remember coming home with my mother and brothers after a weekend away and finding him gone and all of his stuff as well.

At least, I think I remember. Flash bulb memories (where you were when JFK was shot, when Diana died, 9/11, etc.) are not as reliable as we like to think. And I was little. In fact, I didn't even know I was six until Teacher told me a few years ago. Then I found out it was June 1, my mother's birthday. If I was six, it means it was her 40th birthday. Grand present that, finding your husband gone and having three children under the age of ten to care for on your own.

We moved to Delaware some time after, though I don't know when. I know I attended third grade at Warner Elementary but there was surely time between my being 6 1/2 and third grade. We lived with my grandparents at first, I'm not sure how long although I do know we lived there for third grade. Ammy and Pop in their room, Teacher and Oldest Brother sharing a pull out sofa in another room, my mother and I sharing a bed in the third room. I had a box of barbies under my nightstand and a coat rack with my clothing at the side of the bed. Teacher and I would play Batman after school.

I was bullied every day on the bus in third grade. I would beg my mother to just drive me but she couldn't because Oldest Brother was going to Skyline and that was a dangerous school with really bad stuff happening on the bus. She had to drive him. She couldn't drive us both. I did go to the principal's office at least once. But I was told that if I didn't have names they couldn't help me. This was maybe 1989, before bullying was treated the way it is today. I ended up switching schools for fourth grade and that was that.

I wasn't OK. Of course I wasn't. I was confused and scared. Everything was different. We weren't in Pennsylvania anymore, where I'd grown up. I didn't know anyone and I didn't have any friends. My eldest brother became really nasty and Teacher would, when he had the chance, gang up against me. I was confused and I didn't feel secure or safe so it was scary as a child. But I didn't know what it was I felt and by the time I reached out for help I was too afraid to speak. Instead, I wrote letters to my mother, which I'd put in her car. I remember she came to my room one night and asked me why I didn't think she loved me. I was too scared too be honest so I said something like "I don't know." She told me that I was being ridiculous and how did she think it made her feel to say such things?

I know what she meant now. I know that she was trying to tell me that it was ridiculous that someone wouldn't love me. But I was little. I heard that I was stupid for how I felt and selfish for talking about it.

I used to complain to my mother about Oldest Brother. He was mean. He hit us. He stole from us. She couldn't be home with us all the time because of work and so she told us to ignore him. If he came into the room and started, go to another room. If he followed us, go to our rooms.

She was impotent to do anything so she was telling us to do what we could. But I was little. I heard "deal with it on your own. Oldest Brother is who he is and it's your problem, not his. Hide and take care of yourself because I can't."

Things like that happened a lot when I was little. No parent is perfect under the best of circumstances and I really don't fault my mother. I don't know what I'd have done if I were in her shoes. But regardless of intent experiences like that did form me in major ways. I learned that I was inherently worth less than other people, including bullies. My feelings were stupid and I was selfish to burden others with them because they had their own problems, all more important than my own. I was to shut up and be a good little girl and my job was to take care of other people. And myself. Always take care of myself because no one else would do it.

Reason for Introspection
All of that is untrue. The actions happened as they did but a little girl's brain is really not to be trusted. I mapped things wrong and internalized things. No one was telling me I didn't matter or that I was stupid, selfish. It just translated that way to a scared, confused, lost little girl. And the few times I reached out in later years, I was rejected. So I stopped trying, which is why I have so much trouble being honest about my feelings. There are only so many times a girl can be told "no, actually, you don't matter" before she can't take it any more.

But I made a decision when I moved to Texas that I was going to start fixing things, working through all this mess. I tell myself more often these days that I do matter and that I deserve as much as the next person. It's hard and I often find myself thinking through really bad times, crying, and feeling pathetic. But I'm trying. I don't want to keep floating through life carrying around this horrible weight. I think that is why I'm a crier, the sort that cries when nervous or scared, happy, frustrated, angry, whatever. Because I have carried around this odd pain for so long, afraid that others would see me and see whatever it was that made me so inherently awful, and that they'd taunt me with it.

I don't trust very easily. I can trust a boyfriend not to cheat on me but I can't trust him to not reject me if I open up. The closest I've come is with Tits, who has never once turned her back on me or made me feel less than when I've told her things. She's reciprocated that trust and I met her at the right time. If one person can be accepting and not make me feel horrible for feeling the need of reassurance, then maybe I'm the one with the problem of not accepting myself.

This has fucked shit up with Murdoch. I don't know what we are now. We texted the other day and we both said we'd like to give it another chance but he's stopped responding. I've been honest with him and so the ball is in his court.

But I'm not too worried. He's a nice guy and I like him but if it doesn't work out that's fine. I've done my part and I've let him know I'm willing to do the work. If he can't or won't, that's fine. It is neither a reflection of my worth nor of his value of goodness. Sometimes things just don't work out. The damning part about pride is that most of us have it no matter what and even the smallest rejection is painful. That's what it will feel like if my relationship fails but I feel better equipped to handle it.

It's scary and painful and unfun to do this sort of work. I've been working on my emotional and mental well being for months and it fucking sucks. A lot. But I know it is important and I honestly do believe that I'll be better for it once I make my way through. I've typed all of this up without shedding a tear, which means I've already made progress. I do a lot of this sort of thinking on my way home and end up crying because I'm sad for the scared and confused little girl that I was. I'm sad for myself for having lived the way I have for so long. But then I get to a point where I just accept it and understand and try to move forward. When I can talk about it, even to myself, without crying, I know I'm doing better.

One day I will be waving and not drowing.

Thursday, July 4, 2013

Girl Brain (or Mind Fuck)

Can someone please explain the evolutionary advantage to "girl brain"? Murdoch and I got into a huge fight in the middle of last week. When he gets stressed out, he totally shuts down and I don't hear from him. In this case, I hadn't heard from him for over 48 hours. I wanted to ask if he needed a break but I couldn't because I am incapable of expressing myself emotionally. Seriously, I have a semi paralytic fear of asking for help or telling someone what I need. So I mentally stutter and shit comes out wrong so I said "I think we should take a break." He took that to mean a break up, got pissed off, said some nasty things, wouldn't listen to me, etc. I didn't handle myself tremendously well because I was trying to express my needs whilst simultaneously explaining that I understand that his life is super stressful right now, etc.

We made up, things were tepid, and he invited me over for Saturday evening. Then he got really sick and I've barely heard from him this entire week. So I know he is sick and I know he shuts down but, because he is so unresponsive, I feel stupid and I'm doing that girl brain mind fuck obsession thing. Obviously he's gone off of me and my relationship is over. That's clear. You know, regardless of the fact that Murdoch is the kind of guy who would just tell me it was over if it was. Nah, the guy who is extremely blunt and direct is suddenly passively aggressively sending me a message.

Girl. Brain. Mind. Fuck.

I have seriously lived out an entire relationship in my head in the span of thirty minutes because of girl brain. How is this at all advantageous? How is that going to aid me in my biological pursuit of propagating my unique genetic profile? "Mmm, you know who I want to make babies with? An insane girl who lives in her head, is afraid to talk about how she feels, lives in an imaginary world in that girl brain of hers, and is utterly neurotic. That shit brings the boys to the yard."

Tits and I talk about girl brain a lot these days. I've got whatever is going on with Murdoch and she is forging ahead into the world of online dating. We are great at reassuring one another and then, when we say goodbye, we both go back to the self torture and self doubt. Stupid girl brain. Do men have a boy brain that fucks with them? I find that doubtful. Then again, what I don't know about men could fit into an old fashioned, hard cover, complete set of Encyclopedia Britannica so, you know...

Seriously, it's a labyrinthine and vicious circle of madness. Murdoch is sick so he has to cancel with me. Bummer, but totally cool. Murdoch gets sicker and I don't hear from him much. That sucks but you know, people get sick. Murdoch remains sick and his youngest gets it. Shit, that fucking sucks. I can't imagine dealing with a four year old who is super sick because kids don't know that it's going to get better (and that it will happen again). Still don't hear from the erstwhile boyfriend and start imming with Tits about feeling neglected and clingy and ridiculous. Start feeling like a suffragette for my own cause and make promises to myself. Get pissy about how sex with Murdoch was really fucking good and it is annoying to no longer have the attention of someone who was really fucking good. Start feeling like a complete asshole because everything but the facts that Murdoch and his son are both ill and that Murdoch does not text much when he is ill apparently, is totally made up by girl brain and I'm torturing myself for no reason.* What is more, Murdoch's kid could be on a fucking ventilator or something and here I am, being pissy because he hasn't been chatty. That, too, is courtesy of girl brain.

No wonder solitary confinement is a punishment. 

Not that I want babies, mind you. It's just that the closest thing to a reason for life that I know of is breed-to-keep-the-species-thriving one. And, as I asked as to the evolutionary advantage of girl brain, I had to use babies in my example.

In other news, because I refuse to just have a post about how I'm insanely insecure, I finally started reading again. I think I stopped for about two weeks but it felt like an eternity. Today is Independence Day and I am very appropriately reading a biography of a very patriotic individual who risked life and limb for country. Granted, Christine Granville was a beautiful Polish woman who, during World War II served as a spy for British intelligence, but still, patriotism is patriotism. I keep coming across names that I have no clue how to pronounce and think "I'll ask Magneto at work how to pronounce this" because Magneto is Polish and I guess that is what you do when you know someone from a different country. Ask them stupid questions.

Also, and I'll end with this, I had a status meeting with my boss recently. She told me, in the very kindest of ways, all the things I'm doing wrong and all the things I need to think about when it comes to my work. That sucked pretty bad but she made it clear that she wasn't expecting me to know everything and she offered to hook me up with some resources. One of the things I do wrong is the way I write business specs, the language I use. Well, not really. I wrote this one spec and I just wrote the way I normally do because it was a retrospec and no one was going to have to read it so it didn't matter what language I used. I didn't say fuck, shit, cunt, etc. or anything. I just mean I used terms like erroneous and whilst. My boss told me that she had been entertained by the spec and that she was well aware that I wrote with flare and had a real appreciate of language and words but that it was better suited to a book or a blog, not a technical document.

I thought that was fun. I had no idea I was being entertaining. 

*Well, the sex being fantastic is also a true fact.