I am fucking lazy

I read a blog post by Becca (http://mskindasorta.diaryland.com/), the first blog post of hers that I've read, and wanted to leave a comment but felt I should write an e-mail instead. Why, you non-existent audience member ask? Because her post was very serious, emotional, and moving, and my comment was incredibly fucked-up asinine. I didn't feel I had the words or ability to respond to the sincere message of her post but I wanted Becca to know that I totally love when people use the term 'whilst.'

So I e-mailed her this message. In the subject line I put "Triumphant Joy" because I was watching a Marshall's commercial and this was a term used to persuade me to do all of my 'Holiday Shopping" at their fine, designer, discount store. And because I am me, I explained to Becca where my subject line came from.

Are you lazy like this? Seriously, do you just take the nearest thing to use as a title? As I also said in my e-mail, when Instant Messenger was brand new, I had multiple user names and one was 'Soy Complex' because I had to come up with a name and that term was on the cereal box in front of me. I've had e-mail addresses of 'highbuttonboots' because that is what a boyfriend gave me as a gift at the time and 'seethruplayment' because it reminded me of a Sonic Youth song.

When I had a diaryland account, my journal was "girlcat" because I am a girl who goes by the name of Cat. This blog is called "justaregulargirl" because that is what I am. Oh my god I'm fucking lazy. If you are reading this, why???? Why are you reading this? Unless you just stumbled across it. In that case, yeah, I totally understand why you are saying "what the fuck is this bullshit? Fuck this!" But you, you people who come here on purpose, what the fuck are you thinking?

And in other news: no word on the job I'm trying for. Sucks but at least it is the weekend so I don't have to deal with any anticipation tomorrow.

PS: Hi, Becca! I'll try to figure out how to link you. I'll ask your help if I can't figure it out!

Waning Patience

Likes

Hello, internet! I hate when the blogs I follow go off-line for any extended period of time and this usually occurs during the weekend and holidays. So I figured, since I have a blog now, I should not be a hypocrite and, instead, pretend that people actually follow this blather and might miss it during the weekend. Don't worry, I know this is an illusion and that's cool, but still, here I am. So here is a list of random things I like.

1: My guinea pig
2: The movie Knocked up
3: British Who Dunnits
4: Napping (oh my god I like napping)
5: Dogs
6: Shrimp (to eat, not to keep as a pet)
7: Calligraphy
8: Emma Stone
9: Fruit roll-ups
10: String cheese
11: Hats
12: Accents
13: Futurama
14: T-shirts
15: British pound coins

And I'll end there. I like a lot of other stuff but figured I'd stop at a nice, round 15. That and my shrimp and fries are done.

Out like sauerkraut

Lowered Expectations

It's funny what a really, phenomenally shitty week can do to your perspective. If you remember (and how could you forget given all of my self-pitying and whining?), last week was pretty awful. It was like this:



This week, I'm pleased to say, is nothing like last week. In fact, I would say that this week is the good twin of last week except for the fact that while last week was phenomenally horrific, this week isn't especially good. It's as though my expectations were lowered to such an extent that so long as no one pokes me in the back of the neck with a flaming twig, I'll consider it a fantastic day. Let's look at the facts shall we?

Work has not been overly stimulating or interesting lately. Mainly I've been filling the hours with some mindless data entry. Ages ago, the IT folks were tasked with creating a database in which one person, we'll call this person HQ, could have a centralized database to contain all information regarding independent contractors for all of the company's contracts and projects. IT doesn't take this very seriously so I've had to double enter items into this database from a pre-existing one since the two cannot communicate. As you can imagine, the task is as thrilling as it sounds.

See? There I am, typing away.

When not busy with this riveting chore, I've been dealing with the usual. You know, stupid people and shit I don't care about.

Both those things seriously happened this week. I received an e-mail from a freaking project manager of all people, stating that she was asked to obtain a specific object from a specific group of people and she wanted to know how to do so. Apparently, the concept of "contact said individuals and request the necessary object" is not something this person could even begin to wrap her mind around. Instead, she had to contact me, in an office at least 500 miles away, to intermediate. I feel like I am red tape in this instance.

And a person I shall call NWCW (short for no-worker co-worker) is going on vacation for Thanksgiving. I get to hear all about her excitement in between her personal phone calls and e-mails and I also get to hear the apology she loves using at every opportunity: "sorry, my mind is already on vacation!" It should be noted that when she gets back after the holiday, she will be using the other standby of "sorry, my mind must still be on vacation!"

At home isn't any more exciting. I've taken the week off from the gym and, while I have picked up Jane Eyre, which I am thoroughly enjoying in tandem with some Adam Dalgliesh novels, I've mainly been drinking red wine and watching boring television.

As you can see, it isn't like this week has been unicorns, rainbows, and diamonds falling out of the sky. It has been mundane, long, and uneventful. But because of the nightmarishness of last week, it seems like a gift. In fact, the only negative part of this week has been the overwhelming amount of suspician that has been with me all week, just waiting for the bad to creep up and ambush me. Hopefully it won't. But just in case, here is what I look like as a pirate, so step off bad stuff!

Pictorial Representation

This is what it looks like when you come in to work on Thursday after a particularly trying week to find that your job has been posted in the open listings within your company. Needless to say, I am not looking forward to tomorrow's Monday with any happy anticipation.

My Week in a Nutshell

On Sunday my mother called to ask me to lend her $3,500. My husband called her and made her cry, thus necessitating my calling to smooth things over.

On Monday, my mother called to say that she wanted to fly to Columbus next month to be here to celebrate my 30^th birthday with me. I was put in the awkward position of being the adult and explaining that it would be madness to spend an absurd amount of money when she obviously didn’t have any. I cried all through my ride home from work because it broke my heart that I had to be the one to sacrifice and stand up and be reasonable when it’s my birthday. Both of my brothers got to have our mom with them on their 30^th birthdays and neither one has ever been asked for money. Just me, the baby of the family, the one who was kicked out at 18.

On Tuesday I received my mother’s reply to my e-mail in all of its self-pitying glory. I was right, she said. She couldn’t look J in the eye anyway, now that he knows about her financial difficulties, she said. But she is never the practical one so she would, she stated, still feel so upset that she couldn’t be with me on my day. Nothing about how I might feel. I cried all the way home from work, shouting out loud all of the things that I was upset about, letting it all out in one cathartic commute.

And today, Thursday, I find out that a job opening that I’ve been interested in is not quite what I thought it would be. Half of the job description is half of my current position, the half that I love and that I’ve built up and turned into what it is today. So I will have to apply for my own fucking job and just hope that I can get it and that it will pay enough to make the more worthwhile. Otherwise, I won’t simply be stuck in my current job with a colleague I despise and another that irritates the fuck out of me, but I’ll also have to train someone else to do the fun and stimulating parts of my job.