Bitchery

Yes, this BeDazzled gentleman is completely relevant to this post, in the most ironic, tongue-in-cheek way. See, I say all this serious shit, then of course I have to make fun of myself, because I use humor and meanness toward myself as my favorite defense mechanisms.  Dude's name is Mauricio Alberto Kaisermann, and now, let's all sing along with him. (Click at your own risk. Seriously. Though now that I've listened to it again, it's actually a pretty song.)

Ah, fack. Fack. Fack.

October is another month in which I'm in the office a total of 12 days, meaning I'm abandoning the poor Mad Kitty, who is starting to look distinctly worried, for days at a time, dragging the Samsonite from coast to coast, and of course, there are the days following, when I'm jetlagged and miserable from fucked-up circadian rhythms, and bloated from eating presscheck food (i.e., green things never pass my lips because well, there are steaks at Houston's, and the good sushi in Gardena, and In-N-Out Burger -- and oh, wait, lately Judy will do anything to avoid taking me to In-N-Out Burger, even though I have been reduced to begging, "pleeeeeease take me to In-N-Out Burger," and I'm the FUCKING CLIENT, if I want goddamn In-N-Out Burger, shouldn't she take me to fucking In-N-Out Burger? I don't want the $28 "better" burger from the fancy place in Beverly Hills or West Hollywood, I want a fucking Double-Double Animal Style with all its attendant smells and drips, and I don't care if we have to go to the ghetto to get it. In the last four trips to Cali, I have not gotten my In-N-Fucking-Out Burger, and can you tell I'm just a little bit pissed about that? Do my million dollars in purchase orders NOT buy me at least one DDAS, For. The. Love. Of. CHRIST the GODDAM CARPENTER?)

Can you tell I'm in a mood? 

I'm actually feeling way gritchy today because I had one of those in-the-shower enlightenment moments when I recognized exactly why I was feeling the way I felt about a certain situation, having up to that moment only been aware that I was feeling rather shitty about it but completely unable to express just exactly why, and rather than just keeping this moment of a-ha information to myself as I would have been better off doing until I could sit down with Roni and be really pissed off over a couple glasses of red wine, I slopped it out all over someone, complete with weeping and snot running from my nose and trying to hide the fact that I was crying until I couldn't hide it anymore and then I tried to speak and all that came out were those embarrassing squeak noises you make when you're crying and trying to breathe and form words but you can't manage to do either.

And all before eight o'clock in the morning.

Totally ruining my makeup and leaving me with puffy eyes for the rest of the day.

And even better, it was on the phone.

Don't you love that kind of thing? When the person you most want to be looking into your eyes when you tell him that you're hurting and scared and a certain thing makes you feel bad, no matter how many times he tries to explain his position, you just can't seem to make him understand that you aren't trying to change anything, but you just want to tell him you still feel really bad and your feelings are hurt no matter what he says. You just can't seem to make him understand your feeling that you're not being chosen, and you're not even trying to change what he's doing, because you know you can't, and besides, you're far too well-trained by life to ask for something you may possibly want ("expect nothing, get nothing, and you won't be disappointed," remember?) and he tries to explain about obligations, and you try to explain that he's still making a choice, and then you say "People do exactly what they want to do, no matter what they may say," and it just makes you cry some more, and really, what you ought to say, clearly, and precisely, is "I am recently familiar with someone saying to me, 'I do not choose you,' and it felt really, really terrible, and I'm feeling like that again, which makes me feel bad about myself, so I would appreciate it if you didn't try to explain the error of my position or try to make me see your point of view right now. All I'm trying to do here is tell you how I am feeling about something, and oh, this is not something I am used to doing, and frankly, I'm not sure how much I like this, and whoa, is that branch cracking under me?"

Or maybe I should have just gone the old familiar route of, "La-di-dah, oh well," and kept my fucking mouth shut.  Life was a whole lot easier that way.

Frankly, I'm having a hard time dealing with all of these feelings. Blech. How do you people do it? I think it may be one of those things that couples do, talking about feelings and sharing stuff.  Honestly, I'm having a hard time getting used to it.

Then again, feeling insecure and generally shitty about myself has gotten me to dump 700 words here, even if they aren't exactly a Joycean stream of consciousness bound for the Pulitzer committee.

There is that.

PS -- on a couple of happier notes, I had a marvelous weekend in LA with the Gentleman Caller.  And earlier this week, I deleted those 2000+ emails from April to mid-July that were hovering in my old Yahoo box like a toxic stink. Gone, kaput (wipes hands).  Though, on second thought, they may have come in handy since I'm now officially a month behind in my rent, and seriously folks, every day I expect to come home and find an eviction notice nailed to my door like Luther's Theses.

Again, oh, well.