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Wednesday, Oct. 01, 2003 / 7:12 p.m. ~My Contributions Paid Off, But I Can't Quite Remember What They Were~ I haven't posted two entries in one day in quite some time, and I'm not sure that I have anything that would merit this second entry, but the last one was pissy. Jane may be a genuine good, sweet, kind, loving person, a person of the people, a lover of the world's family, a humanitarian of sorts, but I think she has her own personal agenda, and that includes befriending everyone. Still, I can't help but like her, and I feel better after I talk to her, usually. Maybe it's just that sitting all day, by myself in my cube, reading my Entertainment Weekly, and answering the questions of all those frantic and angry people who call our department every day, leaves me lonesome for companionship, and one can always turn to Jane and tell her what's up, and get a compassionate response. It's weird. At least I know it's weird. I got the new Zagat Survey Music Guide in the mail today! "1,000 Top Albums of All Time", and I helped. (that's a play on the old 'Shake and Bake' commercial, but I doubt anyone who is reading this - which is not too many really - would know that) I did contribute my choices, I think five, and I really can only remember two right now, and sure enough they're in there, "Kind of Blue" by Miles Davis, and Moby's "Play". But I don't see my comments. I think I chose a Led Zeppelin album too (II, IV, and "Physical Graffiti" are in there), and a couple other albums I really can't remember. I must've written it down somewhere, yes? So anyway, for my participation, or contribution, they sent me the guide, for free (a $14.95 value). Wasn't that nice? I think so. Go and participate in a survey now, and they'll send you the guide when it's published. It's fun. I'm guessing the web site is something like, oh, maybe Zagat.com? I ate Cajun smoked salmon with cream cheese on wheat crackers for my dinner just now. My lips are still burning just a bit. And I had to fight the cats away from the cream cheese container as it sat on the coffee table. When, oh when, shall I eat at the 'dining' table again? When will I dust and clean and enjoy my apartment again? We didn't win the Mega Millions Lottery last night, and after I'd gone to everyone in my department for a pooled contribution. Two dollars a piece, sixteen total, sixteen tickets, sixteen chances, and to make it all just even more sucky, one ticket won, in our state. But it wasn't ours. I had visions of our entire department giving two weeks notice, some of us simply not showing up. I fantasized about having time to do all the things I want to do. Buying a new car, a Prius maybe, or a Matrix, something Toyota, something with good mileage, good for the environment, or at least not bad. And cooking again, cleaning, having time to putz around. And traveling, short trips so I'm not away from the cats too long. Nothing. We didn't even win one dollar. I was in a funk all day. Not that I recognized that was why, but I was. But I sent email to reserve a spot on one of FIVE buses heading from here to D.C. on the 25th. Now I send a check, and I am committed. If not to actually going, to at least subsidizing someone else. They claim no one will be refused a spot. If you can't afford it, you will still be able to go. My fingers smell like smoked salmon, and after I washed my hands. The weather has been so beautiful the past few days, and today I looked at the blue, blue sky, saw the trees blowing in the wind, and wondered how I could still feel like shit. How can I feel so miserable when it's so beautiful? It's the job, it's really wearing me out. My skin is always broken out, I'm always having problems with my throat from talking so much on the phone, and I'm terribly stressed with it all, just trying to deal with the people on the phone. Today someone called and bitched at me, without really explaining why, because her employment verification states she is 'separated'. Well, yes, I say, either you are actively employed, or you are separated. Are you employed? No? Therefore you are separated. The large corporation will not disclose why you are separated, only that you indeed are. Which is damn fine, be glad, okay? Shut up! Go away! But she went on and on and on, with long pauses in between, telling me how she was laid off, and if she'd known, well, then, but she is no longer employed, and it says separated, and but why does it say that?, and etc., etc., totally random, totally nonsensical. And I had to listen. Do you see? I have to listen. I am paid to listen. Of course, earlier in the day I was paid to sit and read Entertainment Weekly and listen to the Commonwealth Club's broadcast on college radio. Yin and Yang. I want a massage. I want someone to draw me a bath, to massage my feet, my shoulders, then to maybe provide me with oral sexual pleasures. Or something. I'm needy, I think. I think I'm tired of doing everything myself. I want a man-slave. That's it! Screw winning the lottery, get me a man-slave. He can wash my car, and shop for groceries, and wash up in the kitchen after I make a big mess using all my pots and pans! And he can change my sheets, and maybe lay some lavendar sprigs on my pillow, and light candles and massage me before I sleep. And he can dust all my bibelots, and put them back exactly where I keep them. Could I take out an ad? Ya think? Meanwhile, back in reality, guess I'll watch "The Bachelor" later, just so I can be totally disgusted at the overall misogynistic portrayal of today's modern young woman, a woman who only wants a man, and will do whatever it takes to get one. Especially if it's Booooooooooobbbbbbbbbb. Oh, fuck Bob, he's really dorky looking, no one really wants to fuck him, do they? Egad. Oh, there's that Blues program though, night four. Night three was boring, so I skipped it last night. Flipped a bit, back and forth, ended up watching the first "Queer Eye..." again, the one with 'Butch'. Carson smelling the guy's jock, then dropping it in water to boil on the stove, was, er, what?, classic? Who else loves this show? Are we all fag hags and gay men? Are we all wannabe fags? I think I wish I were a gay man, but I've said that before. I feel like there must surely be more I need to address, but I can't think of what that surely is. I should go check out Moby's diary, and so should everyone else. It's really good lately. Either he's writing about his love of vegan tacos, or Scrabble, or his take on the current political situation, which is always so dead on I feel a sudden urge to copy and paste it here, and as you know, sometimes I do just that. Oh, oh, one more thing, "Gilmore Girls" last night, as I was trying to fill in the appropriate circles on the free Myers Briggs personality test online, such questions as I do I feel others' emotions..., was really poignant and good, as always. Rory FINALLY went off to college, apparently not too far away - Yale seems to be in spitting distance of Stars Hollow. It is Stars Hollow, right? Anyway, Lorelai and Rory are tight, like TIGHT, and now Rory will be staying at a dorm on campus, and Lorelai will be alone, first time really since Rory was born. I felt the pull. I really did. When Lorelai got the page, "COME BACK!!!!!", I could imagine what that felt like, and I was so glad when she stayed the night, ordering all that takeout for the kids in the dorm (where is all her money coming from?), and in the end, when she got home to her 'empty nest'... I almost cried. Fictional characters in a TV dramedy are transferring their emotional shit to me and making my own sadness/loneliness/miserableness compounded... but in a good way. Alas. Cost of the War in Iraq
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