Wednesday, Feb. 06, 2002 / 1:27 p.m.

~My First Nervous Breakdown of the W-2 Reissuing Season~

My rent is going up. I suspected as much, but I got proof this morning, when I opened the door, the envelope fell to the floor and I waited 'til I got to work to open it. Another $15/month. I remember the time when it stayed the same, and they gave me an incentive, like $200 off the first month's rent, or $100 for the first two months. Now, it's just an increase. Great. It's to be expected, I know, I'm a grownup, I can handle it, I can even afford it, but it reminds me that time keeps passing, prices go up, they don't go down, my apartment complex is managed by someone new every few months, I never know who it is, and what the hell am I doing with my life?

That's what it all boils down to, isn't it? How long do I intend to rent? Will I ever buy a house? Do I want to? (no) Will I ever get married? (no) Have children? (no) What is the meaning of life?

I know it seems like just another annual rent increase, but of course it's not. It's me getting older, the cats getting older, me in the same old job, without a Will, without a savings account, renting an apartment, paying a little more every year. It's me, afraid to grow up.

How depressing first thing in the morning. Fuck me to tears.

Okay, Lulu noticed my hair. I said, Yeah, sure, I cut it, about a WEEK ago, 8 inches. Mmm hmmm.

I didn't have to be nice to her, but D., the Supervisor, called me yesterday, at my desk, from her desk, asked if I want to work 8-5:00 until April. Uh, let me think, NO. But, I said, Lulu wants to, I know she does, she'd die to do just that, oh, call her, let her know!! And she says, "Well, I tried to call her earlier, but she wasn't at her desk.", nah, nah, nah, nah, all juvenile and stupid. And I say, Well, try her again, why don't you, and tell her I recommended her for the shift, because she hates me and I hate her, and she will piss in her pants! Okay, I didn't say it exactly like that, but still, Lulu was thrilled, and she thanked me, and this morning she kind of said Good Morning to my general direction, and she said, "You cut your hair!", and she says little things, though I don't want to talk to anyone in this entire place if it's not about work.

And we have a meeting to say that Kathy's mother died, so she's flying to New York, and Penelope starts to tell me all about it, and I say, Well, I didn't know, I am always told to mind my own business, so I do, and she didn't tell me, I barely know her, blah, blah, blah, and Kathy's mom had cancer (a "battle" with cancer, and she lost), and all I can think is, Yeah? So what? Everyone gets old and dies. Jesus, Kathy is what?, 60something? Sure, her mom died, everyone does, and most especially when they get old. What's the big deal? It wasn't a big surprise, it was a battle and she lost.

Oh, it's not that I don't care, of course I care, it's hard to have a parent die, it's hard for any loved one to die on you, it's hard on you, not them, I know, I've been there, remember?, I just don't want to feel it. I don't want to feel her pain. I don't want to dwell on one more person losing a battle of any kind. I can't feel it right now. And I'm sorry. I barely know the woman. Yes, she has my sympathy. Yes.

I didn't write yesterday. It felt weird, but I worked, hard, work is hell lately (hah! When is it not?!) and when I got home I cooked, sauteed spinach with mushrooms and bacon, and it was good, and I watched television (so what's new?). Turns out Tuesday is an excellent night for television, my favorite night now. I can come home and watch the usual "Everybody Loves Raymond" in syndication, after Dan Rather, when I can stomach all those ads for relief of weak bladders, constricted bowels and limp penises, and smug Mr. Rather himself, and all the news that's skewed to view. But then it's "Gilmore Girls"�ahhhhhh�

Last night Rory was swayed by the attentions of the outrageously handsome Jess, he of the Chrysler PT Cruiser spot. Oh wow, to be young, to be wooed, to have to choose between two young handsome boys. And Jess has these amazing forearms�yeah, I love forearms, hands, eyes, hair, jawlines, and he has all of that. He's beautiful, and he is mysterious, deep, a rebel, "trouble", and what more could any 16 year old girl want? Or, is she 17 now? I don't know, but she is one lucky fictional character!

"24" was on next, different channel, after being preempted last week by the State of Ridiculousness speech, which I could not bear to watch. Good, good, as always, a good story, plot thickening every show, thick, thick, and they actually killed off a character who's been there since the beginning! Wow. Short contract, eh?

Then you have your "Real World", Chicago, and young people on camera, young people drinking to excess, being horny, etc. Yes, I may have a preoccupation with youth. Since mine is clearly lost. Okay, not lost, just long gone. I'm finally accepting being 40, and now, in two months, I have to become 41. Great.

After that, the Tuesday night of fantastic television continues with "A Cook's Tour", on yet another channel. I can see where this lineup might be hard for those not used to changing channels, but once you get the hang of it, it's well worth it. Last night's show was a visual expository tour (is that right?) of the text in Bourdain's first book, Kitchen Confidential. Sort of, hey, remember that guy, Bigfoot?, well here he is! Remember reading about that very first kitchen he worked in? Here! Look! This is actually it! Kind of cool.

Then, it's 11:00 and feel free to fall asleep, on purpose, on the sofa, with a cat or two, and a blanket, then wake up at the end of Letterman, see that Shakira girl sing her new "hit", and remark to self how much she sounds like Britney Spears, and think, Blech! Get up and rub some witchhazel on face with cotton ball, go to bed, wake up hour or two later to throw cats out of room after one decides that running from the living room to the bedroom, jumping and sliding on the quilts on the cedar chest, hitting the window, and running back up the hall is the best thing since catnip. Run, jump, slide, bam, run, jump, slide, bam! OUT YOU GO!

Then one jumps on the bed, one was hidden, left behind. Sneaky cats.

Somebody was just really rude to me on the phone. Said, "I'm the only one at my GODDAMNED job who didn't get their W-2s!". I said, "Look, don't swear at me, that's not going to help anything", and I tried to transfer him to D. or M and neither was at her desk, so I told him he could leave a voicemail message and he said no, that I'd answered all his questions and not been any help at all, and I hung up after him and thought, I don't get paid enough money to deal with al these fucking ignorant low IQ pieces of shit who just go around fucking women and getting them pregnant, working at piss poor jobs because they're too fucking stupid to stay in school�etc. Some would say here that I should've stayed in school.

I am in such a bad mood right now it's not funny. It's a little frightening. I am not sure if I'll snap, if today will be the day I snap and get fired. Or quit.

I'm shaking. Look at my hands. Jesus. The last phone call she really yelled at me - when I asked her hire date she said, "CHRIST, I DON'T KNOW, MAY�, I DON'T KNOW!", then when I said she had to verify it, she said "FUCK THAT, YOU DIDN'T SEND ME MY W-2 IN THE FIRST PLACE, I'VE BEEN ON HOLD�", etc. I said something to the effect of, Don't you dare talk to me like that, tell it to someone else, they don't pay me enough to listen to people like you talk to me like that.

Something like that.

And they monitor our calls now. Today may be the day I get fired. I'm still shaking. This is not a good day.

I made it home for lunch, though I can't imagine eating. My stomach has been in knots all day so far this day. One horrible phone call after another, me cringing in fear every time it rings. And I know I should be stronger, more confident, but I hear my voice leaving my throat in a little squeak now, afraid of the next stranger who is going to yell at me. I realized no one yells at me, ever. I live alone, I work with people I dislike, but they don't yell at me, no one ever "cusses me out", so it's shocking, really, horrifying when a stranger does it. I am far too emotional to be doing what I'm doing, to be working that job. Of course, I had to walk really fast to the bathroom and cry earlier, I couldn't help it, I was SHAKING, I was so mad, so frustrated, so�helpless. When you're a CSR you can't yell back. I came really close, I stood my ground, but the same damned woman called me back, you know, I got her again on the phone and she started in and I can't even go into it here, it's tedious and maddening.

I'm worn out. I'm dying, look at me, there is no way out. Higher rent, no college degree, three years college, no degree, vast array of talents and abilities, but the resume doesn't show it, this is all there is, and I am dying a slow and horrible death.

Fucking drama queen!

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