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Tuesday, Aug. 19, 2003 / 6:23 p.m. ~Trip to Hell~ I'm thinking maybe it's a not so very good day when one's Manager, upon begrudgingly allowing her employee to air her grievances, instead of addressing them in an objective manager, suggests to her employee that she might quit. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you should do what makes you happy", "Oh, I hear ya", says I, "I know EXACTLY what you mean". Lovely. I fought with her, and with the Computer Dude, who won't get off my back about simply altering the colors in my Windows appearance. It's just the window, the active title bar, who gives a rat's ass? He fucked up my PC first thing today, trying to install a program, so blamed it on me and the colors I'm using. Excuse me? They're paying this guy? Yesterday I'd decided not to acknowledge him at all, but he said hello to me. I never want to see him, hear his voice, say another word to him. Guy has pissed me off for the last time. You wouldn't have believed our interchange today - 'you', fuck, who do I think I'm writing this to? Maybe me, later. I can't believe my mother failed at the rhythm method. Even I can tell when I'm ovulating and when I'm not. She didn't need another child, and I read last night, in a letter she wrote to her grandparents, that she was in a car accident while pregant with me. She told them her 'tummy' was fine, the baby was still kicking so much it kept her up all night. She carried low, she wrote, and the doctor expected her labor to last less than an hour. She hadn't even gained much weight. I was just over 6 pounds, born two weeks early, and I shot out like a cannon. Why? It all seems so insanely pointless. Do what makes me happy? And how do I pay my rent, pray tell? How do I live as frugally as I do now, without that job? Where do I go? Some other job with some other idiot manager who also doesn't know that changing the colors in the Windows appearance settings doesn't affect the running ability of certain programs? I work for idiots, and they know they're idiots, and sometimes when it's pointed out to them, their response is to lash out at the person who is pointing it out. I honestly thought I'd be fired by the end of the day. I suggested we no longer be allowed to eat in our cubicles, or post pictures on our cubicle walls, I said perhaps we should all wear uniforms too. Why must an unpleasant job be made more unpleasant? Why can't we have fun? Why can't I have a head of broccoli as my icon for my tracking program? Or a shucking corn cob as my cursor? Does it really matter that much that I be made to be miserable instead? Oh, morale was low. And the Supervisor brought in her guilt treat, mini candy bars. I don't want chocolate, I want respect, I want a pleasant work environment, I want improvements where improvements can be had. I don't need this, I really don't. I'm dwelling on my mother, and her records, and her letters, and her photographs, and how beautiful she was, and how ugly I am, and how she never should've had me, or she should have miscarried in that car accident, and why in hell was it a 'miracle' that her 'tummy' wasn't even bruised? It's no miracle that she had me. I hate that she had me. And I hate that she left me, and that after my sister died she died too, inside, and that she told me she was only staying alive for me, and I told her to go ahead and die. And she did. And mostly, I really hate that the people where I work are such utter idiots. It's so hard. I can't just leave, I can't walk out, I can't find another job. What other job? Doing what? I can't make less than I do now, I couldn't pay my rent, and my car is falling apart, and I can't afford car payments, and I have no credit anyway because of the disaster of '99, and I think I'm in Hell. I honestly believe I died a long time ago, maybe while I was still in my mother's womb, and all of this is one slow trip to Karmic retribution, or a lingering lounge in some fiery pit. Oh, but hey, "BB4" is on in a bit, and the "Boy Meets Boy", i.e. 'which one's gay?', show, and the "Queers With Taste" show, so there is something to look forward to, and I can hang out on this computer if I choose, a fruit bowl as my straight edge cursor, and a corn cob otherwise, icons of the Fab Four on the desktop, along with images of foodstuffs, WebShots wallpaper as my background image, and Windows '98, fully operational. Today was a very bad day, and delving into my mother's history makes me very sad, and angry. Cost of the War in Iraq
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