I got another rejection letter today. This one consisted of a single sentence and was clearly the result of a cut and paste hack job. I wonder why they even bothered? My job will end in about two months, after which who knows what I’ll be doing. A friend (an IU employee) looked over my resume and said it looked “too good.” That I need to make sure they know I know Peoplesoft and Microsoft Office and shit. WTF??? I’m going to start stamping resumes with “NOT RETARDED” in big red letters.
In other news, I feel like I’m floating away from some people and floating toward others. I’m trying to swim with the current and not fight things, but it’d still be nice to know what I’m doing.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
vagina fly trap
Do you ever have one of those moments when you realize, “holy fuck. I’m in the middle of a goddamn shit storm?”
I remember driving through Idaho once, taking 80 west on the way to Portland. I’m driving along in the Golf and the sky starts to look a little funny. Dark. Ominous. I hit a wall of rain, and I do mean a wall, and I think- “oh…fuck.” I can see the outlines of where the wall of rain ends. And then I realize it’s not a wall, it’s a cylinder. It takes me a couple of minutes to hit the eye, but by then I’m in it to win it. I have to leave this storm behind and get the fuck out. That’s probably the most scared I’ve ever been. Hustler was cuddled up in the front seat and I was praying to fucking god we could get through this storm and hit the other side. Once I met the opposite wall of rain I started to feel a little better, but it was a few more minutes before we were home free. I am sure what I drove through was ten minutes away from becoming one huge ass tornado. Who even knew they had tornadoes out west?
There are times in the life of a young lesbian that can evoke this same kind of feeling. Women are inherently dramatic, and at times, hormonal. Put two together and you double the pleasure. Now add a third and stir. Yes. Shit storm, indeed.
I seem to unwittingly be getting myself into situations lately that I never intended. Somehow drama is sticking to me like a pair of five day old skinny jeans with crotch rot.
Now I think I’m a pretty simple girl. I say what I mean, I mean what I say, and I always try to be as honest and as compassionate as I can. I give others the benefit of the doubt and take at face value their words and actions. This seems to be where I am getting into trouble. Sometime the vagina is a powerful force. More powerful than money, or words, or comfort. More powerful than a live-in girlfriend. More powerful than a wife away on a business trip. Sometimes, it seems, girls lie. Bend the truth. Leave some little thing out.
“My wife doesn’t like you.”
“It’s not you, it’s the PTSD.”
“It wasn’t a relationship, but sort of a non-relationship relationship.”
At this point I’m amazed. Astounded. I seem to have magical fucking powers. Causing jealousy wherever I go. You’d think for all this trouble Anita Fingerbang could at least get some action.
I remember driving through Idaho once, taking 80 west on the way to Portland. I’m driving along in the Golf and the sky starts to look a little funny. Dark. Ominous. I hit a wall of rain, and I do mean a wall, and I think- “oh…fuck.” I can see the outlines of where the wall of rain ends. And then I realize it’s not a wall, it’s a cylinder. It takes me a couple of minutes to hit the eye, but by then I’m in it to win it. I have to leave this storm behind and get the fuck out. That’s probably the most scared I’ve ever been. Hustler was cuddled up in the front seat and I was praying to fucking god we could get through this storm and hit the other side. Once I met the opposite wall of rain I started to feel a little better, but it was a few more minutes before we were home free. I am sure what I drove through was ten minutes away from becoming one huge ass tornado. Who even knew they had tornadoes out west?
There are times in the life of a young lesbian that can evoke this same kind of feeling. Women are inherently dramatic, and at times, hormonal. Put two together and you double the pleasure. Now add a third and stir. Yes. Shit storm, indeed.
I seem to unwittingly be getting myself into situations lately that I never intended. Somehow drama is sticking to me like a pair of five day old skinny jeans with crotch rot.
Now I think I’m a pretty simple girl. I say what I mean, I mean what I say, and I always try to be as honest and as compassionate as I can. I give others the benefit of the doubt and take at face value their words and actions. This seems to be where I am getting into trouble. Sometime the vagina is a powerful force. More powerful than money, or words, or comfort. More powerful than a live-in girlfriend. More powerful than a wife away on a business trip. Sometimes, it seems, girls lie. Bend the truth. Leave some little thing out.
“My wife doesn’t like you.”
“It’s not you, it’s the PTSD.”
“It wasn’t a relationship, but sort of a non-relationship relationship.”
At this point I’m amazed. Astounded. I seem to have magical fucking powers. Causing jealousy wherever I go. You’d think for all this trouble Anita Fingerbang could at least get some action.
Monday, January 5, 2009
celibacy
So.
Back to the beginning, in so many ways. Starting a new cycle, a new year. Coming back to focus. I think the key is to not be scared of it. To know that I oscillate in a regular pattern. This isn’t something new. This is part of the experience of being me.
This time around I am focusing on derby. On getting better, stronger, each time I skate. To make some kind of improvement that I can feel. To continually best myself.
At the same time I am trying not to think about how others are doing. Trying not to measure myself against the accomplishments of other people. It is so hard to do. It is so hard not to fall in love with the idea of being one of the best. A leader. But I am trying. Trying not to seduce myself.
I am trying to not think about belonging to or being in allegiance with one person, one individual. I’m trying to think about the group, the general. The larger. I’m trying to be strong. To not be needy. And I think I’ve got just enough reserves left to fake it ‘til I make it. So here we go…
Back to the beginning, in so many ways. Starting a new cycle, a new year. Coming back to focus. I think the key is to not be scared of it. To know that I oscillate in a regular pattern. This isn’t something new. This is part of the experience of being me.
This time around I am focusing on derby. On getting better, stronger, each time I skate. To make some kind of improvement that I can feel. To continually best myself.
At the same time I am trying not to think about how others are doing. Trying not to measure myself against the accomplishments of other people. It is so hard to do. It is so hard not to fall in love with the idea of being one of the best. A leader. But I am trying. Trying not to seduce myself.
I am trying to not think about belonging to or being in allegiance with one person, one individual. I’m trying to think about the group, the general. The larger. I’m trying to be strong. To not be needy. And I think I’ve got just enough reserves left to fake it ‘til I make it. So here we go…
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