the danish outpost
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not very calm, at all.


feeling kinda how a girl feels

life rots. what happened, you might ask? does everything sound like a bad enough answer?

1. i called the parole officer again, to explain that yet again, i have not gotten a payment, substandard or otherwise, from the wench. how is it that i have to keep calling and begging for the money that she owes me? and the worst part is that calling makes me feel like a bad meanie, which makes no sense at all. *i* was the victim of an assault, and the court ruled on restitution payments. she should have paid me back in full now, and i haven't seen even a quarter of the money. and i still have outstanding medical bills from last year. well, i don't, because i have paid them, but i'm still out the money, so psychically, the debt is still there. and i haven't been able to get the dental repairs done, because She. Owes. Me. Money. god damn it!

2. i worked a show tonight. the show was country music, not r&b. there are two kinds of music i hate. opera is one of them. so that just put me in a worse mood. fortunately, i was working a position with pat, who always makes me smile. he's a goofy guy. but it didn't help all that much.

3. at the show, i ran into my best friend's ex-wife. she didn't see me, and i didn't go after her. but i wanted to. this woman, and i use the term loosely, did so much damage to my friend's life that i want to make her pay. pat had to hold me back from going after her. i let loose with a string of obscenities that would have made the Marines proud. pat was a little worried, i think, that i was going to do Something Bad. 'it's bad customer relations to do that sort of thing!' 'don't care. Don't Care! fire my ass, i don't care!' *deep breath* i did err on the side of just swearing a lot. but man, oh man... i had this twisted urge to confront her. comes out of the urge to defend my friends. the logical part of my brain kicked in long enough to see that it would solve exactly nothing. i did take some consolation in the fact that she looked chunky and miserable and dateless.

4. mr. p showed up in a significantly altered state, looking for me. this did not make me happy. my stomach seized up when i saw him coming in. the back story, which i haven't talked about much, if at all: things got far too complicated, and i backed out, saying that the situation is far too painful for me to do anything more than be friends. this has been going on for a while. it brings up all sorts of difficult emotions for me, about past situations in my own life. things being what they are, we had the convo via email. never the best way to do things, but i didn't have an option. i do owe him a face to face conversation. but not like that.

he wanted to talk when i got off work, and initially i said yes. the more i thought about it, the worse an idea it seemed. so i asked if he'd mind talking later, which seemed to be okay. still, he hovered around for a long time, wanting to talk about ... anything. and this made me defensive and upset. see how things are improving? /sarcasm off.

5. in a brilliant piece of reasoning, i said (out loud to myself, as i was walking to the T), 'why not go three for three?', the ex wife and mr. p being one and two, respectively. some sort of warped version of self-flagellation, i guess. after all, since i'm a collosal fuck up, why not torture myself?

i decided to go to the Gs, which upped the odds that i'd run into earl. which i did. and mostly, this was okay. he was there with his sis and bro-in-law, and i was very happy that they came over to chat. i've always liked hanging out with them. and earl sent over a drink for me, then came over to talk. he wasn't sure if he should, given the fact that i snapped at him the last time i saw him. i apologized for that, telling him that i felt badly when it happened that i hadn't been able to be civil. it was right after we'd had a huge fight, i wasn't prepared to see him, and it all just caught me off guard.

we were able to talk for quite a bit. caught up on how life is going for each of us - he's seeing someone, and feeling pretty even keeled. this is all good.

5a. while we were talking, george who made a pass at me came in. i'm still unhappy about that little event - he just didn't get that i'm not interested in him. and i had said to earl, 'well, L is here, so george will be in, and that will be Bad, because....' earl, of course, fell off his chair laughing when george did walk in, which made things ridiculously awkward. not the master of subtlety, that man.

but eventually the conversation with earl got difficult. he talked about how much he loves me, and hopes we can still be friends. this opened up the little box of anger and hurt and resentment; i've stomped all those emotions down rather ruthlessly, because i just couldn't deal. and they came roaring out in full force. not his fault at all, more the result of me not facing up to things that need to be worked thru.

6. even more brilliantly than deciding to go three for three, i let my temper snap. this is where it gets really ugly. i considered overdosing, or doing some other sort of harm to myself. i called all sorts of people to get them to talk me out of it. nobody was answering their phone at that ungodly hour, and i felt guilty about even calling, because i didn't want to bother them. on some level, still caring about how people felt was enough to get the message thru to my brain that this wasn't really what i wanted to do.

instead, i pulled a rock star and trashed my living room. i was trying to reset my stereo (which was on the blink after a power outage), which you have to do by unplugging and replugging (is that a word?). idiot me - i followed the speaker wires, and tried the wrong plug. in my frustration, i went a bit mental and managed to destroy my hand and part of my stereo. the cover is all smashed up, which looks stupid and means the CDs will get dusty. as for the hand - nothing is broken, but being Irish pale, those bruises will be a lovely shade of green and jaundice for quite a while. i sliced up the palm of my hand and my wrist, which makes typing or shaking hands nearly impossible.

does it get much better than this, i ask you? oh, wait. i have to work tomorrow with mr. p, and earl plans on going to the same show that i have plans to see.

i haven't been that angry in a loooooooong time. and i'm not feeling so smart. because, really, writing all this out makes it sound like a bad soap opera, not the end of the world.

it comes down to this: i have a complicated relationship with my emotions. 'but i'm an alien pod child! i don't have emotions! i'm all logic all the time!' and that's simply not true. they're there, and stomping them down into a little box doesn't solve anything. if anything, it makes things worse. man... it scares me a bit that there's that much anger. i've worked long and hard on taming it, but it still snaps sometimes. and perhaps i should be angry about some of what's going on. but can't i just yell and scream and cry? what is it that made me take it out on an inanimate object?

oh, i know. i'm angry at real people, and myself, and i redirected all that on inanimate objects, which don't hit back, altho they do bite. as bad as my temper is, i've *never* taken it out on another person, not physically. and it bothers me when i do lose control, because i've worked so hard on this. *sigh* it's got to get better than this, right?

i was talking to Tanya about all of this, and i asked her how i could have screwed up my karma so badly, and which life it was, and why is it coming back to haunt me now? she reminded me that God just has a REALLY twisted sense of humor. god love you, girl, for making me laugh and helping put things in perspective.

yesterday :: tomorrow

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steely grey days
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the appeal of the broken boy

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