Apr 30 2004
My laptop here at work has become infected with some virus like stuff, so I had to turn in to IT for some cleansing. They’ve had it for about an hour and a half, and while that’s going on I can’t get any work done. I’m on a computer in one of the training rooms now, but all I can really get to is my e-mail and the internet. All my trainer-type programs are out of reach. Woe, woe, woe.
Using my unlooked-for free time at work, I took off and went to the new David’s Bridal here in town to schedule some appointments for the girls to get their dresses. After I did that, I started calling the girls to make sure that they would be able to make their appointments. It’s backwards, I know. I just hope that they can all make the dates I signed them up for and I don’t have to go back and reschedule everything. I don’t like scheduling. It will be interesting to get everyone together and see how they interact. Kind of like a strange social experiment. None of them really know each other very well. Well, except for my sister and my cousin. They know each other pretty well.
I also went looking for stuff to give them for bridesmaid’s presents. I’m thinking Life Gems. We just have to find a donor. I can think of a few people I wouldn’t mind melting down into a diamond.
I go to a little community college, so finals week is not as stressful for me as it might be for other folks, but it’s still tests. I took the Business Law one last night, and felt like I had wasted a lot of time studying. Most of the questions were pulled from one chapter. Tonight is my computer one, and that will be a big joke, if the rest of the tests are anything to go on. True/False and multiple choice.
It will be very nice to not have to drive out to school three times a week after this. I’m taking one class in the spring, and it’s an independent study type of deal where I do all of the work at home. I just hope that I stay motivated enough to actually DO the work.
The whole “let’s not smoke so much” effort has not been going very well. I still smoke about as much as I did before I decided I should start cutting down and/or quitting altogether. It’s stupid. Maybe I need to go away for two weeks to a spa where they will purify me of toxins and give me massages with heated rocks to take my mind of cigarettes. I’d probably come back addicted to heated rocks. Although that would be a considerably less expensive and health-risk habit than smoking. Sometimes I wonder why on earth I ever started smoking in the first place, and then I think back and remember: stress reduction. I was a pretty tightly wound kid, and smoking had a way of easing my mind. It kind of still does. Except now it also has a way of making my throat hurt and making it hard to breathe.
I’m telling you. Heated rocks, all the way.
All that was written yesterday (April 29), and I got too lazy and fed up with myself to post it. I love to write, and I love to record, but I hate looking at my old entries and reading the dreck that I post sometimes. I wish that I had big deep thoughts all the time to record, but the sad fact is that I do not. I write about what happens to me, and I try to put a humorous spin on it, because that’s what I do. I try to make people laugh. It’s a stupid identity that I’ve fallen into by default. I’ve tried a lot of different identities over the years, and this is the only one that sticks. The Somewhat Funny Girl. Who Sometimes Tries Way Too Hard. Some of my failed identities include:
- The Alternative Religion Girl: For several years I had a deep interest in paganism. I celebrated every Sabbat (major holidays) and Esbat (full moons) and even managed to get a couple other people to practice with me. But try as I did, the whole thing started feeling false after awhile and I faced the fact that I didn’t Believe in it any more than I Believed in the religion that I had been raised to accept. I still am a staunch defender of pagans, though. I don’t let people talk shit about them in front of me.
- The Depressed Goth: This worked pretty well in my teen years when I was depressed anyway, but eventually one either grows out of the teenage angst or becomes a very annoying adult. I grew out of it, for the most part. I still catch myself reacting to certain things as if I were still sixteen, but it’s something I try to put a lid on.
- The Techie: Computers got boring after awhile and I didn’t care enough to learn a programming language. I still work in a techie industry, but I’m a bit distanced from the nuts and bolts of computers themselves.
- The Drug Culture Chick: Two things are boring – smoking pot and and the video of Pink Floyd’s “The Wall”. Even when taken together, they still are boring. Sitting around an apartment where people have big, thick chemistry books – not for studying but for brewing homemade drugs – is vaguely unsettling. Watching the guy you’re dating do whippits for the 15 second high is also boring.
That’s all I can think of off the top of my head, but there are more out there somewhere. I’m sure I’m not unusual in this. Many people have tried to be something they’re not because they think it would be more interesting, or to fit in with a new group of people, or just because they don’t know who they really are. I wonder how many people it actually works for.Last night I was talking on the phone with my mother, discussing our jobs and what we would rather be doing, and she told me that her boss told her the other day that she was too sarcastic. I laughed out loud and told her that I had never heard her being sarcastic. Her response: “What are you, kidding? That’s all I am is sarcastic! I tease people constantly.” But really, she’s either never shown me this side or I’ve never noticed because she’s my mother. And then I thought about how weird it was that as I get older I’m finding more and more that my mom and I have in common. I guess girls really do end up becoming their mothers, or at least I am going to end up becoming mine. Not that that is a bad thing, since I happen to think my mother is a very cool person. But I spent so much time trying to be different from her, that it’s amusing to realize that all that time was wasted effort. I’ve ended up being very similar to her, and I respect her opinion so much that sometimes I am scared to talk about things with her because I’m afraid she’ll tell me that my ideas are unrealistic or irresponsible.
Why do I always end up talking about my mom?
OK, so I’m going to stop now, but before I do, I wanted to let anyone out there looking for a job know about a great opportunity I read about somewhere (on the Diary-X message boards?): imaginarygirlfriend.com. Get paid to write fake love letters to people who don’t have girlfriends and wish they did!