(no subject)
I could get promoted. Maybe even soon. I am not sure how I feel about it. Be dubious about everything. I always ask for extra helpings on that.
Eileen has a new 'girlfriend.' Cathy isn't the happiest.
Maybe I haven't spoken. I don't call. I'm really just caught up in things. I am protecting my investments. Don't take it personally.
'she's got everything I need; pharmacy keys.'
Promotions. I could be more responsible but I am afraid of losing my creativity. Not to mention, the promotion is strange. It is sort of my idea because of where I would acceptably go in the company. I don't really want to go too far. I have gone too far. The rewards are unpromising. As if 'turn-around-normal' from the tom robbins novel were naked. maybe it's not that at all.
i can't even read the numbers in my cell phone. my screen is damaged. my cell phone bill is still $500.00.
I have spent $700.00 on car repairs. More to come.
I have hidden like a little girl. My little girl turns 5. She does vocal warm-ups. She asks me why the flowers are yellow. or green. or spotted.
do they die? why do they die? did i sleep in your tummy, mommy?
Why the hell doesn't regular ginger ale have much ginger in it? Apparently yelling the questions in my head doesn't answer them. Not like anyone cares. That's just it. I hate the idea of a corporation. My body is a corporation. My heart is the CEO. Your hands are a business partner.
I am really excellent at sitting and doing nothing. And the world spies. And lies. I'm spun.
The sad part is that I speak the way I write. Needless to say, I try not to speak too much. I'm not this writer that blooms on paper or keyboard. I can't write. I confuse people who feel strongly about me in the negative sense. I get confused. I don't keep the enemies closer. I keep them confused. I get caught up in it. I am afraid that professionalism is aging me. I looked in the mirror today and saw an old lady. Thin. I wear facial sunscreen.
What's worse is I have learned to play the game. I hide my personality and smile business-i'm-concerned-smiles and I walk like paper-doll robot with my sword autonomically swinging up and down. There is no aim. Up, down, up, down. I have less time to be caught up with myself. Slipping.
Cathy keeps wanting medication. Medication doesn't heal a broken heart. I don't even know if sexual love could break my heart anymore. The love between a man and woman. Or a man and a... whatever. I'm afraid of ice. Actually, I DO have an irrational fear of something. It's weird. I can't stand scriggly lines... a particular kind really. They look like loud drum beats recorded on a audio monitor like let's say, Protools. It literally freaks me out. frrreak. My calendar says May. Silently.
Are people appreciated more when their dead? Here's the problem, see. I would really like to find that appreciation while I still breathe. Sense not made here.
I need a raise yet I intensely fear it. Must work on music. Self-soothing techniques. Not enough vices. Not enough outlets. The double-entendre is that it's important to be grounded.
Read I must. That's a good girl. Don't try to understand me. My negativity is in pristine condition. So is my ability to laugh.
Eileen has a new 'girlfriend.' Cathy isn't the happiest.
Maybe I haven't spoken. I don't call. I'm really just caught up in things. I am protecting my investments. Don't take it personally.
'she's got everything I need; pharmacy keys.'
Promotions. I could be more responsible but I am afraid of losing my creativity. Not to mention, the promotion is strange. It is sort of my idea because of where I would acceptably go in the company. I don't really want to go too far. I have gone too far. The rewards are unpromising. As if 'turn-around-normal' from the tom robbins novel were naked. maybe it's not that at all.
i can't even read the numbers in my cell phone. my screen is damaged. my cell phone bill is still $500.00.
I have spent $700.00 on car repairs. More to come.
I have hidden like a little girl. My little girl turns 5. She does vocal warm-ups. She asks me why the flowers are yellow. or green. or spotted.
do they die? why do they die? did i sleep in your tummy, mommy?
Why the hell doesn't regular ginger ale have much ginger in it? Apparently yelling the questions in my head doesn't answer them. Not like anyone cares. That's just it. I hate the idea of a corporation. My body is a corporation. My heart is the CEO. Your hands are a business partner.
I am really excellent at sitting and doing nothing. And the world spies. And lies. I'm spun.
The sad part is that I speak the way I write. Needless to say, I try not to speak too much. I'm not this writer that blooms on paper or keyboard. I can't write. I confuse people who feel strongly about me in the negative sense. I get confused. I don't keep the enemies closer. I keep them confused. I get caught up in it. I am afraid that professionalism is aging me. I looked in the mirror today and saw an old lady. Thin. I wear facial sunscreen.
What's worse is I have learned to play the game. I hide my personality and smile business-i'm-concerned-smiles and I walk like paper-doll robot with my sword autonomically swinging up and down. There is no aim. Up, down, up, down. I have less time to be caught up with myself. Slipping.
Cathy keeps wanting medication. Medication doesn't heal a broken heart. I don't even know if sexual love could break my heart anymore. The love between a man and woman. Or a man and a... whatever. I'm afraid of ice. Actually, I DO have an irrational fear of something. It's weird. I can't stand scriggly lines... a particular kind really. They look like loud drum beats recorded on a audio monitor like let's say, Protools. It literally freaks me out. frrreak. My calendar says May. Silently.
Are people appreciated more when their dead? Here's the problem, see. I would really like to find that appreciation while I still breathe. Sense not made here.
I need a raise yet I intensely fear it. Must work on music. Self-soothing techniques. Not enough vices. Not enough outlets. The double-entendre is that it's important to be grounded.
Read I must. That's a good girl. Don't try to understand me. My negativity is in pristine condition. So is my ability to laugh.