What A Wonderful World
Just in case anyone feels like they're the only one being shit on by the universe, here's a small sample of my life. This is a what has happened in the last few hours, mind you.
So. I get up and stumble into work, because I've not been getting great sleep. Mostly because I've had a lot on my mind... about a girl. It seems that I find myself in a most unexpected relationship with someone I had thought had no interest in me. But things are on my mind about it, for variuos reasons. Guys would understand me, and ladies would think I'm being shallow. (Not that that's a fucking revelation. I've never pretended to communicate well with any human being, and in matters of romance I am hardly an expert. If I was, I'd be married and living in Virginia right now.)
Anyway, I got a lot of guy-stuff in my head right now. This is added to the fact that I've got roommate issues, which everyone knows are by their very nature irritating and stressful. I've probably started running blood pressure that would call for medication, so rather than do the sensible thing and deal with all of it promptly, I've tried to be diplomatic.
Which means, I don't talk about it. Partly because people act like any problems I have with something equates to them getting upset, and making me feel like a douchewaffle. So I'm heaped up with doubts, irritations, and questions, and I can't do anything about it at all.
Except, I can talk to a few trusted people who have my best interests at heart. Which I do. I talk to a very old, good, dear friend, and try to find some kind of relief. Of course, this old good dear friend decides to inform me of the things others have told him. Which are almost entirely true. About... the girlfriend.
This only adds to my doubts, and I start internalizing (like all well-trained men do; we don't talk to anyone about anything, we have to bear that burden alone and be a stone pillar of stability to those we care about, see). Maybe, just maybe, I am to blame for everything. Maybe the reason that things are the way they are is because, simply put, nobody really likes me all that much and they just kind of keep me at arm's length, and that only out of politeness.
Coming close the breaking point, I realized about a week or two ago, I got to talk about this with the people involved. But because I'm no good at talking (writing is easier for me, and I'm probably not alone there), I have spent a lot of time trying to just find the right way to even bring this shit up.
(Let me clue some of you in, incidentally: there is no good way to bring up certain topics that must, at some point, be brought up. Remember your parents trying to bring up the topic of sex with you in conversation the first time? It's like that, only sometimes worse.)
But it seems all is for naught. The good dear friend went to the original source of information that caused the most recent anguish in me. And told what seems to be either an out-and-out lie, or a wholly deliberate changing of the words used (and the way in which they were used).
The other person, who seems a better friend, was going to just stay out of it, only this kind of involves them a lot. So everyone is apparently talking to everyone, except me, and finally, the other person calls me to apologize. Being the only person to man up and really talk with me, they tell me everything they know, and it rings more like the truth than a lot I've heard in a long time. Only they admit they may have stirred up the shit trying to get to the truth.
This includes possibly, maybe, getting the girlfriend riled up.
That's just the personal stuff. At work I had to deal with a very tight timetable to bring down an important chunk of a hospital's computer system for an upgrade. Then due to problems tha arose, we cancelled the upgrade and had to hustle to get back to a normal nightly routine (though still off by hours, of course).
The personal stuff was intimated to me directly in the middle of the hectic work stuff.
Now I get to spend about 8 hours in pure, unmitigated anxiety. I may come home to my girlfriend wanting to talk, and then leave my ass because of what some God-damn bastard who called himself my friend started. Then I get to deal with people I'm not even sure I want to live with anymore, and trying to deal with that. Maybe even I get to try and move out within a narrow timeframe, spending all my days off of work moving heavy objects around. Maybe my whole life falls apart come tomorrow.
It is a shitty feeling, being helpless and not knowing what to do to fix your own life.
If anyone reading this gives a shit, cross your fingers for me. My life may be about to spiral down the toilet...
So. I get up and stumble into work, because I've not been getting great sleep. Mostly because I've had a lot on my mind... about a girl. It seems that I find myself in a most unexpected relationship with someone I had thought had no interest in me. But things are on my mind about it, for variuos reasons. Guys would understand me, and ladies would think I'm being shallow. (Not that that's a fucking revelation. I've never pretended to communicate well with any human being, and in matters of romance I am hardly an expert. If I was, I'd be married and living in Virginia right now.)
Anyway, I got a lot of guy-stuff in my head right now. This is added to the fact that I've got roommate issues, which everyone knows are by their very nature irritating and stressful. I've probably started running blood pressure that would call for medication, so rather than do the sensible thing and deal with all of it promptly, I've tried to be diplomatic.
Which means, I don't talk about it. Partly because people act like any problems I have with something equates to them getting upset, and making me feel like a douchewaffle. So I'm heaped up with doubts, irritations, and questions, and I can't do anything about it at all.
Except, I can talk to a few trusted people who have my best interests at heart. Which I do. I talk to a very old, good, dear friend, and try to find some kind of relief. Of course, this old good dear friend decides to inform me of the things others have told him. Which are almost entirely true. About... the girlfriend.
This only adds to my doubts, and I start internalizing (like all well-trained men do; we don't talk to anyone about anything, we have to bear that burden alone and be a stone pillar of stability to those we care about, see). Maybe, just maybe, I am to blame for everything. Maybe the reason that things are the way they are is because, simply put, nobody really likes me all that much and they just kind of keep me at arm's length, and that only out of politeness.
Coming close the breaking point, I realized about a week or two ago, I got to talk about this with the people involved. But because I'm no good at talking (writing is easier for me, and I'm probably not alone there), I have spent a lot of time trying to just find the right way to even bring this shit up.
(Let me clue some of you in, incidentally: there is no good way to bring up certain topics that must, at some point, be brought up. Remember your parents trying to bring up the topic of sex with you in conversation the first time? It's like that, only sometimes worse.)
But it seems all is for naught. The good dear friend went to the original source of information that caused the most recent anguish in me. And told what seems to be either an out-and-out lie, or a wholly deliberate changing of the words used (and the way in which they were used).
The other person, who seems a better friend, was going to just stay out of it, only this kind of involves them a lot. So everyone is apparently talking to everyone, except me, and finally, the other person calls me to apologize. Being the only person to man up and really talk with me, they tell me everything they know, and it rings more like the truth than a lot I've heard in a long time. Only they admit they may have stirred up the shit trying to get to the truth.
This includes possibly, maybe, getting the girlfriend riled up.
That's just the personal stuff. At work I had to deal with a very tight timetable to bring down an important chunk of a hospital's computer system for an upgrade. Then due to problems tha arose, we cancelled the upgrade and had to hustle to get back to a normal nightly routine (though still off by hours, of course).
The personal stuff was intimated to me directly in the middle of the hectic work stuff.
Now I get to spend about 8 hours in pure, unmitigated anxiety. I may come home to my girlfriend wanting to talk, and then leave my ass because of what some God-damn bastard who called himself my friend started. Then I get to deal with people I'm not even sure I want to live with anymore, and trying to deal with that. Maybe even I get to try and move out within a narrow timeframe, spending all my days off of work moving heavy objects around. Maybe my whole life falls apart come tomorrow.
It is a shitty feeling, being helpless and not knowing what to do to fix your own life.
If anyone reading this gives a shit, cross your fingers for me. My life may be about to spiral down the toilet...