"I can so clearly distinguish between the criminal and his crime; I can so sincerely forgive the first while I abhor the last: with this creed revenge never worries my heart, degradation never too deeply disgusts me, injustice never crushes me too low: I live in calm, looking to the end."
"Plain you can dress up. Ugly there's no cure for."
How about an update on the new job? I'll start with the two worst things:
1. I work on the tenth floor of a ten story building. This may not seem like a bad thing. However, consider this: I'm afraid of elevators. Ask Katie about our room in Chicago... Lol. So, that means that I walk up and down the stairs twice a day. But there aren't ten flights of stairs. Oh, no. There's a concourse. Meaning: ELEVEN flights of stairs. Twice a day. Up and down. Work that out... That's 44 flights of stairs in a day! I'd better have a great ass at the end of this.
2. DRESS. CODE. Oh yes, I'm in dress code hell. Remember me? I'm the person who has no problem wearing pjs to work. Now, I must conform to "business casual." That's not even the worst part, although I'm not happy about it. The worst part is everyone looks exactly the same. Very very fake and very very bitchy. Every one acts very sweet. Too sweet. Like they're going to go straight to the pub after work and talk about what a fat ass you have. Plus, I think all the guys are a bit this way and that. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) And, I saw six guys wearing the same shirt in one day. Doesn't that scare anyone else??
Okay, now that my two biggest rants are done, I'm actually over qualified for this job. I was suppose to have a week's worth of training and did two days because I was going out of my mind. By the end of the first hour I could have done the job in my sleep. A monkey could do this job.
Assuming, of course, that they had a nice suit.
Plus, I have to walk to and from the city centre to my building, which is a fifteen minute walk. Like I said, GREAT ASS. And the hour long bus ride twice a day. Other than that, it's not a bad job. Needless to say, I'm considering my options still.
Would you believe that Katie got a Xanga? I'm so impressed. Oh, and Katie... Draco's at the next convention. Thought you may want to know.
Another point of interest...
I got an email from my mother. And, five minutes later, I have a cold sore. Does that surprise anyone?
Did she tell me how much they miss me and how they made a terrible mistake and would like to hear from me? That they want to make amends? Do you really think so?
No. She wants her mother's rings back. Part of me wants to say (excuse my French) fuck off. Until you grow up, I'm not doing shit for you. But then, the part of me that's moved on and just wants a peaceful life, (yes, there is that part of me) just says send them and be done with her. And then she tried to guilt trip me saying that my father doesn't have long and that he can't wait for me as long as they waited for Rhonda.
What? Waited for Rhonda to come humble herself before them so that they would grace her with the glowing light of their conditional love? When we called all they did was try to pick fights with me and belittle me.
Do I deserve this? Have I been a bad person? Is there something so inherently bad in me that good things shy away? Or am I the tortured product of apathetic, ineffectual parentage? Will I ever know the answer?
If you're my friend and you read this from time to time, please leave a comment and share your thoughts with me. Or, if you're a trained counsellor that would like to offer free advice, leave a suggestion.