PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

i have too much LIFE

Wednesday, Feb. 09, 2005
I completely hate whenever you have, no not have, but rather are having a stressful life, yes life, not day, not hour, not minute, but LIFE.

Last night there was a fire alarm tripped at the University and we had to evacuate over 200 students, then there was a snafu and I could not post my Learning Team Assignment on time, then I got home and found that I had overlooked the later topic of my personal assignment of a college paper and presentation and spent 2 ½ hours into the wee morning not being depressive and cry baby angst but typing and working and intellectually thinking about a…..present career, future career, the flipping value of a college education schmation. As if at 2 a.m. that’s what I really truly WANT to be doing, and all of this without starbucks to fuel the insanity. Crazy!

I won’t player hate and tell you why I’m so flipping pissed off at the man right now, because I know it’s stress induced and god help me I’m going to see doctor feelgood this week if it kills me. IF I have to skip paying a bill but have me a bottle o’pill, I shall be happy oh yes I will!” (Consider that line my next song lyric)

I flipped out former kristy style and threw a bag of M&M’s on the floor and a box of trash over the balcony nipping the side of some shitass 1970-something heap of shit truck. SO what? Fact is at this point of my ongoing nightmare of the last 48 hours I don’t really give a rat’s ass or a dog’s ass or anyone’s ass about my ill behavior. But then again I do because I got a new doctor’s name and he’s going to make me pharmaceutically phat!

One last thing. I am not 18, I am 34. I do not have the energy of a teenager. I am mid thirties and I am tired. I’m tired, I’m sick, I’m stressed out, I’m overworked, and don’t tell me one more time that I just have an “office” job, because my “office” job is accounting and numbers and phones ringing off the hook, and lien waivers that are expired, notices to owners that have to be documented and houses that are hugely big, and supervisors that want to whine about big houses, and did I mention phones ringing constantly, or have I mentioned that I gave my damned two week notice and even though I’m over it, I’m allowing someone to make me feel guilty for not being superwoman for longer than the last 6 months at one clip!!! Oh and my “other’ job is equally as stressful and I don’t get to sit down for longer that fifteen minutes at a clip before somebody “needs” something and I am constantly working on a time crunch and a deadline that comes down to minutes and seconds even. And yes, I did weigh those damned chairs and they weigh approximately 15 lbs and so I would flip you off, but my arms are too fucking tired because I move about 215 of those bastards every single night of my life, oh except for Sunday night when I sit and watch Desperate Housewives about a pack of female women that have men taking care of them, even if those men are sometimes creepy babysitter watching drooling freaks. Yah, that’s the one night there are never any chairs to wrestle with, stub my toes on, and or break a nail over, but that’s the ONE night I suppose I should spend 4 hours making a homemade meal and washing dishes and mopping floors and being the housewife du jour because….because yes I am a woman and everyone expects us to be flounder broiling hormone sex craved servants. As least some people seem to. Besides, I even made time to make love to you last night. Heck, I even messed around taking a shower and putting on clean pajamas with perfume just so you could say, “Why do you still have your clothes on?” and make me wonder just where the hell did all of our romance go?

Gah! I hate when I feel this way….hate it. Yes, I needed that nap…and nope I didn’t get it. And yes it’s all my fucking fault. All my doing. Me me me. I am to blame for the dwindling rain forests too. I caused that tsunami as well. Trust me….I did it all. Because I’m the loser that does nothing right….I can’t even throw garbage and get full clearance.

Fuck-
PoeticaL

P.S. Tomorrow I’ll be fine….look on the bright side, that’s only 9 hours from now.
2:49 p.m. ::
prev :: next