Settling In

Work is an asshole. Not as big of an asshole as previous work, with Queen Bitch Extraordinaire. But Queen Bitch Lite still makes for an asshole environment. And since we share a cube wall, I have far more asshole contact than a proctologist. Settling in here looks like: scouring the job boards between writing assignments and interviewing managerial candidates as a side thing I’ve been doing for a different department.

Words are hard. It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be: writing for a living. No, the job isn’t particularly difficult. But it’s tough as hell to write well and consistently about businessy stuff, especially while immersed in cubeland with several chicks all on the phone at once. And then, when it’s all said and done…personal words fail me more and more, and I’m left feeling empty and quiet. I need to figure out how to work through that. But so far, I’m still settling in.

Relationships are harder. Though I’ve been “putting myself out there” more, I find myself actually isolating a great deal. I’ve pushed a lot of people away (you here, my WordPress family, were the first…), including people that I know I really hurt in doing so. Depression, anxiety, blahblah, etc. makes us do things that aren’t good for us. Or others. And I’m not even gonna bother saying I’ll try harder. I’ll just take each day as it comes. And dating. I’ve been dating. Some dates have been stellar. Most have been less than. Far less than. Far. Far. Less than. Okay, borderline lock those motherfuckers up less than. And now there’s this nice boy. Really…nice. But there’s no fire. In the belly. In the mind. In the anything. I’ve never been treated so nicely. Or felt less fire. What does it mean? What do I do with that? The fires never stay. They leave, usually with a trail of destruction in their wake. But damn do they keep you warm while they stick around. And damned if I can’t stop thinking about those fires. Longing for them, even. Why can’t there be a nice fire? Anyway. I’m settling in. With myself. My thoughts. My goals, that I still haven’t figured out. But I’m settling in with them, stewing over them, nursing them, weighing them.

Apartment life is sad. I’m so glad I got out of the psychohouse. Those people seriously need some special kinda help. But now I’m in this mostly-empty apartment. A free couch I found on craigslist, and a mattress. It makes me a bit sad and uncomfortable to be there, so I try to stay out as much as I can. At least on the weekends when I’m not working or tutoring. Parks. Gardens. Concerts. Comedy shows. Poetry stuffs. Spoken word. Pubs. Pinball. Markets. Tulip festivals. This one is more of a trying to settle in. But it’s gonna take a while.

This post sounds mostly kinda pathetic. Probably because I’ve been dealing with Queen Bitch Lite all day. She’s totally PMSing or something, and Stephellaneous is ready to cut a bitch.

So..this is me..peeking my head out. Wanting to write, but feeling drained of words from writing all day at work.

I don’t show it…but I miss y’all. And shit is actually a fuckton better than it was in Louisiana. But I’ve still got a lot of settling in to do.

Advertisements

And Then There Were Flowers

Last week sucked. I mean it sucked so hard, it choked on King Kong’s dong. Believe it or not, this week is a fuckton worse. But this is about last week, not this week’s special brand of misery.

But you know what? I’m finally starting to see that maybe, just maybe, it’s worth it for me to fight through it. It’s worth it for me to not lose sight of my goals and hopes and dreams. Because I deserve happiness, too. (What the fuck did I just say? For real? Yeah, you miserable bitch, take that! We’re not gonna be miserable forever! So fuck you!)

Ahem. And there have been a few very specific people who have been helped me through some of my most recent darkest hours. I don’t want to call out names, in case it would make you uncomfortable. But every fucking one of you know who you are. The emails. The voice recordings. The phone calls. The silly memes. The comforting. The commiseration. And I love y’all for it, I do. Not the I wanna sex you up kinda love (well maybe one of you – maybe). But there are other kinds of love, and I’m feeling this wonderful familial vibe from so many of you. It’s taken me by storm. And you all overwhelm me with your goodness.

And then there were flowers.

Last Friday, my name was called over the intercom at work. “Stephanie Llaneous, please report to the front desk. Stephanie, please report to the front desk.” Whatever. I figured it was time to pony up another buck for the office powerball pool. When I finally get down there, I round the corner and the women up there are grinning at me. There was a bouquet of flowers up there, and they were for me!

I was befuddled. I mean, who would send me flowers? So I looked at the card, and here’s what it reads:

For a Very Special Friend. Have a Good Day.

The fuck?

I don’t have any Very Special Friends. I mean, not outside of the blogosphere. And even if you know where I work, that isn’t enough. I work in a very specific building, so it had to be someone who knew that. And no one in bloggyville does.

So the mystery begins.

The people I share an office with were lovin’ it. And dying to know, right along with me. So then the questions started: are you seeing anyone we don’t know about? Does someone in the office have a crush on you? Duh. Creepy Carl and Panel Van Paco. But neither of them would buy flowers. They’d just chloroform me and stuff me in their trunks. What about outside the office? Crushes who know where you work? Look, people. No one crushes on The Stephanie, capiche?

The only person I could think of would be my ex who, no matter how many years go by, still wants me back. (It’s a difficult story, y’all, and one I’m not ready to talk about here.) So anyway, I call him up.

It wasn’t me. I wish it was, so you’d know you’re never far from my mind. But it wasn’t me.

Then it was like, “Oh my god, Stephanie! What if it’s a woman?!” So then I actually started getting ideas.

First, there is a woman who works in the room with me, and she’s so sweet and fun and motherly. And she knows a little of the fact that I’ve had a very difficult time of late. No details, just generally speaking. Plus she’s witnessed most of the work bullying and has my back big time. So I asked her, point blank.

Nice Lady, did you send these flowers to me?

No way! I wish I had, but they sure are gorgeous! I promise I’d tell you, but it wasn’t me!

Then it hit me. And my sneaking suspicion turned out to be true. It was a woman, someone I’ve had lots of official dealings with during my time at this company. She sends Christmas cards, Halloween buckets filled to the brim with premium candy, King Cakes, etc. For the whole office throughout the year. And when I moved departments, she would make sure that I’d be included by sending me a separate little card or gift. She always missed me when I moved departments, and I missed working with her. She was a bright spot in my days when I’d work with her or talk with her (but oh my god can that woman drone on and on!).

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve had to clean up messes made by some others (not to imply I don’t make my own now and then), so I’ve been working closely with her again. (She’s outside the company, by the way.)

Later that day, last Friday, she sends me an email to thank me for the most recent thing I had prepared for her. And then she asked…”So, any surprises today?” And my suspicion was confirmed. I was in the middle of doing something else for her, and she wanted to make it clear it had nothing to do with the personal pet project she needed help with. But it was to let me know that I’m much appreciated and how much she appreciates my efficiency, kindness, attitude, and on and on. And then she said,

Also, I just had this nagging feeling that you could use a pick-me-up.

Every time something like this happens, I become more and more convinced of the interconnection of spirits and souls or what have you. I know there’s a word for it, but I can’t word right now. (Fuck you, brainhole.)

And then she offered me a job. Which is straight up poaching, because my current supervisor is the one she works directly with here! I’d take it in an instant, but my choices were between two cities I have no interest in residing in. However, their company does have a big location in the Pacific Northwest. So she could totally be an in for me. I’m gearing up to ask her for a reference. But this all requires a separate post.

Anyway.

Thank you, Awesome Flower Woman. Thank you, Kickass Blogger Buddies. Thank you Synchronicity (ohmygod I found the word! I worded!). Thank you Snuffleupagus.

~

This post brought to you by:

Flowers, because they sure do brighten a day.
The Letter S for Synchronicity. And Snuffleupagus, because he was the bestest.
And Fire, for Fires in the Belly and those who put them there.