Friday. I need more coffee, but it's upsetting my stomach, so I'll sit here and drink a diet lime coke instead. I think I'm addicted to them. Nothing else tastes good anymore. It's a lovely, gray, rainy day, which suits my mood perfectly. I have a meeting to go to where things will undoubtedly escalate into a poo-flinging contest, but I have to go anyway. I would try not to say anything at this meeting, but my boss asked me for input about problems we're having with support from this other area, and lo and behold, my input became the agenda. I guess I'll get through it, but I don't have the heart for this kind of confrontation right now. I'll probably end up kow-towing to save face, since I don't want to break down in front of these guys. It's already been a stressful morning, since today's the last day to order stuff on this fiscal year's budget, and my boss came in at 5:30 last night needing two color laser printers and five laptops ordered. My procuremet card is maxed, unless they've already cleared the balance for processing purposes, so I ordered two printers on another girl's p-card, then used hers for two of the five laptops, then tried to see if they would sandwich the other three on mine. I finished placing the order two minutes before the billing manager came in to tell me not to order anything else because of some mixup she'd had. So I'm in the doghouse - but what else is new. I stay in the doghouse so much I've gone ahead and started the re-decorating process - might as well enjoy my frequent stays.
I've never been good with expressing emotions. I always felt that emotions were a sign of weakness - part of being raised as my father's "son", I suppose. Lately I'm having a hard time bottling up those things that bubble up when people start flinging arrows and stones. Some I deserve. Others, less so. Innocent comments get taken out of context and used to further some cause. I make a genuine post about an overwhelming feeling I have, and someone turns it into an accusation, based on some sort of internet statistic that proves I've posted in response to something else. Frankly, I don't see the connection. I get angry more often than I used to, but I often feel like I've been kicked in the gut too. I'm not accustomed to that one. It usually brings tears. Intended kindnesses are perceived as attempts to control. And this post will be labeled as an attempt to send someone on a guilt trip - but hey - if the shoe fits, baby, wear it out.
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