Welcome to Wednesday. Wednesday has always been my least favorite day of the week at this job, because Wednesday is meeting day. At 10:00, I get to troop over to points north (it's a moveable feast, this meeting - you never know until Wednesday morning where the heck it's going to be held, and there's nothing like hiking all the way over there, only to discover you can't remember what the room number is this time) and sit with my co-workers, my compadres, and a couple of my worst enemies. The meeting used to take forever, but due to personnel changes, there are now days when it takes longer to walk over there than it takes for the meeting to be over with. Which just punctuates the fact that most of this, since it tends to be informational rather than conversational, could be packed up in an e-mail and sent to us, thereby saving us the trouble of blocking out an hour or so in the schedule. But just when I was starting to like the short format, management threw me a curve, and scheduled a meeting every other Wednesday at noon. At least it never moves, but the timing sucks. I leave here between 9:30 and 9:45, hike over to the super-secret meeting location, sit through a 15 minute meeting, hike back by 10:30 - 10:45, grab a snack, then hike back at noon, sit through an hour long meeting with my stomach growling, and then eat lunch from 1:00 to 2:00. By then, my day is shot. But such is the life of a LAN manager.
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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