the cookie incident

There are a certain number of truths I carry around with me in life to help me maintain my sense of equilibrium in this crazy world - the kind of comforts I can lay my head on at night.  Things like 'the Kardashians are mostly made of plastic', 'chocolate is good', 'baby pink does not suit my colouring' and 'you can never have too many pairs of earrings', so on and so forth.

FACT: I can cook a kick-ass choc-chip and pecan nut cookie. Anyone who tries aforementioned cookie, loves it, and me - by way of the heart route via stomach phenomenon.  I could hang my hat on that certainty.

I recently had my first year anniversary at my not-so-new job. Baking seemed appropriate, it seemed like the kind of thing Jesus might do if he had earned his one year badge with an employer. I went to the recipe - I carefully, perhaps even lovingly sifted, chopped, weighed, measured, mixed, spooned, baked and packed, to perfection, said kick-ass choc-chip and pecan nut cookies. This morning I took them in; I even hand wrote a kooky-yet-charming sign inviting my co-workers to partake in the cookie eating.  I didn't expect a fanfare, I just wanted to say, you know "thanks" (read: "thanks, for not being complete assholes all of the time") and perhaps hope they would enjoy them as much as every other human who has ever encountered them before.

Tasting got off to a VERY slow start.  None of this pre-10am business.  "Pussies" I thought. Pfft - I had one at 7.25am. My boss finally tried one, and seemingly loved it, reaction was baseline kick-ass cookie - grateful and kind. Someone else tried one, after I suggested it a couple of times, said nothing - may as well have been eating dirt I guess. Someone else tried one, told me I did "well" (like - what the fuck?) and kept moving on. Someone else gave them a go on her lunch-break and also indicated her enjoyment, even went back for a second in quick succession. By the end of the day, there was one lonely cookie left. As I walked out the door, picking up my box with it's single lonely kick-ass cookie, I asked my old supervisor, knowing she hadn't tried one yet, if she wanted it, "No thanks" she said. Then, I turned to the only dude that works in my department and asked if he would have the last one. "No thanks, I already had one". "Fuck you" I said (in my head). I'm not a pretty face, by no means can I sway and seduce with any form of charm or charisma - but no man - no man has ever declined my fucking cookie before.  It hurt. It hurt real bad.

Maybe I expected too much. My previous bunch of coworkers loved the absolute shit out of these cookies.  I'd get baking requests, recipe sharing requests.  The damn container was always empty at the end of the day, and if there happened to be one morsel left out of politeness, I wouldn't have to ask more than once before a taker or two quickly appeared.

Had I lost my baking prowess?

Had my faithful recipe betrayed me?

Had I asked too much of the great cookie Gods?

I've been trying really hard not to hate the people I work with. (It's really challenging some days). I've had some frustrating setbacks, and experiences this past year and I've just been wanting to accept, and carry on like the good soldier I can be. Sometimes there are tears, sometimes there is sniping and there is always swearing - but Jesus, I try! And I made these people my prize fucking cookies!

I smoldered on the drive home. What is wrong with these people? What did I do to deserve this? How DARE they? I just couldn't reconcile the days cookie intake, or reaction. By the end of my short drive, I concluded that they simply must be queer.  It also occurred to me after some venting, that it had been quite important, that they like my offering. This result did not meet my expectations, and I must own my part in wanting that acceptance to transfer to me. The person, not the kick-ass cookie.

It shits me to tears, but it is an undeniable truth that, right or no, all I ever want of people is for them to like me, accept me, appreciate me. Learning that this isn't always possible, is a lesson hard-won.

But seriously, who in their right mind says "no" to food offered by a half-blood Sicilian? It's unheard of. Work dude better watch out. He's going to have to work seriously hard for my throwaway laughs now. Fucker. And just as I was starting to like him too.

breaking up with Facebook

Dear Facebook,

We've been dancing around this issue for a while, but I finally have the courage to say.... it's over between us.  I just don't like you anymore.  Truth be told, I'm not sure I ever really did.

Yes, to start with you made me feel more included, more connected - you used to be fun.  Pictures of people I hadn't seen in years were enlightening, inspiring even. Travels could be tracked, virtual catch-ups were heartwarming, and even the stalking came in handy... once in a while.

But then, it became about numbers.. how many 'friends' did I have, who requested me, who didn't?
Who dumped me as their 'friend'?
Who wished me happy birthday this year?
Who 'liked' my photo?
Who commented? What did they say? What did they really mean?
Who is that?!
Who cares?

With so many 'whos' I've been asking myself why. All you do is bring self doubt and frustration to my fingertips.  For every legitimate good thing you've given me, I've scrolled through dozens, and dozens of bullshit posts, adverts and 'selfies' oh, how I hate the selfies.

And then there's the way you crept into my conversations.  Something innocent I had learnt on Facebook, would escape my consciousness and in answer to "where did you hear that?" I had to confess: I saw it on Facebook. Urrrgh I feel dirty.

You kept gnawing at my time; anytime I sat idle for long enough to reach for my phone, all I had to do was tap that little blue icon - for that 'just in case' look.  I couldn't help it, I'd become dependent on knowing everything, anything.  It has become a sickness, the desire to know things that I don't really need to know - I'd become torn between acceptance and freedom.

For I'm sure that all the 'good' reasons Facebook started, have now long since faded away.  Now we're all right back where we never wanted to be - high school.  All the cool kids who still don't want to be your 'friend', watching assholes continue to be assholes via their pictures, bullies with endless rants, and the bad spelling - so much bad spelling.

You are an enabler Facebook - you have allowed every wank-fest, whinge-fest, aren't I so funny/clever/ironic/hot/sad/happy-fest to go on, and on, and on.  And I won't take any more of it. You are a terrible 'friend' Facebook. And don't think I don't know you're using my likes and preferences as a way to shove more marketing and rubbish down my throat!

Now you see, I just don't care. I've always had one foot out of the 'normal' world anyway, the way I see it I may as well step through and get comfortable where I'm standing.

As 2013 rapidly draws to a close, a year which has been choc-full of rubbish - I'm finally cleaning up.  I'm simplifying my existence.  Who knows how long it will last?  When that first pang of guilt or fear hits, will I be tempted to rejoin the masses?  Whatever happens, just know Facebook - that in this dysfunctional relationship, it's not me, it is most definitely you.

that funny old feeling..

It's back, that anticipating scratch without an itch, the thick fog of thoughts and fears, maybes and should haves.  It's time... to go back to work.

Silly really, at the start of the two weeks everything looks so bright and shiny, waiting to be smudged with your fingerprint - and the best news is that you can, you can do anything, be anything, because you have the time.  Time has almost run out, and the mood overcoming me now is definitely the least optimistic of the two.

It's hard to put my finger on it really, but it's the ultimate 'out of body experience' - my body is here, my arms, my legs within my control - oh look! I'm driving... how did I get here again.. but my mind, boy, I don't know where that is. I can't reign it in, can't even hook a single thought, it's all blur and shit.

I found a couple of potential jobs for applying, but discounted one just this night - on the basis of a Facebook stalk... well, partly.  Yes, I do believe I am crazy.

I just want out.  I want out, out, OUT!

"Close some doors - not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance but simply because they no longer lead somewhere."  Paolo Coehlo

I want to slam that door closed, screw it shut, hang out the front for a while and tell everyone who passes by not to go through it.  Then I'll climb out the nearest window.  I'm just so fucking miserable at this job.

I've been reading a little more than usual lately.  Don Miguel Ruiz's "The Four Agreements", gives me four 'rules' to live by:
1) Be impeccable with your word.
2) Don't take anything personally.
3) Don't make assumptions.
4) Always do your best.
They certainly make sense, and I have been trying to keep them in mind.  But I know come next week, a few of them are going to be challenging.  At my current job, I have lost the desire to do my best, to try hard, because I just can't see the point.  I hate that I feel this way. I abhor the reality that I'm not performing 100%.

I also started reading a blogger, turned published author's book on her anxious existence. Turns out it's actually less funny, more anxiety-inducing/alarming for me.  *shrugs ironically*

I had a dream last night, I had an amazing idea for a blog post, I even had a clever name for the post, and anecdote to deliver it - I got the pad and pen beside my bed and wrote it down.  I was rather perturbed later this morning, when I realised I'd woken up and written this great idea down while still dreaming.

Perhaps this idea was driven by my guilt of not having written in a while, my insecurities about having nothing to say, being unable to find the right words.  Or, it might also be to do with seeing this in a local shop earlier this week:

I want the mug, but know I'd also kind of feel like a fraud using it. A potential pen cup perhaps?

bitch be raging

Things have become so outrageously out of hand in these recent times.  In my external environment, at work, it's like a topsy-turvy world where nobody makes sense.  I feel like I'm the only one stumbling around, scratching my head asking what the fuck is going on? Has everyone been body snatched? Where have all the good people gone?

Without too much detail, I've been trodden on one too many times, so it is now a desperate hunt for a new job.  I've been at my current job for almost six years, and these past months have been some of the most hurtful and upsetting thus far.  Every time something new happens, I shake my head and wonder why. Do I ask for these things?  Is there something in me that attracts rubbish people?

I'm such an easy mark too - not a great deal of confidence, not really assertive - I'd probably roll over if you asked nicely, and even if you didn't....

But for sobbing out loud (and I have been) isn't there any loyalty anymore? Respect? Decency?

Perhaps I expect too much from people? I do expect some shred of fairness from the world.  I do expect my everything to count for some thing.  But lately the world has shown me, no, no they fucking don't.  I can see it now, the universe wagging her index finger, tut-tut-tutting at me...

Why do I have such a 'warped' sense of the world? Because I'm a fundamentally good person - in spite of my frequent profanity use.

For too long I've let it slide - but now I realise I am actually worth more than the sum total of the collective assholes who think it's ok to shit on people, just because they can.  And I've decided - I'm not putting up with it anymore. I'm just not.  I'll move on.  And if the next bunch of people turn out to be turds, I'll move on again.  And I'll keep moving on and on, and on, and even if I don't stop moving until I find myself adopted into a pack of wolves, that's ok. Because I just don't want to be around people that make me feel bad anymore.  Life is too short.

I can't change the world, or the people in it - but I sure can control where I'm standing.

strategies for working with stupid people

Every now and then you meet a person, who on every conceivable level annoys the complete shit out of you. It's as if your aura's clash and repel like charged magnets, or batteries, or whatever the laws of science say. I have one of these people in my wider work team, and I'm really struggling to deal with him. From this moment on, he shall be referred to as 'Beet-Boy'.

I used to consider myself a 'nice' person, but the longer I spend in the approximate company of Beet-Boy - the more nasty and horrible I become.  I am unable to hide my disdain for Beet-Boy - I verbally, passive aggressively assault him whenever the opportunity presents itself. I know this isn't right - it's a poor reflection of me and it's mean to him - but I just seem to lose control of my face and mouth where he is concerned.

He's like an eight year old in a forty year olds awkward body - he has zero social skills, is lazy, nonsensical and arrogant.  He wears inappropriately short-shorts, eats cold baked beans from the can and likes beetroot way too much. He has googly eyes which pierce (and not the good kind of piercing), and overall I just can't stand the sight of him without my face hardening and my words turning venomous.

Admittedly I don't have a lot of tolerance for stupidity - but I really do need to feign some form of respect for Beet-Boy, who is technically my 'elder' and my work superior.  I hate feeling like a bad person, and just wish I was able to rise above all the shit at work that brings me down like a sinking stone.

Until that lotto win happens, I might have to grow accustomed to keeping my mouth shut - or biting my tongue, turning the other cheek, twisting my own arm, pulling someone elses leg.... wahhhhh!  I thought nature was supposed to 'natural select' the stupid out of a species.

everything is debateable

It's hard being me sometimes.  If I told you the ways in which things are screwy right now, you'd scarcely believe me that someone could be so... unlucky? In an effort not to be self indulgent (and to keep the blood pressure in the acceptable range) let's just say I'm one off-hand remark away from going all Michael Douglas "Falling Down" on someone's ass.

I sat at my desk this afternoon at work - willing the minutes away until I could lock the door and leave the day behind, and I thought to myself how nice it might be to suddenly, I don't know, fall pregnant by immaculate conception, or win lotto, or meet a strange millionaire who takes a liking to my tired face - all this, just so I could check out of my life the way it is right now. So I could feel something other than the festering anger and almost complete hopelessness that I feel almost every moment of every day. I just want to feel something other.  There's got to more. I'm just a relatively normal girl, trying to live a modest, reasonable existence - there has got to be more. 

and that's how I see it...

So, when I'm not fantasizing about keying a fellow employees car, in punishment for parking in a spot they shouldn't be - I do sometimes think about the wider world around me.

For instance, I think Alan Jones is a dick and I feel he probably deserves to not drive a Mercedes Benz ever again, or keep any form of employment that involves the placement of a microphone near his mouth.

Also, kids, 'Skinny Love' belongs to BON IVER.  I know it's an exotic name, and a little harder than 'Birdy' to say in your outside voice. But for crying out loud - google Justin Vernon - it'll blow your fucking minds*!

*and if it doesn't, I simply cannot help you.