I love my job, and hate a few co-workers
OK kids...here's a little token of advice for those of you that happen to be less intelligent than me, which probably wont be many:
Don't sleep with co-workers, especially if they're douchebags.
AND:
If you are a fat, balding italian, don't wear pink shirts or salmon blazers.
And no, I didn't sleep with a fat balding italian man in a pink wifebeater and salmon blazer.
That is all for now.
OK kids...here's a little token of advice for those of you that happen to be less intelligent than me, which probably wont be many:
Don't sleep with co-workers, especially if they're douchebags.
AND:
If you are a fat, balding italian, don't wear pink shirts or salmon blazers.
And no, I didn't sleep with a fat balding italian man in a pink wifebeater and salmon blazer.
That is all for now.
Live, Breathe, Sleep, Eat.....Work
Apparently work is a sickness for me. Not only do I spend the majority of my time there, I come home, or go to a bar...and work. I brainstorm about...work. It's becoming frightening. I think I need an intervention. I don't get paid enough to devote my life to this fucking place.
Here is how my schedule had been as of late:
July 31st- August 5th: work roughly 10 hour days
August 6th: off
August 7th-11th: work roughly 10 hour days
August 12th and 13th: Spend 11 hours daily at a dental workshop/conference, aka work
August 14th through 18th: work
So yeah, this amounts to 1 day off out of 19....
FUCK THIS SHIT!
I love my job, I love my paycheck, but jesus christ, this is getting to be excessive, even for me.
And now, now I'm going to go work on the anesthesia monitoring log, though I should be sleeping.
At what point do I realize I'm psychotic?
Apparently work is a sickness for me. Not only do I spend the majority of my time there, I come home, or go to a bar...and work. I brainstorm about...work. It's becoming frightening. I think I need an intervention. I don't get paid enough to devote my life to this fucking place.
Here is how my schedule had been as of late:
July 31st- August 5th: work roughly 10 hour days
August 6th: off
August 7th-11th: work roughly 10 hour days
August 12th and 13th: Spend 11 hours daily at a dental workshop/conference, aka work
August 14th through 18th: work
So yeah, this amounts to 1 day off out of 19....
FUCK THIS SHIT!
I love my job, I love my paycheck, but jesus christ, this is getting to be excessive, even for me.
And now, now I'm going to go work on the anesthesia monitoring log, though I should be sleeping.
At what point do I realize I'm psychotic?
Pittsburgh, The Quiet Storm, Bees and Bobcats
So Eve asked if I wanted to go to Pittsburgh last week, and of course I said FUCK YEAH. There is nothing better than travel, except travel with Eve. I have to admit, I was somewhat nervous about meeting her folks, had no idea it entailed meeting her grandma, and was even slightly flustered at the idea of meeting her friend. I should have had more faith in this woman. Her folks were amazing, her grandmother the most awesome lady I've met in quite some time, and her friends, well put quite simply they rock major ass.
Halfway through the trip we found out the most incredible apartment I've ever seen was for rent, and cheap as shit. So what does one do with that information? Well, if you are Eve and I, you decide to rent it as a vacation/weekend house. I am in LOVE with Pittsburgh! I am in love with the idea of having a home to go to 4 hours away on the weekends. I am so psyched about possibly living in Pittburgh that I am actually looking forward to working overtime just to have enough money to make it happen. This place is fucking fabulous! It's everything you could possibly want in an apartment. My only fear: Pittsburgh will suck me into its charming vortex and steal me away from DC.
Life never ceases to amaze me...I love it right now.
So Eve asked if I wanted to go to Pittsburgh last week, and of course I said FUCK YEAH. There is nothing better than travel, except travel with Eve. I have to admit, I was somewhat nervous about meeting her folks, had no idea it entailed meeting her grandma, and was even slightly flustered at the idea of meeting her friend. I should have had more faith in this woman. Her folks were amazing, her grandmother the most awesome lady I've met in quite some time, and her friends, well put quite simply they rock major ass.
Halfway through the trip we found out the most incredible apartment I've ever seen was for rent, and cheap as shit. So what does one do with that information? Well, if you are Eve and I, you decide to rent it as a vacation/weekend house. I am in LOVE with Pittsburgh! I am in love with the idea of having a home to go to 4 hours away on the weekends. I am so psyched about possibly living in Pittburgh that I am actually looking forward to working overtime just to have enough money to make it happen. This place is fucking fabulous! It's everything you could possibly want in an apartment. My only fear: Pittsburgh will suck me into its charming vortex and steal me away from DC.
Life never ceases to amaze me...I love it right now.
Come Over
As of late I've been contemplating the various aspects of my life in which I find very little or no happiness...and I've reached a conclusion: I enjoy having perspective, even if it means the catalyst for perspective involves copious amounts of anguish.
I haven't really decided how fucked up this thought process is yet, but I'm leaning toward the unhealthy end of the spectrum.
It sems so much easier for me to find the wrong than the right these days. I have an unquenchable thirst for misery, a heartfelt desire to know that I can conquer whatever life throws at me...which I've reasoned equals undertaking emotions, feelings, challenges that may not be sane or healthy. It's a sick "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger" mentality. Death has become so prevalent in my life that I'm almost numb to it, but cannot seem to seperate myself from the reality of it entirely. I don't want to be robotic, though I can see the benefits of living a life without emotion. I'm starting to think at some point in the next 2 years I may have to change professions. I wonder if human medicine is different. Being the emo-dumbass-liberal I am, I would tend to think watching people die would be easier than watching animals die. We are all so flawed and destructive, while animals seem to assume an aura of innocence and grace that simply is. I LOVE my job, I love that I have the opportunity to contribute to saving a furry life. I hate that I become attached to animals that never even have half a chance. I abhor the fact that there is only so much I can do, that sometimes the best outcome for an animal is death. I despise watching suffering, and being powerless to stop it. I hate that finance plays such a huge role in whether or not the opportunity to live is granted. Would I euthanize my grandmother if she became ill and I couldn't afford treatment? Hell fucking no. Who decided animals are our property? Who made that fucking rule? They sure as shit didn't, and it strikes me as tragically unfair that because animals can't communicate in our language we discount them as being less than...less important, less deserving, less inspiring.
As a child I hated school with such a passion I often found myself wishing to be reincarnated as a dog or cat in my next life. How atrociously naive is that? After witnessing the suffering of creatures unable to express their predicaments, I think I'll pass on the reincarnation scene.
Why is my heart so full of emptiness? How can one person allow themselves to become attached to any and everything that will ultimately end in heartbreak? This is my fatal flaw, this is where empathy becomes a bitter cyanide capsule. I want to see the sun, the glass half full and a plethora of varied cliches promoting positivity. If it's what I want, why wont I allow myself to grasp it?
My current position allows for much less attachment than when I was an emergency medicine tech, certainly, but it is not without its woes and complications. Situations in which the remedy is so involved and convoluted it becomes an exhausting chore to simply sort out the details.Where has the energy I once had to cope with these situations gone? It's like adrenal exhaustion, only emotional.
But tomorrow is a new day, tomorrow may bring inspiration and randomly amazing recoveries. I want to feel that sense of hope I had when I was religious...over a decade ago. If it wasn't such a facade, a hopeless coping mechanism, I might just entertain the notion of christianity once more. But I'm grown now, and Santa is dead.
Come Over
Come over,
and let me lay my head on your shoulder.
I don't care who you are, who you vote for, or what your life's ambition is...
all I want, is a cozy place, to lay my head, as I drift away
Come over, and don't lie to me or act as if there's a cosmic connection
Lay with me and tell me, everythings ok
as long as I lay, with my head on your shoulder
Come over, and rescue me from this infinite lonliness
that causes me to act without fear of consequence
and has me crying myself to sleep
All I wanted, I could've had
yet threw it away, in untimely confidence
A facade of strength, and all I want
is to feel your heart in my ear
and you, will never exist or see, the misery behind these actions
As of late I've been contemplating the various aspects of my life in which I find very little or no happiness...and I've reached a conclusion: I enjoy having perspective, even if it means the catalyst for perspective involves copious amounts of anguish.
I haven't really decided how fucked up this thought process is yet, but I'm leaning toward the unhealthy end of the spectrum.
It sems so much easier for me to find the wrong than the right these days. I have an unquenchable thirst for misery, a heartfelt desire to know that I can conquer whatever life throws at me...which I've reasoned equals undertaking emotions, feelings, challenges that may not be sane or healthy. It's a sick "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger" mentality. Death has become so prevalent in my life that I'm almost numb to it, but cannot seem to seperate myself from the reality of it entirely. I don't want to be robotic, though I can see the benefits of living a life without emotion. I'm starting to think at some point in the next 2 years I may have to change professions. I wonder if human medicine is different. Being the emo-dumbass-liberal I am, I would tend to think watching people die would be easier than watching animals die. We are all so flawed and destructive, while animals seem to assume an aura of innocence and grace that simply is. I LOVE my job, I love that I have the opportunity to contribute to saving a furry life. I hate that I become attached to animals that never even have half a chance. I abhor the fact that there is only so much I can do, that sometimes the best outcome for an animal is death. I despise watching suffering, and being powerless to stop it. I hate that finance plays such a huge role in whether or not the opportunity to live is granted. Would I euthanize my grandmother if she became ill and I couldn't afford treatment? Hell fucking no. Who decided animals are our property? Who made that fucking rule? They sure as shit didn't, and it strikes me as tragically unfair that because animals can't communicate in our language we discount them as being less than...less important, less deserving, less inspiring.
As a child I hated school with such a passion I often found myself wishing to be reincarnated as a dog or cat in my next life. How atrociously naive is that? After witnessing the suffering of creatures unable to express their predicaments, I think I'll pass on the reincarnation scene.
Why is my heart so full of emptiness? How can one person allow themselves to become attached to any and everything that will ultimately end in heartbreak? This is my fatal flaw, this is where empathy becomes a bitter cyanide capsule. I want to see the sun, the glass half full and a plethora of varied cliches promoting positivity. If it's what I want, why wont I allow myself to grasp it?
My current position allows for much less attachment than when I was an emergency medicine tech, certainly, but it is not without its woes and complications. Situations in which the remedy is so involved and convoluted it becomes an exhausting chore to simply sort out the details.Where has the energy I once had to cope with these situations gone? It's like adrenal exhaustion, only emotional.
But tomorrow is a new day, tomorrow may bring inspiration and randomly amazing recoveries. I want to feel that sense of hope I had when I was religious...over a decade ago. If it wasn't such a facade, a hopeless coping mechanism, I might just entertain the notion of christianity once more. But I'm grown now, and Santa is dead.
Come Over
Come over,
and let me lay my head on your shoulder.
I don't care who you are, who you vote for, or what your life's ambition is...
all I want, is a cozy place, to lay my head, as I drift away
Come over, and don't lie to me or act as if there's a cosmic connection
Lay with me and tell me, everythings ok
as long as I lay, with my head on your shoulder
Come over, and rescue me from this infinite lonliness
that causes me to act without fear of consequence
and has me crying myself to sleep
All I wanted, I could've had
yet threw it away, in untimely confidence
A facade of strength, and all I want
is to feel your heart in my ear
and you, will never exist or see, the misery behind these actions
Sleeping...alone...sucks
This is the conclusion I've come to. Sleeping with two additonal people in my teensy Ikea bed sucks too, especially if one or both are over 5'9", but still being crowded sucks much less than feelin lonely. Since when did being alone start bothering me so much? Perhaps it's the isolation of the last 4 days that has made me realize lonliness is such a drag, but really it seems I used to revel in it. I'm a hermit, I love solitude...right?
Seriously, I may have to put out an ad on Craigslist for transient bed company if this weird mood persists. And no, I'm not talking sex, I'm talking just being able to drift off to sleep while ignoring what the person next to you is droning on about, thankful for their monotonous diatribe and its lullaby effects.
Eve, I miss your stinking ass. You're one of those rare individuals that upon meeting you I realized I was going to know you awhile, and fall in love with your personality.Because of you, I have beciome addicted to Honey Puffed Wheat Cereal by the handful...only problem is my self control when not working equals me eating roughly, oh, a whole fucking bag of the shit. I think my blood glucose is around 660 now.
I would like to be snuggled in the arms of a giant hairy dude right now. Yes, ideally he would be approx. 8 feet tall, 350 pounds, and hairy as hell. I think I might be looking for a gorilla. Oh, and he'd kick the ass of anyone that tried to mess with me. Hmm...I think I need to slow down on the codeine, just a bit.
This is the conclusion I've come to. Sleeping with two additonal people in my teensy Ikea bed sucks too, especially if one or both are over 5'9", but still being crowded sucks much less than feelin lonely. Since when did being alone start bothering me so much? Perhaps it's the isolation of the last 4 days that has made me realize lonliness is such a drag, but really it seems I used to revel in it. I'm a hermit, I love solitude...right?
Seriously, I may have to put out an ad on Craigslist for transient bed company if this weird mood persists. And no, I'm not talking sex, I'm talking just being able to drift off to sleep while ignoring what the person next to you is droning on about, thankful for their monotonous diatribe and its lullaby effects.
Eve, I miss your stinking ass. You're one of those rare individuals that upon meeting you I realized I was going to know you awhile, and fall in love with your personality.Because of you, I have beciome addicted to Honey Puffed Wheat Cereal by the handful...only problem is my self control when not working equals me eating roughly, oh, a whole fucking bag of the shit. I think my blood glucose is around 660 now.
I would like to be snuggled in the arms of a giant hairy dude right now. Yes, ideally he would be approx. 8 feet tall, 350 pounds, and hairy as hell. I think I might be looking for a gorilla. Oh, and he'd kick the ass of anyone that tried to mess with me. Hmm...I think I need to slow down on the codeine, just a bit.
Bloody cough and vanilla chai spice
This is day 3 of calling out of work. I'm still sick. My cough has gone from mildly obnoxious on Tuesday, to bloody and a total interference in my life. I can't work, can't sleep, can't be comfortable without mass doses of Hycodan, the best codeine cough syrup known to man. I'm taking 2,000 mg of Erythromycin daily, for three days, and no improvement. My car was towed on Tuesday from my apartment parking lot because I was so doped up on codeine I didn't wake up in time to move it. $160 later, I have it back, and I'm seriously considering selling the motherfucker. This piece of crap car has cost me more in the last week than I ever thought possible, what with getting the "boot" and then towed.
Just talked to my boss, and there arent any shifts I can cover this weekend, which means I wont be able to even make rent next month. I'm freaking out man, and have no idea what I'm going to do. Times like these make me want to give up and go back to Texas, something I never thought would seem appealing. I must delerious from the 72 hours of febrility. Who the fuck has a fever on antibiotics? Jesus Christ, somebody shoot me in the face please.
I miss my friends, I'm too germy to socialize. Eviepants, save me!!!!
I pulled a real jackass manuver and decided to strip my hair the night before I fell terribly ill...perhaps all the fumes of bleach contributed to my excessive illness. But, on the upside, my hair is red again and I got all of the black out. It looks decent. It's a change. Goes well with my sickly green pallor.
I think I need to start writing more, as I'm depressed, lonely, and need some sort of constructive way to fill my time. So yeah, I think a short story about death is in order. What better way to fulfill my deathwish than fantasizing about the various ways in which I will meet my demise. That sounds sorta mentally ill, but really I'm just amused by lifes little pranks and looking for an outlet to scream my frustrations.
This is day 3 of calling out of work. I'm still sick. My cough has gone from mildly obnoxious on Tuesday, to bloody and a total interference in my life. I can't work, can't sleep, can't be comfortable without mass doses of Hycodan, the best codeine cough syrup known to man. I'm taking 2,000 mg of Erythromycin daily, for three days, and no improvement. My car was towed on Tuesday from my apartment parking lot because I was so doped up on codeine I didn't wake up in time to move it. $160 later, I have it back, and I'm seriously considering selling the motherfucker. This piece of crap car has cost me more in the last week than I ever thought possible, what with getting the "boot" and then towed.
Just talked to my boss, and there arent any shifts I can cover this weekend, which means I wont be able to even make rent next month. I'm freaking out man, and have no idea what I'm going to do. Times like these make me want to give up and go back to Texas, something I never thought would seem appealing. I must delerious from the 72 hours of febrility. Who the fuck has a fever on antibiotics? Jesus Christ, somebody shoot me in the face please.
I miss my friends, I'm too germy to socialize. Eviepants, save me!!!!
I pulled a real jackass manuver and decided to strip my hair the night before I fell terribly ill...perhaps all the fumes of bleach contributed to my excessive illness. But, on the upside, my hair is red again and I got all of the black out. It looks decent. It's a change. Goes well with my sickly green pallor.
I think I need to start writing more, as I'm depressed, lonely, and need some sort of constructive way to fill my time. So yeah, I think a short story about death is in order. What better way to fulfill my deathwish than fantasizing about the various ways in which I will meet my demise. That sounds sorta mentally ill, but really I'm just amused by lifes little pranks and looking for an outlet to scream my frustrations.
I love my job, no really, I do...
I just hate a lot of the assclowns I work with. Namely a big ugly one with a condescending stick up her ass. If you've ever worked with a person like this, you realize what a tragedy it is for them to be in a managerial position. I love it when my fellow co-workers and I bust ass so she can sit around gossipping, and then have the nerve to act more intelligent and well educated than every single doctor in the practice. Bitches.
Enough rage though. I haven't written anything approaching profound in quite a while. For some reason the lackluster has taken over and my priorities are just different. My house is also a wreck, another oddity that would normally make me pull my hair out, not so much right now.
My roommate is gone for 2 weeks...which is oddly freeing and lonely as hell simultaneously. How did I ever live alone??? I usually revel in solitude, but I've become accustomed to overnight guests and a live in roomie. It's eerily quiet, such that I had to put away dishes a moment ago just to make some noise.
My dog wont quit shitting in the house, though I think I've remedied that with the addition of a kennel. Bastard ate 2 dozen cookies this morning, then had blow out diarrhea. I hate being an absent minded pet owner.
I'm rambling, I need to be showering to go out later...this seems better than bathing at the moment. It's ball hot, and I wonder how on earth I thought moving 1700 miles would ensure I never see another over 85 degree day ever again. I was clearly bamboozled.
I just hate a lot of the assclowns I work with. Namely a big ugly one with a condescending stick up her ass. If you've ever worked with a person like this, you realize what a tragedy it is for them to be in a managerial position. I love it when my fellow co-workers and I bust ass so she can sit around gossipping, and then have the nerve to act more intelligent and well educated than every single doctor in the practice. Bitches.
Enough rage though. I haven't written anything approaching profound in quite a while. For some reason the lackluster has taken over and my priorities are just different. My house is also a wreck, another oddity that would normally make me pull my hair out, not so much right now.
My roommate is gone for 2 weeks...which is oddly freeing and lonely as hell simultaneously. How did I ever live alone??? I usually revel in solitude, but I've become accustomed to overnight guests and a live in roomie. It's eerily quiet, such that I had to put away dishes a moment ago just to make some noise.
My dog wont quit shitting in the house, though I think I've remedied that with the addition of a kennel. Bastard ate 2 dozen cookies this morning, then had blow out diarrhea. I hate being an absent minded pet owner.
I'm rambling, I need to be showering to go out later...this seems better than bathing at the moment. It's ball hot, and I wonder how on earth I thought moving 1700 miles would ensure I never see another over 85 degree day ever again. I was clearly bamboozled.
Fuck the Boot!
I got booted today. It's not enough that I feel like shooting myself in the face lately, or that I have $13 to last through Friday, but no, motherfuckin DC parking enforcement booted my ass. $505 later, I have my car. I HATE this fucking city. I hate being alone, but I can't be with anyone for fear of fucking up my life and theirs. I am so CONFUSED! Yes, that's right, I'm angry and bitter and hateful, and the complete opposite of who I really am right now. What the hell? I need to vent...I'm such a goddamned whiner. I can only hope no one is reading this and I will resume being my normal, sane, loving, intelligent self soon.
FUCK THIS. Where is serendipity when you need it?
I got booted today. It's not enough that I feel like shooting myself in the face lately, or that I have $13 to last through Friday, but no, motherfuckin DC parking enforcement booted my ass. $505 later, I have my car. I HATE this fucking city. I hate being alone, but I can't be with anyone for fear of fucking up my life and theirs. I am so CONFUSED! Yes, that's right, I'm angry and bitter and hateful, and the complete opposite of who I really am right now. What the hell? I need to vent...I'm such a goddamned whiner. I can only hope no one is reading this and I will resume being my normal, sane, loving, intelligent self soon.
FUCK THIS. Where is serendipity when you need it?
sometimes life is so...hopeless. i'll say i'm happy, even smile as i wash down my pills. pills that do nothing. pills that cost too much to do nothing. i'm in a rut. my creativity is shot. i utter monosyllabic words 95% of the time. i look back at my actions and see nothing but damage. i look around and see everyone around me reaching out in desperation as their lives crumble. i watch the ceiling and cant sleep. i go out and drink too much to give an illusion of happiness, all the while seething with a silent rage that screams IM NOT HAPPY. i cant quit thinking for 5 seconds but am tormented by the emptiness inside my heart. i am more fucked up than i've ever been, and yet im better than ive ever been. im confused by this life and want a new one. i want. how american of me. i deserve...what ive gotten.
Thanks everyone for the words of encouragement and offers on meds.
A year ago today my dad passed, and I'm sleeping through it. If you try to call, and get my voicemail, I'm piss drunk and passed out. I'll resume normal communication once the day is done.
J
A year ago today my dad passed, and I'm sleeping through it. If you try to call, and get my voicemail, I'm piss drunk and passed out. I'll resume normal communication once the day is done.
J
