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The Definition of Insanity...

The Definition of Insanity

as it was once explained to me, is to continuously do the same thing expecting different results. Presumably said "thing" is yielding an unsatisfactory outcome, yet to repeat the actions that produce the negative end is foolish and futile. Yet how many of us can say we do this everyday?

I hate my job, yet I keep getting up and going to it. That's not going to make me any happier. I keep falling in mad, hot lust with gay men...also not causing me much satisfaction. WHAT THE HELL IS MY PROBLEM?

The thing is, I am of at least average intelligence. I'd like to believe considerably above average, but my actions consistently demonstrate otherwise, hence this apparent insanity.

Though, perhaps its not so much a matter of insanity as it is inertia. We tend to stay at motion or at rest. Change is uncomfortable. The unfamiliar, while titilating is fearsome. I love change and hate it all at once. Love it when I'm in charge (ie: painting my bedroom a different color, getting a new haircut). Hate it when I'm not: getting fired, broken up with, house burning down, etc.

I think if we overcame our fear of change, we'd be more likely to seek out the new routes to new outcomes, save ourselves time, frustration, heartache and hangovers.

But in the meantime, I'll continue to ponder that. And maybe have a beer on the porch out in the lovely sunshine.

So its probably time to find a new job...

When you find your self muttering under your breath to your boss, "I will CUT you, bitch!"

Yeah...the "new" position is not so great. I have contemplated the following as coping mechanisms in the past week:

1. bringing a flask to work
2. simply grabbing my coat and walking out and not returning the next time she opens her fat mouth and says something condescending and bitchy
3. getting back on drugs, until I realized, it really ISN'T me, it IS her.
4. hiding something like leftover sushi in her office so it begins to smell utterly putrid within a few days
5. making a voodoo doll that I will commit unspeakable atrocities unto. (shut up about my grammar, I'm mad...in many ways)
6. hiring a hitman(surely there are people out there that have a price, it can't be just in the movies.)

There's more, but I'm sure with the two degrees of separation in this crazy town, there maybe someone reading this who knows my boss and then I'm totally fucked. I'm sure there's some type of Human Resources equivalent to the Patriot Act that would consider these musings a threat to her safety on the job. Implied threat of assault, maybe? Like joking about assasinating the President.

I could go into a whole thing right now about character assasination and how I personal revere and fear for the life of Stephen Colbert right now, but this is ABOUT ME and my MISERY dammit. Since no one reads this anymore anyway, I'm gonna rant like I've never ranted before.

Except not right now. I'm too sober and tired. Give me a couple days, I feel a righteous bender of rage, self-loathing and misdirected violence coming on. Excuse me, I must go now, mix a stiff drink and cuddle with my cats.

Free Will Bullshit

Que sera sera....

whatever will be will be. I'm starting to feel like its the most futile sort of madness to plan for how you want life to work out. Because whatever is going to happen, seems like it really is just that. Sure I have some limited control over small mundane things that pertain solely to me. I might have some influence over others, but ultimately they are going to do what they want to do. I love and hate that all at once.

Things keep happening beyond all our control. Do things happen in 3's or 30's or 300's? I mean, they're happening all the time, are they not? I get in a car wreck, Angi and Jaime get in a car wreck. Who's next? Or rather, what will be next? And lets hope that the escalation from mine to theirs is not a proportionate indicator of the third to come, should there be a looming third.

Sometimes it feels like it should just be enough to be happy with the way things are. Appreciating and revering each other before something goes awry. I know I am so lucky and things are so good, and yet I find a hundred things to complain about. Shame on me. I should be dancing with all my heart because I have two legs to dance on and I'm not in the hospital right now. What kind of selfish, fucked up existence are we leading? I'm just glad to see how much heart people have when they rally around their friends. Its good to know in what seems like such a cold place as this world that there is goodness. It can make me smile, and I hold out with some faith that we'll make it through the third thing. or the next. Love your friends, please. Who knows what will happen to us.

Can it get weirder?

Can it get weirder?

Ok, maybe I went through the valley of the shadow of chaos so I could emerge a shimmering new creature, more easily bewildered and less rosey-bespectacled. I'm not sure if it's worked. It seemed as though things just were in a permanent state of strange and I couldn't handle it. Now it seems like things are in a permanent state of change and I adore it. Life keeps getting weirder and better and I feel SO LUCKY with each passing day. I'm waiting for the job euphoria to kick in. But everything else is near peachy.

Ok, was bummed out about the dating life. Whatever. Heaved that slag and moved on to bigger and better things. Again, always when it seems like I'm totally on the verge of giving up, something good happens. Well, we'll see. I keep counting chickens and winding up with omelets. (broken eggs, oops). Its nice to just have fun for a change.

Wanted a dog, got a dog. LOVE her. She rocks!!! I couldn't have asked for a sweeter dog, especially from a shelter that is a year old. Incredibly lucky. And loves to run. Maybe this dog is also my new exercise enforcer. Killer!

I'm sort of starting to get it together at home and work. SORT OF. We'll see how it goes. I'm not forcing it. But I will get settled in here and work will always be work. The new boss is a bit of a hag. Makes me really miss Kim, but you know what they say..."you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone." So true. So true. Honestly there is a lesson in all of this for me. I'm just not sure what it is yet.

But it might seem to be: DON'T marry a guy you think will keep you down. Life has gotten SO much better since I've been single. I actually feel alive. Its nice. Who knew?

The difference between chocolate pudding and a trip to the moon...

as brought on by the most earth-shaking orgasm imaginable, is actually pretty significant. So please tell me why somedays one either or both will bring me to a state of blissful nirvana, needing nothing else for hours...and other days I simply can't be satisfied by anything.

What do I want? What am I really trying to achieve? In life? relationships? myself? lunch tomorrow?

I didn't want to be married, so I called it all off. So I could be single and have wild flings and run around like a 20 year old in heat. Ok, that is frigging exhausting! Fun for a while, but come on, I'm definetly going to have to start taking vitamins again. So I date one guy (well okay, I'm dating more than one guy, but I only really like one guy). And truthfully, I don't want it to be super serious, certainly not anytime soon. But he is SO hot and cold. I just want to know what's going on and IF he even likes me. And maybe how many other women he is currently liking. Is that being serious? I don't know. I want to not care. This is the torture of dating that I can really do without. And how do you do without these mind games and madness? You become serious and someone's "girlfriend." What I really want is someone to fawn all over me senselessly. But see, its almost inevitable that when that happens, I eat that person for lunch. I'm merciless. Oh geez. I'm sensing a pattern.

I hate my job. Its hard to ever excel at something you don't care about. Because you're only ever going to make a crappy effort at it. So that is precisely what I'm doing. And what happens? My boss says that the manager of the commercial division wants to talk to me about a position. (those of you wholly unfamiliar with my field should know that going from residential to commercial is kind of a step up. KIND of.) Ummm, but I really don't even want to be in this industry. I've done nothing but whine for almost 6 months now about how I'd like to get back into project management or copy writing. I'd love to write for a living. Who the hell is going to hire an unpublished writer with no real experience to speak of? What do I say, "Oh boy, you can totally read my journal. There is a well-written testament to total madness." Yeah that'll totally get me a job. Scrubbing toilets at Burger King.

So, to recap:

Didn't want to get married: called off engagement, started whoring around like Anna Nicole Smith on ecstacy. Got bored. Started trying to date, can't get comfortable....
Hate my job, do it badly, maybe in subconscious hope of getting fired and taking a few paid months off courtesy of unemployment: get the equivalent of a promotion.
REALLY?

I will totally take a dish of chocolate pudding AND a trip to the moon via outrageous mind-blowing orgasm, please. I want them both and I want it all. Quit making me chose, I clearly can't be trusted. The grass is always, always looking greener and when you get to the other side, its really not so much.

"Just the Beginning"...

Was the inscription I had engraved on Ian's engagement ring That poor guy, I still wonder if he barely knows what he's in for. But he does impress and surprise me often. I think he is much stronger than I can imagine.

In September of '04 I asked Ian what he wanted for his birthday (its 2 days before mine) and he said 'an engagement ring.' He now claims that it was a joke, but as I'm sure most women in their early thirties will agree with me: you don't say the word "engagement ring" in jest. And so I was sent into a tailspin of anxiety, giddiness and trepidation... trying to decide. Do I buy him a ring? Do I propose? Long story short: I did, and totally burst his bubble. As I mentioned, my birthday was two days later , and he had planned to do the same thing. Great minds...

So here we are, just a few days under the 1 year mark and getting more serious about "plans". We reserved a site far in advance because there is so much hype about how you absolutely have to do this at least a year in advance or you risk being stuck at the Disabled Veteran's bingo parlor for your reception.... It is conveniently 3 blocks from our house, so that really cuts down on cab fare, but who knows how many rolls of streamers we'd need to dress that place up!

I guess the real point I'm trying to make, is that we're finally getting into the planning stage. And I want to puke daily . My parents are in town, which literally is a once or twice a year thing. So we've been trying on dresses and tasting cake (see entry 8/5/05) http://capncanuck.blogspot.com/

And everyday the horrifying reality sinks in deeper: this wedding is about making my mother happy. Screw Ian and I and what we want. Its a matter of time until I freak out and tell her "go ahead and plan what you want, just tell me when to show up to your, I mean, my wedding." This lady holds the purse strings and she only shells out for what she likes. I'm seriously on the verge happily forfeiting the deposit on the reception site and running away to Vegas. Ian tells me we can pull it together and play her game, and all will be fine. I don't know if its my 31 year history with her that has exhausted my sense of "suck it up and smile" in this situation or if I just don't care that much about having a really fancy, expensive party. Part of me feels that having "the day" to focus on us and let a bunch of people tell us how great we are will be memorable, meaningful and make me cry about 8 times. IF it could be the day that Ian and I want.

Note to self: give mom much white zin shortly after the ceremony to keep her out of my way at the reception. If she says one thing about the music or anything else that isn't 100% her taste, I will encourage Ian's dad to start twirling about in his kilt.... you know how true Scots wear their kilts. Maybe that would shut her up.

Really, do all brides go through this? Did they come up with the concept of a "wedding", figuring that if you could endure that, the marriage would be a cake walk? (no puns intended.)