Friday, May 05, 2006

I really shouldn't be left to my own devices too long.

Yesterday, I had several hours where I was by myself, just me, my iTunes (set to shuffle) and the veritable smorgasbord (orgasbord, orgasbord) of thoughts in my head. And somewhere in the middle of the day, with iTunes serving me a playlist consisting entirely of songs that reminded me of people in my life, I started to feel really... alone - and it was more than just the empty office. I was having one of my patended emotional crises where I get all nostalgic and bemoan the fact that no one gets me.

It's these moods that make me want to call people I know and beg them to pay attention to me.

I never do that, though, because, come on, how freaking annoying would that be?

So, I mope and sigh deeply and feel very sorry for my misunderstood-artist-self and send out needy vibes for someone to love me - pathetic, I know.

Even worse is that, when it comes down to it, I don't even really want someone to fully get me, because that would be scary and weird, I just want someone to be the same, all the time, consistent in the face of my inconsistencies, it's that kind of stability that helps me get the hell over myself and act like a human being again and not a grab bag of emotions.

And, in the whole wide world, there were less than a handful of people with whom I knew I could act like a normal person - but did I call any of those people? Nooooooo, of course not. My friends are supposed to be psychic and have a tingling "Cate-Sense" that lets them know when I need attention. Again, pathetic, I know, but, for some reason, I wasn't born equipped with a normal friendship gene so I'm unable to function properly in relationships.

But last night, just when I was ready to give up on the human race and lose myself in another riveting episode of those wacky teens in "The O.C.", one of my pals, whom I was really missing, IM'd me. And while we didn't talk about anything even remotely close to my emotional crisis, hell, we didn't even really talk about anything, but it made me feel a little better, a little closer to normal. And it was kind of nice to be pleasantly surprised by someone. But don't tell him, or he'll get all smug about it.

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change of subject before anyone wants to give me a hug or something

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This morning, doctorboss called to check up on me (assumably to make sure that I hadn't burned down the office yet) and told me that he was faxing over some stuff from the seminar he's attending and he asked me to get started working on it, typing up some letters or whatever to recruit new doctors to work in this practice. I pull the pile of papers off of the fax and am reading these interview questions and such and am amazed and slightly nauseous at how completely hokey it all is and I happen to glance at the bottom of the sheets. It has the copyright date and the name of the company that is running the seminar and then the following sentence that gave me chills and reaffirmed the fact that this is NOT the job for me:

"Based upon the works of L. R0n Hubbard"

shut.
thefuck.
up.

Doctorboss is at a Scient0logy seminar?

His second Scient0logy seminar in a month.

STOP IT.

This explains SO much.

I really need to get out before they get the chip implanted into my brain.