So I went in to work yesterday even though I was feeling like ass (I have pneumonia, again). Someone asked why I was there and I said I had some stuff that had to get done, and her response was, “And no one else could do it?”
Actually, no! No one else can do it! It’s all me! Someone please get me an intern!! I am the the only who knows how the server works, how the rules work, how to even edit a goddamn picture on the site. I am the end all, be all of our SharePoint sites. We have another lady in communications, but her piece is more official coms and weekly action reports, not the site.
On Monday, when I get back, I’m going to have at least 50+ emails. When I’m out, things stop. And if something breaks, it stays broken until I can fix it. I wish I could get an assistant, or intern, or something!
Don’t get me wrong, I love doing this work and helping folks and designing things. And yeah, I built the site so that it doesn’t need much maintenance, but it still bugs me that if something breaks, it won’t get attention until I get in. It makes me feel so irresponsible when I’m actually sick. But when I’m dicking around and just want a day off? I feel perfectly fine calling it in. :(
And, oh yeah, btw, I have pneumonia again. Yay. This is the second time in a fucking month and a half. I probably need to see a pulmonologist about that sometime soon. Doc said that this bout isnt as horrible as last time, but it’s still there. And that’s why I’m home today. I’m still coughing my lungs up, and I’m exhausted, and wheezing, but I get the feeling that these antibiotics might not be working. Probably not, tho. Especially if I’m still coughing gross and feeling dead.
Posted by qbubbles on June 26, 2015
Today in “What The Hell Am I Doing Here?” we look at people who are so dumb, I seriously question how they are still alive.
SharePoint is a change for these folks, and yes, change can be scary. I give lots of people tons of leeway when it comes to asking me questions, but when the instructions are idiot proof, and I’ve already sat with them and showed them, and reiterated my instructions, I’m going to get mad.
Eventually they asked me to come over. I stood up pretty mad and stomped my way off. Along the way I knew I had to calm down and not yell at the poor dumb thing, so I started repeating “beep boop” in the most high pitched voice I could. It’s a tumblr proven method for dealing with anger. And it worked. By the time I sat at her desk, I was curt, but not about to brain someone. Not that it would have worked, tho.
My friend, who I was venting to, asked if I’m a babysitter. Sometimes it feels like that. Then he mentioned he wanted to be a govie. I said that I was gonna end up spending 20 years smacking my head against the wall and by the end of that time I’d be able to medically retire early from federal service due to “brain trauma”.
“Look at all this scar tissue! It’s been built up over 20 years of working with morons! How is this woman even able to breathe??” – Some doctor, probably, looking at an MRI of my brain.
But even then I doubt they’d give me that out. They’d probably promote me a dozen times over so that by the time I’m drooling and peeing myself, I’d be in senior executive service and the director of something.
What even is my life?
Posted by qbubbles on June 15, 2015
I just imported all of the data from my previous two blogs. So, now if you want to go back into like, 2004, you can. I haven’t even tried to access my live journal. I don’t know if I nuked it or not. It’s kinda incredible that I’ve got 10+ year’s worth of stories and mundane information. My entire adult life is now in one place. Crazy.
Update: Yes. I apparently expunged and deleted my old LJ account. So, that time of my life is missing. Probably for the best. It was during the time right after I got married and live was totally in the shitter.
Posted by qbubbles on May 14, 2015
After M left me the first time, right after we got married, I hated how vulnerable I had gotten. I was extremely defensive and continuously on alert. I didn’t let anyone get close to me, let alone M. He paid the price for adultery, in those years. But I let my guard down after having the Monkey. One sleepless night we actually held each other and I forgave him for everything that he had done to us. It was cathartic and felt good. 4 years later and we get a divorce.
Today I’m still on the defensive. I think even more so. And, bless him, my boyfriend doesn’t push anything. He recognizes that I’m not 100%. I recognize it too, and don’t spend time agonizing over whether or not I’m showing enough affection. He knows that I’m still a bit of a work in progress. I’m prone to locking up and becoming hardened armor at the slightest show of turbulence. He’s actually experienced it first hand. I hate when I get mushy and emotionally needy and he just smiles and doesn’t bring attention to it when I do find myself letting my guard down for a second. I’ll impulsively just say, “I love you,” or bury my head in his arms, or hold his gaze and pour every ounce of myself into a kiss. And then immediately say something like, “Fuck these ovaries,” or “DRIVE BY AFFECTION”, like I just did now.
It’s sad that I’m still cracked all over. But I’m every day I’m getting better.
Posted by qbubbles on May 12, 2015
Seriously, do you have to type on it with the downward pressure of a thousand rotund southern preachers? What gives?
In Hackers there are a bunch of scenes that drive me absolutely up the wall, despite being one of my favorite movies. Every time someone is typing s. l. o. w. l. y. and banging on the keys loud enough to wake the dead, I want to do some kind of physical damage to something. And I understand entirely that this is a symptom of misophonia, and I should do everything possible to take myself out of the offending area or block the sound in some way (I’m listening to pandora, right now), but this is a daily thing. Doesn’t matter how great of a day I’m having or how long I’m actually at my desk… at some point I’m going to hyper focus on the sound of someone typing.
I’m not a mean person. I mean, for the most part. I don’t like it when people don’t like me or think I’m a bitch. But for the love of all that is holy, the longer I spend exposed to these sounds, the lower my patience is for other seemingly innocuous occurrences.
I’m noticing that every day that goes by, I feel more and more overwhelmed by the sounds of my environment. Maybe today’s episodes are being precipitated by whatever has been up my ass since last week. Or maybe I’m just finally outwardly showing the wear on my psyche.
This is the beginning of some kind of “down period”. And I’ve got no choice but to just ride it.
Posted by qbubbles on April 21, 2015
You can picture it in your head.
Your parent sits you on the counter or kitchen table and brings over the small white tin box that held at least 10 different brands of band-aids. The first crisp cut through the paper that shows the small “conveniently flesh toned” bandage inside. It had a certain smell. It was entirely different from antiseptic or ointment.
That’s the way that the world smelled, on the back roads of the border between the Fairfax and Prince William Counties.
For a second it took me back to childhood; living in the States for a few years between a mandatory evacuation and Dad’s next assignment.
It was a pretty cool memory.
All of my memories of here are either recent (last 10 years) or fragmented between home leave trips and the three years that I got to be a normal American kid.
There are many days where I feel like I’m assuming the background of a life I never got to live. I didn’t get Daria and Celebrity Death Match. I ended up with MTV Europe and BBC. The Armed Forces Network and Flashback TV. Music was a mad grab from whoever got to go stateside, recently.
I walk around feeling like a pretender, appropriating a culture that I never grew up with.
Maybe that’s what’s got me down, lately.
Posted by qbubbles on April 20, 2015
That’s what my younger daughter just told me to do. Now Bean is saying pee over and over again. She’s a 3 year old. She’s not a baby.
Monkey is sitting at the end of the bed; quite possibly talking to her feet. I dunno. She’s 4, now.
They’re both hanging out in my bed, sorta watching Supernatural. We’re a Supernatural family. Complete with a Sam girl, a Dean girl, and a Cas girl. From here on out, expect lots of Supernatural gifs. Consider this your only warning.
So. Where have we been? How long has it been since I’ve been a regular updater of life? Too long if you ask me.
I’ve gone ahead and updated the site a bit. A little paisley, a little vintage iconography. A change of title, too. The Bitter Bitch is what I named my tumblr, so I decided that’s what I should re-christen my blog. During my divorce I believed that it would turn me incredibly bitter, and strengthen my already apathetic view of the world. But it hasn’t. Well. I mean I’m not actually bitter. I’ll always be apathetic. I’m not someone who this has been done to. I’m someone who chose this life I currently live. Most of it, anyway.
This was mostly a little teaser post. More to come later. :)
Posted by qbubbles on April 13, 2015
Different boss, same job location.
It’s been 2 years, to the goddamn day, since I’ve been a full time employee in this asstown. And today, my technically second day back, I don’t have a desk and my boss is in St Louis. I’m listening to Stinky McFrontbutt throw a fit over whether or not we get a “holiday” on the 26th or a “closure of the government”. Because this is very important to know two weeks out. -_-
So yeah. I’m back here. I’d love to have a desk assigned so that I could bring in the crap that I’ve been riding around with in my very petite car. Oh yes, I’ve had to get a new car due to “Le Divorce”. I’m probably not going to say much about it because I’m sure I’d only live to regret any kind of blatant bitching about what an epic shitshow this has become. Rest assured, I’m hanging on with a fantastical complement of gaming, tv, boyfriends, and family as therapy.
Yes! I have a boyfriend! Whaaaaa???? I know, right? Pretty sweet.
Anywho. It’s almost quitting time. Hopefully I’ll have more to write about anything tomorrow.
Posted by qbubbles on December 9, 2014
And since I can’t access tumblr from work, this is where I will vent my frustration.
Today – this is me.
I am one giant frayed nerve and so help me Oprah if anyone steps on it, there will be blood.
World, consider yourself warned.
Posted by qbubbles on May 21, 2014
I’ve moved out w/ the girls, and I’m living approx. 15 miles away.
We are selling the house, and have both retained lawyers.
It’s been a month since the girls and I moved into our new house, and while things are going slow in terms of unpacking (my commute is even longer now) we’ve entered a new normal. M takes the girls on every other weekend from Friday night thru Monday morning. And I’m free to pursue… other… interests.
Kissing and telling is annoying; plus should this not go anywhere, I’m not going to go on and on about this mysterious someone. But I am happier. And I am smiling easier. And I can see a light at the end of this tunnel.
My parents and some friends think it’s too soon. But really, I’ve been mourning this relationship for almost a year, now. We had been on the rocks and in constant arguments for a long time. Life sucks when you don’t look forward to going home or being alone with the person you said you’d forsake over any other. I realize that, to them, it was only “official” in February, but really, I’m ready to get on with my life.
The other day I was sitting at home, alone, and looking through netflix trying to find something awesome to watch. And I realized something fucking groundbreaking: I can watch or do anything that I want to. In that moment I became drunk with freedom. I watched XxX and it was awesome. I can watch action movies w/ horrible plots, and not be ashamed of what M will say. I can watch the worst shit on TV (Keeping Up w/the Kardashians) and no one is going to judge me for it. I had never realized just how molded I was into the person that M wanted to me be. And not the person that I really am.
Deep shit, yo.
So, yeah. I’m happier, freer, and really living life again. The girls can drive me crazy, at times, but they’re sweet, and kind, and going through some really hard shit. So I don’t fault them for having tantrums or being obstinate. I get it. I move on and ignore the bad behavior and reward the good. That’s really all I can do at this age. And I’m hanging out with old friends, making new ones, trying new experiences, and getting closer to family.
And this is good.
Posted by qbubbles on April 24, 2014