Have you ever noticed that online diarists tend to read a heck of a lot of online diaries? I've been trying to ignore my penchant for other people's online journals (as evinced by the hilariously short list of journals on my link page), but it's time to face reality: it's an addiction.
I had so many things I wanted to add to yesterday's entry, to make it more poignant. Unfortunately, I forgot. Life sucks.
Dirk didn't bother going to sleep until 1 in the afternoon yesterday. This made it quite frustrating to talk to him when I called at 4:00. I was already semi-irritated, because Aaron had kept me on hold for about fifteen minutes, because he forgot I was on the other line. Anyway, Dirk couldn't even get through the opening sentences of the conversation, so I just told him I'd call him at 9:00.
9:00 was no better. If anything, he was even more out of it. I gave up in bitter frustration and told him I'd call him today. He damn well better be awake.
I told Matt a deep dark secret about myself last night. I hope it cheered him up a bit. Do you want to know the secret? Shh – I'm really a man. I've never told anyone, not even my boyfriend.
And, of course, while I was still pissed about Dirk being too sleepy to commiserate with me, C– was online, talking to me. I swear, he's going to disown me. He's going to just up and decide I'm a weird psycho and quit talking to me. Lucky guy, he got to bear the brunt of my mood swings last night, and my sudden determination to "find out how he really feels."
Why do I do this to myself? It's like banging my head repeatedly against a brick wall, and for absolutely no purpose. It won't fix anything. It won't make our friendship less weird. That's all it's ever going to be – weird. I mailed myself a copy of the conversation to show you people what a fucked-up little masochist I am, but it hasn't arrived at work yet (I mailed it at 1 a.m.). I'm betting that our mail server's screwing up.
Then, after I make things as uncomfortable as possible between C– and I (without declaring my undying passion for him – I'm saving that for a special occasion), I get to work and find the e-mail he sent at around five yesterday evening.
I'm an asshole.
I am a completely self-absorbed freak.
C– was so nice in the e-mail, and he went out of his way to be funny (which nearly never happens). And he even ended it the way he used to (which I am not sharing, thanks) back in the beginning.
And I fucked up and I was weird to him and now I wish I could bang my head on my desk.
So I'm going to respond to the e-mail as if last night didn't happen. Maybe C– won't hold it against me. I'm sure he's gotten used to my self-pitying spells by now, right? But I shouldn't have responded affirmatively at all when he said, "sometimes I feel I've disappointed you a lot." I'll know better next time.
I'm upset. I'm so upset that I'm shedding long blondish hairs all over my nice blue suit. I do that anyway, but I am literally covered with them today. I think, actually, that I'm the more disappointing between C– and I.
Well. That was special, wasn't it?
I had my mid-performance review meeting with my supervisor yesterday. It went surprisingly well. I even got to complain about Alex's lunch habits. He's been taking lunches that last an hour and a half. I am utterly disgusted by this. We get an hour for lunch, which is sufficient to do just about anything. So why does he need an extra half hour? To go to strip joints in Dupont Circle and screw the priest from his church, apparently. I didn't pass these gossip tidbits on to my supervisor.
Oh, Steph is here. I don't think I've introduced Steph before. She's one of Alex's friends, a red-haired cock-eyed girl who dislikes me for reasons she keeps to herself. When I say cock-eyed, I mean on of her eyes is either looking heavenward or is rolling back into her head at all times. She also tends to let her mouth hang open, with her head tipped back slightly. I don't know why. She looks like a deranged dachshund (sp?)
Funny little story about her. I was in the budget office, getting approval on some training forms I was processing. After I got the required signatures, I went into the little room that housed the copying machine, so I could make copies of the training forms. I was taken aback to see Steph lustfully leaning on the copying machine, apparently in the throws of passion. Seriously, she was practically spreadeagled on the thing. And she was panting. I decided I didn't want to interrupt whatever was going on, and backed out of the room.
I work with such interesting people.
Have I mentioned recently that Dirk is a guitar god? And that he's in a band with me? I'm so lucky.
My supervisor has these neat little chocolates on her desk in the shape of little bears. I'm filching a couple for Dirk.
If I think of anything else, I'll let you know. Right now, I've got a lot of e-mail to respond to, and not much time to do it in.
(4:00 pm) So, C– e-mailed me again. He's off to Cincinnati, Ohio. He's not going to be back until Friday or Saturday. But he was very nice in his e-mail. I'm assuming that he's forgiven and/or forgotten last night's adventures. It's too bad he has to go away so soon.
And I talked to Dirk. He's got a present for me, and he won't tell me what it is. I like presents. Everything's alright again. I'm happy again.