I’ve been vacillating between letting 2011 being my year of forgiveness: forgiving my former employer for being a cocksucker, forgiving myself for being hard-headed and abrasive, so I can go on to be a kinder, gentler me.
Or to be the year of shirking this neutral pansy cape I’ve been wearing and scream out, “Fuck you, you losers!” like Superman in the phone booth and stop worrying about diplomacy, both here and in my personal life.
Either of these options actually make me cringe a bit, and I realize that it will probably take me all of 2011 to figure it out.
I all but gave up looking or a job. When my computer was infected and I had lost a recent version of my resume about a month ago, I never went back to rebuild it. There’s currently two positions I found locally I should apply for but the idea of being rejected again overpowers the very slim possibility I would even land an interview. The lack of confidence I feel contributes to my desire to go with Option #2 above in the harsh day light. It’s at night, when I invariably wake up to stare at the shadow of the ceiling fan that I wonder if I wouldn’t be more at peace with Option #1 because my ass is sore from the repeated self-kicking.
Last night as I was cleaning off the remains of supper (the one Sparring Partner cooked (he always cooks)) while he was playing a computer game with Doodicus, I felt oddly at peace rinsing the dishes, stacking the dishwasher, wiping the table and clearing the counter. Like I was happy, carefree. And now this morning again I am knotted up with stress and once again disenchanted.
Not looking for answers. Just airing my brain while Aitch sleeps in after her repeated wakings last night. Once at 3:30 a.m. to play with her stuffed toys in her crib and the second time at 5:30 to whine loudly. Literally, whine like a puppy. SO annoying!
And at that, I hear her. She must be more rested than her mom, as she is playing quietly. I wish I was 2 1/2 years old again.