A Rut. in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

I’m stuck.

Been wanting to write an entry for days now, and it seems like all I have inside me are work rants. I don’t want to write about work. At least not right now. It’s only getting worse. Feel like I’m a No-Life-Havin’ Loser.

[Yawn]

I haven’t gone into work all weekend. And that’s a first this year! It’s been nice, but I hate that nagging feeling in the back of my mind. That feeling that I’m so far behind and it’s only gonna get worse and on and on…

I took the day off on Friday purely for my sanity. I had to go to the driver’s license place to get a new one because of the whole stolen wallet incident. I think I was the only English-speaking white person there. Strangely enough, there was an Hispanic woman working the information booth who only knew bits and pieces of Spanish. She kept barking orders in English to the poor Peruvians, Columbians and Mexicans who had no clue what she was talking about. She was snippy and rude and when they didn’t understand her English, she started yelling. When I got to the front of the info line, she was sweet as candy. All smiles. I did not smile back at her. I wish I knew more Spanish so I could have helped those poor people. What a freakin’ bitch.

Best Bud and I are talking about doing a “just us” vacation. And actually, we’ve been talking about taking one of those week-long intensive Spanish classes somewhere in Central America or Mexico. I know Antigua, Guatemala has a wonderful one because I was there last summer on business. But it’s in the mountains, not really at a beach resort, and that’s what Best Bud wants to do. Plus, I’d really like to go somewhere I’ve never been. Like Costa Rica.

I start traveling for work again soon. Vegas next week and then Europe on March 1st. I have a feeling that Europe might be my last work hurrah with this company before Boss hires the New Sucker and takes the best parts of my job away. I’m excited about the Europe thing: 10 days doing London, Paris, and Milan. I’ve actually never been to Italy. Boss is really funny about the whole thing. Funny strange, not funny ha-ha. I know she loves to travel, but I also know she hates me right now. So she takes little jabs at me that sound like we’re “buds” on one hand, but they’re very condescending on the other. Her latest remark in front of her whole staff (including me): “G.S. is a trip to travel with…we’ll have men chasing us all over the place…”

What kind of a comment is that in front of everyone? My friends tell me that she’s just jealous because she’s a big, fat, bitter bitch. Fine. I’m going to make the most out of this trip. I hope that we do end up having men chase us all over the place!! Yummy, Italian men!!

Speaking of yummy men (or not), I signed back up on one of the Internet personals sites. I don’t know why…I don’t really have time for this over the next couple of months. But since I’ve exhausted all of my other possibilities, well…what the hell. I’ve had the profile hidden for about a month. I just checked and it just got posted about 15 minutes ago. Here we go again…

Already gotten one response. From a man whose photo looks like a serial killer’s mug shot. What the hell am I doing??

I need to get outta here for now. Several errands to run. I’ll be back later.

Back. End of the day. Slowing down. Just put a barbeque brisket in the slow cooker. Will have me some beef tomorrow! I don’t know why, but sometimes I simply crave red meat. Then I’ll go for months without. Guess it’s just time for my fix.

Walked in from the Target to hear a domestic dispute going on with my upstairs neighbors. They’re newlyweds. The girl is really petite. She seems so cool, but maybe troubled. Works at this great little boutique about two blocks from here. I saw her on Friday when I stopped in to see what was new and groovy. Had to find something cute for a party I went to last night. I hadn’t noticed before, but she’s super duper small. Not only short and thin, but frail. Tattooed all over. I once thought her hair was cute and spunky. Short and streaky. When I saw her Friday, it just looked scraggly and unkempt. I don’t know about the husband. I’ve only met him once. Seems okay, I guess. I didn’t get a chance to really get a read on him. I’ve heard him yell at her before, though.

I hope everything’s okay. I can hear them stomp, stomp, stomping across the hardwoods. Then it gets quiet. Then more stomping. I don’t know what would be considered meddling. I did see our landlord walking up the steps to his office as I was pulling through the alleyway to my parking spot. He has a strange little office over our covered parking area. Just a tiny little building. It’s kinda creepy because he has a window that faces directly into my bedroom window. Anyway, I figure that I could go over to his office if things seem to get out of control upstairs.

But it seems to have quieted down now. Good.

I had to go to the big, sprawling, suburban mall this afternoon. A strange phenomenon seems to happen when I go to these places. You know, places where couples usually go together on the weekends. I catch husbands’ eyes. Or they catch mine. Or whatever. I don’t know what it is, but I find myself uncontrollably checking out other women’s men. Is it envy? Do I want what they have?

Or is it them? Do they want out? Or are they just being male and doing what every guy does when their significant other isn’t looking? Some guy actually smiled and let out a little chuckle in my direction today!

God, I hope I’m not letting out a vibe of desperation! I swear, I’m not being blatant about it. I just find myself accidentally making eye contact all the time!

I think maybe it really is envy. When I find my solo self wandering through the Disneyland of suburbia and weaving through the masses of families—attractive husbands, beautiful wives, adorable children—I wonder what I’ve done wrong. Why can’t I be living the perfect family life? No wonder I’m getting stares. I’m so friggin’ out of place in that world. An alien. And it shows.

But then I come home to hear a fight upstairs.

And I hear about my friend Anna, whose husband just asked for a divorce. I swear, I thought their marriage was a fairytale. Two of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen in my life. It was all so perfect. They were living a dream….a castle on a mountainside, wonderful careers, living the high life.

And my friend Lovely L. Her husband was out with some other woman when she went into labor and gave birth to their daughter. He asked for a divorce the very same week the baby was born. Lovely L. is one of the most special people I know. How could something like that happen?

And on and on it goes. There are millions of stories like that.

So no. Maybe it’s not envy that I’m feeling. Maybe it’s just that I’ve never experienced the whole marriage thing. Maybe it’s just strange curiosity.

Sort of half-watching the Olympics. I’ve got to change the channel. The cow bells during the downhill skiing are making me batty.

There.

All’s quiet upstairs. I have some straightening to do. Gotta get ready for the week ahead. Ugg. Kitty is sleeping qu