that's all for now folks...

it's time for some serious editing and a face lift - until then

Just Add Some Hormones...

One of my jobs requires that I ask folks that smoke to move a certain distance from the buildings on campus. Having lived in the front room of a building with a lot of smokers before, I understand how frustrating it is to come back to a smoke filled room. As I left the building the other night I noticed an older gentlemen smoking by a window. I informed him politely that he needed to move away from the building. He ignored me. I repeated myself. He responded but mostly with garbled and disgruntled words. In the end, he moved to where I asked him to, giving me serious shit and asking "You happy? Did I not move fast enough for you? Go mind your own business." Granted this guy is my dad's age. But damn it, I'm pissed. He could have just said he knew and started sauntering towards the smoking area...won't have been that difficult. I'd even informed him that I worked in the building and was required to do such things. Anyway, I reply, "No, I'm not" and walk back into the building. I go to the desk and explain what happened to my coworkers, trying to figure out how to handle it all, and calm myself the freak down. It was a long day, I have a cold, and I'm on my way to my desk job. This guy was just the last straw. He comes in and gets in my face again, telling me he was old enough to be my father and how rude I was. I repeated over and over again that I asked him politely, and I stand firm on that fact. He walked off, and turned around and came back, saying he was sorry, he had a lot of shit going on. I was pissed off still and didn't care what the heck he had to say. He walked off again, and at this point my frustration just peaked...along with my monthly hormones apparently...and the tears began to well. I hate, hate, hate not being in control. Of course he turned around again, and saw me crying, came over and apologized again. I must have made him feel like shit and I hate that. I hate how it feels to lose control of your tear ducts as two co-workers, this guy, and another young guy at the desk I didn't know watch on, awkwardly standing there. Worst part was, I was fine, just couldn't control it or vent it elsewhere. I blame the hormones, or as my grandmother calls this time of the month, "the curse".

P.S. As I write this, I'm interrupted by having to deal with a group of girls entering the men's bathroom nearby...oh and there goes another one. This shit has got to stop.

Dream (February 8)

Dreaming about werewolf-vampire hybrids and Jacob from Twilight is usually not a good thing, right? Other than climbing on top of grocery store aisle shelves to avoid being scratched by a bunch of teen wolves, the rest of the dream was very real and actually, not too bad. I'm quite sure it's a result of watching old reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on Netflix... I never got to watch it as a child, and thank goodness I didn't, it's entirely inappropriate for anyone under the age of say 16. Either way, in the dream a close friend or boyfriend or something of the sorts became a werewolf, but then towards the end was cured or something ridiculous of the sorts. I flew into his arms, happy that he was back, and happy to be in love. He had a pair of 6 foot wings now...(excuse me subconscious, but what the hell?) Anyway, I woke up happy having a pair of arms around me. But then reality kicked in and my thoughts went more like this: I've been single for too long...I gotta get myself a guy...No, you don't need one...Really, if it's meant to be it'll be...but romance and love and kissing are nice...oy