6 posts tagged “whiny”

This is not the last post in the 104p52w challenge. Tomorrow I will post the last one in the challenge and then wait for Dabysan to start proclaiming victory and whining about how I need to send him a pie. Of course, he's wrong, but what can you do? If I didn't have to pay a mortgage, I could make it my life's work pointing out to Dabysan all the times he's been wrong and will be wrong. But, you know, I got shit to do.

What that shit is, I'm not sure.

Since it's New Year's Eve Eve I'm feeling a little reflective. 2009 passed in a sort of boring blur, which is a damn shame. I have only myself to blame though. Only boring people get bored, right? My resolution for 2010 is to be less boring. I need to start carpeing that diem.

Viva la 2010!

I've manage to catch some sort of plague-like infection and it's totally put a damper on my weekend. What I had intended to be a weekend filled with working on short story has turned into nothing but whining and coughing and sleeping and sobbing.

In general, I'm kind of a crybaby. Even on my very best days. When I get sick, I'm leveled. I sobbed through a "Roseanne" marathon this morning, and because that wasn't quite enough I decided to watch the original "V" I TIVO'd last weekend, and cried through a lot of that too. "The Amazing Race" too.

I didn't cry during "The Maltese Falcon" though, perhaps that's progress.

Read a fucking book, you're probably thinking. I thought that too, but the pressure and burning in my eyes made reading nearly impossible. In fact, I tried and gave up because it just wasn't working for me. Some people are really good at working through the sickness. I'm not one of those people. My brain doesn't function well when I have a cold. It just feels slower and filled with mud. I try to think, but fail miserable. I don't get jokes and barely understand what people are saying to me. It's not good. Really, all I'm capable of is laying around being generally unhappy and whining about how much being sick sucks.

It does suck. I'm going to bed.

One of the very smart woman bloggers I read said recently that it’s humiliating to be held emotionally hostage by your hormones. I loved the line so much I’m ripping it off and I can’t even remember which of the very smart woman bloggers said it. If my memory or my mood were better I would provide proper attribution.

I started crying tonight while watching the Amazing Race finale and eating turkey meatloaf. This was not how I was supposed to spend my mother’s day, which started out kind of rocky now that I think about it. Maybe I just woke up on the sad side of the bed. I was supposed to spend my mother’s day with my friends and family but events were canceled due to the Tibble flu claiming more victims.

So I started crying tonight watching the Amazing Race, and didn't stop for two hours. I’m an emotional wreck and I’m totally going to blame it on hormones rather than a crappy state of affairs. It’s way easier to blame unhappiness on a monthly emotional quirk than on actual situations you can deal with.

Don’t you agree?

I’m glad we agree on that. I’m sure we can also agree that things would totally be better if I only had that one episode of Dawson’s Creek where Dawson’s dad dies. Because that’s the kind of emotional bawl baby release that would probably do me good.

Or maybe just the writing about it is doing me good. This blog sure has been lacking in self-indulgent emotional breakdowns of any kind lately. And I for one have missed them. I’m not going to lie, since I got a gig blogging where my personal blog is common company knowledge, I’ve been the self-censoring queen of the Internet. That is, as I like to say, the suck.

I’m having a rough go of the work/life blogging balance (which is nothing at all like the work/life balance which I have no problem with).

It’s weird because last week a few of my co-workers told me I need to be bitchier, or more like me on the work blog, something I’ve been horribly frightened of doing for fear of doing it wrong. And in not being me, all my writing everywhere has become sort of boring and neutered.

But I am done with being afraid. Fear sucks. I figure if my voice doesn’t fit the work blog and that direction doesn’t go over well, then so be it. Right? RIGHT?

Wow. It’s amazing the things you dredge up when you just free write about being a whiny baby.

Sometime over the past two weeks I got really annoyed with the fact that I am not a published fiction writer. In fact, it kind of pissed me off. I'm sick of toiling in obscurity. Sick of working for someone other than me or a publisher. Sick of not having my name in print.

So, I did what any sane, rational person would do in this situation, I decided to finish a story and send it out for publication. I haven't gotten to the sending out point yet, but I do have it all finished, and it's pretty good. It'll be even better when I rewrite it.

Next week at this time, I will have remedied the not sending it out thing. If I haven't, you have my permission to nag the shit out of me.

1. Wah! it took me 2.5 hours to get home from work
2. Wah! I missed my last night of writing class
3. Wah! I tried to buy a calendar but the web site decided to blog goats instead of take my money.

I feel much better now.

Thank you for your support.

Now I am going to go listen to the divine Virgin Suicides

I haven't been sleeping much lately. Last night it was George Michael's fault. For reasons I can't explain I had Last Christmas stuck in my head on repeat. I couldn't stop. The more the "I'm never going to sleep again" panic grew the louder, "last Christmas I gave you my heart but the very next day you gave it away" got in my head.

Though I only got about four hours of sleep last night, I'm consider myself lucky for having gotten out alive. Nothing can drive you to the edge of madness quicker then Wham! and insomnia.

The lack of sleep has colored the day in melancholy making me anxious, boring, and unhappy.

I was going to blame this malaise on the fact that I have absolutely nothing to do at work. It seems that I have wrapped up a lot of my self-worth and self-esteem in working. I blame that on my solid Catholic Midwestern upbringing. Oh and that's also to blame for why I feel so guilty if I don't at least show up for work in case someone somewhere might want me to do something sometime before I leave in March.

But the problem isn't really that I don't have anything to do at work. The problem is that I am not using that time to be productive. I only realized this after starting and erasing a big ol' whiny rant of a post about eleventy frillion times. Just because I am there and have nothing to do doesn't mean I have to do nothing, right? Right.

However, I still have that stupid guilt and I don't quite know what to do with that.