The Bloody Doors Off

I was trying to come up with a clever blog post tonight, but that’s just dumb.

It’s not what this is about.

Sometimes I forget.

Tonight I (again) reminded myself that I wanted to start talking with God. That I keep saying I’m going to do it and then forget. Not happy. Waiting to find out what my hours will eventually settle into. Right now it’s 10-6:30 but that could become 12:-8:30. I wanna go back to Al-Anon, and there’s a meeting in the Beaches at a reasonable time but it’ll depend on my schedule.

And I need to make/take lunches in with me. When I was doing 2 days/week with the newspaper, I took in sandwiches. Why am I so unmotivated now? Especially when I am still unable to log in my hours, even though they guarantee I’ll get paid on time? If I don’t, I’m fucked. That’s rent and all my bills. I’ll be tapped out by the end of the month. There’s gotta be tokens around, as a fall-back.

The stress is just. I need one thing to go right; enough to keep forward momentum.

Plus there’s the fact I haven’t written anything for the play in over a month. The ideas are there, and they’re good. But my schedule’s out of whack and I’m adjusting and it’s leaving me less hours, and I need to prioritize.

I would rather not think of all this for the rest of the night. I need sleep.

It’s not just for fires. Unless you consider anxiety to be a fire. Which, yeah, I guess it can.

This was a physical attack. Like my core body temperature dropped and it felt like I was experiencing hypothermia (not that I’ve had hypothermia). With minor parts dehydration.

I finally have a Portal ID to log in hours. Only I can’t log in hours.

I shit you not. There’s more bugs in the system than a 2-star motel off the Vegas Strip.

And now that I’ve finally gotten onto the website, I learned of a new wrinkle. I need a timesheet for each week signed by supervisor and emailed in. So let’s review:

1. Send and invoice
2. Log in hours online
3. Write up a timesheet and get it signed

What. The. Holy. Fuck.

And today I got a call from a new recruiter, with a 13-month contract. If only she’d called 2 weeks ago. Seriously.

I’mthisclosetobreaking.

Forgot to pick up my pills at the pharmacy.

Blanked on putting the ham in the oven to cook tonight so I’d have food tomorrow.

I called a co-worker Jennifer when her name was Jessica.

There are mornings I will remind myself several times to put the pass around my neck before heading out to work and won’t realize I’ve forgotten it until I’m at the office.

I’ve double-booked appointments even though I never book more than one on the same day, for this exact reason.

These are the days of my life.

I feel so small.

Fighting this for days.

My instincts are wrong.

My gut lies.

Everything’s out of focus.

I have none again. This is troubling.

Today was not a red banner day.

(more…)

Sorry, got nothing tonight. Too sick, too tired.

Must sleep.

My immune system is crap. While I haven’t gotten the worst (knock on wood) colds and flu this season, I seems to be constantly fighting off some strain of it. Yet again I’m under the weather. Stuffed nose, cough, phlegm. And I’m pushing through this, because I’m an idiot like that. No, I’m not. But I need the work and I don’t get paid if I don’t. The second March cheque came in tonight so I can breathe a bit easier, but if I’m going to start a cushion with this contract, then I can’t afford to take time off. Not in the second week, at least.

Things are going well so far (despite still not having an I.D. to log my hours into with the agency), and it’s a bit funny that I’m doing pretty much everything but what my primary function will be. I’m okay with that; it’s good they see I can adapt to the situation and be a part of the team.

Not much for introspection tonight. Head’s too fuzzy.

It’s random thought day.

• Today finally felt like Spring. When you step outside at the end of a work day and regret wearing your winter jacket. The sunshine makes a bigger impression than the prevailing winds. When you’re looking ahead as you walk, instead of down at your feet so you don’t step in sludge or a puddle. It’s 9:45 and I’m watching baseball on TV, and am hopeful for the team. (I’m sure they’ll flame out soon enough.) The Leafs are out of the playoffs. That’s when you know it’s Spring.
• There’s a woman in the office who’s name I could learn, but have decided it’s more fun to call her Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons (it’d be easier to learn the proper pronunciation of her name). Thankfully, she called me Tyrion right back. If I can’t laugh at work, I don’t want to work there.
• I spent 3 hours this afternoon learning Production, aka the copy room (binding, etc.). Because while there are people who work there specifically, if I’m ever on call Saturday or (gods forbid) late a night and they’ve gone home, I’ll need to know how to pitch in. Everyone goes through it. I’m a bit surprised they don’t have a more dedicated team set-up given the size of the company and the stuff that needs to get printed. But that’s probably a cost-saving tool and none of my business, really.
• Still no I.D. I’ve talked to my rep again and got another ‘team, let’s get on this’ from IT. I’m quickly losing patience.
• I couldn’t convince myself to go see the Winter Soldier movie tonight, despite it being ‘cheap Tuesday’. I felt guilty. What kind of horseshit is that?
• Mels has become quite the cuddle monster since she got fixed. Took me by surprise. Izzy thinks it’s fun to bite my chin. Miss Princess Fattie McFatterson Hannah just wants food and wants it now.
• ‘Mels’ is short for Melanie Elisabeth. Betcha didn’t know that. She’d been previously nicked Courtney Love but I knew that wouldn’t stick. No clue what to name her though when I picked her up. Got down to the Danforth, her softly meowing as she bumped along in the carrier, and between Pape Avenue and Greenwood Avenue she’d been named.