why do I let them get to me?

I have to get out of this job. I just can't handle it anymore. The ladies that work here are SUCH ASSHOLES to me. I mean seriously. They don't give a shit about anyone but themselves. And the clients are jerks too. So rude. I mean, where do you get off being so rude?
I don't know. I have been having a really tough time dealing with work lately. I mean, I just can't handle it. I thought maybe a long weekend would make it better, I would calm down. But it doesn't. I just feel all tied up in knots when I am here.
And I just don't care anymore. The only reason I'm keeping the job is to use up the 4 free plane tickets I have. I don't know. I just don't know if I'm going to be able to make it. It would be horrible to lose free travel but seriously, I HATE everyone here. I just can't stand being here. Every morning I wake up and hope that this day something will change. That everyone won't be SUCH ASSHOLES to me all the time. I'm the receptionist I know but I am not a fucking peon.
And it ruins me. It drains me. I don't know. Can i give up my sanity in exchange for health insurance and free plane tickets? I'm not sure anymore.
I've thought about going to see someone, someone who I can bitch to all the time, but really, is that going to help? I feel nothing but venom and contempt for all of the ladies in my office. I spit on them.
But why? It wasn't so bad a few months ago. I was okay.
But now Margalie doesn't care and it takes away from her work. I'm sure she feels the same way about me. We are both sad and listless at this office. But somehow she doesn't let the jerks get to her. She just brushes it off while I am constantly being tied in knots, so angry I'm afraid that I'll yell at one of the idiots in the office and get fired. I've already caught myself being rude to one of them. I couldn't help it - she asked the same stupid question she asks every fucking day.
I don't know - shouldn't I just be happy that I have a job and accept my plight as a receptionist. Be happy that I make a good amount of money and have the freedom to do alot of things. No. I don't want that. I don't want to feel trapped in a job because of money or health insurance. I don't need it. I'm fine. I guess.
I don't know what to do. Its been a little over a year. I've never really had a job this long. But does settling down really mean settling? There has to be SOMETHING I can do. I can get another job, maybe doing something different, making more money.
I don't know.
Irene keeps saying I should be thankful that i have a job at all when her job is hanging in the balance. but how can I be when it sucks this much?
what is wrong with me? I am crying at my desk. what the fuck?
so Margalie is not in the office today. But not because she is sick but because the main office needed her to fill in for their receptionist who is out today. so I asked the ladies in this office if they could possibly help me out with the phones to give me a lunch break. ONE FUCKING HOUR. well they bitched and bitched at me "Why can't so-and-so do it? I can't, I'm too busy. I hate the phones - can't you find someone else?" what the fuck am I supposed to do here? I mean really. all it is ONE HOUR and there are 5 people trained on the phones, they could all do like 12 minutes each. but instead of just helping out, two of these friggin bitches call me and are like "didn't you train Judy? can't she do it?" well she never got trained no. but YOU did. its 10 minutes people. for the love of god. and what the fuck are you doing? I see you sitting around chatting ALL THE TIME. can't you just help? but no. I do TONS of shit for them but when I need something its the end of the world.
I can't handle that. what the fuck is wrong with people?
I don't know what to do. I need some help. I have to get out of here.

an intense ride

ok so i'm stoned out of my mind right now. and i just drove home from my cousin georgia's house in a friggin crazy snow storm. it was SO hard to see. as if my memory isn't like an etch-a-sketch already, whenever i drive whilst stoned, i have this awful habit of forgetting where I am every thirty seconds. I'm like a fish in a bowl. and when you are driving home on dark country roads in a BLIZZARD, that particular trait makes things SO MUCH MORE DIFFICULT. admittedly my own fault, the fear-stricken drive was a terrible way to ruin a good high. but here's the thing. i get so distracted by my own thoughts. that's what happens. I lose my place because my mind is racing. While i was at georgia's i read this article (or part of it - reading comprehension is also slightly difficult whilst stoned...) from Atlantic Monthly on shame. It was such an interesting article about shame and how it plays a part in all of our lives in some way or another. And some people feel less and some people feel more. Which led me to thinking about Ken, who feels more. He just doesn't like himself at all. And while I understand that feeling in theory, I am quite the opposite. I am adamantly pro-Me. i am the most intense cheerleader for my life. It is a learned effort but a successful one. I love myself. After much effort and hard work, I really, truly do. It's a good thing, yes. But in my rose-colored oblivion, it makes it tough to fully grasp how Ken could not see how great he is too. Such a wonderful person - kind, sweet, smart. How can he not see that? And the music inspired me. I was listening to "Hey Jude" in the car on the way home. And I heard the song as if it were to say "Accept the love of the one who wants so badly to give it to you." And I hope Ken accepts mine. And even though I know I can never make him truly happy, if I could for just one second, make him see how great he really is, then I would be satisfied. And then I am home. And safe. So now I am in my pajamas, stoned, reflecting on the past 20 minutes. And man, was that an intense ride.

about those magical caffeine pills

It was great that the caffeine pills kept me both alert enough to do some work and also devoid of the hallucinations i am wont to have when i am excessively tired. It was, however, NOT so great when I was trying to go to sleep at 10pm and I had a bit of a panic attack in my bed, freaking out when I was unsure whether my heart was racing or had stopped altogether. Thankfully Irene talked me off that ledge, suggested I have a cup of herbal decaf tea and lay down on the couch with a movie on. That lulled me to sleep thankfully. Man!

its all good

"I appreciate your disdain at my pleasant relationship. In fact, I revel in it."
-To Margalie this morning when she scoffed at my great date last night.

Work Ethic is dead

ok. there is something that i just cannot stand. above all else, i believe in getting a job done well. no matter what it is. regardless of its importance to you personally. if i tell a person i will do a job, i will do it and well. i have a strong work ethic. and i believe that that is important. so when people start complaining that it is too difficult to do their job, even the simplest and most basic element of that job, it burns me.
i am a receptionist. admittedly i do WAY more than just answer the phone, but the root of my duty is to answer the phones and to give the client to the appropriate agent or take a message. easy, right? well apparently it is too difficult.
there is one agent, Richard, who recently moved to California but for whom I still answer the phones. During the move, many of his clients were bounced around and now many of them don't know who they should be asking for. So often, i have to probe clients for their company name and travel details to figure out who they should talk to. No big. Just part of the job, right?
So one of Richard's clients sent a fax to Lisa telling her about a group who will begin calling to get reservations soon. So Lisa freaks out. Why are they calling her? Why not Richard? What to do?
She comes to us at the front desk to tell us that Richard better do something so that all of these clients don't start calling her. She is not going to be Richard's secretary, she says. Like its beneath her to take a message and pass it on. Well thanks.
So I speak to Richard and for some reason, he says instead of him calling the group leader and telling her that he is the rep instead of Lisa that we should just weed through Lisa's calls to find his clients and then pass them on call by call. A pain in the ass admittedly. I now have to give the third degree to everyone who calls and asks for Lisa.
But here's the thing. That's my job. So I've just got to suck it up and do it.
So why is everyone freaking out about it? The clients are traveling in March anyway - it'll be over and done with so soon. What is the big deal? I could see if someone was asking us to go above and beyond the realm of our actual duties. But seriously, it is the job. And I will do it. Because that is what they pay me to do. UGH.

you live and you learn

apparently if you take the number of caffeine pills as directed on the box (one), you will achieve the desired effect (not falling asleep at my desk, perhaps even a slight perkiness) instead of feeling like you are having a heart attack. just a tip.

life is so real sometimes

I was just talking to my dad on the phone. calling him actually to see if I could borrow 40 bucks. I haven't asked in a while and I'm broke so I figured...but that's not what I'm thinking about. I talked to him about my beau. And the difficulty it is to be in a relationship. and its an odd thing to talk to my dad about it. I try to be as honest as possible with him and to remember that he's just a person and that he went through plenty of hardship himself. I can talk to him about it sure. And I guess its just been how I've been feeling because it bubbled up over and out of my mouth into my conversation with my dad.
"So what's going on?" he asks. A question which I will hear 12 more times within the same conversation.
"Well, you know I'm still dating Ken. (this is my first naming him publicly, isn't it. well, here we go) And its going well but, well you know, its hard sometimes to be in a relationship. They have their things and you have your things and you have to just work it out."
"What do you mean?" My vague semantics did nothing to detract him. This is my dad after all. He just wants to make sure I'm okay. Especially when it comes to me having a boyfriend.
"Well, he's got an anxiety disorder much like my roommate and sometimes the manifestation of that makes it difficult." I avoid, like I do in most conversations, explaining that this "manifestation" is him not calling me. There's just no way to make that sound okay.
I continue," I like him but sometimes its difficult. He's had a tough time recently and I have a hard time accepting that there is nothing I can do. He just has to go through it and all I can do is stand by him. I really think he's worth doing that - waiting. But its tough." It has been only a week since the last time I saw Ken and usually I don't freak out until at least the middle of the second week of not talking to him. I try to be as understanding as possible and for a little bit we had a rhythm of seeing each other every two weeks. But I guess no rhythm can last forever. As my wait-a-week-and-a-half-to-freak-out rhythm escapes me, I have begun to worry that the last time we were together, I came on too strong, that I have freaked him out. And with Valentine's Day fast approaching, the little princess inside of me is hoping with all her might that her knight will come with some roses and a nice sentiment to celebrate the holiday of chocolate and the color pink. And it is slowly dawning on me that it is most likely not going to happen. And that that is not the end of the world. But it does disappoint me just a little bit (okay a helluva lot more than I am willing to admit to myself...). And it is those moments when I question: what am I doing with this guy? Does he really appreciate and reciprocate my affections? Or am I kidding myself into thinking this guy likes me when all he really wants is a warm body on occasion to cheer him up...oh, I don't really think that. I can think of no acceptable alternative to "he's into me but he doesn't know what to do about it." That was the prognosis I got from my roommate, Samantha - the woman who set us up.
But, meh. Its difficult is all. I just have to deal with it. Grin and bear it. And stick to it. I have no fortitude, no patience - this is my life lesson. He's lucky I'm in love with him.

so tired

brain needs coffee NOW

boys always want what they can't have

you know what i can't stand? boys. boys of your past who show up and look at you with those eyes. who lean in to hug you hello and make you want them again. who make you wonder (once again) why it didn't work out between you. who make you doubt the happiness you are enjoying with the boy who did want you, who does want you. argh.

good times

sometimes you have to go back to your roots. and on saturday, that is what i did. it was a beautiful day in the neighborhood but i was feeling particularly fond of my pajamas and my couch. that is, until i got a call from Gloria telling me my friend Liz wanted to see me that day. No, Gloria is not Liz's assistant (though I'd love for one of my friends to have an assistant...). Rather, Liz, in characteristic Liz fashion, lost her wallet and cellphone upon arriving in Astoria. So she has been living in Astoria for the past week, unable to contact anyone except through email. Oh Liz. So I hop on my roommate's computer and email Liz. She wants to lure me out of the house with the offer of a $3 day complete with a good old fashioned wander about the neighborhood. I bit. I haven't seen her in forever. and the best thing about liz is that we are always on the same page. we always get each other - no matter what crazy different adventures we've gone through on our own, we always come back to us. Seeing her after years apart still feels like I talked to her yesterday, in the parking lot outside of school right before the bell rang and they locked us out. You see, we went to high school together and had some pretty formative adventures in those days: she was the first person I met when I started the all girls private high school(hand outstretched, big blue eyes and a formal introduction including her FULL name: Elizabeth Mary Angela Dembrowsky); she helped me talk the school into hiring a director so that we, like the boys school, could put up plays in our gymnasium (oddly we ended up with Scary Lee - a woman whose fashion was stuck in the 80s and whose directing style belonged in the jungle); and she snuck out of school and prepared the getaway car when, in the 11th grade, our friend Bonnie had a baby (who she named Amy - ah, but that is guilt for another story...). Where am I? Oh yes, so here we are, now in our late 20s, living once again in the same geographical area. So we meet by the Broadway stop on the N/W line in Astoria and set to walking. We decide we're getting better looking as we age though not more frugal, as we both assess our credit card balances to see if we can get lunch. We can. So we sit at a cute little cafe and catch up. We discuss boys mostly - they tend to float to the surface earlier in the conversation than say, our own disappointment at a serious lack of career (though eventually it comes up). She suggests we return to her new apartment where she wants to show me the new cult hit, Napoleon Dynamite. I agree. But when we get to her house, it seems her roommate has taken it away for the weekend (it does belong to her after all). So we sit and we chat. I tell her about my sexual revolution and how it feels to embark on the first major relationship after such a strange sexual trip. We talk about the books we want to write, the places we want to visit, the jobs we wish we didn't have to have. And its all good. Makes me feel very at home. and I hope it does for her as well. I am, after all, already at home in New York City. She is just moving here. And I realize that if I am okay here that she will be okay here. Because that's how it all works. We've always been on the same page, we understand each other and the choices we've made. And I think that New York is the right choice for her as it is the right choice for me. And it makes me happy. Because I know that now I am the one with the hand outstretched and the big blue eyes, welcoming her to her new adventure.
"Hi. My name is Amy Jeanne Pacheco. Welcome to New York City."

i hate nosy people

there's this one woman in my office and man, she is the nosiest person in the history of the world (ok i'm going to need to factcheck on that but whatever). she comes by the front desk and has to look at everything. this is my friggin desk, woman, get the hell away. she picks up everything and i just want to say, that's not yours. not that either. not that either. not that either. but she just looks around and asks questions about things. sometimes its the mail - what's this? she asks. how the hell should i know - i sort it, i don't READ it. seriously get back to your friggin desk and answer the goddamn phone when i'm transferring to you. for the love of god.

nothing nothing

i worry. i worry that i exist in a state of almost drowned all the time. that i bite off more than i can chew. that really i have no motivation to do any of the things i said i would do - i would rather just sit and look pretty. but its the fact that people believe in me, believe that i can do these crazy things that makes me do them. and i guess that's good. people believe in me for a reason. i'm a hard worker when i "put my mind to it." where is my mind right now? i feel slightly fuzzy and intensely unmotivated. i can't even decide if i'm actually unmotivated or not. is this a phase? will this pass? should i just keep on truckin? no one's going to live this life for me. is it a copout that i'm happy just hanging out? i saw a sign that said "winners are willing to do what losers will not." am i a winner? what does it involve? cause i mean i hate that all i do is sit on my couch and watch TV but i'm tired! but am i tired because i don't do anything? i did go to two mics already this week and am feeling better. just being around creative people makes me feel better. a little anyway. i blame my listlessness on my job - that it sucks all the energy out of me. but i really just need an outlet - someway to get rid of the tension that this meaningless job gives me. i think i have a good outlook on life. i think i am strong enough to handle lots of tough situations. i can do that. its the whole what-am-i-doing-with-my-life that gets me down. i want to write a book about the artstars. i want to write for magazines. i want to write and perform situational comedy. i want to create characters and perform them. i want to write and perform standup comedy. now all of these things are possible - completely. why can't i get myself to get going on them? come on. come on. come on.