lapacifidora: (Oh. Hell.)
Crap.

Crap crap crapcrapcrapcrap crappity crap crap.

This adulthood thing really kind of sucks, y'know.

Don't *make* me throw this hummus! It's spicy. )
lapacifidora: (Freak out)
Geez. I'm melodramatic sometimes. But I have now renamed myself "Cranky Pants." And I refer to myself as such in the third person: "Cranky Pants demands coffee." "Cranky Pants does not approve." "Cranky Pants wants it to stop snowing."

Yes, it is a definite possibility I am losing what little is left of my mind. C'est la vie.
lapacifidora: (Oh. Hell.)
In the space of the last month, my life has been shredded like a used paper napkin.

Scratch that: It's been ripped apart like one of those less-fortunate dinosaurs you see on a Discovery Channel program that isn't paying attention when all the other dinosaurs take off at the first hint that a T-Rex is coming up from behind.

My boss put me on a 1-month probation a little less than a month ago. And much as I've been doing what she asked me to do, things have not gotten better.

I can't eat. I've had more panic attacks in the last month than I had in the last two years of college. I fantasize about keying my boss's car. And then I wonder if maybe she's right, and am I simply a stupid girl who should be flipping burgers or something.

I'm angry and upset and bewildered, mainly because even when I was bullied as a kid, it was never like this: Never this systematic stripping away of everything I am, like she won't be happy until I am completely broken.

I'd like to think things would be better if my boss wasn't in the middle of opening a new restaurant in a different state, but my gut tells me it wouldn't. My gut tells me she believes she can crush me because I've bent over backwards to accommodate her before.

The part that makes me feel the most ill is that I know - I Know - I am only dragging this out because I'm afraid that if I do apply for a different job at another company, it will be just as bad as this. And that's stupid because I've had jobs I loved, jobs I would've kept forever if I could've.

But I suppose what I'm most concerned with at the moment is this: How do I get myself to start eating again when the thought of food makes me panicky and slightly nauseated? It's been so long since I've had this problem that I don't remember what I did last time.
lapacifidora: (Default)
It's been almost a year since my old laptop died and I both a) had to go buy a new one and b) got behind reading stuff at Milady/Milord and have never caught up.

In fact, it's been months since I looked at practically anything posted there. On the one hand, it's freed me up to read awesome books (which, hey, I finally figured out what to do with my Tumblr! I just haven't done it yet.) and to find new ships (Ben & Leslie! Ron & Ann! Tom & Ann! Ben/Leslie/Ann! Dan & Blair! Wendy & the Middle Man! Guy & Marian!). On the other hand, I feel kind of shitty because I know people have been creating some awesome things and I feel really disconnected from my fellow Jeff/Annie shippers.

I have at least six Jeff/Annie stories planned (as in they're in my head, I just need the time to write them), not counting a couple things I have in progress, but I feel kind of like I'm off in my own little writing world, which sucks because I like having my thumb on the shippers' collective pulse when I write.

Finally, it's chilly but absolutely gorgeous outside and I have about another 20 minutes before I can leave work.

I know, I know: World's smallest record player playing the world's saddest song...
lapacifidora: (Default)
It's completely stupid, but there are moments I miss being unemployed. It's not simply because The Employer is a lunatic.

I miss updating my fics daily. I miss feeling like I was making progress on something I care about. And I miss having the energy to respond to everyone who comments on my fics.

I also kind of miss not looking like I've been smacked in the face. Does anyone have suggestions for under-eye shadows?

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