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Holy fuck, did I really post as soon as I got out of bed this morning? That's fucking sick. Also of note: I started this entry pretty much upon arriving home.
First day at new job. Also first full day of wearing new, big clunky rings. Totally not my style heretofore, especially the part where one ring is stacked over my little bitty eastern orthodox ring from St. Petersburg. Of note because it a) never leaves my hand (almost), b) is in church slavic and c) is the only ring I wear. Until this weekend, that is! Usless bit of Sarah trivia there. I almost never wear jewelry that I have to remove, or only choose to wear on certain occasions. My earrings never come out. Four of them because I just don't take them out, two because I need two pairs of pliers and a willing assistant. Fortunately, the only people who realize that they're captive beads and that my piercings have been stretched are also freakish body-modifying deviants who are more likely to snicker at my conservative look than question my mental health (at least on those grounds). But I like my rings, and as the salesgirl pointed out, they go with my big fat leather cuff (which I did not wear to work in a show of great restraint).
New job is good, actual productivity was had, and most importantly, I have my own office! Seriously it's all sorts of big. My boss (one of three, all with one-syllable names starting with D -- I'm already working on a collective nickname, but need time to ascertain level of affection) suggested I do something to make it seem less inviting for a second desk. Perhaps a potted plant. And animal sacrifice.
New pants are good, but I neglected to wash them and they smell starchy and new. Unwashed, even. It was so fucking hot and humid today, of course, because it was the day I was walking all over not one, but two University campuses (campii?) running errands. Clearly it's all about me, and not global warming or a sign of our planetary doom creeping ever closer.
Foot is falling asleep, but I get perverse pleasure out of sitting on it. My masochism, much like my other forms of physical pleasure, is currently being self-tended. Next I'll order myself to take a shower. Filthy pig.
My commute, when not time for sleep, is time for brooding and Serious Thinking (TM). Question of the day: How many people do you really count on? Is this a different group than the people you are willing to turn to? Like, I have people I will go to when upset or happy or in need of advice -- some for specific topics only, a few for pretty much anything. But people I depend on and actually expect to be there for me and whose love (and willingness and ability to mourn or celebrate with me) I never ever doubt? One. I'm not complaining! I'm damn lucky! But I have so many people who I like having in my life, and a smaller but still significant group of people I love, and I'm really lucky and grateful for them. My saying I don't depend on them doesn't mean they're never there, or that I don't care for them or believe they don't care for me, but I don't expect them to be around all the time.
Related topic: assuming that love is never equal, would you rather be the more loving or the more beloved? Is your answer different for romantic v. familial v. friendship relationships? I'm still thinking on this one. I am very self-conscious about and often feel guilty over the people who care about me more than I care about them (or for whom I perceive this to be true, I certainly don't have a giant thermometer on my wall รก la United Way for their giving v. my own). Often when the reverse is true, I've been known to feel resentment. But lately not so much. I enjoy in many ways the relationships in which I feel more loving -- as if by lack of reciprocation or lesser reciprocation my affection is given totally freely, without the responsibility of worrying about the feelings of the other. I can see the many ways in which this may be totally fucked up, not to mention the beginning of a slippery slope that may well lead to bitterness. On the other hand, I enjoy the feeling that I'm asking for nothing in return. It's, of course, not entirely true especially in the grander scheme. All the same, maybe I feel like it balances out the relationships in which I feel like a selfish affection-sponge. Also: I think a key to this question is the difference between needing something more from someone than they need from you (or than they can provide) versus caring about someone in a way that releases you from requiring anything in return. Does the latter feeling even really exist, or is it an illusion or temporary state that eventually gives way to need or dampening of said affection?
I haven't had much to eat today, and I believe that it is apparent from this post. I will go feed my body, bathe and get myself to bed. I am on a serious sleep deficit which will not be helped at all by my plans for the week if I don't go to bed relatively early tonight.
Addendum: I am drinking a bottle of Newcastle that I accidently left in the freezer where it exploded. It is unsurprisingly flat and sad, but I am drinking it anyway a) as a punishment for freezing my damn beer and b) because it's expensive and I shouldn't have bought it in the first place on those grounds, and I'm sure as hell not going to let it go to waste now. I am eating with it the sandwich I carefully prepared this morning and then left on the counter. More evidence that I need better sleep habits. Good night, livejournal, good night internet, good night AIM and your green blinking message alert sign.
First day at new job. Also first full day of wearing new, big clunky rings. Totally not my style heretofore, especially the part where one ring is stacked over my little bitty eastern orthodox ring from St. Petersburg. Of note because it a) never leaves my hand (almost), b) is in church slavic and c) is the only ring I wear. Until this weekend, that is! Usless bit of Sarah trivia there. I almost never wear jewelry that I have to remove, or only choose to wear on certain occasions. My earrings never come out. Four of them because I just don't take them out, two because I need two pairs of pliers and a willing assistant. Fortunately, the only people who realize that they're captive beads and that my piercings have been stretched are also freakish body-modifying deviants who are more likely to snicker at my conservative look than question my mental health (at least on those grounds). But I like my rings, and as the salesgirl pointed out, they go with my big fat leather cuff (which I did not wear to work in a show of great restraint).
New job is good, actual productivity was had, and most importantly, I have my own office! Seriously it's all sorts of big. My boss (one of three, all with one-syllable names starting with D -- I'm already working on a collective nickname, but need time to ascertain level of affection) suggested I do something to make it seem less inviting for a second desk. Perhaps a potted plant. And animal sacrifice.
New pants are good, but I neglected to wash them and they smell starchy and new. Unwashed, even. It was so fucking hot and humid today, of course, because it was the day I was walking all over not one, but two University campuses (campii?) running errands. Clearly it's all about me, and not global warming or a sign of our planetary doom creeping ever closer.
Foot is falling asleep, but I get perverse pleasure out of sitting on it. My masochism, much like my other forms of physical pleasure, is currently being self-tended. Next I'll order myself to take a shower. Filthy pig.
My commute, when not time for sleep, is time for brooding and Serious Thinking (TM). Question of the day: How many people do you really count on? Is this a different group than the people you are willing to turn to? Like, I have people I will go to when upset or happy or in need of advice -- some for specific topics only, a few for pretty much anything. But people I depend on and actually expect to be there for me and whose love (and willingness and ability to mourn or celebrate with me) I never ever doubt? One. I'm not complaining! I'm damn lucky! But I have so many people who I like having in my life, and a smaller but still significant group of people I love, and I'm really lucky and grateful for them. My saying I don't depend on them doesn't mean they're never there, or that I don't care for them or believe they don't care for me, but I don't expect them to be around all the time.
Related topic: assuming that love is never equal, would you rather be the more loving or the more beloved? Is your answer different for romantic v. familial v. friendship relationships? I'm still thinking on this one. I am very self-conscious about and often feel guilty over the people who care about me more than I care about them (or for whom I perceive this to be true, I certainly don't have a giant thermometer on my wall รก la United Way for their giving v. my own). Often when the reverse is true, I've been known to feel resentment. But lately not so much. I enjoy in many ways the relationships in which I feel more loving -- as if by lack of reciprocation or lesser reciprocation my affection is given totally freely, without the responsibility of worrying about the feelings of the other. I can see the many ways in which this may be totally fucked up, not to mention the beginning of a slippery slope that may well lead to bitterness. On the other hand, I enjoy the feeling that I'm asking for nothing in return. It's, of course, not entirely true especially in the grander scheme. All the same, maybe I feel like it balances out the relationships in which I feel like a selfish affection-sponge. Also: I think a key to this question is the difference between needing something more from someone than they need from you (or than they can provide) versus caring about someone in a way that releases you from requiring anything in return. Does the latter feeling even really exist, or is it an illusion or temporary state that eventually gives way to need or dampening of said affection?
I haven't had much to eat today, and I believe that it is apparent from this post. I will go feed my body, bathe and get myself to bed. I am on a serious sleep deficit which will not be helped at all by my plans for the week if I don't go to bed relatively early tonight.
Addendum: I am drinking a bottle of Newcastle that I accidently left in the freezer where it exploded. It is unsurprisingly flat and sad, but I am drinking it anyway a) as a punishment for freezing my damn beer and b) because it's expensive and I shouldn't have bought it in the first place on those grounds, and I'm sure as hell not going to let it go to waste now. I am eating with it the sandwich I carefully prepared this morning and then left on the counter. More evidence that I need better sleep habits. Good night, livejournal, good night internet, good night AIM and your green blinking message alert sign.
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