Red-Hooded Sweatshirt

"Abra, abracadabra, I wanna reach out and grab ya." (Have a, have a cadaver. I wanna reach out and stab ya.) And hey, sometimes I do. I hate feeling left out because my friends are doing (my) Richard Simmons videos without me at their house using my electronics. I'm not terribly possessive about my stuff, but I wish I could be included if I share stuff. It's not the stuff I miss; it's the company, of course. I've been feeling very Tiger Child lately, very red and black. I'm crimson without the clover. A few weeks ago, I agreed to attend this weekend conference for work in Fergus Falls. Well, after the longest week of my life, I get to go! It kind of sucks because I finally started feeling like I could relate to many of my coworkers and that they were accepting me and we were all joking and getting along, and FINALLY someone invited me to carpool with them, but of course, I have to work at Bon Jos that afternoon so would need to leave later than they're planning, so either I go by myself or go with the woman I'm not sure I like. She's second-in-charge, I guess, and is pretty good at being a kindergarten teacher but, in my not-so-humble opinion, needs to realize that it's okay to come down from that role when talking privately to other adults. You know the type, "Oh, good morn-ing, A-lex-is! How are you to-day?" "Doin' alright, thanks (insert her name). How 'bout you?" "I am fine, thank you!" and it's ALL in that VOICE! Ugh. But hey, I have only seen her at work, and maybe she just needs to maintain that character the entire time she's in her work environment for, I don't know, her sanity? But if I do carpool with her, I understand that this other guy I will be going, too, and I haven't met him yet. It might be cool to meet a new person, or it might suck. I have the feeling I'd almost prefer to drive by myself, because that way, after the conference is over, I won't have to hurry up or wait for anyone or refrain from ripping out my hair and screaming at the end or buying a pack of cigs out of relief or who knows? Crying for joy that I spend an hour and a half in my breakout session learning how to do art with infants? The thing is, my boss really wants everyone who can to attend, and since it's all paid for AND I get paid for my time, it could be nice to get to know my coworkers a little better and perhaps gain some insight to be better at my job, although it's hard for me to feel terribly optimistic about that since I'm leaving soon anyway and would love to have a weekend for one WHILE avoiding being in close quarters with some of my coworkers who, this past week, have been VERY ill with some nasty sicknesses I do not wish to contract. Plus, it's in Fergus. I haven't been able to go there since I was brought there, and it reminds me of all the circumstances I hate. However, I feel a lot better about certain parts of my life. We started to watch The Cable Guy last night and ended up in discussion instead, but it's nice having clearer reception, at any rate! It's very weird to think that Mike and I are coming up on our anniversary. We don't really have a date. I mean, in a lot of ways it's difficult to fix an exact date for just being together. It's more the sort of thing a person notes for a wedding/birthday/politcal invasion/assassination, etc., but I suppose for some people, a first date/first kiss/first fuck/first fist fuck/etc. is the event they like to celebrate annually. I suppose in order to pick an anniversary date, we'd have to decide the occasion, which, since we've been saying, "We've been together almost a year," is extremely hard to do. I don't remember what day we verbally confirmed that the relationship we have is unique to us, but I know when our first date was, and for me, anyway, it was pretty clear shortly after the second. It's so weird and difficult for me that I can't talk to my dad about love and relationships (especially anything other than heterosexual), I can't talk to my brother about financial matters, and I can't talk to my mom about medications and therapy and my personal mental health. I would think that because my mom came to hold my hand when I was crazy, and my brother is a property accountant, and (traditionally) my daddy's role is the one replaced in a relationship, I should be able to talk to them about these things, because it seems like I need to. They're the self-proclaimed experts! But maybe because they are such is why we end up fighting or closing each other off. I just hate that my dad can send my mom the nicest email or say something to her, basically thanking her for her efforts or something she did for me, and she pretty much shoots him down with the coldest, hardest bitch emails ever. Maybe after living with my dad drives me crazy, I'll go live off the land in the desert (however that works...and yes, he owns some land out yonder) and wander the wilderness, soak up the sun, get bitten by a rattlesnake and foam at the mouth until all the natural poison in my body is dried up and consumed by the trickster at hand.