I had planned to go into the office today, but I am too sad to play dodge ball. I feel guilty, but really, I’m making things easier for my co-workers – as evidenced by a conversation I had yesterday, it is incredibly awkward to have a documentation-related discussion while one person is visibly crying yet attempting to talk shop.
*sniffle* So, I think that if we remove section 3 and replace it with section <wipe away tears> 14, the overall process flow *voice breaks* will make more sense to the end user *sob*
I’m actually being productive at home. I had to bribe someone with candy and give him my pornographic password so he could email me a couple of files, but if I get next week’s deadline started, I’ll feel better about not being there.
iTunes is keeping me company, but it’s an uphill battle. I can’t listen to anything remotely sad or melancholy because it makes me burst into tears. I’ve told the Genius Playlist to only play upbeat songs, but that apparently limits my options to Big Dumb Sex by Soundgarden and a few choice songs I am too embarrassed to name here. It’s sort of working – it’s hard to cry along to a peppy dance beat and songs about disco sticks.
Okay, not really, but picturing what I must look like from the outside – crying and involuntarily chair-dancing at the same time – is kind of hilarious.
It’s funny – in times of great heartache, I always think the same thing: I want my mom. I absolutely don’t understand this, because my mother has never been any source of comfort for me – she’s actually pretty scary. If I called her up and sobbed my current agony to her, be it the loss of my best friend or a fight with Ed, she wouldn’t exactly open her arms and let me cry out my pain. She would ramble something inappropriate, offer me some chicken, then maybe buy me shoes. Worse, she would try to justify it (whatever “it” is) and that would make me explode. So why do I always want my mother in times of sorrow? It’s weird. Maybe I just want someone authoritative to hug me and tell me everything will be okay; to take care of me and let me do what I need to do – someone who is removed from the thing causing my grief. Yeah, that’s it. It’s one thing to grieve together, but sometimes you just need outsider love.
I am so clear and concise; it is obvious why I am such a successful tech writer.
So, after I get over the whole “why do I want my mom? My mom scares me” thing, my thoughts turn to my second default grief reaction: memorial tattoo! I should totally get a memorial tattoo!
I haven’t decided this one yet, but the thoughts are there.
Funny like this porn star cookie I’m eating.