I'm not saying all distress is alleviated. It still sucks. But I can usually control the spewing.

That is ... unless my naseau coincides with a cold/sinus action. Coughing and sneezing are like my cryptonite and today led to the demise of my bedroom comforter.

RIP wooly blanket.

Anyway, at the moment I'm in NYC and I have a bit of a rant to share. I've probably shared it before. Probably the last time I was in NYC but here goes.

On the subway, especially a crowded subway, it really pisses me off that men don't offer their seats to women and to the elderly. Yesterday it was hot as hell in the tunnels below New York and after a cycle of walking and standing for hours, being meatlockered against the side of a moving bus is all but unbareable. Yet men lined the seats as women of all ages rode on their feet. I don't believe women are better or more deserving but some concept of chivalry would do a brother good right now.

Damn.

Work ... well it's not the love affair it once was. Today was "please don't pump up the jam in your cube" day and resulted in injuried parties and tantum throwing. When an innocent bystander came to me and said, you know such and such is upset about your email ... well, I'm finding it hard to care. My email was kind, was sent to a group asking for general awareness of surroundings and did not illustrate or ridicule any one person's off-key singing. We are professional adults here - this should so totally not be an issue on my agenda.

Other news ... I was home sick from work on Thursday (yes, me, calling in sick, I know, and no, pigs aren't flying) and I watched the View for lack of anything else I could do. I've never really followed it or cared one way or another for anyone on it. I don't dig Rosie, not because of the show but just because of her in general - she's a little loud for my tastes. Whoopie Goldberg is the new headliner on the show and I've never really cared for her either. Her humor doesn't really amuse me so she's just struck me as odd - and not in a good way. After watching Thursday, I have to say I think Whoopie is a good addition. I may not appreciate her humor, but she seemed pretty down to earth and supports the personal accountability cause which is underfunded and respected round these parts. She was well spoken and unemotional and it gave validity to her already good points. One vote for Whoopie.

Alrighty, spreadsheet is done sucking my soul out.

But worse than having an irrational screeching banshee slapping you so hard with every fault you've ever had that you wish you were never born ... (ok, maybe a little over the top, not gonna find anything much worse than that (and I would never do that anyway))

But worse than having me rub your nose in the uncomfortable truth or my warped perception of the truth is having no freaking idea what someone you care about is thinking or feeling. Worse than that is finding out from someone else that they are thinking something important and relevant - and that they are telling others, but not you. The worst is discovering they feel so strongly about something that it is consciously affecting their behavior towards you, but they aren't talking to you about it.

I overthink things. And given the opportunity I will come to the saddest conclusion. If things weren't bad, you'd talk to me right? Or maybe you don't care enough about me to want to talk about things. It only goes downhill from there. I'm morbid. I ALWAYS think of the worst thing that can happen or has happened. I fear the worst and I watch it and study it, trying to avoid it, trying to keep it at bay. I am intimately familiar with the worst case scenerio.

I want to find a way to right things - but I cannot if I don't know what is going on. The control freak in me kicks in and starts to panic. I cannot make you talk. I cannot make you want to reach out. I can only stew, knowing there is something that needs to be said while we sit in silence. I can think and overthink, assume and jump to conclusions, and eventually, to put it all to rest, I can give up and move on.

I missed an option.

I can reach out and ask you what is wrong. But you'll tell me "nothing." And I cannot make you tell me the truth.

Nothing is so bad as not knowing. Just say it.

Highs just make lows lower. And I think too much.

I got home and the power has flickered in and out about 15 times, reseting the tv which then blasts the classical music channel at it's loudest setting until I can get my hands on the remote. It's not a big deal but it's the little frustrations that push you over the edge.

Speaking of which, I'm working, trying to get through our ever-increasing workload and Oracle freezes up for no reason. So I will pause to purge what is left of my rational thoughts.

Accountability is one of my pet peeves. Today I hit my tolerance for the bullshit. I unleashed on someone somewhat uninvolved and spent the remainder of the day being a right bitch. I've taken and I've taken and I've listened and I've listened and I've kept some semblence of a professional smile on my face. All the while, the anti-accountability campaign flourishes. The work shifts to me. Seriously. And I get no extra budget, no headcount for cleaning up the work that another team doesn't have the "bandwidth" to handle. My "bandwidth" is irrelevant.

Still frozen

I feel very taken for granted right now. I feel overlooked. I feel undervalued. I feel like I work very hard to become that person who is expected to be a perpetual cog, always there, always being what you need her to be. I told Beau the other day that to keep me happy, I need to feel unique and uniquely valued, irreplaceable, a precious snowflake like no other that has been or will be. I assume that's why I do the things I do. But I don't get my desired return on investment. Not in the end at least. No one wants a doormat and becoming the perfect ... employee, boss, wife, friend, neighbor ... becoming so low maintenence that you require no maintenance can be the same as becoming a doormat.

Predictable. Expected. Unspecial. Overlooked. Taken for granted.

I'm waiting on blood test results from my thrilling visit to the doctor from Hell last week. I'm sure everything will be fine but waiting is always distressing. I have another visit scheduled to a different doctor next week but I think I'll probably cancel that in the morning. I've had my fill of condescending belittling this month.

I came home today and I cleaned. I cleaned more than I usually do on a cleaning night. I have to conquer something and I don't feel like I've been able to do that in a long, long time.

The Count of Monte Cristo
A Midsummer Night's Dream
16 Blocks
The Last Kiss
Practical Magic

I announced to Beau the formula for keeping me happy and content and in love forever and ever and ever. I don't know if it works for everyone but it works for me. I want to feel unique and special and loved above all other things.

As I wait for Dexter to restart I was surfing around and watched the first episode of Califonication with David Duchovney. It was awesome. High adult content but super-witty.

The only problem is they cancel all the good shows for whatever reason. Dead Like Me. Rome. Carnivale. They're talking about making The Song of Ice and Fire as one book per season. I love the idea. I can't wait. But I can't help thinking they cancel it too and then I'll wish they'd never even started it.

I'm reading Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk. Chuck makes you think and makes you feel so I was ripe for a little break from the norm before I ever set foot out the door this morning. I'm still early in the book and the recent touching sentiment was in regards to "Maybe suffering and misery is the point of life." Well I think I'll have that and a cupcake to dwell on for the rest of however long.

So I saw a city bus drive by and I considered getting on it, just to ride around the city, just to see who is on it and what I can discern about them from my observations. If I hadn't had to work I would have done it. I would likely have been disappointed but it would have been an experience one way or another.

I later had a discussion with someone about the kinds of characters I tend to make up when I (used to) role play. Well, typically they were something they weren't. Like something who doesn't know they are something else. Or something who is pretending to be something else. Or something, but trained to be something else. I wonder what that says about me and who I'd like to be.

I stopped for gas on my way home and as I waited in line at the quickie mart I saw a fat middle-aged redneck toting a 6-pack leaning in for a better look at my feet. I asked him if I could help him, he told me my feet were beautiful and apologized for staring. I told him people get tattoos because they want people to look so not to worry. He asked me if I had others and I moved my hair so he could see my neck. He leaned in close and said,

"You don't want to hear this but you have a pimple on your back. A friend told me I should squeeze pimples (he motions to the side of his nose). Do you want me to squeeze yours?"

"Thanks but no."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"You hate me. I'm not good enough. I'm just good enough to be your plumber."

I looked at him, said nothing, turned and walked out of the store. As I pulled away I watched for him to come out but he didn't. I did see a plumbers truck. Since then I've probably touched my back 1,000 times trying to feel the stupid pimple.

I'm watching Shawshank Redemption right now for the first time while working. Someone mentioned to me today they couldn't believe I had never seen it.

Two things I've been wanting to write about. I don't know that I'll have time or presence of mind to do them justice but I'll try.

I think we're moving closer to a more drastic class distinction based on the educated versus the uneducated. And I don't mean college. When I was a brat, day care was day care. You spent the day in a chiggery yard getting the shit beat out of you by someone else's kid. Today, day care is school, with lessons, skill training and report cards. The people having babies today are, as likely as not, kids who haven't and won't graduate high school. What value for education do they have? What value for education are they going to instill in their children?

So my kids are getting the best education money can buy (not that it's all that great but it's a priority at least) and learn from the crib that school is important. Your kids (royal you, so don't take offense) know you didn't care about school for yourself and you don't care about school for them so if we're lucky they make it to 9th grade before dropping out to have their own kid.

My kid is well prepared to take a place in a job market desperate for someone literate. Your kid struggles to operate the register at Taco Bell.

Each generation sees more extremes and less moderates as literacy becomes more rare and more valuable. Knowledge is power and money and security.

No time for topic 2. More later.