I’m sitting here, kind of buzzed. Normal day at work the way I feel at this time of the day. The only difference is I’ve been working alone rather than with a sidekick receptionist.———————————————————–
Had two cappichinos today. And In the morning I had pasta with this spicy cajun pasta sauce you buy in jars at SuperValu. I felt like I ate too much this morning. Also I didnt get out to go for a walk today because it was raining like every day this month. And I had lunch instead. Not much, though. My portions were fine, really, but I feel quite full after that and my second cappichino. Then someone brought me candy. But I only ate maybe 10 gummy candys. Started to feel the anxiety, tapping my legs up and down, forgetting about the rest of the world because it got quiet enough that my mind could slip away.
Then I thought about the box of cookies in the staff kitchen. Mmm. I ran for two chocolate ones, my favorite but if they werent there any cookie would do. —————————————————————-
I ate them. I finished and I was still full but Oh, I could really use another fucking cookie. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. I eat a gummy.
Don’t do it. —————– Suzanne comes down for some keys or something and tells me in her helpful way, how the black key is used for the car park in the basement. I say “thanks suzanne, really thanks”, and try to sound genuine but as terrible as I am I’m really thinking “I’m going to be gone in three weeks, gone on a farm. Not here, not anywhere near this fucking key”. She walks upstairs, my heart is still fucking pounding pounding, I FEEL that my pupils are very dialated. I want to run run run run. Take a drag or two. Or say fuck alot and swear and be one of those fucking bandit youths who just dont fucking give a flying fuck about fuck all, like FUCKKK MINNNG.———–
That’s how I feel. No wonder people ask me what I am on. I run for two more cookies. I got the EVEN better cookies and as I eat them I think about going to the gym very quickly before I get back to my flat to greet the guy from Quebec who is surfing my couch for two days of his european holiday.
Yes I can go to the gym just for a little while.
I eat my cookies holding them with two hands like a child. ———————————————-
I go back to my desk, sit up straight, very aware of my black pants, black turtleneck shirt that I got from lost and found at the bar I work at, the black cardigan I also got from the lost and found at the bar I work at. I’ve been meaning to wear colors at work for the longest time, but I feel like I should wear a black uniform to this job. I wear uniforms to places I don’t like, and I prefer black ones. ————————————————-
Mattew comes downstairs for the tapes, I still don’t know what they are for even though I asked once. I like to think they are like a company blackbox filled with all sorts of racy, intimate, boring ass business jargon and tragic market crashes. Sure why not. Mattew tries to make conversation with me in that way he tells his boring, long spun stories in a quiet voice that requires your ear and attention on the ready, and even then, god help you if you give a shit what he’s saying. I don’t ever give him either of those things not just because it really is stuff I could care less about (ie his flower pots), but also because of this one time… I wore this pink rockabilly polkadot skirt to work and was going on my sanity walk when he walked up beside me and decided we were going to go for a walk together. He made a joke saying maybe we shouldnt walk together or people will think we are dating, then grabbed my hand but I pulled it away, already feeling slightly assaulted because he took my sanity walk and filled it with unwanted conversation. But I couldn’t say anything because I knew how ridiculous I would sound. Especially since I’ve had days where I’ve been very chatty, and I didn’t want to confuse him anymore than my demeanor already probably does. I participated fully in the conversation that day but since then I really treat him like shit. I don’t feel good about it but I really dread his presence. I just want him to go away go away go away. Not just because I reject that he seems to like me, but also because all I do all day is listen to some of the most ridiculous people in the world who care about what I believe to be the most pointless shit ever, and I really don’t want to hear more of it… People whose lives revolve around knowing how many sausages Irish people eat, and where can they find our list of companies that sell fruit beverages? And oh the ANGER of some elderly women who think that because she ate one rank peice of pork that the Irish Food Board is trying to Murder her, and WHAT is WRONG with this country that we SELL such INEDIBLE food and WHERE are we getting this food because she is a FINE cook if-she-does-say-so-herself and her Daughter who was on TELEVISION for her cuisine skills both KNOW what fine meat tastes like, which this pork DEFINATELY WAS NOT FINE, it was INEDIBLE, and WHO is going to do something about this and WHAT tell her, WHAT are they going to do about it?
Then there are the men with their very unnatural business voices, and the farmers who I am sure tottered toward rural life for the same reason why I am out to volunteer on organic farms, which is that they are crazy and dont fit in the cities with their odd nature.
And what about that old man, an exception to the agony of pointless conversation… his name I will never remember, but oh, how he LOVED the garden festival we put on and could I tell him, please, tell him all that my company knows about BEES because we put on such a BEAUTIFUL BEE display that was just beautiful and if we could do that for him he would be just the happiest man in the world, and oh tell him, tell him when the next Garden festival will be on because he is SURE that it will be just as wonderful IF NOT BETTER! This man was an exception, he had me enraptured and tingling with pleasure as he spoke about these things that really didn’t matter but his positive passion about fuck all made me feel a little bit euphoric and this man was excellent for sanity releif from work because I was on the phone with him for a good hour.—————————————
Reverting back to Mattew, who is another person going on just to go on:
I’m still thinking Go away go away when Mattew is asking me questions about what I’m doing for the weekend. I say Hosting. He asks if I’m working at the bar and I resent this because yesterday I stayed for one single glass of champaigne at a function after work and he was surprised to hear I didnt work evenings, with the way I come in wrecked to work in the mornings. He didn’t mean it to be rude, I know. He’s just not social superstar. I let it roll off but I left soon after and started to “realise” (get paranoid) that everyone probably saw that I was messed up, except as usual they didn’t see that I had emotional/mental problems but blamed it on the easier, shes young and has no limits and just likes to party, thats why she looks like shit.
NO. I stopped wearing makeup to work to be more granola, damnit! But whatever.
———————————–
My anxiety and desire for more cookies and candy has subsided. Desire for food is gone. But anxiety energy is more so just controlled though still present. Ahhh outlets.
Ahhh writing journal entries. ————————————
I hate my personal journals, the ones just for my eyes where I write honestly and without walls up. But those aren’t even worth a read, highly incoherant and what you’d expect a 14 year old angster would write. Kind of depressing too.
I need to explain to someone else. Not myself.
I can’t explain myself to myself because I contradict and second guess myself into confusion, and all my entries end up being pure questions and craziness. When I write to myself or to nothing I just don’t know anything at all.

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