Corporate Peon: March 2005

Thursday, March 31, 2005

The thoughts, they're spinning and bumping into each other. They're colliding and running all over the place, never staying still long enough to become something coherent. The body, it itches, but the mind...the mind is lost.

I wonder sometimes if all the pot I smoked in high school caused any lasting damage. I wonder if the pipe hits in a closed car, on a winter's night, converted good brain cells to evil; if the drunken binges were more than just a teenager's overdoing it.

Good times, friends, good times.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Mini Thanks

Someone did something for me today that made me cry. Hell, it makes me cry just thinking about it. It even popped into my head during a fun movie with a hottie's leg pressed up against mine and made my eyes water.

So, to the person who reached out and offered me a hand...thank you. I always keep my promises.


Several mini posts I've had sitting in draft status, combined into one non-sequitur post:

Why can't I? Just give me one good reason. One. Good. Reason.

Yeah, me neither.

I Had a Premonition

When you turned your back and walked away...I knew.

When I walked in and saw you with your arm wrapped around someone else...I knew.

When I introduced you to her at a wedding...I knew.

It's the kind of feeling, deep in your gut, that tells you things are changing. It's the kind of feeling that grabs at your heart and squeezes and makes you short of breath. That tells you things won't ever be the same again. That despite all your wishs and hopes and longings, you're not about to have what you want. That no matter how close you thought you were...

They're all there. They may be subtle, they may be camouflaged. But they're all there.

All you have to do is look for them. It's not hard, I promise. Just do a little digging and a little searching with one eye open.

I've thought about it before. A lot. I don't want to do it, but I keep thinking about it. Maybe I want people to tell me not to; maybe I want people to tell me I'll be missed.

Maybe I want to hurt people.

Maybe I'm just trying to reach out.

Maybe I just need a friend.

I'm a Bitch

A conversation I had with a friend today got me thinking. And what I thought was, I'm not a very nice person.

Person A & I talked about Person B - someone who is often whiny, clingy, and desperate for love and friendship. Person A takes the higher road with B - gives what time she can, recognizing that B means well and just needs someone to call a friend.

I, however, refuse to cater to B. I don't reach out; I don't sympathize; I empathize, but I don't let B know that. In fact, I don't do much for her, and though we're not close, I think the smallest gesture would go a long way.

I don't make that effort, though. I let B suffer, silently, or to whomever will give her the time.

So, the question now is...why do I do this? Well, the honest answer is that I'm a bitch, but this might be deeper than that.

I don't reach out when I need help; maybe I judge her for doing what I can't. Maybe I feel that since I don't ask others for support, those who do should be 'punished.' Maybe I feel that she hasn't done enough to help herself.

It's certainly not my place to judge B. More power to her, if she can reach out when things are tough and say, "Hey, me over here. I need some help right now."

So, maybe this isn't deeper than me being a bitch. I'm more than willing to agree that's the answer.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005


I'm a little manic. And a lot depressive.

Meds only go so far. I mean, when I'm on them, they work, to a point. They calm things down a bit. But they bring shame with the calmness. Shame and fear. Shame that I have to resort to something processed to make me feel better. Shame that I can't do it myself. Shame that they really make a difference. Shame that they don't do enough.

And fear that I'll always have to be on them. Fear that I won't find someone to accept that part of me. I won't find someone who can be okay with me on meds, or me without meds, or meds in general. Fear that someone won't be able to accept that I'm a person who needs meds.

When I'm off them, not only do I have the depression to deal with...but I have the self-loathing that comes with knowing I'm not doing everything to help myself.

If I can't accept myself on can I expect others to?

Monday, March 28, 2005

Evil Knievel Peon

I'm a risk taker in some ways. I travel to foreign countries alone, I can't exactly classify that as timid.

But - why do I take risks?

Oh, I know why. It's because I'm scared.

I drive too fast because if I happen to lose control of the car, it's an accident. I travel to foreign countries because if the plane goes down, it's not my fault. Because if I get killed by a terrorist in a foreign country, or a rogue mugger, or an erupting's not my fault.

I don't want to take responsibility for something I don't want to do.

Sunday, March 27, 2005

Update to Yawn

So, Guy IM'd me today.

G: HI!

KtP: Hi

G: I had a really, really good time the other night.

KtP: Good

G: And you?

KtP: (after a really, really long pause) I don't think we're quite as good a match as you seemed to think

And, that was it. I mean, when someone goes on and on about how much fun they had with you (as he did when we met, talking about our phone convo), and you don't reciprocate that enthusiasm (as I didn't)'s a clue.

Plus, he was really PDA'ing me at the bar. I LOVE PDA normally. Hold my hand, rub my leg, rub my back...but only do it if I like you, okay?

I mean, jeez. Just cuz I agreed to meet you and suck you off, that does NOT mean I like you!


Weekend at the 'Rents

Saturday on our way out to lunch, Dad decided to bump Mom as she was putting on her lipstick. Mom went after him with her open tube, and in Dad's haste to get away, he bumped right into an open door. Gave himself a nice bloody cut on his forehead.

So we iced and compressed and snickered quietly and bandaid-ed him up. Imagine having to wear a bandaid right between your eyes. He looks purty.

So we get to the restaurant and the nonsmoking booth we're shown to is too close to smoking for Mom to like. The host says, "Well, there's an open table up there." "Is it a booth?" No, Mom, that's why he said it's a table. So we sat and waited 10 minutes. I swear, if I were younger, she would have been such an embarrassment.

After lunch we went to a bookstore, where I found a few hundred dollars worth of books I want. Women's studies, the new feminism, the bond between gfs and sisters and fluffy fiction and cookbooks.

While Dad napped later in the day, mom & I went shopping. I finally found a gold chain I wanted - I had asked for one for Christmas but returned the one Dad got me. We had looked some then but without success. But, yesterday with Mom, I found a beautiful 14k gold, 20" rope chain that I like and am wearing now. Yay!

We went for a walk today, the three of us and our dog. I went in my sweater and jeans; Mom, in her coat, hat, and gloves. Ah, little old ladies can be cute...

All in all, a pretty fluffy weekend. I just had a quick nap and was watching cooking shows before then. I slept for 13 hours straight last night. I've just been up so late trying not to think about things, and then pushing myself so hard at work that I crash on the weekends.

How does it feel to be no fun?

Saturday, March 26, 2005

Death's Anniversary - Updated

Last weekend marked two years since I last saw Ex. It also, coincidentally, marks his two year anniversary with S, the girl he left me for.

I remember driving around one dark, wet night, crying. I just had to get out of the house, I had to do something to take my mind off of him. My parents called my cell phone, came out. I told them that we were through. It was a week after Ex had flown out here to spend the week with us - we (parents, sister, BIL, Ex & I) spent a few days at a B&B in the Dells. We lucked out and had a beautiful March weekend; we ate good food, we sightsaw, we played board games. Ex & I went to dinner at the 'rents house one night a few days later; dad made his paella, mom her chocolate cherry cake. And all I could think about on the phone to them that rainy night was that they had just spent so much money trying to get to know him, so much money and effort trying to show me that if he was important to me, he'd be important to them.

I used to wonder if I could have prevented our breakup, if perhaps I had handled it differently, better, we could have salvaged something. I didn't understand how he could say he loved me but want to pursue someone else, andI let him know that confusion was upsetting. He never saw it through my eyes.

Two years ago, I thought I'd die. I thought life without him was more than I could bear. I felt hopeless and worthless and more alone than ever, and all because of some stupid guy.

Two years ago I wasn't sure if I wanted to move on.

And yet, here I am.

I guess that means I decided.

*** Updated ***

Reading this now that it's posted, I'm a bit disgusted with myself. He's a guy. Or as the music of Jesus Christ Superstar, he's a man; he's just a man. Yes, I loved him. Yes, I'll always love him. So it didn't work out. Jesus. Life goes on. Why did I take it so hard? Why did I let it affect me - infect me - so much? Grow up, girl.

Friday, March 25, 2005


That encapsulates my night. The guy? Dull, dull, dull. We don't have much in common - he's enamored with Chicago and never wants to leave it; he doesn't like to travel; he likes foreign films and jazz; he's not close to his family; he has a cat.

So, yeah, that was that. I was eyeing all the man meat at the bar and I know they were wondering what a hot young thing was doing with...him. He's plenty nice enough, just...dull.

So, yeah, we played around a little. How could we not? We had talked about it before, and frankly...I wanted to get some. But that part of things pissed me off. He had gone on and on about how I was going to be in charge, how he wanted me to be comfortable, how I would call the shots, blah blah blah. He knew I wasn't going to fuck him, but he told me yesterday he was going to bring a condom in case I changed my mind.

Um...right. Like that would happen. I told him to bring whatever he wanted, but it wasn't going to matter. And of course he tried to pull one out, but I kiboshed that pretty damn quickly.

And then, of course, he tells me to call him Sunday when I'm back from the 'rents or Monday if I want. Yeah, like that will happen. I was straight with him from the start - I would prefer a relationship, but I was willing to fool around without, and no, I didn't see us ending up in a relationship together.

If I had stayed in and masturbated, it would have been a better night.

It's easy to be benevolent when you have want you want.

Back when I was seeing Ex...or him...or him...I went to them a lot. With Ex, he came to see me twice - and once was because he had a work conference downtown. Otherwise, I always went to see him. CA, CO, it didn't matter. I spent more on my ticket to CA than I did on my ticket to Dublin. But the money didn't matter - it was never about the money, and it was never more than what it was worth to me to spend time with him.

When I was seeing him, he came to my place once. Okay, twice, but one of those times was just to pick me up. Otherwise, I always went to his place. Two or three times a week, for three months. 40 minutes away.

Part of me never wants you to come to me. Part of me is uncomfortable with the idea that you'll make that kind of effort or sacrifice, be it money or time. Part of me would rather not have to play hostess or clean. Part of me is afraid of what it means if you do that for me. For me.

But...couldn't you at least offer?

Thursday, March 24, 2005

A Funny Thing Happened at My Desk...

I was sitting there, at work, in my cube, alternately talking to BBB and typing. He was, as per usual, sitting on the spare chair in my cube.

Now, you know CubeLand. We're small here. When he sits at that chair, we're basically sitting right next to each other. Sometimes we even touch.
I had my back turned to him, looking at my monitor, and he reached out and grabbed a piece of lint from my shoulder. I didn't see him do it, but I felt it. When his fingers touched my shoulder, I let out a small 'ooh.' It was a reflex response, I swear.

But he cracked up. LAUGHED and LAUGHED. I blushed, which I don't do easily, and which he found even more amusing. When he finally composed himself enough to leave my cube, he said he needed a cigarette.

I couldn't look him in the eyes for the rest of the day.

I made stuffed pork chops last night. I don't think the one I ate was completely cooked prior to my eating it. In fact, I know it wasn't, b/c I finally turned on a light and looked at it. And no, I stopped eating it once I realized, may have been too late. I'm borderline nauseus just thinking about it.

Lots of fun brewing in CubeLand. SRG was crying again yesterday, leading Boss to ask me to do part of her (SRG) work. Ah, fun. Clients complained to me yesterday about SRG, saying they didn't think she was capable of leading their projects. All they can do is document and let Boss know. Shrug. That's not my problem.

Boss did confirm that I have a compliance project though, even though SRG has officially taken on all the compliance projects. Boss asked me how my workload is and if she can help at all. I laughed out loud at that. Um, let's about YOU start doing YOUR job, and then MY workload will be much more manageable.

Bowling with work this afternoon; means I'm in jeans now and will have lunch out and then the afternoon off. I'm going to scout locales for my rendezvous tomorrow night. Yep, the Peon's gonna get some. As long as they don't let us out of here early tomorrow, in which case I'll go up to the 'rents for the weekend. Otherwise, if I don't go up...I'll go down. :)

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Random Ramble

I've missed writing. Not that I haven't been doing any of it; I have some posts in draft form, ready to go, and I have written a bit more on my secret blog. It's indexed, so anyone could find it if they looked hard enough, but I don't really care. That blog started as my 'dark' blog, as a forum for what I didn't feel comfortable saying here.

But I'm now comfortable saying it all here. Every last little sordid secret, every dark little thought, every sexually deviant fantasy...if I want to share it, it will be shared here. There's no point in hiding. I don't know you*; I won't know you. And you'll only know what I choose to let you know, and even that can and will be misconstrued.

Someone told me I've been giving off a 'don't talk to me vibe' lately. Someone else mentioned that I have withdrawn into myself very effectively over the past two months. I'm not denying either of those statements. I have a very hard time letting my guard down and truly letting someone know me. If I take that chance with you...well, it's not easy for me. And if I feel you've fucked with that priviledge, you won't be let in again.

It's so easy to trust someone you don't know. That seems backwards, doesn't it? But if I don't know you, you have no power over me. You can't twist my words around and throw them in my face. You can't harm me. But the second you know can easily take my trust and throw it away. You can play nice to my face, encouraging me to share more of myself with you, until one day it's all laid out for others to see, and it's stomped on and it's spit on and there's nothing I can do but regret knowing you.

I'm done with that.

* And for the record, 'you' in this post refers to the general you. The public. Not one specific you. So don't send me hatemail.

Defining a Friendship

Can you be friends with someone you rarely see? Yeah, of course.

Can you be friends with someone you barely know? Yeah, I think so.

Can you be friends with someone you barely know and you rarely see? Well, it certainly makes it harder, but I suppose it can be done.

Can you be friends with someone you barely know, never see, and never talk to? That, I draw the line at.

Let's call a spade a spade, shall we?

Tuesday, March 22, 2005


During my hiatus, I received a letter from someone I hesitantly call a friend. The letter - like everything else, it seems - made me cry. It was so...honest, and so intense, and so obviously trying to help me.

I don't feel I know the writer all that well, but apparently s/he knows me better than I thought s/he did.

Excerpts from the letter are in italics.

And stop worrying about what any of us think, including myself. What the hell do we know? What the hell do we know about Katey? Hate me for this if you want... but I feel your pain Katey. I feel it, I feel it all. This just scratches the surface, it's more of a symptom of something bigger and deeper and sadder inside of you. You stubborn woman!!! You think I can't feel how deeply this hurts you, how it reinforces other things that have happened in your life? Well, I can.

Damnit. When I read this part of the letter, I realized that was true. I continuously beat myself up because I let the little things in life weigh so heavy on me. I can't just enjoy the good that I have, I always have to surround myself with the hurts that have been done to me and guard myself against future hurt.

And the things that have hurt me have been normal, life things. Not even the worst that could have happened. And yet, I still carry them around with me. It's like scar tissue around my feelings, and if anyone is going to get through to me and actually make me feel for them, they have to battle their way through all these old scars. Sure, some of the scars have healed, but I still always know what they're from, I still always remember how they got there.

And I don't have the first clue as to what to do about it. Or even how I can or even if I could, help you, or even if you would let me.

That's just it - there's nothing you can do about it. You know this - I don't let people in. I want them in, if they'll play nice, but there's no way to guarantee that, and so I keep people out even as I'm lamenting the fact that no one's in.

And I wouldn't let you help me. You know this, too. I want to be able to do this all by myself. I don't want to rely on anyone for anything. I want to be SuperWoman, WonderWoman, the woman who's an island...I don't want others knowing I need them or I want them, because they won't always be around. And the minute I get comfortable having them there is the minute they might decide to leave. So why bother? Why not continue to do everything and be everything for myself?

I said I hesitantly called this person a friend, not because I'm unsure of him/her, but because I'm hesitant to label someone else that, someone else who may well be out of my life before I want them to leave. Life, at times, is a bitch. And an untrustworthy one at that.

To the inspiration for this post...thank you.


Well, the foundation's still in one place. Maybe a little cracked, but I think over time, things should settle back down and those cracks should heal.

Yeah, the windows are a bit cloudy - can't really see inside. It's almost like they're covered with a really thick smoke. (Cups hand around eyes, flush against window) I can't see in; I wonder if anyone can even see out?

(Bangs on the wall) Looks like the walls have been reinforced. See how much thicker they are now? Even looks like...oh, sure, see how there are barbs at the top? Those weren't there before. I bet they're to help keep everything in that's in and everything out that's out.

Everything's definitely been shaken up a bit. It's gone through a lot. Hard to tell how much damage really took place. Just gotta wait it out and see.

Monday, March 21, 2005

Rules of the Establishment

Rule #1: You like what you read? Great. My sincere thanks for stopping by. You don't like it? Move the fuck on.

Rule #2: I will write what I want to write, when I want to write it, about whomever I want to write about. You know why this works? Because you're afforded the exact same privilege. I've said it before, and I'm forced to say it again: This is MY site. What I write here is for ME. It's MY means of relieving stress and exploring ideas and thoughts.

I will continue to NEVER use real names. If you see something written here that you identify with, maybe it's because I'm writing about you. Maybe you inspired the post. Or maybe - just maybe - it's because people are similar, and it's not even you I'm talking about. I know it's a shock, but I do have a (small) life outside of BlogVille. Not everything is about you.

I'm fully aware that not everything is about me, either. Very little is. But - and this is key - this site is COMPLETELY about me. Every single thing that happens here. Every single word. Mine mine mine. Please reference Rule #1 if you have questions.

Rule #3: Under no circumstances is your pity warranted. It's not asked for or encouraged. Pity the veteran begging for cash on the street. Pity the mother who lost her daughter to SIDS. Don't pity me, because it's not needed. I have a good life. I'm aware of this. I still choose to bitch and complain and drone on at times, and for that, I refer you back to #2.

Rule #4: You are never, ever entitled to tell me what my site said or did if that's not what my site said or did. If I said that X is a monkey, then I said X is a monkey. Don't tell me I said X is a turtle. And if I never said X is any sort of animal, don't tell me I did that, either.

Furthermore, you are never entitled to tell me that my perspective about something involving, impacting, or upsetting me is wrong. If I say something made me feel a certain way, you are NEVER entitled to tell me my point of view is wrong.

Rule #5: You are, however, ALWAYS entitled to disagree. Comments will be turned on and off at my discretion. However, you always have the choice to email me about my posts. Do so at your own risk; I can be a mean motherfucker when I want to be. If you do email or comment, be polite.

Rule #6: I'm an angry girl. I'm a pessimistic girl. I'm bitter and sad and cynical and distrustful. You want sunshine and flowers? Go somewhere else, cause I ain't promising none of that here. As always, everyone is welcome, but everyone is also welcome to leave.

Monday, March 07, 2005


I've written before about censorship. How it's hard not to censor myself in this forum, but also that I won't because this is, after all, my site. Writing has always been cathartic for me. It's always been a way to get a lot of shit off my chest and to sort through some of the craziness that I bring on myself.

Yeah, that's right, I bring a lot of it on myself. Think that's news to me? Well, it's not. It's something I deal with on a daily basis, and something I probably always will. Maybe that's holding a constant pity party for myself. Maybe it's childish. Whatever it is, it's me, and I don't need to be judged for it.

Sigh. I've been told a lot - by some of you, actually - that I'm too hard on myself. Maybe I am, maybe not. That's not for anyone else to decide.

There's some shit that's been going around that's been bugging me lately, if you haven't picked up on it. I'm not going to go into details - a) they don't matter, b) it's not your business, c) i think i was threatened that someone else will do it regardless, d) it won't make me look good. Oh, wait - that last one was what I was told by someone else.

I'm done. Done blogging in a public forum. If I can't use my own writing as a means to express myself without being judged for it or called names,'s just not worth it.

Sunday, March 06, 2005

A Yucky Situation

You may not even notice when you're part of a clique. But you sure as hell notice when you're not.

I talked to a friend tonight who helped calm me down. Something's been going on that I feel is shady. It's not any of my business, but I feel hurt by it. I feel slighted by attempted covert ops taking place. And I feel stupid that I feel this way.

Maybe you know what I'm talking about; maybe you don't. Maybe you feel guilty because you think you're implicated. If you feel guilty, maybe you are. Frankly, I don't care what you think. I'm not writing this for you. I'm writing this for me. ME. I'm the one who matters here. If you don't like it, stop reading. Hell, you may have already stopped. I DON'T CARE.

I don't understand why you felt you had to lie and sneak around. We're all adults; as I've said, it hurts, but it's none of my business. If that's your reason for not saying anything, did you really think I wouldn't find out? Did you think it would hurt less if you weren't upfront? As my friend reminded me tonight, people are disposable. Good friends aren't, but then, you're not a good friend, are you?

Saturday, March 05, 2005

Second Things Second

Round about 2:30 today, I sent an email to all the systems team members on a certain project of mine. I told them that based on their feedback, the 4/25 suggested implementation date had been vetoed and I wanted to see if we could make a 5/23 or 5/30 implementation.

Except...I left one teensy tiny person from the business side on my distribution (one global, all team member-encompassing distribution list). Oops.

Teensy tiny business person (TTBP) emailed me, asking if I needed his input. Nope, systems only, my mistake.

TTBP responded, saying I should put his business boss (BB) on the distribution and check with him (BB) first before changing the date.

I responded, saying my leadership had talked to his leadership and the date discussion had been held.

TTBP said no one there knew that 4/25 was not the date and that the region had already been communicated to and promised the new product on 4/25. He forwarded my note on to BB.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

And of course, my boss, C, was no where to be found.

A few minutes later, I get a call from my friend/coworker on the business side, E. E is the woman who used to be my boss and we're pretty close; in fact, she's who I'm going gambling with on Sunday.

E said she had heard from BB and he was not happy. He hadn't been told that 4/25 was out the window, why didn't we move on this quicker, when did this all happen.

Apparently the coordinator before me - J, the one who left last week - had agreed to 4/25 without checking with his team. BAD MOVE!

I told E that I had talked to C about the date. Yesterday, I told business that 4/25 was out and I wanted 6/6. Business said no, they really needed 4/25, what could we do? I went to C for escalation and she said she'd get back to me.

Today, I followed up with C and she said the business had been told 4/25 was out and we were looking to see what we could do. She told me to try for 5/23 or 5/30 - anything to get it before 6/6, even if just by a week. Hence my email that started all this.

E said that she was in a meeting yesterday with C and business when 4/25 was thrown out. Apparently the business folks in that meeting didn't communicate with BB on this. Their mistake.

At 4:30, I FINALLY find C and her boss, CC, which is surprising for one because C generally leaves at 3pm. The three of us have a conference call with BB and E, where we all play nice and say the right things and hold firm and understand we're all frustrated and not taking it personally and we're all on the same team and let's work together.

We hang up, C & CC & I chat for a minute, deep breath, not much we can do now, I'll check to see if we can get this out on 5/9 or 5/16, J sure screwed us, they don't even have legal approval yet, TGIF.

As C and I walk out of CC's office, C says...oh, one more thing. You're getting all of your old projects back.

Her timing was so precise that I had just taken a sip of soda and had to fight to not spray it everywhere.

We went into a conference room where she said that Stupid Rude Girl was close to having a break down and that this had to be done. Well, duh - SRG leaves every afternoon for about 2 hours, and today when she came back, she was all sniffly like crying.

So, I'll have the 3/21 release that J fucked up, plus the May release or whenever we get that done, plus SRG's 3/21, 5/30, and 8/15 releases, oh and by the way, the 3/21 & 5/30 & 8/15 releases that I took over from D because she's going on a 3wk vacation and then leaving the team?

Yeah, those are going to the new girl with no experience and I'm going to mentor her.

Ack. Free time? What's that? All I can say is, E better have been right when she said I'm going to get promoted this year.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

Disappearing Act

When I went to Greece, co-workers asked me what I'd do if I met a man there. Would I move there? Give up everything here and live with the man who swept me off my feet on vacation?

I scoffed at that idea. Please, after 2 weeks I'd change countries for a man? Riiiight. Like that would happen.

But I do think about just chucking it all. Move to a new country, teach ESL, learn the native language. Put everything in the past behind me and become who I really want to be, who I think I have hiding inside me.

When I travel, I'm free. No expectations of who I'm supposed to be, or what I'm supposed to be. I follow the rules right now - am making my way up the corporate chain, am saving money for my future, am 'bettering' myself with education. But what if I didn't do those things? Wouldn't I still be me? I might possibly be a better me. If time can erase old wounds, can't distance?

Free Falling

Sheer law of averages says that the more people you know, the greater the chance that you'll know someone who has bad things happen to them.
Is it worth it, then, to know people? My close friends are getting married and popping out progeny. They're falling into love and marriage and taking chances that everything will work out.

I hope they do.

Me, on the other hand...I don't take those chances. I'm afraid too. I'm afraid that I'll let myself fall in love and have it end. I'm afraid that I'll show I'm vulnerable and that will be used against me.

It's a self-fulfilling prophecy that is going to tear me apart. I think I want what I'm too afraid to go after. I'll be forever standing with one foot nailed to the floor, unable to do anything but move around and around.


Back in junior high, I was hot. I mean, s-m-o-k-i-n. I had really good fashion sense.

Like my black shirt with white polka-dots and a peter pan collar. Actually, I never looked good in that shirt, but my BFF did.

Or my favorite sweater - the jester sweater. Vneck and a little long, it was sooo comfy. And it went with anything. One side of the front was a pale green, and the other side was yellow. The back was reversed. The sleeves and collar had purple on them, and I think there was some black and white, too. Pair it with a white tank top and jeans - nothing better.

Or my vertical striped black and white pants.

Or the colored tights I would wear with skirts. Tights with lace at the ankles. Snicker - my BFF's mom didn't like her wearing those.

Or my brown suede bomber jacket that was actually purple, since my BFF went out to the store and bought the brown jacket I had said I was going to get. Bitch. I showed her. Purple suede? Rock on.

Add to that Cover Girl lipslick things - just a hint of color and shine, all for $3.29, and mascara - colored, perhaps - and the guys were flocking to me.

Well, okay, they weren't exactly flocking - but they should have been.

Is There Life Out There?

So much I want to do / Is there life beyond / My classes and my job

Every work day, minus the 8 company holidays, my 20 annual vacation days and the 3 vacation days I usually carry over from the year before...I get my ass into work.

After work - whatever time that may be - I drive the 3miles from work to home. I get my mail, unlock my door, kick off my shoes, take my purse and coat off. I log on to my computer.

Sometimes, I cook dinner. Like last night, when I made veal and had a pseudo-Greek meal. Other times, I eat cereal or crackers. Some nights I have a beer; some nights I drink my peach tea Crystal Light.

I've been a member of a gym. I've volunteered. I've signed up for 'extracurricular' classes. I've gone for walks. I've said hi to strangers. I joined a graduate school program. I've pursued alumni sorority activities in the area.

What I can't seem to figure out is, is there life out there?

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Emotionally Slutty*

That's something I'm not. I don't share much, and I don't share often, and I most certainly don't share easily.

I'm nervous about having comments back on here, since I'm exposing myself quite a bit. I'd rather you all point and stare at my bare breasts than respond to some of my thoughts.

Enjoy the comments while you can.

* Thanks to Carrie Bradshaw for the title.

Smitten - Updated

Smitten, as in, having been smited.

I think there are secrets being kept that are being kept from me.

Is it any of my business? Nope, not really. Strike that - nope, not at all.

Would I be upset if I had been told upfront, instead of finding out about it in a backhanded manner? No, not...upset. Uncomfortable? Maybe. Left out, certainly. Left behind, maybe.

Unchosen, definitely.

I refuse to feel that I did something to cause myself to be unchosen.
I re-read this and needed to clarify. It's not that I refuse to see that my actions played a part in the choice that was made. It's just...I refuse to feel I could, should have been better, different so that the choice happened differently.

I refuse to feel that I wasn't chosen because I wasn't _enough_ of something. I'm done with that.

People choose people. It happens.

Best of luck.

Blah Blah Blah

1. BBB and I have a date. We're going to my boss's daughter's wedding together. In July.

2. I have a new pen-pal. It's neat to learn more about someone who interests you, and when you do it over email, it allows you to ask questions or delve into areas that you wouldn't necessarily go into in person. Yep, learning is fun.

3. I'll be in Costa Rica from April 29 - May 8th. Well, technically one day on either side I'll be travelling, but that still gives me 8 days there. Yay! Applications for cabana boys are now being accepted.

4. I'm going gambling on Sunday with a coworker/friend. We will smoke and win lots of money and eat 'free' buffet. Yay!

Tuesday, March 01, 2005


During my second semester freshman year at college, I was 'courted' by what was then the top sorority on my small campus. The girls I knew in the chapter were fun, popular, 'had-it-together' girls. The girls I knew of in the chapter were popular and beautiful, if not a little standoffish.

I joined for basically the same reason I do anything: why not? Pledging wasn't a big deal to me; there were some early mornings and some late nights, and there was fun and camaradarie and friendship. There was hazing, though not of the extreme kind that makes the news. And at the time, I never thought of it as hazing. To me, the hazing was never about being mean or wielding control. Well, okay, part of it was about control, but a larger part of it was about tradition.

During my junior year, when I was president of our chapter, I maintained those traditions. There was pride in seeing numerous girls experience just what I had a few years earlier, and knowing that the entire chapter - one small slice of the sorority's foundation - had ties that bound us to each other. That though we followed the tenets of the sorority, we also had our own experiences to impart upon those who joined us.

My term as president wasn't a good one. My successor, a girl I'll call J, trained me by removing all the old information from the presidential binder. Yeah, not a big help.

J was one year older than I, so was still part of the chapter during my reign. She was snooty and rude and critiqued me every chance she could. Not to mention, she was also still on the executive board, so she wasn't a silent member. I was too intimidated by her to speak up and tell her to back off, so I did what I usually do - avoided the situation. I would 'prepare' for our weekly meetings during the 30 minutes prior. I made the decision that we would not enter a float into the Homecoming parade, which we always entered, because of the timing of rush and the start of the school year. The exec board backed me on this, but publicly, J spoke out against it. We weren't exactly united.

It was a tough year for me, yet despite my shortcomings, the sorority flourished. We maintained our status as 'the' sorority on campus; we initiated new groups of fun, interesting girls. Things were going well, and I was happy to turn over the top spot to a very over-achieving girl when the time game.

R was a great president. She went above and beyond in every capacity; to the point, frankly, where her intense dedication was a bit...overwhelming, but she was the right person for that job.
Sororities aren't all about hazing and drinking and dances. Yeah, we had our share of that, but we had hard times, too.

Like the time during my senior year when I was working at my desk in my room. My non-sorority roomate, E, was in the room, as was her boyfriend. I heard a commotion in the hall - some of my louder sisters were carrying on about something. I poked my head out of my room, prepared to give them shit for their noise, when I found tears.

Turns out Serena, a beautiful, God-loving freshman, full of potential and light, had been killed by a drunk driver the night before. I wasn't close to her, but it was still a mind-numbing experience. That she had been at a party, drinking, and called a sober friend to pick her up...that a drunk driver with a prior record had hit Serena's car...that her family had lost a sibling the year do you console those who have lost again and again? When an 18yr old girl does the right thing and is punished regardless...

It's incredibly selfish of me, but I've always been glad that happened during R's term, not mine, as I would surely not have handled it correctly, just as I'm sure the other sororities were glad it hadn't happened to them. Through it all, my sorority - and the other Greek organizations on campus - pulled together and strengthened our bonds.
Then, there was also the hazing trouble the entire campus got in. All sororities on campus handled their Hell Weeks differently. Each sorority had different traditions and each week may have happened at different times. One commonality, however, was that all sorority pledges were not allowed to talk to anyone outside of their sorority during that week.

There was a reason for this. I-week, Hell Week, whatever you want to call it, was the final step before becoming an initiated member. It was a week of hardcore sorority time. This is where most of the early mornings and late nights took place; it was an incredibly taxing time, both for the actives and the pledges. More bonding took place with your sisters at that time than throughout the entire pledge period. To allow a pledge to spend some of their energy, some of their time with non-Greek friends who may vocally oppose the pledge's decision, would detract from the focus of the week.

Of course pledges were allowed to talk in class; we tried to get them to take time off from work that week, but if not possible, of course they were allowed to talk there. They weren't told or otherwise encouraged to do anything that would harm their grades, their jobs, their future, etc, just to cut off their social time with others.

Again, it was part of tradition.

Until one girl - I don't even remember if she was in my sorority or not - refused to answer a question in class, or something similar, claiming her sorority told her she couldn't.

Yep, the shit hit the fan, and all hazing stopped.

I can only speak for my own sorority when I say that we didn't flog our pledges, make them undress, pour wax on them, make them get drunk or have sex or anything that you typically hear about when you hear about hazing. What we did was make them learn the history of our sorority and our chapter. Who were the girls they were joining? What was the sorority based on? How many girls nationwide had been a part? And yeah, we made the girls work together. They had assignments and projects. They had tests. Shrug. We weren't peeling their skin off here.
I think I'm rambling now, so I'm just going to wrap up. I'm not condoning hazing. I'm not dismissing the horrific physical feats that pledges nationwide are made to endure in order to join.

But sororities and the girls who belong aren't all evil. Of all the girls from college I keep in touch with, only one was not Greek. I've traveled with and to sorority sisters; I've danced with them and been at their weddings. My closest friends were in the sorority with me, and I do feel that part of that continued bond owes itself to the traditions and trials and experiences we endured with Greek letters plastered across our chests.

I received a lot of flak from school administrators, non-Greek friends, and even family members when I went Greek. But isn't that kind of judgement just as bad as when Greek members look down upon those who aren't?


Tuesdays are frozen pizza night in the Peon's household. I love pizza.

I was taken out today for a bribe lunch. On the company. At a nicer restaurant than I've been in, in at least 6 weeks. You want good Italian food? MMMM.

I had the veal, which is fast becoming a favorite of mine when cooked Italian-style. It was deeeeeelish.

And I resisted the chocolate mousse.

But don't worry. This blog will not resemble Bridge Jones's diary, where I keep track of calories consumed (probably too many, but fewer than it could have been) and cigarettes smoked (1).

I also managed to forget about a meeting I had scheduled, so that got moved to tomorrow. Whoops. Way to schedule a 12:30 mtg and come back to your desk at 1pm. Oh well. They'll get over it. I'm not usually irresponsible like that.

I guess, maybe it is true. Everybody's human. Except, you know, those who aren't.

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