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Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Where's That piece of Mind, That piece that Made Life Easy
I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I'm really not looking forward to my upcoming vacation. At. All. Nope, not one bit. In fact, I actually found myself sitting at work thinking that I'd almost rather stay home for that entire span of time than go on this vacation. I really have no idea why other than to impute the whole aversion to my distaste for being alone or being the odd one out, and I'm almost 100% certain that is going to be the case.
Bleh.
My employer decided it would be a great idea to have all employees talk to a psychiatrist now that fall is here and the days are getting shorter. Apparently seasonal depression is a huge deal in this area, who knew? Either way, we each have a time that we get to meet with the psychiatrist and my time was today.
We spent about an hour talking. Seriously, it was just us talking. She didn't really ask me anything about myself, other than what my normal daily schedule is and other shit that can be correlated with work, work performance, and work habits. It wasn't a big ball of fun, but it wasn't horrible, and I actually liked the chick.
Until I read what she wrote about me, of course. Yes, I realize that it was wrong of me to go look through the files that were sitting oohhhhhhh so openly on my bosses desk after he had left, but c'mon. Don't even try to sit there and tell me you wouldn't do the same fucking thing and sneak a peak if it were as easy as walking across a hall, finding the file with your name on it, walking back across the hall, closing your office door, and engaging in a little light reading.
According to Mrs. Psychoanalyst, I'm a workaholic, obsessive compulsive with my work habits, an insomniac, and, my favorite, addicted to exercise. Nothing really is shocking to me. It's pretty much common knowledge that I'm a workaholic, OCD about certain things, and I never sleep, but exercise addiction?! Seriously, is that possible? If you ask me, Mrs. Psychoanalyst could stand to pick up that addiction.
And, speaking of excercise, I've started hanging out with one of the guys I train with outside of the studio, and not to be some kind of egotistical fucker, but I think he's got the hots for me. He's tall [well, taller than me which is no small feat], he's cute, he's insanely genuine, and he's already gone out of his way to spend time with me twice. [once because I'm a flakey whore and decided ditching him to hang out with my friend Rob who was in town for the night was fine, and once because I had family in town for the weekend, so rather than not see me at all he went straight from working the third shift to spending all of Friday morning with me.] He texts me simply to say good morning, or to wish me a good night. How fucking sweet is that?
So naturally, I just don't really feel anything for him. Of course, I'm pretty much starting to think I can't feel anything for anyone, but seriously! What the fuck is wrong with me?
kitty kat spoke at 2:48 PM
and
8 people united to combat the evil fucking care bear stare
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