I'm leaving for Peru Monday at noon. Its one of those last minute trips that happen because another last minute trip fell through. Sometimes the best experiences come out of failed plans.
I'm going alone. Nervous? Yes. Scared? No. Excited? HELL YES!!
The reactions I have been receiving from people have been mixed. Some are excited for me, but mostly I get the reaction of shock that I'm going on a trip by myself. Several people have asked me what James thinks. A few seem to want to do something similar on their own, but are too chicken.
Of course I wish James could come with me. We're partners in crime, and when I'm away from "home" I never really seem to feel like it. I suppose that corny old adage is true. I'm going to miss him and think about him all the time. It's perpetual: everything reminds me of something I want to discuss or share with him, and get his opinion on.
But he can't come. He's saving money for school. And most of my other friends aren't at a point in life where they can drop everything and a bunch of money to go on whimsical adventures around the globe. I worked my ass off to get to this point, and what should I do, wait around until someone holds my hand while we travel? Fuck no.
James is not possessive of my time. It's one of the things I love about our relationship. We love spending time together, but there is not a sense of jealousy when one is gone (granted, this took me a while to arrive at this point). He wants me to go and have adventures, and when we're able, we'll go together. He'll probably have some that I will be unable to follow on. And that's life. It makes life exciting and unique.
So I planned a trip to Peru when my trip to Mexico fell through. I am staying 7 days in Pisaq on a Shamanic retreat, then staying 2 in Cusco and going to Machu Picchu. I'm not going to be alone, because there are people everywhere. I will meet people on my retreat, then I will meet people in the hostel in Cusco. And honestly, it will probably force me to be less shy, and interact with people more.
Good things will come of this trip, I can feel it in my bones.
I can't wait.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Enlightenment on an Ideal
A major personal breakthrough occurred last week for me.
Revelation and enlightenment didn't feel good this time. I was pondering the subject of marriage, and why females "know" whether they would marry their partner, often far sooner than males do. I believed (still do) that women in our society tend to covet the idea of marriage. For various reasons: status, security, religion, acceptance being the main ones that I can see. Societal norm is a powerful concept, and its very difficult to want something different from it, and perhaps just as difficult to realize you want something different.
I talked through what love is to me, and what marriage is. Marriage seems to me to be a contract where two people promise to love and care for each other for the rest of their lives. It has financial, emotional and status benefits. When I whittled it down to the core, the reason that marriage seemed to hold more weight to me, was that I still have vestiges of the belief that marriage is more permanent, more solid than a relationship. I hold the ideal that when two people get married their outlooks change to that of a more serious, more long lasting one.
Not that I am ignorant of divorce rates, simply that I am an idealist, and marriage was somewhere near the core of the gravitational pull that was adulthood to me in my formative years. People grew up, went to university, met someone, got married, had children, bought a house and raised their children in it until they were grown, and the cycle began anew while one worked until a respectable age, before earning their retirement.
That last sentence hasn't appealed to me for years, but for some reason I keep clinging to the idea that marriage is still something I want. Yes, I enjoyed university very much. The pursuit of knowledge is being true to my character, I try to soak up as much as I can because the world fascinates me. I do still want to raise children, not at this juncture but in the future. I want to teach children of the world, and instill wonder in it, at the beauty of all the things we know and all the things we don't know. I want to watch my children grow. But marriage is not a necessity to raising children. A stable partnership between parents is a plus (in my mind), but even that isn't a necessity. And while a house is nice for space, it isn't essential to raising children.
So why, even in a loving long term relationship was I yearning for something more? It took a while to come to my conclusion. I have been groomed to want marriage. I have been taught that that is the next step in life, in a relationship. Living with someone is not cemented until marriage is part of the equation. Over time I was able to logically discount my reasons for wanting marriage. There is still residue left over from the way I was brought up, the effects of society on my thinking, planning brain.
I think the moment I realized I'd have to let this ideal go was the worst. I had come to the conclusion that I don't need marriage, nor have I essentially coveted it as a person for quite a while. I am happy where I am, and in the relationship I am in. But for some reason I have been unable to let go of the idea that that was the next thing "to do" on the list. It sounds petty, I know. I am not the type of person to do something simply because it was acceptable. And I knew that just as when someone turns 18 they're not necessarily an adult, when two people get married they don't instantly have a different special bond.
I'm actively letting go of this ideal, but it is much more difficult to let go of than I would have thought. I always believed that once a realization occurred, once "enlightenment" was present, the rest would fall into place.
But I have to remind myself every day that at my core, I don't need marriage. That I was and still am being conditioned to want it. Oh, I don't believe there's a conspiracy or anything. People are lonely and want someone to share life with. And they are jealous so they want a promise that their partner will not stray. And sometimes greedy, for that moment in the spotlight, the wedding day.
Which is a whole other story. Weddings are not something I have a large interest in. Oh, I like wearing pretty things and partying. But the stresses I have seen for peoples' weddings are absolutely nothing to do with what I had believed for love, or what the start of a marriage should be. I had always planned on eloping, should I ever get married. I always liked the idea of a ceremony, it makes marriage more sacred than going down to city hall and signing a paper. But I had always invisioned a private ceremony.
I know I sound like I haven't let it go. These thoughts are not well ordered yet.
Where I am now:
I don't need marriage to be in a happy long lasting relationship with another person.
Marriage, I realize is something I only wanted because I was raised to want it.
With these truths evident, I am able to move forward and live life without constantly worrying when marriage will happen for me. It is very tough to let go of, but now that I am conscious of the need to let go of it, I am able to work forward.
My only lingering concern is missing out on a grand adventure, if that makes any sense. It doesn't worry me too much though, because I know that James and I are the types of people to have adventures that most people in the world never have, and sometimes never even desire. We cherish going to bed together each night and waking up next to each other in the morning. We cherish our differences, and our sameness and plan plan plan for all the adventures we'll have together. That lifetime is the lifetime I want.
Patience and enjoying the moment are two things I need to work on.
All I have written above is unordered, just typed down as I recalled how I felt. Therefore it is very self involved. It's mainly here so I can look back later on and refine these ideas.
Revelation and enlightenment didn't feel good this time. I was pondering the subject of marriage, and why females "know" whether they would marry their partner, often far sooner than males do. I believed (still do) that women in our society tend to covet the idea of marriage. For various reasons: status, security, religion, acceptance being the main ones that I can see. Societal norm is a powerful concept, and its very difficult to want something different from it, and perhaps just as difficult to realize you want something different.
I talked through what love is to me, and what marriage is. Marriage seems to me to be a contract where two people promise to love and care for each other for the rest of their lives. It has financial, emotional and status benefits. When I whittled it down to the core, the reason that marriage seemed to hold more weight to me, was that I still have vestiges of the belief that marriage is more permanent, more solid than a relationship. I hold the ideal that when two people get married their outlooks change to that of a more serious, more long lasting one.
Not that I am ignorant of divorce rates, simply that I am an idealist, and marriage was somewhere near the core of the gravitational pull that was adulthood to me in my formative years. People grew up, went to university, met someone, got married, had children, bought a house and raised their children in it until they were grown, and the cycle began anew while one worked until a respectable age, before earning their retirement.
That last sentence hasn't appealed to me for years, but for some reason I keep clinging to the idea that marriage is still something I want. Yes, I enjoyed university very much. The pursuit of knowledge is being true to my character, I try to soak up as much as I can because the world fascinates me. I do still want to raise children, not at this juncture but in the future. I want to teach children of the world, and instill wonder in it, at the beauty of all the things we know and all the things we don't know. I want to watch my children grow. But marriage is not a necessity to raising children. A stable partnership between parents is a plus (in my mind), but even that isn't a necessity. And while a house is nice for space, it isn't essential to raising children.
So why, even in a loving long term relationship was I yearning for something more? It took a while to come to my conclusion. I have been groomed to want marriage. I have been taught that that is the next step in life, in a relationship. Living with someone is not cemented until marriage is part of the equation. Over time I was able to logically discount my reasons for wanting marriage. There is still residue left over from the way I was brought up, the effects of society on my thinking, planning brain.
I think the moment I realized I'd have to let this ideal go was the worst. I had come to the conclusion that I don't need marriage, nor have I essentially coveted it as a person for quite a while. I am happy where I am, and in the relationship I am in. But for some reason I have been unable to let go of the idea that that was the next thing "to do" on the list. It sounds petty, I know. I am not the type of person to do something simply because it was acceptable. And I knew that just as when someone turns 18 they're not necessarily an adult, when two people get married they don't instantly have a different special bond.
I'm actively letting go of this ideal, but it is much more difficult to let go of than I would have thought. I always believed that once a realization occurred, once "enlightenment" was present, the rest would fall into place.
But I have to remind myself every day that at my core, I don't need marriage. That I was and still am being conditioned to want it. Oh, I don't believe there's a conspiracy or anything. People are lonely and want someone to share life with. And they are jealous so they want a promise that their partner will not stray. And sometimes greedy, for that moment in the spotlight, the wedding day.
Which is a whole other story. Weddings are not something I have a large interest in. Oh, I like wearing pretty things and partying. But the stresses I have seen for peoples' weddings are absolutely nothing to do with what I had believed for love, or what the start of a marriage should be. I had always planned on eloping, should I ever get married. I always liked the idea of a ceremony, it makes marriage more sacred than going down to city hall and signing a paper. But I had always invisioned a private ceremony.
I know I sound like I haven't let it go. These thoughts are not well ordered yet.
Where I am now:
I don't need marriage to be in a happy long lasting relationship with another person.
Marriage, I realize is something I only wanted because I was raised to want it.
With these truths evident, I am able to move forward and live life without constantly worrying when marriage will happen for me. It is very tough to let go of, but now that I am conscious of the need to let go of it, I am able to work forward.
My only lingering concern is missing out on a grand adventure, if that makes any sense. It doesn't worry me too much though, because I know that James and I are the types of people to have adventures that most people in the world never have, and sometimes never even desire. We cherish going to bed together each night and waking up next to each other in the morning. We cherish our differences, and our sameness and plan plan plan for all the adventures we'll have together. That lifetime is the lifetime I want.
Patience and enjoying the moment are two things I need to work on.
All I have written above is unordered, just typed down as I recalled how I felt. Therefore it is very self involved. It's mainly here so I can look back later on and refine these ideas.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
The Universe Waving Hello
Most of the time we stumble along, passing from moment to moment with no real sense of connection, of plot or even greater meaning. But once in a while circumstances line up, and work out just so, giving a moment's wonder "could there be something out there, keeping track of everything, planning each exact second in time"
I walked into work last week for a day shift. Day shifts are not my forte. Usually, I get to bed at a reasonable hour, then proceed to toss, turn and varyingly study the inside of my eyelids, or the course stippled ceiling in our bedroom. Very low steam is the gauge at which I entered the day.
It was busy.
It is always busy.
The baby having business will never crash, unless we experience some Children of Men phenomenon.
I started the day with two patients, early labour, each one a name in a famous bookstore. The chuckle I got out of that would be my only one that day.
One patient (we'll call her Mrs. Q) immediately proved to be more needy than the other one. Okay. I can handle that. Something was not quite right though. It started with her seeming extra modest regarding her body. Except for the minimum required touching, she did not want me near her. Then, when she got up to go to the bathroom she asked that I wait outside, and that her husband help her up. This was not a cultural request, but I agreed anyway, stating as I left that at some point we would have to become a little more "familiar". Next, her husband wanted to do all sorts of my work for me. He wanted to hook up the nitrous - I told him no. Whenever I left the room he would adjust the fetal heart monitor...incorrectly. He kept telling me "you go sit down, I can do it". I eventually had to ask him to stop that, due to the fact that he kept picking up maternal heart rate, and really, it is my job to monitor mom and baby, and his job to support her through this time.
So the day went.
She received the epidural she requested, after several hours of waiting for the anesthetist to get out of back to back emergency caesareans. She didn't seem to understand the necessity and urgency of the other deliveries. I can understand that when you're in pain, your sense of compassion dwindles somewhat.
Post epidural brady = case room delivery + shoulder dystocia + grumpy doc
Baby's arm had to be broken on the way out. This was probably the worst time I've ever had to restart an IV. In retrospect, I should be thankful she had veins. The sound from the arm breaking could only match the mom's facial expression in disgust.
It was a very trying delivery. Baby was fine in the end, other than the broken arm which will heal.
Mom immediately started to obsess over her weight.
It was not a family I bonded with very well.
When we got back to the low risk side, I did her recovery fairly quietly. I felt overstressed and frustrated to say the least. The whole situation escalated more than it should have, and more than I can state in words here.
I went for my break, and was called back early for an imminent delivery. Such is life, not on the schedule of a nurse who would just like to eat and decompress. Heading to the room, I pictured in my mind the glass of wine that I would consume when I made it home.
The delivery was very very low key. One minute mom tells us she needs to push, the next baby is out and crying. No big deal. Healthy, happy baby and mom.
As I'm getting mom, baby and the room cleaned up, visitors start to arrive. One looks extra familiar. It turns out she works at St.B in the labour and delivery ward....and in that instant I am taken back to my very first delivery.
I was 18 years old, in my second year of nursing, first semester. The first week of any rotation I ever had was at the St Boniface L&D ward. I arrived, keen to begin and nervous as hell in my white scrubs. I had never been in a hospital, except when my Grandpa had died a few years earlier. I was assigned to a patient who was just about to begin the final stage of labour: pushing. I got in the room and the nurse asked me to hang an IV bag: I looked at her blankly.
The mom had the baby fairly quickly, and with little fuss. It was her first baby, a boy: David.
It's amazing how much you can remember in the span of an instant.
Anyway, I was floored, not only for remembering all of this, but also for the fact that just when I was feeling less than competent as a nurse, very lousy and tired of ALL of this - the universe handed me something so significant. It reminded me how much I've learned in the span of just four years, and how I've gone from someone who has zero skills in this department, to one who has many - both scientific and psychological. It reminded me how miraculous birth is, and how sacred it can be to anyone involved, and that sometimes, people are just being people.
At that precise time, it was exactly the pick me up I needed.
I felt like the universe was waving hello, to let me know it hadn't forgotten me. And it felt wonderful.
I walked into work last week for a day shift. Day shifts are not my forte. Usually, I get to bed at a reasonable hour, then proceed to toss, turn and varyingly study the inside of my eyelids, or the course stippled ceiling in our bedroom. Very low steam is the gauge at which I entered the day.
It was busy.
It is always busy.
The baby having business will never crash, unless we experience some Children of Men phenomenon.
I started the day with two patients, early labour, each one a name in a famous bookstore. The chuckle I got out of that would be my only one that day.
One patient (we'll call her Mrs. Q) immediately proved to be more needy than the other one. Okay. I can handle that. Something was not quite right though. It started with her seeming extra modest regarding her body. Except for the minimum required touching, she did not want me near her. Then, when she got up to go to the bathroom she asked that I wait outside, and that her husband help her up. This was not a cultural request, but I agreed anyway, stating as I left that at some point we would have to become a little more "familiar". Next, her husband wanted to do all sorts of my work for me. He wanted to hook up the nitrous - I told him no. Whenever I left the room he would adjust the fetal heart monitor...incorrectly. He kept telling me "you go sit down, I can do it". I eventually had to ask him to stop that, due to the fact that he kept picking up maternal heart rate, and really, it is my job to monitor mom and baby, and his job to support her through this time.
So the day went.
She received the epidural she requested, after several hours of waiting for the anesthetist to get out of back to back emergency caesareans. She didn't seem to understand the necessity and urgency of the other deliveries. I can understand that when you're in pain, your sense of compassion dwindles somewhat.
Post epidural brady = case room delivery + shoulder dystocia + grumpy doc
Baby's arm had to be broken on the way out. This was probably the worst time I've ever had to restart an IV. In retrospect, I should be thankful she had veins. The sound from the arm breaking could only match the mom's facial expression in disgust.
It was a very trying delivery. Baby was fine in the end, other than the broken arm which will heal.
Mom immediately started to obsess over her weight.
It was not a family I bonded with very well.
When we got back to the low risk side, I did her recovery fairly quietly. I felt overstressed and frustrated to say the least. The whole situation escalated more than it should have, and more than I can state in words here.
I went for my break, and was called back early for an imminent delivery. Such is life, not on the schedule of a nurse who would just like to eat and decompress. Heading to the room, I pictured in my mind the glass of wine that I would consume when I made it home.
The delivery was very very low key. One minute mom tells us she needs to push, the next baby is out and crying. No big deal. Healthy, happy baby and mom.
As I'm getting mom, baby and the room cleaned up, visitors start to arrive. One looks extra familiar. It turns out she works at St.B in the labour and delivery ward....and in that instant I am taken back to my very first delivery.
I was 18 years old, in my second year of nursing, first semester. The first week of any rotation I ever had was at the St Boniface L&D ward. I arrived, keen to begin and nervous as hell in my white scrubs. I had never been in a hospital, except when my Grandpa had died a few years earlier. I was assigned to a patient who was just about to begin the final stage of labour: pushing. I got in the room and the nurse asked me to hang an IV bag: I looked at her blankly.
The mom had the baby fairly quickly, and with little fuss. It was her first baby, a boy: David.
It's amazing how much you can remember in the span of an instant.
Anyway, I was floored, not only for remembering all of this, but also for the fact that just when I was feeling less than competent as a nurse, very lousy and tired of ALL of this - the universe handed me something so significant. It reminded me how much I've learned in the span of just four years, and how I've gone from someone who has zero skills in this department, to one who has many - both scientific and psychological. It reminded me how miraculous birth is, and how sacred it can be to anyone involved, and that sometimes, people are just being people.
At that precise time, it was exactly the pick me up I needed.
I felt like the universe was waving hello, to let me know it hadn't forgotten me. And it felt wonderful.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Itch
I've caught some sort of midwinter itch. It makes me ambitious, want to take on more, challenge myself in some way. Perhaps I'll apply for that casual position at the women's health centre on graham. My skills at work could use some building, but at the point I'm at they'd probably choose other people to train further first. ... Or maybe I simply need some stimulation of the mind. A class at university...literature maybe.
So hard to make up my mind.
So much time and so indecisive in its use.
I wish I still wrote, but I don't feel inspired the way I used to. Watching James write is refreshing, but at the same time it brings a twinge of envy that he can bring all these ideas to life on paper while my mind sits, stale as month old bread. It's only a matter of time before mold turns it rancid.
I've stopped worrying about accomplishing set goals of life in predetermined time frames. But now and then I wonder where I'll be in five years. Mostly I just want to use my time well.
That brings me back to the beginning. I have an itch, and it needs scratching.
So hard to make up my mind.
So much time and so indecisive in its use.
I wish I still wrote, but I don't feel inspired the way I used to. Watching James write is refreshing, but at the same time it brings a twinge of envy that he can bring all these ideas to life on paper while my mind sits, stale as month old bread. It's only a matter of time before mold turns it rancid.
I've stopped worrying about accomplishing set goals of life in predetermined time frames. But now and then I wonder where I'll be in five years. Mostly I just want to use my time well.
That brings me back to the beginning. I have an itch, and it needs scratching.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Surprised
At how easily one can make peace with another one that we have had arguments with.................................... it was very easy. I missed her so much. Is that bad? Or wrong? I don't know. I really don't. It wasn't the first hug, but the second that meant the most..... she understood what I was saying about my work and the certain job quirks. Her hug almost made me cry.
Friday, January 14, 2011
If sex is a weapon...
I just can't seem to keep my calm temperment today. There is no rhyme or reason but something is brewing under the surface and it's only a matter of time before
SMASH! BOOM! POW!
SMASH! BOOM! POW!
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
I need to get this rant off my chest
I feel like a rant storm is cooking up just under the surface of my skin. It's probably best to get it out before I go to work.
The last night at work I had (Sunday night) was a tough one. I received a threat of a lawsuit from a patient's partner. That I managed to handle well enough (told the guy he needed to smarten up, start putting his partner and baby first and to stop threatening the nurses). It was actually a big moment in my life, I'd never told someone off like that before. I was so shaky after, but I saw out the delivery and he apologized after, and thanked me. Viva la birth.
The part that's been bothering me is that one of my co-workers was in a real bitch of a mood. I'd avoided her pretty effectively, until she went to go empty the laundry in the room I'd just had the delivery in. Normally I don't overpack the laundry, but this one time the woman was terrified of blood, so I did it as a temporary fix while I went to go chart about the lawsuit incident. She came out to the desk and snapped at me, not only in front of everyone but quite rudely. I didn't know what to say, other than that I wasn't done in the room (as a point of reference, earlier I had put a different patient's chart aside, asking that it not be gutted yet since I wasn't done with it: she gutted it, and I didn't say a word, just went around searching for the stuff I needed).
So I went and dealt with that laundry stuff. Later in the night I attempted to take some of her workload: I got epidural papers ready for myself etc etc. But that still wasn't enough. I had made popcorn earlier for everyone. I find it helps to have a snack at 3am for everyone to perk up a little bit and make it over that hump. And popcorn is snack-y and healthy. Well apparently when my break was over and I was no where around, someone finished the popcorn. But because I had made it it was MY responsibility. I could hear her bitching about how "that girl's really on my bad list tonight"
Fuck women are catty. Working in an environment with mostly women is a shock to my system. Most of my friends are men, and the few women I am close with have proven themselves not ruled by hormones.
Anyway, when I expressed my discontent to one of my co-workers, they said "she's having a bad night I think" and I said "that gives no reason for her to take it out on me like this". Apparently it had been her birthday in the evening and no one had remembered, or bought a card or brought food.
Well guess what? BOO FUCKING HOO. Only one person brought anything for my birthday, and I was pleasantly surprised. I don't EXPECT my birthday to be made a big deal of. We're at work, not some perpetual party. And if she didn't tell anyone ahead of time, how are we to know that it was her birthday? I didn't receive a card, or the usual potluck dinner we do for most birthdays.
Well I got home monday morning, had my glass of wine and settled into bed with cartoons when my phone rang. Work. I ignored it. The voicemail message said "Kristen apparently you're working with us wednesday night, and everyone forgot ____'s birthday last night so we're going to do a potluck, so if you could bring something that would be great" I could have screamed, but didn't want to wake James.
So now if I don't bring something I'M the bitch. Well I'll probably eat the food so I'm bringing stuff to make smoothies. It's minimal effort. And behind the smoothie is a large fuck you to this woman. The worst part is normally we get along great. I know she's a hard worker and most of the time very nice. And yes, everyone is allowed a bad day. There was just no reason to take it out on other people. Keep your bad day to yourself, or talk about it.
And now I have to get ready to head in.
The last night at work I had (Sunday night) was a tough one. I received a threat of a lawsuit from a patient's partner. That I managed to handle well enough (told the guy he needed to smarten up, start putting his partner and baby first and to stop threatening the nurses). It was actually a big moment in my life, I'd never told someone off like that before. I was so shaky after, but I saw out the delivery and he apologized after, and thanked me. Viva la birth.
The part that's been bothering me is that one of my co-workers was in a real bitch of a mood. I'd avoided her pretty effectively, until she went to go empty the laundry in the room I'd just had the delivery in. Normally I don't overpack the laundry, but this one time the woman was terrified of blood, so I did it as a temporary fix while I went to go chart about the lawsuit incident. She came out to the desk and snapped at me, not only in front of everyone but quite rudely. I didn't know what to say, other than that I wasn't done in the room (as a point of reference, earlier I had put a different patient's chart aside, asking that it not be gutted yet since I wasn't done with it: she gutted it, and I didn't say a word, just went around searching for the stuff I needed).
So I went and dealt with that laundry stuff. Later in the night I attempted to take some of her workload: I got epidural papers ready for myself etc etc. But that still wasn't enough. I had made popcorn earlier for everyone. I find it helps to have a snack at 3am for everyone to perk up a little bit and make it over that hump. And popcorn is snack-y and healthy. Well apparently when my break was over and I was no where around, someone finished the popcorn. But because I had made it it was MY responsibility. I could hear her bitching about how "that girl's really on my bad list tonight"
Fuck women are catty. Working in an environment with mostly women is a shock to my system. Most of my friends are men, and the few women I am close with have proven themselves not ruled by hormones.
Anyway, when I expressed my discontent to one of my co-workers, they said "she's having a bad night I think" and I said "that gives no reason for her to take it out on me like this". Apparently it had been her birthday in the evening and no one had remembered, or bought a card or brought food.
Well guess what? BOO FUCKING HOO. Only one person brought anything for my birthday, and I was pleasantly surprised. I don't EXPECT my birthday to be made a big deal of. We're at work, not some perpetual party. And if she didn't tell anyone ahead of time, how are we to know that it was her birthday? I didn't receive a card, or the usual potluck dinner we do for most birthdays.
Well I got home monday morning, had my glass of wine and settled into bed with cartoons when my phone rang. Work. I ignored it. The voicemail message said "Kristen apparently you're working with us wednesday night, and everyone forgot ____'s birthday last night so we're going to do a potluck, so if you could bring something that would be great" I could have screamed, but didn't want to wake James.
So now if I don't bring something I'M the bitch. Well I'll probably eat the food so I'm bringing stuff to make smoothies. It's minimal effort. And behind the smoothie is a large fuck you to this woman. The worst part is normally we get along great. I know she's a hard worker and most of the time very nice. And yes, everyone is allowed a bad day. There was just no reason to take it out on other people. Keep your bad day to yourself, or talk about it.
And now I have to get ready to head in.
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