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meitantei_cjWoke up to walk Oliver, but he didn't want to walk. Went to Walgreens to pick up my perscription. Went to class. Went to work. Was ridiculously tired, my shoulder was aching, and I hadn't eaten. Boss came over and immediately told me I need to check my voicemail messages because he checks them and the light won't be on if he's already listened to them. Because I most certainly have not been working in that place for nearly four years, and I can't POSSIBLY know anything about that. And it wasn't like, "Have you checked your messages yet?" No, it was "Hi, dumbass, I need to tell you to do this because you're too stupid to know if the message indicator light's not lit." I just nodded and turned away and had to be giving off STFU vibes, but "Oblivious" is his middle name. He came back over and went through this long thing that boiled down to "We need another line for audio conferencing." Instead of just saying that, he went on this whole long thing. The douche would not shut up, because once again, I need everything spelled out, according to him. Again, I turned away while nodding and was in the process of typing the e-mail when he actually added another explanation. There were conflicts. I GET IT.
Then he came over around 4pm to tell me that damned steering committee meeting is on Monday, the one he drafted me to take minutes for. I let it be PLAINLY obvious that I was not amused/enthused/whatever. His interpretation? "You're not nervous, are you?" NERVOUS? That's what he comes up with? Why the hell would I be nervous? I go sit in that room with whoever the hell those people are and let my pen record everything. If I'm anything, it's pissed off that of all the people that could've been chosen to do this, he/they chose ME. Because I give a shit.
He asked me if I was going to leave him hanging (like I did last meeting--I didn't go to work that day, and I don't regret it, and I almost wish I'd kept Aesthetics on my schedule because he'd have been FORCED to get someone else to do the minutes), I told him no, he said I didn't sound very convincing and gave me a look, and walked away. I flipped him off behind the wall of my cubicle. I wrote in my notebook that was supposed to be for creative writing and has so far been nothing but bitching about work, pretty much like the other book.
Left work just after 5pm, went through the turnstile, heard the train in the station, and nearly freaking killed myself running down the stairs to get to it, because if I'd missed it, I'd have been late. Note to self, weight of portfolio CANNOT rest on left side: Balance gets thrown off way too much. I tripped over my own feet about three times, and luckily I can correct myself pretty well, or I'd have probably broken my neck or knocked a tooth out or something.
Got to Life Drawing, and we ended up not having a model to work with because someone didn't schedule it. (Seriously, for a life drawing class. I don't know.) We ended up working with plaster sculptures of a dude and a mask of a woman's face, which was difficult because we were working with lighting and value, and normally we'd have someone with, you know, flesh. Plaster =/= flesh. My angle had to be the WORST in the room, and my drawings sucked.
Got back to Brooklyn to meet Mom and Oliver outside. Mom had said we would talk when I got home, because I'd sent her several texts and she knew I wasn't having a good day. Guess what? We didn't talk. I'm not talkative, I haven't really smiled, but obviously everything's fine, right?
So yeah, I'm going to bed, I'm going through tomorrow, the King of All Dumbfucks better not get in my face. Seriously. I want to go to PA, get Oliver's shots done and his skin checked out, and go see my daddy before he goes back to Oklahoma.
Then he came over around 4pm to tell me that damned steering committee meeting is on Monday, the one he drafted me to take minutes for. I let it be PLAINLY obvious that I was not amused/enthused/whatever. His interpretation? "You're not nervous, are you?" NERVOUS? That's what he comes up with? Why the hell would I be nervous? I go sit in that room with whoever the hell those people are and let my pen record everything. If I'm anything, it's pissed off that of all the people that could've been chosen to do this, he/they chose ME. Because I give a shit.
He asked me if I was going to leave him hanging (like I did last meeting--I didn't go to work that day, and I don't regret it, and I almost wish I'd kept Aesthetics on my schedule because he'd have been FORCED to get someone else to do the minutes), I told him no, he said I didn't sound very convincing and gave me a look, and walked away. I flipped him off behind the wall of my cubicle. I wrote in my notebook that was supposed to be for creative writing and has so far been nothing but bitching about work, pretty much like the other book.
Left work just after 5pm, went through the turnstile, heard the train in the station, and nearly freaking killed myself running down the stairs to get to it, because if I'd missed it, I'd have been late. Note to self, weight of portfolio CANNOT rest on left side: Balance gets thrown off way too much. I tripped over my own feet about three times, and luckily I can correct myself pretty well, or I'd have probably broken my neck or knocked a tooth out or something.
Got to Life Drawing, and we ended up not having a model to work with because someone didn't schedule it. (Seriously, for a life drawing class. I don't know.) We ended up working with plaster sculptures of a dude and a mask of a woman's face, which was difficult because we were working with lighting and value, and normally we'd have someone with, you know, flesh. Plaster =/= flesh. My angle had to be the WORST in the room, and my drawings sucked.
Got back to Brooklyn to meet Mom and Oliver outside. Mom had said we would talk when I got home, because I'd sent her several texts and she knew I wasn't having a good day. Guess what? We didn't talk. I'm not talkative, I haven't really smiled, but obviously everything's fine, right?
So yeah, I'm going to bed, I'm going through tomorrow, the King of All Dumbfucks better not get in my face. Seriously. I want to go to PA, get Oliver's shots done and his skin checked out, and go see my daddy before he goes back to Oklahoma.
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Date: 2010-10-01 05:31 am (UTC)no subject
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