I have often felt alone in a crowd. I usually get treated like I’m wearing Red at Target when I get told “Oh, I didn’t see you there. Oh, I didn’t want to bother you – you seemed busy.” to “I thought you worked here.” when I’m shopping on my Lonesome.
I don’t quite understand how to get too attached to a dynamic when I serve my purposes in the Long-Con of the Short-Term and wrap up whatever it is I’m wrapping up. If I’m forced out; the system functions to support itself, asshole included.
I don’t work with assholes. I leave assholes in the system but outside the work-party because you are the one that has to buy the whole staff out for anyone to attend a dinner. You’re the girl that played house instead of School before you got to kindergarten. You’re a Debra, You’re a Mom, your kids don’t talk to you, and you’re jealous that the happy are the ones that let their legacies reign lose and you need a chokehold to function and understand you are Loved – when you’re simply not. You just demand attention to receive it.
That’s my clause to Women in/of/working-in the Industry or of-Service; be happy you’re allowed to reign lose and you’re trusted enough to only hear shitty situations and awfully-good-jokes that make you cry. This is Full-Spectrum Living; this is what the Matriarchy looks like; This is Independent-Automation of a Task Manager -at-hand. Someone cooked here, and it wasn’t fresh baked cookies (that was 4 days ago and I eat the kerplauches-spheres in frozen-form). My water was suspended and bounced and ionized to that of a zero-gravity pool because I let the bath run over an hour. A skimp and not quite whole episode of Season 4 Ep. 5 Pie-Oh-My and said “Oh, mine.” [of Sopranos, I meant – that’s my bath show lol] when I looked at my revolting life and I’m already miserable because some girl that lives in my house think I’m intimidating them they displaced their fears into abject-nagging-of-no-use as I grabbed a butter knife and two slices of honey-wheat for thick+airy and thin-smushed Peanut Butter Sammy folded by none-other-than Sam. The actual Sam. The one-true-sam; the coworkers of all coworkers. The lazy girl that has a mental breakdown from time to time when people think sitting on their ass watching a new season until Ep.8 before midnight -:Doesn’t Mean Something!!!
I’m on my phone too much. I’m addicted to Laptop. I get paid in my taxes so it’s a big deal if I pay in my taxes because the economy is a rudimentary-chokehold and I get paid-by-my-taxes. So if I made no money, I didn’t do anything. If I flatline, I’m a zero. If I hit the small-time lottery, I’m balanced. If I get it big one day, I’ll be 25.
Much to await for, and that’s only My Account summed up.
If I paid, I didn’t spend enough to support my local economy.
Thankfully, I don’t get freebies: just thoughtful coupons.
And that, is what it is and what it takes to,
Be Your-Own Boss. BYOB.
The Beers and Bottles don’t mean much after 20 years when all you really want is some nice groceries and good takeout.
Smiley Face, you’re on Fire!!
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