Muddled and Miserable

I am having what some people call a rough week.

Let's see... I got really upset by something Zach said Sunday (when is this gonna stop?) and started the week feeling poor. Then, Ally wasn't around, which bothered me more than I'm willing to admit to myself. And my coworker, Russ, played softball with us, which I thought would be fun, but everyone played like shit, including me (we were ten-runned AND shut out. in four innings. ouch. my only at-bat was a strike-out, which won me a nagging, "You're staying for batting practice, RIGHT? You know you need it." after the game. shit.). And then I was an idiot at the bar and flirted with him FAR too much. I was fielding sly grins from everyone around the table. Stupid stupid stupid.

Then, Tuesday, one of the VPs at work beckoned me into his office with one finger (how humiliating) to lecture me about my work ethic. I had been starting to slide and I was glad for it, a bit (I don't like being a slacker any more than my bosses do, I have too much residual Catholic in me for that), but it made me feel terrible and also validated one of my paranoias (that the guy was watching me like a hawk), so now I feel like ALL of my paranoias are valid.

Then, today, I got a lecture from my boss about how I'm asking the wrong people my questions (read: Russ), and he had me do some of my components with him watching over my shoulder. I was talking to one of my coworkers today (see previous paragraph: i never learn) and she said that she's started gnawing on her fingernails since working there. I have the same nervous vice that I've always had (cracking my knuckles, pulling hair), but they're both worse. I'm thinking about going back on medication for my OCD, because my job is both perfect for someone with OCD and murderous for someone with OCD (detail-oriented is good, but there are too many details to hold onto them all at once, which is how i usually like to do things. This is why I became a mechE, to force myself to learn how to break ideas into bits. I don't think it worked.).

And I can't shake this feeling that all the big-wigs at work are discussing the newbies and I'm coming up short. The guy who started two weeks after me has already finished as many projects as me. Gross. My boss also seems to take my mistakes as a personal affront, which is dangerous territory to be in. It's just a little harder to be neurotic and working.

This is neither here nor there, but I also realised that what I was hoping were visions are just more evidence that I'm slowly (or quickly, depending on your perspective) turning into Ally McBeal. And my figure is not nearly as nice (although, Calista Flockhart was always too thin for my taste, so that could be worse).

In case you weren't already convinced, I'm looking forward to the weekend.

* * *

Oh, yeah, and: Fuck you, gub'ment: "'New federal guidelines ask all females capable of conceiving a baby to treat themselves—and to be treated by the health care system—as pre-pregnant, regardless of whether they plan to get pregnant anytime soon,' reports the Washington Post. '[T]his means all women between first menstrual period and menopause should take folic acid supplements, refrain from smoking, maintain a healthy weight and keep chronic conditions such as asthma and diabetes under control... [I]t's important that women follow this advice throughout their reproductive lives, because about half of pregnancies are unplanned and so much damage can be done to a fetus between conception and the time the pregnancy is confirmed.'" Because I'm a little bit crazy, I already do most of this, but that doesn't mean Dubya gets to tell me to do it, too.