February 2nd, 2003

flea

Bad dog mom.

Yup. I'm a bad dog mom. I forgot my dog, at work when I left.

There are reasons for this. Amie from work called me at noon Saturday, and asked me to switch shifts with her, my grave for her 430-1230 swing. So I say fine, just a small kink in my schedule. Shift my workday eight hours earlier. Well, the plan that made itself up in my head involved me driving to my mom's house, dropping the dog off, and going to work. I lag, and traffic was horrible, so I end up not having time to get to my mom's ... so ok, the dog comes to work with me ... no big deal.

Work was hell, eight hours of non-stop animalness ... and crazy tweakers without any money. Always so much fun to deal with. So it was busy from the time I got there until the time I left, and as I'm trying to leave, trying to get out at 1230 so I can catch people at TC before everyone goes home, the doctor is asking me to do all these small things. I ran around for another half hour, finishing everything up, and then grabbed my stuff, changed my shirt in the car, and left thinking I had forgotten to do some small task. Driving down Harbor, I was at McFadden when I realized that the small task I had forgotten was to get my dog out of the cage in the back room and bring him with me. So I call my work, grovel apologies, and promise to come by and get him before I go home.

I arrive at TC about 1:30 ... Andy and Kelly were just leaving, and Michael was nice enough to wait for me ... We ended up going over to his house and watching Chinatown ... a damn good movie, depressing in all sorts of ways. But a nice evening, all in all ... I love when I get to spend time with Michael. So rare, lately ... he said he was tired ... I said, when he's not tired, he's working, and soon he'll be in school, too. So I fight for the time I can get. Eventually left there, went and got my poor little dog, and to my mom's, and here I am now.

Tomorrow ... nothing, and then work ... but I'll be in OC all day, at least.
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    hyper hyper
balloons

I used to drink

I uded to drink quite a bit. I don't anymore and I don't know why. Wouldn't bother me so much if I made some sort of a decision about it, but I didn't. I just don't get it anymore. I used to understand. Now I find that even when I drink, I don't get drunk. I've tried to get drunk. I carry whiskey with me almost always, just in case of an emergency that requires whiskey. But I only drink what I need. Am I a low level alcoholic? I can't see the entire point of an evening being to get drunk. It doesn't work for me.

Point being, something changed and I don't know what or why, and that bothers me.

Michael and I were talking, and the subject came up that I used to run with punks, and look all butch, his comment was "it seems so out of character for you" my response was, "but nothing is out of character for me." And he agreed ... but it got me wondering ... how fluid is my personality? I've made complete changes, several times in my life, as to who I am, or if not "who" I am, but how I indentify/am identified. None intentionally, but the changes are made. People that have known me for years note it when they see me ... Does everyone do this? Am I more or less fluid than most? Am I absolutely paranoid even bothering to think about this? Was it the drugs? Whole phases of my life were created depending what I was on. Is this the real me now? Or maybe all of it was the real me ... fragmented. Stretched over a timeline.

Ok ... I think I'm just going to go with paranoid and overthinking things. Had to get these thoughts out of my head. And the idea that "nothing is out of character for me" is really growing on me ... leaves my options open.
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    pensive pensive