Curse. Hate. Destroy.

Listening to: Depeche Mode - People Are People

I am in a horrible mood. I think it had something to do with not falling asleep until about 4, a dream full of disgusting bugs (roaches, giant daddy-longlegs, etc) which kept jolting me awake in fits of leg-kicking and "no no no stop!," and the qats being bad. Mort pooped on the floor for the sixth consecutive day, and if he weren't cute, I'd kick him.

So, with my terrible grumpiness having been established, today's post shall be an angry rant.

Rant #1: I do not care about your sex life. This is directed at nobody in particular, but has been something that has pissed me off since college. I do NOT fucking care how good the sex is, how frequent it is, where you have it, all the various positions/accesories involved, et cetera. The only reason I ever mention mine is in response, because I am a self-conscious idiot who feels the need to "compete" whenever someone tells me how wonderful a particular aspect of their life is.

This has nothing to do with bitterness generated by rarely seeing Steve, and everything to do with me not giving a shit about your genitalia.

Rant #2: This is directed at someone. Some people. In power of a certain program. When a kid is trying to explain himself when a fight happens, and he has the entire excuse for his misbehavior clearly laid out, and it's ALMOST a perfectly sound reason for a childish response, it's really unkind to keep interrupting him to tell him what a bad kid he is, and that he's ridiculous for responding how he did. The kid is eleven years old. He is not an adult. He's not likely to handle anything in an adult fashion.

The argument in question: The boy took off his belt because, in his words, "it was cutting off my circulation." He put said belt by his backpack, and the girl next to him snatched it and hid it. He got mad and frustrated, and told her to give it back. She threatened him, so he threatened back. They both got in trouble, but not before the powers that be called him out for the fight, in front of a silent room full of other kids. I felt really bad for him, even if he was part of the argument. I wished I could've taken him aside and talked about it quietly.

Rant #3: I realize that I probably shouldn't prop a foot on the edge of the table to balance my drawing book when there are kids present, but come on, other-lady-power-that-be, don't tell me that I'm being unprofessional. It really hurts. Just tell me that I should probably sit straight.

She really took the wind out of my sails yesterday. I was in a great mood until she chastised me, although it was quietly enough so nobody else heard, and I ended up slipping into a depression-divot for a few hours. I almost cried three times in front of the kids, and had to slip off into the bathroom each time so I could let out a few tears and then get back to work like there was absolutely nothing wrong. I know it's my responsibility to keep my emotional problems to myself, and I'm really, really trying my hardest, but it makes my heart hurt so much sometimes. I actually had a pain in my chest and my head all night because I felt so crappy.

It was the first time I had felt down since I reduced my medication a couple weeks ago. I'm off the antidepressants in a couple days, and I really hope I can keep it together.

So now I've vented a little. I still feel like shit, and the drive to New York tonight isn't going to make me feel any better. I think I just need a good night's sleep.

Followed by a trip to the dentist tomorrow morning.

Oh, and it's that particular week of the month.

Oh, and the Mets are sucking in a terrible way.

I need a hug.