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Friday, January 18, 2013

Man, Quitting is hard to do!

Man, I had no idea I was so high-strung! I've had people tell me that more than once but it was always a kind of "yeah, yeah, yeah"- thing where I thought they were teasing me or messing with me or something. I thought myself a much more mellow type of person. But today, I'm about to have an anxiety attack. I could literally jump ten feet straight up (like Tom from Tom and Jerry). I am filled with so much nervous energy- you'd think I was being executed tonight. I thought I was nervous when I told my former boss I quit- at least with that though, I did it first thing in the morning and didn't have it hanging over my head all day. This time, I deliberately decided to do it in the evening right before we leave because I wanted as little uncomfortable time in the office as possible before I could bounce (and before she would have a nice long weekend to think about it and come back professional, not pissed off). Little did I know that that would leave me spending the whole day as if I were about to walk the freekin' plank! I'm at Threat Level-Orange for no reason. I thought I was miserable all these days preceding but they have nothing on how miserable I am feeling right now. Although miserable is really not the word, it's anxious and fearful.

I'm venting again sorry, but I have no where to let off all this nervous freekin' energy. Only me turns every little molehill into Everest. It's too bad because in two seconds I'm not going to have any health insurance but I'm thinking perhaps I need something a little more than my therapist. I have industrial strength issues maybe I need an actual psychiatrist- like the medical doctor- with the good-good pharmaceuticals? Days like today I feel literally two seconds from the looney-bin. I can't believe I do this to myself. It's all me, this part isn't Boss Lady or her "doing" anything to me (in fact she's been sitting quietly in her office all day). By rights, I should be able to stop whenever I want and just calm the ef down but I just can't. Boss Lady doesn't know it (or maybe she does) but she's about to dodge a bullet with my cray-cray ass. Being rid of me is a blessing. I need a sedative.

Argh! I feel like my head is going to pop off my shoulders from the anxiety. I've got this radiating pain pulsing right behind my left ear- I have got to calm down.

Anyhoo, on to a topic that gives me a similar but better sense of agita - Scandal! Well first thing first, my DVR (named Josh) was acting up so I had to manually record that and he wouldn't let me record Suits until 1 in the morning. I stayed late at work yesterday finishing up some work. So when I got home I watched Person of Interest, though it wasn't a new episode. 'Cuz it was new to me- as it was one of the billion or so episodes Josh has refused to record. It was from last season when Root kidnapped Finch and Reese and Carter were looking for him. I missed most of that. Then at ten, I watched Grey's, then at eleven I watched Scandal. It was a pretty good episode but again I'm wondering why the hell Shonda is going out of her way to emasculate Tony Goldwyn. It's weird. I have no problem with a man crying, don't get me wrong, and Tony cries with the best of them. But the whole thing with his Dad...it's irritating. And I don't see the point.

So I also watch Nashville. That's my newest joint. I got into it about three or four episodes in but I love it now. What is wrong with Juliette? She's all kinds of messed up but I thought she was smart to marry the football player (despite what his mom said). It seemed pretty clear to me that she was gonna be the one running sh!t in their relationship- she should have kept him around. Question, was he the dude that impregnated Val on the first episode of Single Ladies? He looks mad familiar but I can't place him. Anyhoo, I'm just waiting patiently until Deacon and whatever Connie Britton's character is named get together. Now that he's been tossed off the tour and she can't find someone to be her guitarist, I see a reconciliation coming.

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