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The Cute Guy is history.

One week ago today (on the 1-year anniversary of my firing from Prestigious Institution), I said I wanted to talk to him about some stuff. And immediately he goes into "I'm not comfortable with that, I'm not the right person, I didn't know how to say it without sounding like an ass", blah blah blah. I wanted to talk to him about WRITING, fer Chrissake!

I'm not upset that he doesn't want to be my therapist. He SHOULDN'T want to be my therapist. That's healthy. He's not trained for it. What upsets me is that a full year after one horrible night, he's still judging me on the basis of one evening.

I give up. I absolutely fucking give up. Nothing I do or say is ever going to convince him that I'm not a monster. So I had a bad night. We ALL have bad nights. I can't take away what happened.

This week at work was relatively good, mainly because my annoying co-worker from hell took vacation this week. That's the good news. The bad news is because she took her vacation all in one lump, it means I'm going to have to put up with her for the remainder of the calendar year. God give me strength. She's a lying, backstabbing snake.

But back to writing. I realize that I'm not going to get any help from CG, so I'm going to have to figure things out on my own. I'm going to try to blog every day. This may mean that my next several posts are nothing but inconsequential blather, so be warned. But I have to get in the discipline of writing every day, even if I have nothing to write about.
- posted by Pat @ 9:24 PM