Tag Archives: anger

Haven’t

been writing. I’m not (even really) writing now–just distracting myself from some scanning that I’ve been putting off.

Things haven’t taken a turn one way or the other where it involves Omitted, and I’m angry at Omitted. Angry about the silent treatment, angry when I think about Omitted’s omitted encouraging Omitted to take the silent route, whatever. It’s our Omitted on Saturday. I’ll probably send an email. I probably will not receive a response. We’ll probably spend the rest of our lives resenting one another.

The new job has been great. Three omitted submissions over the past three weeks. We heard back about one of them, didn’t omitted, but somehow in that universe, there’s enough that’s being worked on to simply move (the fuck) on quickly. I’m glad I work there and I’m glad I’m contributing. I’m not competing with anyone–maybe there’s something to that.


The old job, dealings with it, have taken a turn for the worse. My old boss wants me to come in for a days or so to tie up loose ends. I want to send him an email that says

You’re missing the point of my having quit for personal reasons. I gave you notice as to when I would leave the office, and worked an additional two days for you. I would like my past three paychecks mailed to me before I come in to the office to complete any additional work.

And the stuff I will not include in the email:

Quit being such a miserable little ninny, Omitted. You’re in Omitted! Omitted! The largest omitted in the omitted! There are thousands of employable people who can be hired for the shit job I worked for you! They won’t do it nearly as well as I did, but ther’re out there! You don’t even have to turn all the rocks in Omitted Park to find them!

I should keep this all off-blog, but he’s never going to read it, and really no one’s ever go to read this. I just hate that he was begging in his last email. Asshat ape shit moron.

A former co-worker at that job is going to the Labor Department for withheld wages–he quit a few days after I did (and I quit two weeks after one of the interns I really got along with quit; when that happened, it really woke me the fuck up: I don’t have to stay at a firm an intern can’t even stand). I guess my boss owes him $10K, I guess he really needs this because he has kids. He’s been calling me for advice, but I know he’s not really listening.


I started a new project called The Omitted. I work on it when I’m on the omitted when it’s a dead zone. I probably won’t do anything with it, but it’s been a source of great relief.

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Nervously

shaking the leg that’s attached to the foot, that’s perched on the c. 1901 wood floor, that’s supporting said leg and the other. I’ve prepared for the 11am interview as best I can–now all I have to do is stay awake until then. In about an hour and a half: send off 2017 email to Omitted (that I prepared an hour ago; tone veers tense, and rightfully so). Two hours ago: arrived from that city, where I spent the past two weeks glued to the slopes and off the screens and avoiding all work emails, especially the ones from the omitted who’s an asshat, who convinced my favorite person at work to leave, who may have also convinced me.

I am nervous for the interview, but confident that I’m (at least) within the top 3 on the list of ideal hires. I won’t look awake enough and this will work to my disadvantage. I’ll wear what I have worn to the interviews that have landed me jobs: a black shirt, a black sweater, black slacks, a colored pair of socks (tough shit if the color’s not their jam), a pair of shoes I like (that bring me closer to my ideal height, that are leather, laced and flat).

I spent the past week incredibly angry at Omitted (same instance as above). I shouldn’t be sending the email. I shouldn’t be acknowledging Omitted considering what Omitted’s been putting me through and what Omitted will put me through in 2017. I need the universe to toss me a loophole around this one, or a black hole and a little force. My sister tells me to plan for the worst, meanwhile I’ve only planned for what’s just a little worse than whatever’s transpired over the past few months. I told her that if it happens the way I think it might, that I’d tell everyone Omitted omitted, that I’d write a book about all the different ways he omitted as a way to keep track of the trajectory of the lie (that he omitted). I don’t know what I’m allowed to do and what I’m allowed to feel. My sister tells me I’ve assigned Omitted too much credit. I hesitate to believe her. I want to pretend the universe has something else in mind for us. I want to think Time has something else in store for us.

In around an hour: send the email. In around and hour and a half: leave for the interview.