| Ah ha! |
[Feb. 9th, 2010|04:01 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  angry | ] |
I figured it out.
I really... REALLY dislike working in large labs. Or perhaps, this large lab.
No one shares. No one follows the same rules. There's not enough stuff.
And worst of all, there's no organization or leadership at all.
Given the chance to join a smaller lab, I will. |
|
|
| redos are hard now. |
[Feb. 9th, 2010|12:03 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  annoyed | ] |
I feel uneasy.
I'm home alone, which probably is making it worse. Stupid boyfriend abandoning me to suddenly visit his parents.
I talked to my boss today about what his plans are after we manage to bang out a few papers. His situation mirrors mine. If he stays, I have a job. If he doesn't, I don't know. He's having a hard time finding a faculty position it seems. Even the PHD DVMs are having a hard time in this economy.
Jimmy is in the house. He's being a good boy. Likes laying on the floor without a pillow. But... I still don't know if he's mine or if I'm just renting him.
Nothing seems perminant around here. My job could evaporate in September or December... or earlier, or later. My boyfriend doesn't seem to give two shits about staying anywhere. I'm not even sure if this is MY pet. I'm not sure I want to stay here, I'm not sure I want anything.
I need some god damn stability. I need a promise that all this hard work and scraping together a life is not for nothing. I've already thrown my life out and re done it enough times. I'm sick of reinventing myself to fit the current bill. Someone change FOR me, please. |
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| It's all wrong. |
[Feb. 4th, 2010|11:43 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  rejected | ] |
Shhh... shhh... it's time for the nightly panic attack.
Work's going poorly still. Do this! Do that! Is anything written down?! NO!!
This is wrong. That's wrong. Do this again. You fucked this up. Oh, PS... please be prepared for an even more gruesome procedure tomorrow!
The undergrad wants to know what CRE is... tell him. But, you don't even know what CRE IS! MUAHAHAHAHA.
I wish someone would ask me whats wrong. I wish I had my shit together when someone asks me.
My friend Tori is probably getting sick of me. I havn't seen her in almost a month and I've been only complaining in emails. We've been planning an outting for this weekend, but suddenly she wants to invite her friend I don't particularly know well. Actually from what little I know, I don't like her. But, I didn't have the right words to object with, so now I've got to pretend it doesn't bother me. Maybe she's trying to mitigate my whinyness.
Just like everyone else is sick of me, but they've learned how to ignore it or deal with it somehow. Like.. not read my LJ for example.
God damn it, I tried.
I can NOT handle this pet situation. Is Jimmy Mine? Is he not? Do I want another pet? Do I want another pet IN ADDITION to jimmy? Can I get a dog? Do I even want a dog? Can I even take care of a dog? What do I do if Jim isn't mine? What if he is? How do I even tell? The chip scan may not be conclusive.
But, I do know this... I HAVE TO HAVE a lap pet. And soon. Right now. I need it. I think it would help a hell of a lot with mental health. Having a Jim in the laundry room isn't nearly enough.
I know the only thing I can do is "keep trying lil' buddy"... but I'm tired of trying so hard. It's been a god damn month... fix it. Please. |
|
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| Cursed. |
[Feb. 3rd, 2010|11:23 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  crushed | ] |
Work has been a nightmare of frustration. The last month has been just screw up after screw up.
Things aren't working right or sometimes not at all. I'm bad at some of the techniques. My boss keeps adding layers of complexity and throwing new crap at me before I get used to the old stuff. It's like not being able to swim. You can flap around and keep your head above water to inhale sometimes, but you still feel like you're going to DIE any minute and it shore don't look perdy.
Today I stopped attempting to make small sections of brain because either I was fucking up so badly, or the machine was working so poorly that I ruined an ENTIRE mouse brain in 10 to 50 micron increments. I just went back to my "office" and cried. My lab mate, and so far only person who speaks with me, U-Ging, has offered to help. She does appear interested in helping, but only on the pity level. She also blames the machine for being "terrible" and broken. But, it's no secret that I'm fucking awful at this shit. My boss said the last slides I managed to scrape out of the machine were awful. This time, I didn't manage to collect a single one...
I was practicing in my mind what I would say to my boss when I finally snapped.
I only made it half way through my appointment on the machine and I just up and quit. The girl before me didn't have any trouble, but she also kept on fucking hovering... for an hour and a half. I wonder if she knew something I didn't. My paranoid mind was wondering if she sabotaged something just to get me to quit early so she could get her shit done and go home early.
This isn't your normal "crap's getting in the way", even though that's present, too. Crap like "Shit the pipete tip ejector keeps falling off." and "I keep catching my fat ass on the garbage can and knocking it over"... that stuff all happens still... but if I can manage to get through a day where I only have that level of mess up, I would consider it a win.
Other aspects of life are going awry, too. Today for example: The doctor making me wait an hour before they just told me to go home and reschedule... then, Traffic mysteriously coming to a dead halt for 20 minutes when I was speeding back to work. There was no reason for traffic to be a dead stop... No accident.... no cop car... not even a god damn goose on the highway.
I tried to perk up. I was thinking about blue skies and the jamba juice I just had... but I just can't manage to get around the fact that today SUCKED ASS and I seriously doubt my ability to keep up. And several days before today... and I'm worried it will continue.
AM I CURSED?!
Since Mikey's passing I've been cursed... or perhaps his passing has had such a large impact on me that my very essence is ruined rendering me prone to curses, bad luck and general shit. I am very sad about it... especially if it's true.
Or perhaps this is payback for some nasty shit I did earlier? I thought I paid my karma for getting that girl fired by being laid off and unemployed for 4 months. Is there something else I did?
Does anyone know a good curse removal ritual?
What is going on....? Why is this happening to me? Why now? Why at all? |
|
|
| On Jim. |
[Feb. 3rd, 2010|02:18 am] |
Shh... This is a mini panic attack that I'm trying to get out of my head before it makes my stomach hurt.
JImmy is the cat that hangs out in our ally. I don't know if he's a stray... has an owner or not. I've been feeding him and I'm really quite attached. But, I really shouldn't have. I don't know if he already belongs to someone.... I want to know... but I don't want to find out. I don't want to get crushed if someone does own him. I don't want to get bitched out if someone's mad about me harbooring him in the laundry room when it rains. I got to know though... Because I got to know if I can get another kitten (or other pet) or not.
If he's OURS: no kitten, Jim would beat it up.
If he's not: Kitten yes, but indoor only.
There's no way to tell who Jim belongs to. I put a collar on him a while ago and it disapeared. I can't tell if he's peeled it off somehow or if someone removed it. No one else has put a collar on him. He's outside a lot. He was small when we moved here in July. He looks well groomed and is rarely covered in mud, so... is he going inside or just taking care of himself? He might be neutered, but he's still putting on a lot of "tom cat" bulk.
No one in the area speaks to us, muchless is SEEN in the yards or anything. How do we find out who he belongs to? Door to Door canvasing? Signs? I can't do those things, I would give me a panic attack. But, Ambrose offered to do it...
Why? Because he doesn't want me to get a cat. He knows he doesn't have a choice in the matter, but it doesn't stop him from complaining. He's figured that Jim is a good comprimise. Jim spends a lot of time outside so it should keep the dander down a bit. Jim also doesn't have separation anxiety so he shouldn't cry when doors are closed. But, this only works for ME if I know he's our cat.... and since I'm too chicken shit to talk to strangers... he's offered to do it.
I'm still scared of the answer. I want to pick out a cat, but I like Jim....
I'm even more scared I wont know. Because, It puts me in a horrible limbo of "should I keep bonding?" and "Can I get my own cat?"
I don't know why this is tearing me up inside.. |
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| Number 36 |
[Feb. 1st, 2010|07:28 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | angry | ] |
Oh my god.
So, I was telling you how I keep messing up at work... well, here's a hilarious screw up.
I went into our mouse room, where we keep all our breeder animals. I opened a cage to remove number 36 and place her in her own cage to give birth. Well... she didn't like that idea! When I was checking for a post-coital plug (and to see if she was indeed female after all), she sprang out of my grip! I had her by the tail and everything, but the force of the BOING was enough to slip out.
Stunned that I just lost a mouse and possibly my job along with it, I looked around... and couldn't find it. I stood up and there it was... on my shoe. "Oh good, I can get it!" I thought... but NO! She scrambled under the cage rack... the heaviest thing in the room with a scant half inch of mouse crammable space under it. Fuck.
I moved the rack. It's maybe 200 lbs and on shitty wheels. Can't get it... Move again... can't get it. I did this about 40 times... and all the mice in the rack are getting sea sick... and I still havn't caught this lil' bitch!
Finally, I chased it out, and tried to immobilize it with a broom a few times, but it kept getting away! WACK WACK! And went back under the rack. Then I was faced with the choice "Do I declare it dead and claim ignorance of any mice running around or do I admit I just lost a 500 dollar mouse quite possibly carrying 600 dollars in rare pups?"
So I fessed up to the animal staff. She just grabbed a stick and said "maybe we can flush it out with the hose if the stick doesn't work." Together we poked and flooded the room.... but no mouse showed! I thought "Oh no, I killed it with a wheel! I'm SO fired!" Panic panic panic. I'm the only one in the world with disappearing mice!
I went into the attached OR and sat down. On whim I looked on the floor... and THERE IT WAS... crouched in the corner. NOT EVEN WET. It took me another 20 minutes of cat n' mouse, tripping over oxygen tanks, knocking shit down, but I FINALLY trapped it. with the recovery cage. Whew. I was never so relieved to see ONE mouse.
Now it's safe and sound in a little cage. I have a feeling all that mousie panic may have aborted the fetuses. But, I will not loose my job over that... and if no one asks the animal staff, maybe I wont get in big trouble!
Stupid number 36... I hate you. I was just hoping I'd have one day go by without a total fiasco. I'm really considering that I'm not cut out for this kind of work... or at least... this particular lab's environment. I wont quit... but I may not have to if I can't keep covering up my mistakes.
Things have definitely gotten worse at work since Mikey died... I wonder if there's a connection. |
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| Today sucked, but was okay compared to yesterday |
[Jan. 26th, 2010|04:15 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  cold | ] |
Argh.
An old man at the post office threw a giant fit about being in line for so long... and he purchased a 45 cent stamp with a 50 dollar bill. Another old man stood in line and hollered at the clerk... and purchased some tape. I hate old men in the post office.
I spent three hours with the microtome. Instead of fixing this expensive machines so they WORK RIGHT, I am forced to spend a signifigant portion of my session unrolling slices of brain with paintbrushes.... and I could only unroll and collect 1/5th of the slices anyway. I got through ONE block and froze my hand off. I hate these machines.
The HR woman directed me to a "training website" for a mandatory safety course. I can't even click on ANYTHING on the website muchless enroll or even FIND the damn class she wants me to take. All I know it that other online safety courses take an HOUR. I hate this stuff!
I didn't get to eat today. I was stuck going to the post office because when I asked Ambrose to do it. He managed to GET to the post office and be told that the package had the wrong kind of tape and "address format" and they couldn't send it. A normal person would have purchased some tape RIGHT BEHIND HIM and retaped the package and told them to shove it because the address format was the same as any other in the world. But He just nodded and gave me my package back... forcing ME to spend my lunch break doing it instead.
OH, I forgot to mention, today was stressfull and annoying but I don't feel like I'm going to curl up in a ball and cry. So... today was sunshine compared to yesterday. |
|
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| Worst day of my career. |
[Jan. 26th, 2010|01:07 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  nauseated | ] |
Today was the worst day of my career.
It wasn't just a long day. Or confusing. Or a problem with people, equipment, technique, data or space.
It was the first time I ever felt BAD. Like, Sinful. I had to do a really fucking gross and gory procedure. And it broke my mind.
I've watched this procedure before and felt gross. Then I had to do it... alone... without guiding hand or voice. And I felt like a butcher. Sloppy and messy work makes it harder to stomach what I had to do.
It has given me a personal crisis. DO I want to keep doing this type of thing? If so, I had better get over it FAST. If not, I'm out of a job.... and a career!
Things stood in the way of a starting stable mental stance today, too. Didn't sleep, recent mind-shattering loss, January blues, and superstition. I'm hoping that when I do it again on Thursday I will at least have "inexperience" crossed off the list of emotional state busters.
But, when I left work at 7:30, I felt like I would never go back.
Currently, I'm feeling that if I close my eyes, God will smite me or something. Or at least make me have nightmares. |
|
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| CHAP MY ASS |
[Jan. 24th, 2010|02:55 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  blah | ] |
I am PISSED OFF.
I havn't been able to properly clean the house in over a two months. I havn't been cleaning AT ALL since Mikey passed away.
This would not cause such a stir in my mind because... well... it's my fault... but Ambrose is a huge garbage hurricane ... AND his parents are coming over!
I bitterly shoved every... single... thing... into the "junk room" because I don't have the patience for a large scale clean or to even sort the wheat from the chaf. Pots and pans, boxes, papers... everything was piled into the room.. It's all packed in there. Anything that didn't have an immediate home, I flung into the depths of the junk room. Why? Because I'm tired, depressed and have no help. He has only three tasks in the care of this house... Take out the trash, take the cans to the curb and clean the showerstall once a month. He hasn't done two of those things.
SOMEBODY didn't take out the trash again, and somebody didn't remember to put the cans on the curb for the 8th week in a row. Yes, eight weeks.
However, Ambrose FINALLY cleaned the bathroom after a week of begging. But, let me issue this letter:
Dear Domesticly Challenged,
Leaving the cleaning products, rags and used paper towels on the floor, sink and bathtub does does not mean you've "finished cleaning". The job is incomplete! The entire bathroom can sparkle with sterility but , if you leave the Kaboom in the middle of the floor in our tiny ass bathroom, you are getting NO PRAISE from me.
Also, I not t going to throw you a parade for doing your ONE chore. So, if a mere "thanks hun" isn't doin it for you... go find someone who's easily impressed.
Love,
Me.
Shit, I am not looking forward to cleaning that junk room. Not only does it have the haunting memories of Mikey still in it, but now it's got piles of crap I don't know what to do with. I'm hoping some day soon I'll feel like doing anything besides sitting on the couch and watching "yes to the dress" and napping. That day will probably be when it's not bloody pouring outside and more than 60 degrees inside. I hope that day comes soon because piles of crap really chap my ass.
I hate the rain. And winter. It SUCKS. |
|
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| Ashes to Ashes. |
[Jan. 20th, 2010|06:09 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  sad | ] |
I went to that vet with a whole cat that I loved. And two weeks later, I walked out with a box. I don't like this trade.
The box Mikey's ashes are in is the same color as his fur. It's perfectly sealed and seems to loom ominously despite it's small size.
I think I hate it. The very sight of it makes me feel horrible. |
|
|
| Distractions are all I got. |
[Jan. 18th, 2010|01:12 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  scared | ] |
They called to tell me Mikey's ashes were in.
I'm too scared to begin thinking about what's going to happen to me when I get them. I don't know what will happen; good or bad. I can't prepare for it. I don't even want to think about it!
I just got to the point where I'm not sobbing every night. I think getting the ashes and holding them will bring that all back. I mean... I already feel like crying. I can't stand the feelings that lead up to the crying anymore.
I've been distracting myself with pictures of skin conditions and such. |
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| Dis shit |
[Jan. 12th, 2010|05:11 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  aggravated | ] |
Other shit that's pissing me off!
Acne. OH my god the acne. I don't think I've ever had it for this long!
Granuloma Annulare. Seriously, people think I've been burned. It ITCHES so bad.
Vertigo is back... maybe?
I'm so fucking tired.
The cafeteria in the hospital always... ALWAYS... puts bell peppers in their vegetables.
Vending Machine ate my money.
Pretty and smart people running around, having fun, being smart and better than me.
My boss likes the undergrad better than me. Rar.
My house is a mess and I can't stand it.
Did I mention the acne?!
Lemme add:
Ambrose's family is all like "OMG, He's got a MASTERS!! He's so made of gold!" HE DOESN'T people! He has candidacy for a PHD. It's different! If he decides to flunk out, then he can get a masters. He's got really NOTHING right now except a good chance at a PHD in 4 years or so!
Also, Ambrose is stealing my tweasers. I've lost two pairs already and I KNOW he ruined a third pair by hammering it into a plank of wood. I can't immagine why he's doing it. They don't just disapear or run off... he did something to them because I left them in their case. |
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| can't prevent tomorrow from happening either. |
[Jan. 12th, 2010|12:08 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | blah | ] |
I HAVE to try to be a normal person again.
I got to sleep, I got to go to work. I got to hurry up and pretend I'm not completely shattered on the inside.
I have got to get up, go to work, work, and come home to an empty house.
I've run out of patience by others.
However, I did expect a terrible thing to happen to me in January that would cause panic attacks or depression. January is always like that, ya know. And it did not disappoint. Blegh. |
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| More. |
[Jan. 11th, 2010|03:24 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | nauseated | ] |
Grief processing... cut....
( More... )
|
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| Alone. |
[Jan. 11th, 2010|12:00 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  lonely | ] |
Ambrose is going to a walk to clear his head. He's re-doing his quals in 12 hours or so. I feel a couple things.
1. Great, I'm glad he's finally doing it.
He's been acting a lot better in recent days. The project isn't going as predicted, but there IS a project now. There's Data. There's a paper... sure I havn't read it, but it's THERE. And he's going to get back on track for the thing he's wrapped his entire life in; a PHD
Of course, after this, he may turn into an insufferable know-it-all if he gets OVER-confident. At least it'll be a change from an insufferable mopey-ass. We'll deal with that when (if) it happens.
2. I am utterly alone in the house now.
Sure, I'm not the only thing living in the house. But, I may be the only chordate. I am ALONE as far as I'm concerned. No one is here to comfort me when I'm scared or sad. That's the worst part, ya know, being sad and NOT having Mikey cuddle up and comfort me. I feel really fucking alone right now.
Tomorrow I have to go to work and pretend I'm okay. I can probably make it through the day with grace (provided no mice need to die). But, There will be nothing waiting for me at home... except dishes and a room I'm too scared to go into. I will be alone again.
I think I'm gonna be alone a lot. |
|
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| angels. |
[Jan. 10th, 2010|12:09 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | lonely | ] |
I'm jealous of the angels.
If there is such a thing.
I hate all this. Grief sucks so hard.
I have his collar and a swatch of his fur left.
Loads of photos that I can't bear to look at.
Lots of memories that a too painful to remember.
I miss him forever.
I miss him now. |
|
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| More grief processing. |
[Jan. 9th, 2010|01:38 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | sad | ] |
Night is always the worst for my scarier emotions. The day is over, a new one is coming with all it's uncertainty and unfinished business. It's really awful for me.
I'm scared. I'm lonely. I'm sad.
I miss my cat. I miss his presence. I miss his personality.
It's weird for me to not have to worry about certain things I used to when there was a cat around. Like leaving doors open or leaving food on the floor. I can put plants on the floor.
I can't open the door to the "cat room". Ambrose shut it when we got back from the vet when I started throwing unused cat stuff in the trash. Probably smart... but now I can't bear to open the door to throw out the litter or get the dishes I left in there smeared with all sorts of cat foods trying to get him to eat while I was away. I am too damn scared what flood of emotions will get me.
I don't like going to bed when I feel like this. I HATE crying before I go to sleep or worrying. I feel trapped. So, I watch TV. Currently I'm watching BBC's "how clean is your house". This show comforted me when I was unemployed and didn't want to sleep because of similar fears of pillow crying. I don't know why THIS show in particular. Probably because big ol' problems get solved. Cleaning, oddly enough, seems like progress to me.
But, Mikey's not here to keep me company anymore. He never complained about the TV channel.
I miss his purr. |
|
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| Loss |
[Jan. 8th, 2010|12:41 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | saddest ever | ] |
Well here it is... one of the worst events in my history.
I can still smell Mikey's scent on my couch, the blankets... I have all these cat accessories laying around that I'm going to have to get rid of. All this hair laying around. It's all I have left physically of 18 years of my little boy.
I know he had to go. I knew it was time. He was very very sick.
I know he had a good long life. I knew he loved me. And I know it's okay to be sad.
But, none of that really helps right now. I feel sick. I feel empty.
I wonder why there isn't anything purring against my arm or leg. I wonder why his little warm belly isn't snuggled up to me. It still doesn't seem right to roll over on the couch and not hear a protest meow.
There were few days I didn't sleep near him. Of course, I went on vacations or stayed away from him for a couple nights, or had to live in the dorms for 9 months without him. Sometimes he ran away when he was young. But, we were always together eventually. All the stupid moving I did. From when I pitched a fit and moved out when I was 18, to moving to SC for school... to moving to Sacramento for work. Always at my side since for almost forever.
I remember the day I got him, 18 years ago when I was nine. I remember him sleeping in bread baskets and sitting on fences in San Jose. I remember him running from a giant opossum. I remember throwing red bouncy balls down the stairs for him. I remember loosing him and finding him again, twice. I remember coming home to see his ear ripped up and bloody. I remember various boyfriends petting him. I remember bringing him to various new homes and apartments hoping he would like it. I remember taking a final nap with him, because I knew in my gut that he wasn't coming home from the vet this afternoon.
I tried to be mentally prepared for loosing him since I found that thyroid lump. But, I was not prepared enough to watch him so quickly slip from life, or know how to live without him. It still doesn't seem real. I still feel like he'll leap up here any minute or come crying at the door. But, he wont. He can't.
I want my baby back. Nothing will be the same ever again.
Nothing seems right anymore. It seems like a nightmare. |
|
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| Less on Mikey. |
[Jan. 7th, 2010|06:24 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | grief | ] |
Mikey's gone.
My poor little tiny baby is dead.
This is the worst day of my life.
That's all I can manage to say. |
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cuteocelot's journal
depressed