what the bleeding Hell is wrong with you bloody women

Thanksgiving break was so excellent it almost felt like being back in college. Wednesday night I met up with my sister Kate and brother-in-law Wilson at the Cottonwood Cafe, just across the street from where I work. They were there having a drink with some friends. The group decided to go bowling, and a short walk later we were at King's. I acquitted myself well enough. I came in second place on the first game, but have no manner of stamina at all and totally flubbed the second game. It was definitely a good time. I took a cab home in the wee hours and then rolled out of bed not too long after to pick up my sister Sarah at the airport.

Sarah hung around my apartment while I showered and attempted to tackle some of the filth in which I was living (with some success, I might add.) Around midday Kate & Wilson arrived via B-line train and we all piled into my car to drive to my Aunt & Uncle's house in Needham. The majority of my extended family on my mother's side convened, as is customary, for Thanksgiving dinner. Then, in what I suspect may be a new tradition, we all drove out to Cape Cod to spend a day visiting with my grandparents. sleetfall likes to joke about how family time is sacrosanct and inviolate in my household, but in truth he's not far off. What can I say? I love my parents and my sisters; I'm a sucker. It was also nice to be in the same household as my family's beloved dog. She's so cute it pains me sometimes.

Anyway. It feels weird to be back in Boston, rattling around my apartment (which, as Sarah pointed out, feels a lot bigger when its tidy) and going to work. Work is in the midst of trying to kill me right now. Once upon a time the General Liability curriculum was comprised of twelve 3-4 hour sessions stretched out over a period of 3 months. Now its six 7 hour sessions in 2.5 weeks. The first of these was yesterday (and the second is tomorrow) and man was it ever like a prison camp. There's nothing like being locked in a room with a handful of your coworkers and being forced to digest dense material for seven straight hours to utterly annihilate the brain. I hit a saturation point somewhere around hour six; after that there was no real hope of getting new information into my head.

Oh, and just to make things fun, the coordinator of the training program yesterday told me that she disagrees with my manager about my move date, and thinks it should be in April after all. Sometime after April 5, which is when (as of today) they've scheduled graduation. I think maybe its time to start taking bets on just how long this question can go unresolved. The smart money says at least another month.

'cos I don't wanna crush you, but I feel like crushing you

I had the weirdest dream last night, involving tabascosea, who in my brain apparently doubles as a symbol for every woman I have ever met. Its like my subconscious is on some sort of crusade to get me to hate all women everywhere. I woke up awash in anger and frustration and guilt, the visceral, clawing emotions. Emotions that clung to me long after I had realized it had all just been an awful dream.

I have the sense that something's got to give. But I get that sense all the time, and to my knowledge nothing ever comes of it. I get building tension, and increased irritability, and a background seething hatred of every person that draws breath (something not unlike what I imagine thablueguy experiences all the time.) And then it just sort of goes away, I guess.

I suppose the tension must release somehow, otherwise I'd long since have cracked under the strain. Its not like it explodes, which would be way more satisfying. I don't scream at people, and I rarely break stuff in frustration anymore. It all just sort of drains away, probably because I have the attention span of a small bird on crystal meth. Likely something just comes along to snap me out of it, some brief moment of joy.

I've said before that it doesn't take much to make me happy. Maybe that can be kind of pathetic, but its all I've got.