IF YOU LOOK TOO CLOSE, YOU MIGHT NOT LIKE WHAT YOU SEE

January 29, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE (from astrology.com): You’ve been using a magnifying glass, when what you need is a microscope.

Laura’s Log:
Hmm. Magnifying glass? Microscope? What I really need is a bottle of sleeping pills. Oh, relax. I’m not thinking of an overdose. Sure, getting fired sucks but, truth is, my job wasn’t going to lead me anywhere. It was a dead end position and I needed a kick to get me thinking about a career rather than a job. (Just wish the kick hadn’t come with bionic force from steel-toed boots.) That said, I’m not sleeping well without a little assistance. After hours of tossing and thoroughly confusing Tupper, I got up at three in the morning and took some Nyquil. That put me out of commission, STAT, but then I awakened at 6:30, sweating profusely in soaking wet sheets. I always think that THIS TIME Nyquil won’t give me the nighttime sweats, but it always does. Three plus hours of sleep…it’s a step.

I’m going to take the magnifying glass/microscope advice as a nudge that I need to use technology to assist me in my career search. I certainly don’t want or need to more closely examine my getting the axe or that toxic work environment with Ernesto and the girls. Will not just comb the classifieds in The Vancouver Sun today. I’ll go online. Not sure where to look, but I’m ready for the journey. (Might wander over to an entertainment website or two—you know, for a break. Heard on the radio that Bradley Cooper is getting engaged to Renee Zellweger. The woman goes through engagements like Liz Taylor goes through marriages. Don’t care, but methinks it’s an opportunity to drool over a few more posted pics of his amazing abs.)

Had dinner with Lucy and Carl(a) last night. Carl(a) went with “Carla” for the entire evening so that made things less awkward than usual. Still not thrilled with their incessant PDAs. A hug is fine, but it gets embarrassing when the waiter has to wait for them to get their tongues back in their own mouths. Naturally, it was a vegetarian joint, The Foundation, since the two of them seem to think they’re accomplices to murder if there is meat on the menu. (Still can’t block that ugly incident last time when they walked out of Stepho’s because there was lamb on the menu. A Greek restaurant serving lamb…shocking!)

Lucy, of course, thinks I should sue Hunter Keene’s ass. Carla volunteered to send Ann-Marie a package with a mysterious white substance just to freak her out. As if a terrorist would ever target Ann-Marie. She IS the terror-or, not the terror-ee.

Lucy and Carla then switched gears and tried to persuade me to join their anti-Olympic protests “since you’ve got extra time on your hands”. Yes, a stint in jail would make my résumé stand out from the rest, I suppose. Still, I don’t think it will help me jump from “job” to “career”. I realize there are career criminals, but I feel bad even when I find someone’s quarter in the coin return tray of a vending machine. Somewhere someone has to downsize from a venti to a grande.

Besides, I’d like to see Canada finally win a gold medal at home. And if has to be in luge, I’ll have no problem pretending luge matters.

KEN’S JOURNAL (via Blackberry):
BOOKED ANOTHER SESSION WITH MY THERAPIST AFTER WORK. I DON’T KNOW THAT IT DOES ANY GOOD, BUT I DON’T SEEM ABLE TO WORK THROUGH MY CLARA ISSUES ON MY OWN AND I’VE BEEN LEANING ON SARA AN AWFUL LOT. SHE DOESN’T SAY IT, BUT I FEEL AS THOUGH I’VE BECOME HER FIFTH KID. SHE’S GOT HER HANDS FULL AS IT IS WITH JERRY OUT OF TOWN MORE THAN OFTEN THAN NOT.

PAYING TO VENT IS PATHETIC, BUT—REALITY CHECK—I HAVE BECOME THE PATHETIC SORT. SOME OF MY GUY FRIENDS, LIKE MARTY, DON’T GET MY SUDDEN EEYORE PERSONA. OF COURSE, WHAT DOES MARTY KNOW ABOUT A RELATIONSHIP? I THINK HIS LONGEST WAS A WEEK & THAT WAS JUST B/C SHE TOOK HIM ON A CRUISE SHE’D WON. SUPPOSE HE COULD HAVE JUMPED SHIP BUT MARTY SAID THE FOOD MADE UP FOR HAVING TO BE COMMITTED FOR SO LONG.

“WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL?” JACKY ASKED AT WORK YESTERDAY. “IT’S NOT LIKE YOU WERE MARRIED.” EIGHT YEARS. I ALWAYS SAID WE DIDN’T NEED A FREAKIN’ MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE. AND EVENTUALLY CLARA GOT HER HEAD AROUND THAT. WHEN SHE LEFT, SHE WAS ALL SMILES AND “HAVE A NICE LIFE.” I’M THE ONE WHO FEELS LIKE I’M MUDDLING THRU A DIVORCE. DIDN’T SEE THAT ONE COMING, BUT THEN I DIDN’T SEE HER LEAVING.

MAYBE IT’S GOOD THAT NO ONE’S NIPPING @ MY WORM ON PLENTYOFFISH.COM. MAYBE I AM NOT READY TO MOVE ON. ALL I KNOW IS, I GOTTA STOP THINKING ABOUT CLARA. WLDN’T BE SURPRISED IF MY SHRINK HAS ME COMMITTED. WLDN’T BE SO BAD…AS LONG AS I CAN CATCH THE CANUCKS ON TV.

MUZZLED

January 24, 2010
LIBRA HOROSCOPE: Frustration can be motivating. Don’t give up -- prove the naysayers wrong.

Laura’s Log:
When things seem hopeless and completely out of control, I turn to an impartial source for guidance: my horoscope. Only today I just want to scream after reading it. Frustration can be motivating. Really? I thought frustration can lead to deep despair. Isn’t that why I’m bothering with astrology in the first place? To be honest, I was hoping it would say something helpful like: “Today is the perfect day to go shopping. Updating your wardrobe makes you ready to conquer the world.”

OK, there is that credit issue from excessive shopping in December. Perhaps the next shopping binge should wait a month (or seven). Hate denying myself an opportunity to buy a new blouse. Suppose it’s not so urgent, given my present social circumstances. Tupper would prefer I throw on the same unwashed sweatshirt with old food stains to sniff anew.

I could just make a quick trip to Oakridge and buy a pair of those adorable red Canadian Olympic mitts. Only ten bucks. But then they only take Visa—personally, I think the Olympic sponsors have a stranglehold over all of us—and that would run counter to my need to rediscover something called a zero balance. (Or is that an urban myth?) What goes up must come down,…right? Damn, no mitts it is. I shall deprive myself of blouse, trendy mitts and name brand groceries until I pay down the credit cards. Or make some headway at least. Why do generic labels always look so ugly? Why not package the cheap stuff in calming colors like mint green and cinnamon instead of traffic-light yellow?

Hey, it seems frustration can be motivating. You astrologers are so wise.

But I’m not giving up lattés. Everyone has a weakness, right? For me, it’s lattés. And Dodger.

KEN’S JOURNAL (via Blackberry):
AT LEAST IT WAS AN AWESOME SUNRISE. STILL, WISH I WEREN’T WAKING UP TO IT ALONE. DEE DEE PARTED WAYS WITH ME IMMEDIATELY AFTER DINNER AT VIJ’S. SURE IT TOOK NINETY MINUTES TO GET A TABLE, BUT I THOUGHT WE WERE REALLY CONNECTING. SURE, SHE DOESN’T KNOW A THING ABOUT THE CANUCKS OR REAL ESTATE OR POLITICS. (“PROROGUING? THAT’S SUCH A FUNNY WORD. ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT SOMEONE IN FAVOR OF ROUGHING IT? I REALLY DON’T LIKE CAMPING.”) AND I CAN’T IMAGINE WHY ANY WOMAN (OTHER THAN A NUN) WLD BE SO PASSIONATE ABOUT MAKING STAINED GLASS WINDOWS AS A HOBBY, BUT SHE WAS HOT.

BUT WE FOUND OUR COMMON GROUND. WE BITCHED ENDLESSLY ABOUT PARKING PROBLEMS WITH THE UPCOMING OLYMPICS. (SURE, I HAVE A RESERVED SPACE AT HOME AND WORK, BUT I CAN MUSTER UP SOME EMPATHY EVERY NOW AND THEN.) AND IT WAS CLEAR THAT NEITHER OF US HAD A CLUE ABOUT LUGE. OR BIATHLON. OR SKELETON. STILL, IT WLD BE A PROUD MOMENT IF CANADA MEDALED IN THOSE (OR ANY) EVENTS.

DESPITE ALL THAT AMAZING CONNECTIVITY, SHE GAVE ME A LITTLE WAVE OUTSIDE THE RESTAURANT AND INSISTED ON WALKING TO HER CAR BY HERSELF. I REALLY WANTED TO BE A GENTLEMAN—YEAH, AND AT LEAST GET A GOODNIGHT PECK—BUT SHE BECAME SWEETLY DEFIANT WHEN I PUSHED THE MATTER. SWEETLY DEFIANT,…NOW THAT’S A NEW ONE. THERE MUST BE TWO HUNDRED & FIFTY WAYS TO SAY NO AND I’VE ONLY EXPERIENCED HALF OF THEM SO FAR. I’M NEVER GONNA FIGURE WOMEN OUT.

SHOULD’VE STAYED HOME & WATCHED CANUCKS TROUNCE CHICAGO.