hold my beer part 2
Nov. 23rd, 2019 11:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
missanthropicprincipleA friend of mine flew in from New York and stayed in my dinky apartment this Friday. When we went out to dinner, much later than we had originally intended, we did have a blast and she referred to my shifting persona from "sassy Sarah" to "don't want to cause you any inconvenience." I had been nursing a single Guinness all evening, bitching about everything from Brexit, to the Royals, to people's judgement. We agree on so much and really align on some deeply personal issues. But at times the uncertainty of how people feel made me insecure and I often became apologetic and overly accommodating. It's infuriating because I hate letting people see that vulnerability, not that I dislike vulnerability but it allows people to take advantage of me whether they intend to or not. I've been laughed at a lot lately. I guess I talk kinda funny but so much of this particular chuckle is just so dismissive and patronizing. It genuinely hurts my feelings. And I'm fairly adept at taking several blows to my ego a day. People treat me like crap a lot. I've been pretty brave about standing up for myself and just talking like I would if I had had a couple pints. My usual PTSD speech gaffs and misspeaks seem to amuse people. In general though, I'm changing as a person to be more gutsy and sew up the seams where all the stuffing is falling out. But man, it's a process. I feel like I falter so much. But I do have a lot to say lately. Not everyone is comfortable with it, but a lot of people appreciate my frankness. While my friend seemed a tad moody in the morning, most likely because of my small couch, I do take it to heart; it's hard not too.
My jerk supervisor on Saturday morning really ticked me off and I actually got a little snippy with her, which I am not pleased about. I went to get the keys out of the lock box as usual and she goes, "keys?" That's it, one word. I turned round to see that she'd left them out on the desk. I responded, saying, "I'm used to other supervisors putting them back." Then she breathed down my neck while I was sorting through the morning papers and started rearranging them as I was working! I sorta looked sideways at her, baffled ad muttered "what are you doing?" or something like that and she backed off but still hovered. Like...I do this every Saturday. She's the kind of person who is extremely overanxious and repeatedly feels the need to correct everything anyone says. She pointed out to me that there was a clipboard on which record what newspapers arrived. I do this every Saturday and said "yes, I know." I said we don't get USA Today on Saturdays because we don't have a weekend edition, meaning it's not a Saturday or Sunday edition. She felt the need to correct me and say that the Friday edition serves as the weekend edition...which I guess I assumed but she was splitting hairs. You can't say anything in front of her because she'll find a way to find fault with it. She repeatedly interferes and interjects and does not allow a person to even have one second to do something without stepping in. And then I was helping a patron with a textbook we keep behind the desk. I look it up to make sure I had the correct number/identifier, I go back to get it, and this supervisor has gone back there to get it. I said, rather passive aggressively, "oh I guess you're getting the book then." Like, that's not helpful. I wasted time looking it up and she didn't tell me she was going to get the book. She's just really difficult to work with. My insecurities allow people to take advantage of me; this person's insecurities turn her into a bully. That put me in a bad mood right off the bat.
My mom and I went out to Barnes and Noble where we always used to sit for hours. We would take turns leaving the table to bring back magazines and books, and I used to write; it was the very place I decided I wanted to be a writer. Needless to say it was sad, as Dad wasn't with us. I stood in line for about 20 minutes just to get two cocoas. I agonized over an email to my potential advisor about my master's thesis. Wandering around Barnes just wasn't the same. The store itself wasn't the same either. Bad change. Used book section gone to the dogs. Capitalism mutated a once great bookstore. In many ways it's still the best but I long for the "old days" of the store. We sat there as a family and I decided at age 17 that I wanted to be a writer. I started my first novel there. And there we were, without Dad, 16 years later.
Saturday night my mom and I were watching the newly restored Local Hero from Criterion Collection. I thought to myself how I come from a different world than most people I know. I'm just a bit younger, knowing what living in the early 90s is like. I've been infused with Victorian values and Depression-era lifestyle from my grandparents. I grew up in England, a different world, a different way of speaking, communicating, thinking, feeling. I was isolated, abused, loved, inspired. As I'm being challenged, I speak and I will continue to speak, sometimes loudly, sometimes softly. If I continue to hold back I have no one to blame but myself.
My jerk supervisor on Saturday morning really ticked me off and I actually got a little snippy with her, which I am not pleased about. I went to get the keys out of the lock box as usual and she goes, "keys?" That's it, one word. I turned round to see that she'd left them out on the desk. I responded, saying, "I'm used to other supervisors putting them back." Then she breathed down my neck while I was sorting through the morning papers and started rearranging them as I was working! I sorta looked sideways at her, baffled ad muttered "what are you doing?" or something like that and she backed off but still hovered. Like...I do this every Saturday. She's the kind of person who is extremely overanxious and repeatedly feels the need to correct everything anyone says. She pointed out to me that there was a clipboard on which record what newspapers arrived. I do this every Saturday and said "yes, I know." I said we don't get USA Today on Saturdays because we don't have a weekend edition, meaning it's not a Saturday or Sunday edition. She felt the need to correct me and say that the Friday edition serves as the weekend edition...which I guess I assumed but she was splitting hairs. You can't say anything in front of her because she'll find a way to find fault with it. She repeatedly interferes and interjects and does not allow a person to even have one second to do something without stepping in. And then I was helping a patron with a textbook we keep behind the desk. I look it up to make sure I had the correct number/identifier, I go back to get it, and this supervisor has gone back there to get it. I said, rather passive aggressively, "oh I guess you're getting the book then." Like, that's not helpful. I wasted time looking it up and she didn't tell me she was going to get the book. She's just really difficult to work with. My insecurities allow people to take advantage of me; this person's insecurities turn her into a bully. That put me in a bad mood right off the bat.
My mom and I went out to Barnes and Noble where we always used to sit for hours. We would take turns leaving the table to bring back magazines and books, and I used to write; it was the very place I decided I wanted to be a writer. Needless to say it was sad, as Dad wasn't with us. I stood in line for about 20 minutes just to get two cocoas. I agonized over an email to my potential advisor about my master's thesis. Wandering around Barnes just wasn't the same. The store itself wasn't the same either. Bad change. Used book section gone to the dogs. Capitalism mutated a once great bookstore. In many ways it's still the best but I long for the "old days" of the store. We sat there as a family and I decided at age 17 that I wanted to be a writer. I started my first novel there. And there we were, without Dad, 16 years later.
Saturday night my mom and I were watching the newly restored Local Hero from Criterion Collection. I thought to myself how I come from a different world than most people I know. I'm just a bit younger, knowing what living in the early 90s is like. I've been infused with Victorian values and Depression-era lifestyle from my grandparents. I grew up in England, a different world, a different way of speaking, communicating, thinking, feeling. I was isolated, abused, loved, inspired. As I'm being challenged, I speak and I will continue to speak, sometimes loudly, sometimes softly. If I continue to hold back I have no one to blame but myself.
