Man. Bad day at work -- one of those days when you start off in a good mood, and someone comes along and wrecks it for you. I'm not usually bothered too much by rude people at work -- I don't have to spend much time dealing with them, after all. But the guy I dealt with today... I think it's going to get uglier before it gets better. He's been using the library for a few months now, and, at best, he's rude. At worst, like today, he's abusive. Today, he was upset because I asked him to show me his library card, so I could check a book out to him. Simple request, no? He gave me a thorough telling-off instead... and it normally wouldn't bother me, but he does this every time. And, it seems, only to me. I don't know what the problem is, and I don't much care, but I don't like feeling threatened. I don't like having to smile and be nice when someone's treating me like shit. I ended up telling my voss about it, and she's going to speak to the head of the library -- I don't know what they'll do, and part of me doesn't want them to make a big deal of it, but... I don't need to be abused at work, you know? I'm just trying to do my job, and I try to be nice about it. And I'm sick of this guy's attitude.
So. Bad day at work. I cheered myself up by buying two new books, and a pair of very cool retro-looking Converse sneakers. Simple minds, simple pleasures. And, at the moment, I am too distracted by the goings-on in the 3WA chat room to write any more... or to be in a bad mood, for that matter...
I spent the weekend recovering from the nasty, vile, evil cold, and it was actually pleasant. My boss sent me home early Friday afternoon -- the cold was in that stage where you can't stop sneezing, and you don't dare take the wad of tissues away from your nose, for fear of offending everyone around you. I sniffled and sneezed my way home, and crawled into bed, intending to nap for an hour or so. When the alarm went off, though, I just shut it off and went back to sleep for another hour. I felt a bit better when I woke up, so I finished some homework and spent far too much time goofing around online and playing The Sims. Had some dinner, watched a bit of TV, and went to sleep. I thought I would be awake most of the night, what with the late afternoon nap and all, but I was out cold as soon as my head hit the pillow, and didn't even move for the next 12 hours. Woke up feeling more rested than I have in years and years, and spent all my happy energy... goofing off online and playing The Sims. Sad, isn't it? I was in a good mood, feeling much better cold-wise, until about four o'clock, when I noticed a little glitch in my vision. I was trying to read, and this spot kept getting in the way, blocking out the words. It looked like the afterimage you get from looking at a bright light, but was very small, and wouldn't go away. In fact, it was getting bigger, and starting to change colors. It looked just like what used to happen years ago when I would get migraines -- pounding, nausea-inducing, knock-me-on-my-ass for two days migraines. I got them for years, starting when I was little (I don't remember how old I was when they started) until I was in high school -- I think the last really bad one happened when I was 16 or 17. I still occasionally get nasty headaches, but nothing so severe -- and I'd hoped I'd outgrown them. They always started out the same way -- my eyes would get sensitive to light, and I would notice that my hands were constantly sweating. Then I'd get that little afterimage spot, which would grow and start flashing different colors until it had taken over all of the peripheral vision in my left eye. Then the pain would start, spreading up from the back of my neck all around my head, and get more and more intense until all I could do was lie in the dark and cry. Then I'd start throwing up, over and over until I was so tired I'd fall asleep. Once I went to sleep I was usually okay -- I would still have a hell of a headache when I woke up, but it would be much less severe. At one point (I forget how old I was) I got three of these babies in a row, over the course of two or three days. I wanted to die, it hurt so much. The doctors I saw for it assumed it was hormonal -- puberty and all that good stuff -- and they seemed to be right. The headaches gradually tapered off, and I thought they were gone for good. But apparently they've decided to come back -- the little glare spot on Saturday grew until I couldn't see anything but flashing lights. I panicked a bit -- it had been so long, I couldn't think of anything to do to stop it, or to prepare for it -- and, once I realized that freaking out wasn't going to help, I turned off all the lights, pulled the blinds, and got into bed, hoping a nap would at least keep it to a minimum. It seemed to work -- I slept for an hour, and when I woke up I had one hell of a headache, but I wasn't nauseated, and I could at least function. I talked to my mom, and we decided it was probably the change in my sleeping pattern, along with the cold. I was fine Sunday -- more homework, and laundry, and Sims -- and then, this morning, on my way to work, I saw that little glare spot again. This time, I was on the T, so taking a nap wasn't an option. I got to work (by then I pretty much had tunnel vision -- all around the sides was just flashing lights) and went straight to the medical center, where a very nice, maternal nurse gave me a shot of some heavy painkiller that put me to sleep for an hour. When I woke up, I felt better -- very spacy, and a little disoriented, but my head didn't hurt much -- so I went back to work. I have some medication to take if another one starts, and an appointment with the doctor next week to get checked out -- hopefully they can put me on something that will control (if not outright prevent) the migraines, because I really don't want to deal with having them again. I still have more homework to do tonight, but all I feel like doing is curling up and sleeping -- my head feels better, but the rest of me feels like it was hit by a truck. If any of you guys have any advice on dealing with this, let me know, please?
I am, as I have been for the past three nights, bundled into pajamas, (flannel, with sheep on them) slippers, (with sheep to match the pjs) a sweatshirt, and a blanket. Surrounded by mounds of tissue, nursing a cough drop and a cup of tea. Aren't I a pathetic thing? I thought I was getting off lucky this winter -- I've had little minor colds, little nasal annoyances that came and went in a day or two. Little did I know, the cold germs were all just scheming, gathering forces for an all-out springtime attack. *Sniffle*
Luckily, I have my sick, perverse, and messy Sims to keep me company -- they're still throwing trash on the floors, so I had to hire them a maid. They have a hot tub in the front yard, which they loll about shamelessly in at all hours of the day and night. And two of the Sims have started a bit of a romance. Being as they are based on my immediate family... well, it's just disturbing. That's all I'm saying. They had an adopted baby for a little while, but it never stopped crying, so the Sims DSS came and took it away. Perverted, sloppy, bad-parent Sims, that's what I've got. It's just sad, really.
The digital camera and printer I ordered with my computer arrived yesterday. Whee! New things to play with! I managed to lug the printer home on the T today, and set it up (without messing up more than once or twice, thank you very much). And, since I have the camera and all, I can amuse you all with pictures! I changed the photo on the Bio page, if you dare to go look -- it complete with cold-induced red nose and bad hair!
I have a lovely, lovely new toy -- my computer arrived yesterday! It is, at the moment, set up awkwardly on my roommate's sewing machine/table in the living room. Well, the monitor is, anyway. The keyboard is balanced on my lap, and everything else is on the floor. I don't have a desk yet -- I'm supposed to be getting one tomorrow.
I had the computer delivered to me at work, which turned out to be far more of a hassle than I thought it would be. I had been obsessively checking the FedEx tracking information, and peeking out the window looking for the delivery man, and pacing the floor -- hey, I never said I was patient. At around three o'clock yesterday, I checked the tracking page for the 800th time, and saw, to my confusion and dismay, that the status had gone from "In Transit" to "Delivered." I called FedEx, and was told that it had been delivered, and someone I'd never heard of had signed for it. Needless to say, I was not a happy girl -- I had heard stories about computers being ordered, and being delivered to the wrong building, and just never being found. I only had a last name for the person who had signed for it, but luckily, there were only two people with that name listed in the MIT directory. I got lucky with the first call I made -- it turned out my computer was sitting in the central mail office. That was the good news -- the bad news was, none of the mail delivery people were answering their phones, and so it looked like I would have to wait until Tuesday for it to actually arrive at my building. I have way too much homework to do, and had my heart (not to mention my grades) set on having the computer yesterday, so I begged and pleaded and was generally pitiful at the mailroom guy. He finally said he'd see what he could do... and called me back five minutes later to say he was on his way over to drop it off. Joy!
I got a ride home with an IT-minded friend, who set the whole works up for me (had I known it was really just a matter of taking it out of the box, plugging various things into other things, and turning it on, I would have done it myself... shut up, I've never had a brand-new computer before.) The first thing I did was set up my internet service (which I don't like very much -- it's fast enough, but there's a weird sidebar thing that makes the window really small. It annoys me. And it keeps popping windows up at me, telling me to update things. It's only been one day, do I really need to be updating things already?) As soon as that was done, I installed the Sims -- hey, I've got my priorities straight! I created a little family -- a Sim for me, one for my mom, and one for my brother (I'm hoping none of them decide to get frisky with each other, because that would just be creepy) -- and man, are they pigs. It's my fault, really -- I didn't make them tidy enough, I guess. And... well, I forgot to give them a toilet when I moved them into their house. I've never played before, I just assumed the house would have a toilet! So, my nasty, sloppy Sims throw trash all over the floors, and for a while, were having little "accidents" as well. I have a code for unlimited money, though, so the plumbing shortage has been rectified. They really are high-maintenance, though...
Today I tore myself away from the pigsty Sims household, intending to just make a quick trip into Boston to get my hair cut, and to meet with my class group -- we have a project due in a little less than two weeks. I have either a cold or a really nasty case of allergies, so I really didn't want to be out long. I forgot one thing, though -- the marathin. The stupid, pain in my butt Boston Marathon. (Yeah, I know, it's cool and all, but it really makes it difficult to get anywhere in town. So don't send me hate mail.) It took me ages to get to the hair salon, because of the herds of tourists -- all of them the kind who wander really slowly down the middle of the sidewalk, not letting anyone pass them. Also the kind who stop abruptly, causing me to bump into them. Feh. Got to the hair place, and had a very difficult time convincing the woman that I really, honestly did want her to cut my hair short. "I want it short, so I don't have to do much with it," I said. "I'll cut this much off," she said, indicating the last 1/16th of an inch of my hair. "No, I want it short," I said. "You might not like it!" she said. This went on for fifteen minutes or so, until I told her that, even if she got out the clippers and gave me a buzz cut, it wouldn't be too short for me. I wanted it short and low-maintenance, damn it! She still ended up cutting it twice -- the first time, she left the front all long, so it hung in my eyes, and there were these two very odd little wings of hair in front of my ears, which she combed so that they were plastered against my face. It looked just about as weird as it sounds, and it was annoying and itchy. I told her to chop the front off, and get rid of the wings, or I would do it myself when I got home. The second time, she apparently decided that I really meant it when I said I wanted it short -- it's not the world's best haircut, but it's out of my eyes, and I won't have to fuss around with it much, so I'm happy.
After the haircut, I battled the herds of slow-moving tourists to get to the T, and headed for school, where the main entrace was inexplicably locked. They're doing construction, which meant I couldn't get to the back entrance without walking several blocks out of my way, which made me late. And tired, and cross. Met with my group, which was good, because I ended up getting quite a lot of help on the big, scary assignment I have due Thursday. Left school, and went back downtown (yes, I am an idiot) to try to get a fresh box of nicotene patches (which are working very well indeed -- no cigarettes for six days!) I went to three stores before I found any -- there must have been a run on the patch lately. It was almost eight o'clock by the time I got home, tired and snuffly-nosed and cranky. But dinner and a bit more Sims made me feel slightly better... and now I'm going off to bed.
I haven't had a cigarette since about 11 o'clock last night, thanks to the lovely patch glued to my left arm. The patch is my new best friend. I think I'm going to draw little happy faces and hearts and flowers on it. The patch makes me happy. I think I'll call it George.
I quit with the Wellbutrin, for the second and final time. I stopped taking it a few weeks ago because, while it was curbing my cigarette cravings, it was also making me itchy. Itchy hands, itchy feet, itchy arms and legs. All the scratching and twitching was making people look at me funny -- they probably all thought I had fleas or something. So I stopped for three weeks or so. I started taking it again recently, and felt sick all the time, and was loopy and disoriented and had a killer headache every day, and was crushingly depressed. And I was still smoking like a chimney. So, no more of that crap. I bought a box of nicotine patches on Saturday, with the help of a very nice -- and terribly cute -- pharmacist. I also bought a large supply of gum and mints, most of which I have already compulsively eaten. I decided to start with the patch today -- I finished off almost all of my cigarettes over the weekend, and put the patch on first thing this morning. And no cigarettes today! And I have lovely minty breath, what with all the gum-chewing!
My roommate is doing the patch too, but her method is to wear it and not smoke during the day, and to take it off and smoke at night. Not a very good idea -- the (very very adorable) pharmacist explained that the nicotine still creeps through your skin even after you take the patch off, and so smoking could make her very sick. Plus, it just seems kind of half-assed; if I'm going to quit, I'm just going to do it, damnit. Or so I say now -- talk to me later tonight, and I might not be so optimistic. But I'm paranoid enough that I think I'd be too scared to smoke, even if I did take the patch off. One puff and I would be convinced that I was going to have a heart attack. (Yes, I am that much of a hypochondriac.) So, one day down (almost) and eight weeks of patch-wearing to go...
So, the T has been making all sorts of noise about improving lately. I've never been very dissatisfied with the service (except for the fact that it stops running so early at night) but then, I've never been terribly satified, either. Since moving to my neighborhood, I've gotten more and more disgusted with it, though. The town I live in is working-class, low- to middle-income. There are two bus lines that run to it. Two. It's not a small area. Lots and lots of people live in my town -- lots of people who depend on public transportation. Two bus lines mean that the buses are horribly overcrowded. Two bus lines mean that, during rush hour in the evenings, there are crowds of upwards of one hundred very unhappy people waiting to get home. I've seen shoving matches, and even fistfights, break out among people waiting to get on the bus -- because when one arrives at the station, everyone desperately mobs it. I have given up on trying to get home during rush hour -- if I don't have errands to run after work, I just stay and play on the computer until 6 or so, when I might have a fighting chance of actually getting on the bus. I started doing this over the summer, after I'd spent an hour standing in the sun at the bus stop, watching buses that were so full people were literally mushed against the windshield drive by. I have to laugh every time I read anything about the T's plans to make customers happy -- I mean, the current "Passenger Bill of Rights" is a joke. If your bus or train is more than half an hour late, you get your fare refunded. Gee whiz, that dollar is really going to make me feel better about being late for work! It'll make up for the hours spent at the bus stop, being jostled around in the angry crowds of waiting commuters. And really, who is going to take the time to call the T, or fill out the little card they're supposed to have at the stations, just for a buck? I read a story in one of the papers that said that T officials were surprised by how few responses they'd gotten -- surprised? Really?
So, what triggered this little rant? All this week, I've managed to wake up nice and early. I hop in the shower, and speed through getting ready for work, so I can catch the bus that's supposed to pass my house at around 7. If I catch that bus, I get to work in time to grab a coffee, check my email, and generally just relax a little before starting the day. If I catch the bus later than that, I usually end up stuck in traffic, and get to work late. Plus, the earlier I catch the bus, the less crowded it is. The past three mornings, I have gotten to the bus stop at about five minutes to 7, and have waited... and waited... and waited... there's supposed to be a bus every ten minutes or less, according to the schedule. I've waited about a half an hour each morning this week, which makes me late for work, and thus very cranky. This morning, when the bus finally arrived, it was absolutely crammed with people, so full that no more could fit inside. I found a little corner to wedge myself into (getting far too intimately aquainted with the ass of the guy next to me) because I really couldn't wait for the next bus. The bus had reached critical mass, but the driver still stopped at every stop, holding the doors open while people stood on the street and blinked at him, wondering if he was waiting for them to climb into peoples' laps or something. When someone muttered a complaint, (not even a very rude one) the driver hit the brakes and demanded "Who said that?" So, no, I'm not satified with the service at the moment -- I've had a low-grade irritation toward it for a while, but right now, I'm disgusted. And, since I have no other way to get to work, I'm stuck with it. Despite the promises, I know full well that any complaint I might make is a waste of breath.