Waffles with friend this morning led to an interesting topic: what would a good life here for us look like?
We're in accordance that it's not renting like we are now. No, it would be an intentional community. With room to garden, shared space. She would want a nice area to practice yoga, I would want room for goats and chickens. Big tree to sit under to read, preferably with a swing and a bench.
Now my mind is all consumed with what would it really look like?
I think of Casa Azul - Frida Kahlo's house in Mexico City (Coyoacan, really, which is my favorite part of Mexico City). Separate space, common space. I'd want a larger yard, but yeah. Like that.
Of course then I start to think about who would live there. Frida and Diego were Mexican, though wealthy ones. I'm an expat. I am most comfortable with a level of luxury that most Liberians cannot fathom. And the Liberians who can are not interested in any kind of intentional community - they have family and connections and expectations.
I pay $1500/month, and I want electricity and water. I want clean and well-kept. I want security. I want a compost bin and outdoor cats to keep rodents at bay. I want a dog and children playing and laughing. I want casual conversations with neighbors I really like, to learn of their interests. I want a community within a community.
Could I be happy with that here? I don't know. I can never own land here, and things are rather unstable. It's impossible to buy good building supplies and nearly impossible to find trustworthy workers.
Well.
If I do stay after this contract period, that's what I need to consider.
And getting a 4WD SUV. This whole only being able to go on paved roads thing because my undercarriage is too low? Yeah, it sucks. I can pretty much drive to work and the grocery store and back home, and that's it. Can't even go to my friends' houses. C'est la vie en la Liberie.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
such a mystery how I'm still single
"Come on over if you're in the neighborhood; a friend's coming over this morning for waffles and then later I'm making chili." -- email to a friend this morning
Liberian men always expect me to cook for them. It's a power struggle all the damn time and I refuse.
I'm a good cook, but my repertoire here is limited because the ingredients and resources are limited. And the foods I feed myself aren't what they want. I've actually tried to feed a few Liberian men and I got attitude that it wasn't Liberian enough. WTF? How exactly would I know how to be an excellent Liberian cook? So, I'm done. And there's the cultural assumption I have that a new man and I should be going out to eat more - that the assumption that at the last minute I'll just cook something up for a man, that's something that indicates an intimacy I don't have with any man here (though they think we do - it's a struggle, I say).
But for friends and other random people, I cook. Happily. When Canadian chick was staying here I emptied my refrigerator for her. Black beans and rice, chicken that VIM had brought me - it helped her sick self before flying back to Canada to learn she had mumps. (I didn't appreciate that roommate said Canadian could stay here without talking to me, and when I was pretty sick myself, but I like Canadian and I can be fairly gracious for those also ill.)
I just don't like being bullied into doing something. Cooking is an act of expression, and usually it expresses love. I don't want to cook because I'm guilted into it. The reality is that I eat a lot of musli and pasta with pesto - things that are super easy. But that's not enough for Liberian men. So, I refuse. It's a shift for me, as I've always considered myself a good cook and able to feed the masses - but everything is different here.
Basically I frustrate every Liberian man because I refuse to do what they just assume is normal.
And if I ever find a man who can take me as I am, with all my stubbornness and neuroses, who doesn't try to change me into his ideal, then I'll slow down and stop fighting so much.
Hopefully.
But I'm not holding my breath.
(I am hung up on Former Student, I'm realizing. And he's the worst of the batch with trying to change me. He sees me as a wild horse to break, a challenge to overcome. And he can really be an ass. But I'm hung up and have feelings, so I guess I need to play it out and see where it leads even though I think I already know it'll just be hurt feelings and angry words. I'm not inviting him over for waffles or chili.)
Liberian men always expect me to cook for them. It's a power struggle all the damn time and I refuse.
I'm a good cook, but my repertoire here is limited because the ingredients and resources are limited. And the foods I feed myself aren't what they want. I've actually tried to feed a few Liberian men and I got attitude that it wasn't Liberian enough. WTF? How exactly would I know how to be an excellent Liberian cook? So, I'm done. And there's the cultural assumption I have that a new man and I should be going out to eat more - that the assumption that at the last minute I'll just cook something up for a man, that's something that indicates an intimacy I don't have with any man here (though they think we do - it's a struggle, I say).
But for friends and other random people, I cook. Happily. When Canadian chick was staying here I emptied my refrigerator for her. Black beans and rice, chicken that VIM had brought me - it helped her sick self before flying back to Canada to learn she had mumps. (I didn't appreciate that roommate said Canadian could stay here without talking to me, and when I was pretty sick myself, but I like Canadian and I can be fairly gracious for those also ill.)
I just don't like being bullied into doing something. Cooking is an act of expression, and usually it expresses love. I don't want to cook because I'm guilted into it. The reality is that I eat a lot of musli and pasta with pesto - things that are super easy. But that's not enough for Liberian men. So, I refuse. It's a shift for me, as I've always considered myself a good cook and able to feed the masses - but everything is different here.
Basically I frustrate every Liberian man because I refuse to do what they just assume is normal.
And if I ever find a man who can take me as I am, with all my stubbornness and neuroses, who doesn't try to change me into his ideal, then I'll slow down and stop fighting so much.
Hopefully.
But I'm not holding my breath.
(I am hung up on Former Student, I'm realizing. And he's the worst of the batch with trying to change me. He sees me as a wild horse to break, a challenge to overcome. And he can really be an ass. But I'm hung up and have feelings, so I guess I need to play it out and see where it leads even though I think I already know it'll just be hurt feelings and angry words. I'm not inviting him over for waffles or chili.)
Saturday, July 30, 2011
better than diazepam
My roommate just moved out.
The workshop with very important people is over.
I sent the three books to print.
Our new director is going to be ok and the department I work with is getting repeopled with people coming back from leave. (Four months for a broken arm? Really?)
The stress is evaporating from my body; the relief is amazing. Better than any drug.
Maybe I'll stop shouting at people (doubtful, as they're still idiots); maybe I'll start making good choices instead of the disastrously bad choices I keep making. Maybe I'll have days off and work hours like a normal person. Maybe even a step further and I'll work more from home. Oh, despite all the problems with it, home is a nice place to be. Even better is not dressing up, no makeup, no jewelry.
Maybe this will pass. My nature is very deep, the hard work and wanting things done well. I bore easily, which is always a problem. And didn't I start both Monday and Friday feeling quite relaxed and refreshed, which then deteriorated into stress and exposing a side of myself that is very unpleasant? (I do not yell at people if they don't yell. But if they do yell, then I usually yell back. And yes, it happens A LOT here. And that is really not even on my list of top 20 most stressful things about my life.)
But for right now, it sounds fabulous that tomorrow my friend wants to come over to visit and we'll sew together and have waffles.
The universe is abundant.
The workshop with very important people is over.
I sent the three books to print.
Our new director is going to be ok and the department I work with is getting repeopled with people coming back from leave. (Four months for a broken arm? Really?)
The stress is evaporating from my body; the relief is amazing. Better than any drug.
Maybe I'll stop shouting at people (doubtful, as they're still idiots); maybe I'll start making good choices instead of the disastrously bad choices I keep making. Maybe I'll have days off and work hours like a normal person. Maybe even a step further and I'll work more from home. Oh, despite all the problems with it, home is a nice place to be. Even better is not dressing up, no makeup, no jewelry.
Maybe this will pass. My nature is very deep, the hard work and wanting things done well. I bore easily, which is always a problem. And didn't I start both Monday and Friday feeling quite relaxed and refreshed, which then deteriorated into stress and exposing a side of myself that is very unpleasant? (I do not yell at people if they don't yell. But if they do yell, then I usually yell back. And yes, it happens A LOT here. And that is really not even on my list of top 20 most stressful things about my life.)
But for right now, it sounds fabulous that tomorrow my friend wants to come over to visit and we'll sew together and have waffles.
The universe is abundant.
Friday, July 29, 2011
the best evening in how long?
I just got loaded with most of the important judicial actors. Too much campari, rum, etc.
I know way too much that I shouldn't. Like who knows the nasty jokes.
My new boss is so damn funny my face hurts from laughing. And she is ALWAYS waaaaay more sexually inappropriate than me. And that is the hardest standard to meet. Really, it's remarkable.
I love my other VIM - he's not my VIM, but when I said about this one, "He's secretly my favorite VIM, but you can't tell anybody!" he said, "ARe you sure? I hear there's another you like best," and oh fuck now EVERYBODY knows about me and VIM and it's completely nonexistent now and good grief.
There was singing, there was dancing, and there was a whole lot of drinking. And so much laughing.
This is one of the best evenings I've had in a really long time. This is what I like about Liberia. Why did it take 9 months to happen once?
I know way too much that I shouldn't. Like who knows the nasty jokes.
My new boss is so damn funny my face hurts from laughing. And she is ALWAYS waaaaay more sexually inappropriate than me. And that is the hardest standard to meet. Really, it's remarkable.
I love my other VIM - he's not my VIM, but when I said about this one, "He's secretly my favorite VIM, but you can't tell anybody!" he said, "ARe you sure? I hear there's another you like best," and oh fuck now EVERYBODY knows about me and VIM and it's completely nonexistent now and good grief.
There was singing, there was dancing, and there was a whole lot of drinking. And so much laughing.
This is one of the best evenings I've had in a really long time. This is what I like about Liberia. Why did it take 9 months to happen once?
Thursday, July 28, 2011
stress and other daily occurrences
Hey Drunk Judge whom I told we needed to be discreet and then I broke up with you? Yeah, STOP ACTING LIKE WE'RE A COUPLE. What about your poro secret society and Masonic Temple and all these other things you keep secret? You can't keep your desire for me secret? Really? NOT HAPPENING.
Hey crazy Very Important People, stop being insane. Really.
What I've realized about myself is that I opposite. In a maelstrom of crazy shrieking at me, I get very calm. Unlike the crazy person I have been the past several weeks. I guess I realize that EVERYBODY can't be crazy, so I'll be sane when necessary.
Oh, a colleague and I had a horrible, nasty screaming fight today. Really ugly. Not even worth repeating the details - I asked him to do something a few days ago, and he didn't do it and said it wasn't possible. (Later I did it, it only took three minutes - but the point is that I shouldn't be doing everything for them!) He shrieked, "You run around and don't actually do anything!"
Like, how can I even argue with that? What, you mean all your work that I have to do? You meant that in the past two weeks, the three books I created, the three trainings I planned, the curriculum I developed, etc.? You mean that big white board of projects that have my initials all over it as taking responsibility and yours nowhere? You mean the extremely important training we are leaving for right now FOR WHICH I HAVE DONE EVERY SINGLE THING FOR BECAUSE YOU WERE ON LEAVE? What the fuckety fuck?
But it's good, because I'm going to the spend the next couple of days at this training writing up a report of everything I've been doing, and if it's not in my TORs (job description) then explaining why I did it. "Nobody else willing to and the organization will collapse if I don't," will frequently be the reason. Sometimes I do it because it's easier for everybody. The Supreme Court Justices like me. Two called me today. We're tight like that. They don't feel that way with my colleagues, and I don't blame them. But what am I supposed to do about that?
I'm pulling back. We have some leadership now and she can delegate. So I will write my report and I will submit everything that I do, and she can begin to allocate responsibility elsewhere.
The problem with capacity building in Liberia is that it's all about training individuals. That does no good long-term because individuals job-hop. There's no institutional memory AT ALL.
But that's not my problem.
My problem is that I just sent a really snide email to my boss saying that I need to be included in all decision-making in the future because I'm the only one who actually works with local partners and attends these trainings. But seriously - why do they make decisions without my input? Oh yeah, because I ACTUALLY KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT AND THAT'S SCARY.
Whatev. 70 more days or whatever to my contract, and I'm out. I'll meet all my job requirements and move along.
So please keep shrieking at me people, because you brought me to the Zen place I haven't felt in weeks or longer.
Hey crazy Very Important People, stop being insane. Really.
What I've realized about myself is that I opposite. In a maelstrom of crazy shrieking at me, I get very calm. Unlike the crazy person I have been the past several weeks. I guess I realize that EVERYBODY can't be crazy, so I'll be sane when necessary.
Oh, a colleague and I had a horrible, nasty screaming fight today. Really ugly. Not even worth repeating the details - I asked him to do something a few days ago, and he didn't do it and said it wasn't possible. (Later I did it, it only took three minutes - but the point is that I shouldn't be doing everything for them!) He shrieked, "You run around and don't actually do anything!"
Like, how can I even argue with that? What, you mean all your work that I have to do? You meant that in the past two weeks, the three books I created, the three trainings I planned, the curriculum I developed, etc.? You mean that big white board of projects that have my initials all over it as taking responsibility and yours nowhere? You mean the extremely important training we are leaving for right now FOR WHICH I HAVE DONE EVERY SINGLE THING FOR BECAUSE YOU WERE ON LEAVE? What the fuckety fuck?
But it's good, because I'm going to the spend the next couple of days at this training writing up a report of everything I've been doing, and if it's not in my TORs (job description) then explaining why I did it. "Nobody else willing to and the organization will collapse if I don't," will frequently be the reason. Sometimes I do it because it's easier for everybody. The Supreme Court Justices like me. Two called me today. We're tight like that. They don't feel that way with my colleagues, and I don't blame them. But what am I supposed to do about that?
I'm pulling back. We have some leadership now and she can delegate. So I will write my report and I will submit everything that I do, and she can begin to allocate responsibility elsewhere.
The problem with capacity building in Liberia is that it's all about training individuals. That does no good long-term because individuals job-hop. There's no institutional memory AT ALL.
But that's not my problem.
My problem is that I just sent a really snide email to my boss saying that I need to be included in all decision-making in the future because I'm the only one who actually works with local partners and attends these trainings. But seriously - why do they make decisions without my input? Oh yeah, because I ACTUALLY KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT AND THAT'S SCARY.
Whatev. 70 more days or whatever to my contract, and I'm out. I'll meet all my job requirements and move along.
So please keep shrieking at me people, because you brought me to the Zen place I haven't felt in weeks or longer.
Plan DA
Every time I convince myself that it's not so bad to be here, I get reminded that while it may not be so bad, it's not my future.
I don't want to learn fluent French. I don't want a PhD. I don't want to get enmeshed in the expat community. I don't want to be so far away from the people I love.
And I will be here for 14 months, but that is enough delayed gratification. Then I should be able to move on to what I want: a good stable job and a home near people I love.
But I probably need a job where I can be aggressive - Liberia has really tapped into that side of me, undoing years in the South. Hello, world as a prosecutor.
And probably a few years from now I'll be ready for a change again. Maybe I'll be tired of law and want to do more development work. Hey, the pay's not bad.
So, if I really leave in December, what do I want to accomplish? I noticed yesterday my suitcase of things I brought from the US (shampoo, lotion, dental floss - things that are poor quality and/or extremely expensive and/or nonexistent here) is getting emptier. I'm going through the stuff. Life here will reach a natural conclusion.
I would like to be in better shape. I'm in the worst shape of my life, no doubt. But every time I commit to that and start a new habit, I get hit with malaria or some other obnoxious illness. How can I work out without stressing my body and lowering my immunity to allow these things in? That's my mystery.
I want to finish the quilt. No problem there. I'll also do another quilt top, but I doubt much more than that. I want to do a cross-stitch I started of dinosaurs for friend & godson. It's slow going and my eyes are bad and the light is dim, but maybe on weekends when the light is right ...
I want to read all the books at my work's library. Somebody brought wicked good books and I enjoy most of them.
I want to finish all the work projects I've started and that are my responsibility. I want to release responsibility and knowledge to the local staff to feel good about their ability to do what I'm now doing.
Mostly, I want to save a ton of money. I want it for a house downpayment and retirement plan in a best circumstances, but I want it to live off of for as long as I'm unemployed in a more realistic world.
And just like I can deny myself now for the goal of saving for the future, I should be able to deny myself ease now and force myself to eat healthier and exercise more. It's just hard in a world that allows so little comfort, and the idea of being ravenously hungry on top of frustrated all the time is not a happy one.
This place, this life, this job - it's not that bad. It's just not right place, life, job, at this time in my life. Five years ago it would have been perfect. Not now. I have let go of the grief of the end of my years of fertility - but mostly by repressing it, so I shouldn't talk about it. This is not the place, and then it will be too late. It likely already is too late.
But I do want family, and this is not where I will find it. Instead, it is with the people I choose in my life, and they are mostly all in the US.
I need to stay focused on what I really want, not on what I can put up with.
I don't want to learn fluent French. I don't want a PhD. I don't want to get enmeshed in the expat community. I don't want to be so far away from the people I love.
And I will be here for 14 months, but that is enough delayed gratification. Then I should be able to move on to what I want: a good stable job and a home near people I love.
But I probably need a job where I can be aggressive - Liberia has really tapped into that side of me, undoing years in the South. Hello, world as a prosecutor.
And probably a few years from now I'll be ready for a change again. Maybe I'll be tired of law and want to do more development work. Hey, the pay's not bad.
So, if I really leave in December, what do I want to accomplish? I noticed yesterday my suitcase of things I brought from the US (shampoo, lotion, dental floss - things that are poor quality and/or extremely expensive and/or nonexistent here) is getting emptier. I'm going through the stuff. Life here will reach a natural conclusion.
I would like to be in better shape. I'm in the worst shape of my life, no doubt. But every time I commit to that and start a new habit, I get hit with malaria or some other obnoxious illness. How can I work out without stressing my body and lowering my immunity to allow these things in? That's my mystery.
I want to finish the quilt. No problem there. I'll also do another quilt top, but I doubt much more than that. I want to do a cross-stitch I started of dinosaurs for friend & godson. It's slow going and my eyes are bad and the light is dim, but maybe on weekends when the light is right ...
I want to read all the books at my work's library. Somebody brought wicked good books and I enjoy most of them.
I want to finish all the work projects I've started and that are my responsibility. I want to release responsibility and knowledge to the local staff to feel good about their ability to do what I'm now doing.
Mostly, I want to save a ton of money. I want it for a house downpayment and retirement plan in a best circumstances, but I want it to live off of for as long as I'm unemployed in a more realistic world.
And just like I can deny myself now for the goal of saving for the future, I should be able to deny myself ease now and force myself to eat healthier and exercise more. It's just hard in a world that allows so little comfort, and the idea of being ravenously hungry on top of frustrated all the time is not a happy one.
This place, this life, this job - it's not that bad. It's just not right place, life, job, at this time in my life. Five years ago it would have been perfect. Not now. I have let go of the grief of the end of my years of fertility - but mostly by repressing it, so I shouldn't talk about it. This is not the place, and then it will be too late. It likely already is too late.
But I do want family, and this is not where I will find it. Instead, it is with the people I choose in my life, and they are mostly all in the US.
I need to stay focused on what I really want, not on what I can put up with.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
when I'm not busy ostracizing, I'm seducing
Bossman said to Supervisor today, "How is [Gringa]?" "She's fine," she said nervously. These questions are never good.
"Well, she keeps ostracizing people at work. I should call her and talk about it, and discuss how people won't help her out if she does that."
EXCUSE ME?!
Oh, ok, is ostracizing what we call it when we call out people who don't do their job? When i can't get a ride to an important meeting and I report that, I'm ostracizing the operations manager? Um, how about YOU NOT SEND EVERY SINGLE VEHICLE TO BE FUELED AT THE SAME TIME? When the IT guy fucks up my computer and I don't let him do it anymore, I'm ostracizing him? When my colleagues sabotage our programming and I ask them to be really explicit and clear so I know exactly what they're doing, that's ostracizing? When I repeatedly remind Bossman about something he promised to do FOUR MONTHS AGO and he didn't, and as a result I have to give up every evening and weekend to do something with a deadline that he ignored - that's ostracizing him?
WHAT THE FUCK EVER.
I don't have patience for people who want to fuck up. I know that. If you want to be lazy and lie, I will call you out.
Bossman is extremely nonconfrontational, though. He has absolutely no spine, and various Liberian bigshots completely walk all over him. It's pretty embarrassing for all of us.
Anyway, Supervisor reports she said, "Well, it's a really busy time now, and she doesn't have the time to spare, and needs people to do their jobs, and politeness is not the first priority right now." Who knows what she really said. I trust no one.
As I said to the new director when she told me to breathe, "Sure. When I stop having to do the jobs of 7 people, I will be able to breathe. Until then, stay the hell out of my way."
The director and I will be sharing a suite at the training. I am quite worried about this because I already have a bad reputation and her reputation puts mine to shame. (She said today that the rumor she heard is that I have a crush on VIM. EXCUSE ME?! Sure I had a crush but then he PURSUED ME hard-core. But I didn't succumb to the temptation to gossip about him - I said nothing. I said, "People are going to gossip. I have a good professional relationship with him and help him with work, and suddenly I have a crush on him? Ridiculous."
She's shamelessly having affairs here, with good-looking, younger men. She's married but her husband is in the US, so she thinks it's ok to walk hand-in-hand with these men in the hallway of our institute and introduce him as her (some Liberian word for lover).
On the one hand, I am all about the girl power and the smashing of the double standards. On the other hand, we don't need to be known as an organization of sluts and hos. I wanted to be the organization slut - I guess I have to hand the crown to her.
So, here's to the manfast.
Except that ... this particular judicial actor whom I've had my eye on for some time flirted with me on the phone today and he'll be there.
Soul.
I called Drunk Judge and read him the riot act. He has three strikes and he's out. Way out. I told him to never call me again. He fucked me over with work, he left me stranded needing car repairs (and I know he has a good mechanic), and he blew me off when we had plans. DONE.
I also called Former Student twice today and we had pleasant short conversations. Oh, I wish I didn't have feelings for him, but I do.
And I like the release that sex provides me. So I'll take condoms. Just in case.
But I will not hook up with my new mechanic! No matter how hot, no matter how much chemistry! I will JUST SAY NO!
The director and I fist-bumped our promise to keep confidential any visitors the other may have. Supervisor is BEGGING me to keep my pants on. But I'm wearing an African dress each day - judicial order.
I had to know that my promiscuity would come back to bite me, though I don't really think that three men in nine months is really promiscuous. It's more ... active. I'm alive and there are many hot men here. I don't think I'm out of control.
And as to the ostracizing, here's my horoscope today:
"Well, she keeps ostracizing people at work. I should call her and talk about it, and discuss how people won't help her out if she does that."
EXCUSE ME?!
Oh, ok, is ostracizing what we call it when we call out people who don't do their job? When i can't get a ride to an important meeting and I report that, I'm ostracizing the operations manager? Um, how about YOU NOT SEND EVERY SINGLE VEHICLE TO BE FUELED AT THE SAME TIME? When the IT guy fucks up my computer and I don't let him do it anymore, I'm ostracizing him? When my colleagues sabotage our programming and I ask them to be really explicit and clear so I know exactly what they're doing, that's ostracizing? When I repeatedly remind Bossman about something he promised to do FOUR MONTHS AGO and he didn't, and as a result I have to give up every evening and weekend to do something with a deadline that he ignored - that's ostracizing him?
WHAT THE FUCK EVER.
I don't have patience for people who want to fuck up. I know that. If you want to be lazy and lie, I will call you out.
Bossman is extremely nonconfrontational, though. He has absolutely no spine, and various Liberian bigshots completely walk all over him. It's pretty embarrassing for all of us.
Anyway, Supervisor reports she said, "Well, it's a really busy time now, and she doesn't have the time to spare, and needs people to do their jobs, and politeness is not the first priority right now." Who knows what she really said. I trust no one.
As I said to the new director when she told me to breathe, "Sure. When I stop having to do the jobs of 7 people, I will be able to breathe. Until then, stay the hell out of my way."
The director and I will be sharing a suite at the training. I am quite worried about this because I already have a bad reputation and her reputation puts mine to shame. (She said today that the rumor she heard is that I have a crush on VIM. EXCUSE ME?! Sure I had a crush but then he PURSUED ME hard-core. But I didn't succumb to the temptation to gossip about him - I said nothing. I said, "People are going to gossip. I have a good professional relationship with him and help him with work, and suddenly I have a crush on him? Ridiculous."
She's shamelessly having affairs here, with good-looking, younger men. She's married but her husband is in the US, so she thinks it's ok to walk hand-in-hand with these men in the hallway of our institute and introduce him as her (some Liberian word for lover).
On the one hand, I am all about the girl power and the smashing of the double standards. On the other hand, we don't need to be known as an organization of sluts and hos. I wanted to be the organization slut - I guess I have to hand the crown to her.
So, here's to the manfast.
Except that ... this particular judicial actor whom I've had my eye on for some time flirted with me on the phone today and he'll be there.
Soul.
I called Drunk Judge and read him the riot act. He has three strikes and he's out. Way out. I told him to never call me again. He fucked me over with work, he left me stranded needing car repairs (and I know he has a good mechanic), and he blew me off when we had plans. DONE.
I also called Former Student twice today and we had pleasant short conversations. Oh, I wish I didn't have feelings for him, but I do.
And I like the release that sex provides me. So I'll take condoms. Just in case.
But I will not hook up with my new mechanic! No matter how hot, no matter how much chemistry! I will JUST SAY NO!
The director and I fist-bumped our promise to keep confidential any visitors the other may have. Supervisor is BEGGING me to keep my pants on. But I'm wearing an African dress each day - judicial order.
I had to know that my promiscuity would come back to bite me, though I don't really think that three men in nine months is really promiscuous. It's more ... active. I'm alive and there are many hot men here. I don't think I'm out of control.
And as to the ostracizing, here's my horoscope today:
"You have something that you need to do at work today and you won't let someone get in your way without putting up a fight. Fortunately, you can emerge as the winner if you are honest about your intentions and don't scatter your energy. Don't think twice about standing up for yourself, even if you would rather avoid conflict. Hopefully, the skirmish will be over quickly and you'll be able to get on with your job once the air is cleared."
As Supervisor said the other day when I was talking about somebody not bullying me: "Nobody EVER bullies you!" And maybe that's true, but that's not for lack of trying. I have to stand up for myself all the damn time, because nobody else will. (Yes, VIM hates this about me. His loss.) I don't start fights or look for them, but I also will stand up. And I can be bold and brash if that's what I need to be. Sometimes that's what's necessary. A lot of the time that's what's necessary.
As Supervisor said the other day when I was talking about somebody not bullying me: "Nobody EVER bullies you!" And maybe that's true, but that's not for lack of trying. I have to stand up for myself all the damn time, because nobody else will. (Yes, VIM hates this about me. His loss.) I don't start fights or look for them, but I also will stand up. And I can be bold and brash if that's what I need to be. Sometimes that's what's necessary. A lot of the time that's what's necessary.
so far, so good
I think that I just made the final payment on a student loan. I have about $200,000 in loans, most of which should be forgiven with 10 years of public service, so I just make my payment on those and don't try to pay off earlier. But I also had a private "bar loan" that is not forgiven, so my goal was to pay it down and off. And I think I just did. And that's tremendously exciting!
I also just talked to a mechanic about my car. I got two solid recommendations for him and he's US trained. What that means to me is that I can have a conversation with him and he understands why I'm thinking the way I am. He's out of town now, in the place I'm going to tomorrow, and he sounded good, and we're set for Monday when I'm back in town. (He suggested I call him when I get out of town, and meeting him would be kind of nice. But ... he had kind of a sexy voice, and I canNOT sleep with the only good mechanic in town!)
Our IT guys fucked up my computer and refuse to give me the password to reinstall antivirus software. The one wrote a nasty email to me because I refuse to just do whatever he says (though actually, I DID and it didn't work!) and hit reply all so it went to my boss. I wrote a "I'm sorry if this offends you, but I need my computer to work so please just give me the doggone password for the software that my COMPANY owns, not you." I'm sure my Bossman will still find that I'm in the wrong, but it made all things clear to me: men here really, really hate it when I don't just do whatever they say. I thought the problems with VIM doing that were because of his particular background, but no. It's all men here, both personally and professionally. They think they can punish me because I'm naughty. Hey, asshat? Critical thinking isn't being naughty. I'm glad you've been an IT guy for 10 years, but this is MY computer and you fucked it up - and you tried to give my supervisor a computer without any antivirus at all, and then when you finally did give her a computer it had no Windows! Like, duh??
I'm sure Bossman, who has no spine whatsoever, thinks I should just do whatever they tell me. But fuck that noise. I think that men need to disengage their egos and stop thinking that I'm just going to do whatever they want me to. And having a temper tantrum? NOT GOING TO CHANGE MY MIND.
But this is all good, because it made things clear to me. The resistance I keep facing from men here, professionally and personally? All from the same source, a notion that as woman I have to do as man commands.
Ha! Good luck with that!
I also just talked to a mechanic about my car. I got two solid recommendations for him and he's US trained. What that means to me is that I can have a conversation with him and he understands why I'm thinking the way I am. He's out of town now, in the place I'm going to tomorrow, and he sounded good, and we're set for Monday when I'm back in town. (He suggested I call him when I get out of town, and meeting him would be kind of nice. But ... he had kind of a sexy voice, and I canNOT sleep with the only good mechanic in town!)
Our IT guys fucked up my computer and refuse to give me the password to reinstall antivirus software. The one wrote a nasty email to me because I refuse to just do whatever he says (though actually, I DID and it didn't work!) and hit reply all so it went to my boss. I wrote a "I'm sorry if this offends you, but I need my computer to work so please just give me the doggone password for the software that my COMPANY owns, not you." I'm sure my Bossman will still find that I'm in the wrong, but it made all things clear to me: men here really, really hate it when I don't just do whatever they say. I thought the problems with VIM doing that were because of his particular background, but no. It's all men here, both personally and professionally. They think they can punish me because I'm naughty. Hey, asshat? Critical thinking isn't being naughty. I'm glad you've been an IT guy for 10 years, but this is MY computer and you fucked it up - and you tried to give my supervisor a computer without any antivirus at all, and then when you finally did give her a computer it had no Windows! Like, duh??
I'm sure Bossman, who has no spine whatsoever, thinks I should just do whatever they tell me. But fuck that noise. I think that men need to disengage their egos and stop thinking that I'm just going to do whatever they want me to. And having a temper tantrum? NOT GOING TO CHANGE MY MIND.
But this is all good, because it made things clear to me. The resistance I keep facing from men here, professionally and personally? All from the same source, a notion that as woman I have to do as man commands.
Ha! Good luck with that!
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
palava
So, that man fast commenced, but I'm not too sure of its staying power.
Former Student called last night. And this morning really early. And then again this morning. We do the normal thrust-and-parry, but what I realized is: I have feelings for him. Not enough to let him come over last night (oh I was drained), and this is a typically complicated situation of privilege and gender, but I do have real feelings.
So, I know that I should stay away. He'll only break my heart. I know this.
So this morning when he called, it was under pretense of something else, and I finally said, "Look, you're spending your money calling me, and why? You just want to hear my voice?"
"Maybe I do. I can't touch you, but I can hear you and that makes everything better."
He's a shameless flirt and I teased him back and tried to get off the phone. He responded: "I love you, and I'm trying to take care of all the pieces, and soon things will be more than all right between us."
I stopped cold. Silence.
"I said I LOVE YOU and I'm working things out now."
"I don't know what to say." All I could think was how I wish we were waking up together, not talking on the phone at 6:30 am on a holiday. I didn't say that.
He kept talking and I finally said, "Look, you're confusing me. I gotta go. I'll talk to you later."
I was finished with him. Really. But I have an impossibly difficult time resisting him. I like being with him. I like how he pushes me beyond my comfort level. I like how he makes me laugh. I like his certainty.
Shake it off ... shake it off ... shake it off ...
MAN FAST! MAN FAST! MAN FAST! MAN FAST!
They only cause me trouble, these men. I should resist all temptation until a good man comes along.
Sigh.
Former Student called last night. And this morning really early. And then again this morning. We do the normal thrust-and-parry, but what I realized is: I have feelings for him. Not enough to let him come over last night (oh I was drained), and this is a typically complicated situation of privilege and gender, but I do have real feelings.
So, I know that I should stay away. He'll only break my heart. I know this.
So this morning when he called, it was under pretense of something else, and I finally said, "Look, you're spending your money calling me, and why? You just want to hear my voice?"
"Maybe I do. I can't touch you, but I can hear you and that makes everything better."
He's a shameless flirt and I teased him back and tried to get off the phone. He responded: "I love you, and I'm trying to take care of all the pieces, and soon things will be more than all right between us."
I stopped cold. Silence.
"I said I LOVE YOU and I'm working things out now."
"I don't know what to say." All I could think was how I wish we were waking up together, not talking on the phone at 6:30 am on a holiday. I didn't say that.
He kept talking and I finally said, "Look, you're confusing me. I gotta go. I'll talk to you later."
I was finished with him. Really. But I have an impossibly difficult time resisting him. I like being with him. I like how he pushes me beyond my comfort level. I like how he makes me laugh. I like his certainty.
Shake it off ... shake it off ... shake it off ...
MAN FAST! MAN FAST! MAN FAST! MAN FAST!
They only cause me trouble, these men. I should resist all temptation until a good man comes along.
Sigh.
a comment I just posted
Yikes, I will never watch that show. My mother is a real hoarder - trails through houses with stacks and stacks of all kinds of shit. When I was a better daughter, I would try to visit every year and spend days tackling just one room so that I could sleep on a bed. My brother would back his truck up to the window and I'd throw things out as fast as I could while she was away. Magazines from the 1990's will not be spared. And how on earth could she collect so many damn beanie babies?
Also during one of those trips I found a journal of some sort when she was in some sort of treatment facility (I wouldn't usually read personal things - I was sorting what was actually worth keeping from pages and pages of doodles and shopping lists). She wrote at length about how she had never loved me, her eldest child, and how just being around me is so difficult for her. Suddenly my entire childhood became clear and I stopped worrying about being any kind of daughter at all.
So yeah, no more hoarding in my life!
Also during one of those trips I found a journal of some sort when she was in some sort of treatment facility (I wouldn't usually read personal things - I was sorting what was actually worth keeping from pages and pages of doodles and shopping lists). She wrote at length about how she had never loved me, her eldest child, and how just being around me is so difficult for her. Suddenly my entire childhood became clear and I stopped worrying about being any kind of daughter at all.
So yeah, no more hoarding in my life!
Monday, July 25, 2011
commence man fast!
My car has an electrical short. Suddenly I got weird lights (batttery, brake), but the turn signals don't work. Oh, awesome.
So I start calling people. Driver Paramour says he can help me tomorrow. I'm annoyed with him though because last time it wasn't worked out in advance and the mechanic wasted my time.
I go down the list in my phone. Most people don't know somebody they can recommend or don't know a phone number (they just show up to the place and find the guy, don't call in advance). I text the last two men I've had sex with AND THEY DON'T EVEN RESPOND. Seriously?!
They both resent how independent I am, and they appear to want to punish me for it.
Fine.
I texted my colleague's hot driver and he not only called me back right away, but he tried to reach a few people and then called back to say he was unsuccessful reaching them.
But you know what? I've learned my lesson with Liberian men. I'm not having sex with any more. They don't want to help me when I need it? Then we're done. And I won't sex colleague's hot driver. Because then he wouldn't call me back.
Liberians think my life is made because I have money. What they forget is that money in this country without connections is impossible. There are no yellow pages, no internet sites to find a good mechanic. It is ALL word of mouth, and the information is difficult to come by. I need Liberians to help me out. Just like I would help them out if they came to my country. But they don't get that - they think I have all the power and all the answers. I get frustrated, to say the least.
And I'm really sick and tired of the parallel lives. My colleague today said, "Oh, have a great 26th!" and I responded, "Doing what? Working home alone?" "You work too much!" "Yeah, but what Liberian has asked me out to do things for the 26th? NONE!" Well, that's not true - two have. But I made my point. And he felt guilty. And that was my purpose. Never have I lived somewhere where locals don't invite me into their homes and their lives, because of their assumptions of who I am and what I represent. And I'm tired of it.
Anyway, Drunk Judge is totally on the outs anyway. He promised me a case this morning and didn't deliver. Then he acted all hot to see me - not discreet at all. Then he said how vexed he is at me. Then he said, "Oh, yeah, we'll see each other tomorrow. Maybe I'll come to your house." Um, no. We had specific plans to go to HIS house and for him to cook for me. To celebrate like a Liberian. He's NOT coming to my house. And besides, he's too rough with sex. Not pleasant. "Why are you afraid of pain?" he asked. Um, because I'm not into S & M? Hello? I think it's weird to just assume that I would be.
Oh, and VIM is playing some mind game, refusing to come to the event that I COMPLETELY CHANGED TO FIT HIS SCHEDULE. I'm livid. His colleague mentioned that to me today and said we all need to work on getting him there. I said I'm not the person to do it, that she and their other colleagues are, and she said, "Yeah, maybe he wants to see you." Apparently the gossip reached her about him and me, but no, if he wanted to see me, he wouldn't avoid me. Look, I would just not go to this event if I thought it would make him go. I'll do whatever he wants. I'm just so angry at him and disappointed in him. It's not about me - it's about his country. His presence is really needed. But once again his narcissism is on display. I have tried to call him, have texted a couple of times. He's making me lose faith in change in Liberia - that it's all about babies and their tantrums, not about the greater good. So I just want to say, "FINE!" because it's obviously his issue that he doesn't attend. He's such a fucking Taurus, and there's no reasoning with him. But it hurts my feelings. Despite all our personal problems, I believe in him. I have faith in his goodness and responsibility for the greater good in Liberia. And he's really letting me down in that way. Of course it's not about me, not at all - I just mean he's letting me down like when a celebrity lets me down by doing something stupid. And I know he's mad at his boss and the President and he has other really significant things going on. I know all that. But I get to be upset with him for being an asshat.
So, I have the worst luck with men. I must have really bad romantic karma. So maybe I just need to step back and not engage at all. No more sex, no more flirting, no more playing around. I'm here to work, and that's what I'll do.
Wow, how pitiful that life sounds.
Oh well. I think it's really time for the man fast. Independence Day, indeed.
So I start calling people. Driver Paramour says he can help me tomorrow. I'm annoyed with him though because last time it wasn't worked out in advance and the mechanic wasted my time.
I go down the list in my phone. Most people don't know somebody they can recommend or don't know a phone number (they just show up to the place and find the guy, don't call in advance). I text the last two men I've had sex with AND THEY DON'T EVEN RESPOND. Seriously?!
They both resent how independent I am, and they appear to want to punish me for it.
Fine.
I texted my colleague's hot driver and he not only called me back right away, but he tried to reach a few people and then called back to say he was unsuccessful reaching them.
But you know what? I've learned my lesson with Liberian men. I'm not having sex with any more. They don't want to help me when I need it? Then we're done. And I won't sex colleague's hot driver. Because then he wouldn't call me back.
Liberians think my life is made because I have money. What they forget is that money in this country without connections is impossible. There are no yellow pages, no internet sites to find a good mechanic. It is ALL word of mouth, and the information is difficult to come by. I need Liberians to help me out. Just like I would help them out if they came to my country. But they don't get that - they think I have all the power and all the answers. I get frustrated, to say the least.
And I'm really sick and tired of the parallel lives. My colleague today said, "Oh, have a great 26th!" and I responded, "Doing what? Working home alone?" "You work too much!" "Yeah, but what Liberian has asked me out to do things for the 26th? NONE!" Well, that's not true - two have. But I made my point. And he felt guilty. And that was my purpose. Never have I lived somewhere where locals don't invite me into their homes and their lives, because of their assumptions of who I am and what I represent. And I'm tired of it.
Anyway, Drunk Judge is totally on the outs anyway. He promised me a case this morning and didn't deliver. Then he acted all hot to see me - not discreet at all. Then he said how vexed he is at me. Then he said, "Oh, yeah, we'll see each other tomorrow. Maybe I'll come to your house." Um, no. We had specific plans to go to HIS house and for him to cook for me. To celebrate like a Liberian. He's NOT coming to my house. And besides, he's too rough with sex. Not pleasant. "Why are you afraid of pain?" he asked. Um, because I'm not into S & M? Hello? I think it's weird to just assume that I would be.
Oh, and VIM is playing some mind game, refusing to come to the event that I COMPLETELY CHANGED TO FIT HIS SCHEDULE. I'm livid. His colleague mentioned that to me today and said we all need to work on getting him there. I said I'm not the person to do it, that she and their other colleagues are, and she said, "Yeah, maybe he wants to see you." Apparently the gossip reached her about him and me, but no, if he wanted to see me, he wouldn't avoid me. Look, I would just not go to this event if I thought it would make him go. I'll do whatever he wants. I'm just so angry at him and disappointed in him. It's not about me - it's about his country. His presence is really needed. But once again his narcissism is on display. I have tried to call him, have texted a couple of times. He's making me lose faith in change in Liberia - that it's all about babies and their tantrums, not about the greater good. So I just want to say, "FINE!" because it's obviously his issue that he doesn't attend. He's such a fucking Taurus, and there's no reasoning with him. But it hurts my feelings. Despite all our personal problems, I believe in him. I have faith in his goodness and responsibility for the greater good in Liberia. And he's really letting me down in that way. Of course it's not about me, not at all - I just mean he's letting me down like when a celebrity lets me down by doing something stupid. And I know he's mad at his boss and the President and he has other really significant things going on. I know all that. But I get to be upset with him for being an asshat.
So, I have the worst luck with men. I must have really bad romantic karma. So maybe I just need to step back and not engage at all. No more sex, no more flirting, no more playing around. I'm here to work, and that's what I'll do.
Wow, how pitiful that life sounds.
Oh well. I think it's really time for the man fast. Independence Day, indeed.
falling into a weekend
I fell hard into the weekend that just passed. And here it is, Monday morning, and I'm completely disoriented.
I fell into it in a good way. I left much of the work stress behind. And even though I still worked and made lists and lists of things I have to do ASAP and texted Supreme Court Justice about the training, I felt the weekend. It wrapped itself around me and tucked in the edges.
I thought today was a day off but the new director is calling us in for a half day. While I could skip it because she's not actually my boss, I have so much to do and so many people to see. But that changed our plans to take the intern to Monkey Island - and I feel bad, because I've done absolutely nothing fun with her.
Tomorrow is off. OFF. A very big holiday indeed, and if plans with Drunk Judge fall through I will happily stay home and enjoy the time off. I hope if I work hard today that everything else can wait until Wednesday.
Something shifted in me last week about Wednesday. I went from an adrenaline-ridden panicked state to cool as a Clint Eastwood character. It was right about the time I heard of the woman getting bone cancer. Of course I always know things can be worse, but it was a reminder I needed. And I made it through the rest of the insane week - still annoyed, but at a quieter volume.
And then the weekend wrapped me in its arms and reestablished my equilibrium.
We'll see how long it lasts. 15 minutes? Really, today will be another day of full-court crazy. This whole week will be. And I'm supposed to be at the training all weekend, and I just don't think I'm up for that. How can I get out of it? No - I know how to get out of it. But should I? I'm not sure. I really don't want to see VIM. In a room of 50 people, he'll be the one refusing to acknowledge my existence. Ick. And everybody watching, watching.
No, I don't care about that. I can ride that with a smile.
What I do care about is sleeping in a bed that is not mine. In a room without electricity, with a dirty mosquito bed net with holes (defeats the purpose!), with mold on the ceiling. I don't know when I became so obsessed with creature comforts, but I am. I don't even care about no running water, but I DO care about getting malaria again. (Not enough to take the prophylaxis and be nauseated all day every day, though.)
I cannot fall into a weekend if I'm someplace else where I have to plaster on the nicey-nice smile and dress up. Bah.
I used to really look forward to these out-of-town trainings. And then every damn time they're miserable. This is not fun for me. I'm no longer adventurous. I just want to curl up in my bed at the end of the day and get a good night's sleep.
I fell into it in a good way. I left much of the work stress behind. And even though I still worked and made lists and lists of things I have to do ASAP and texted Supreme Court Justice about the training, I felt the weekend. It wrapped itself around me and tucked in the edges.
I thought today was a day off but the new director is calling us in for a half day. While I could skip it because she's not actually my boss, I have so much to do and so many people to see. But that changed our plans to take the intern to Monkey Island - and I feel bad, because I've done absolutely nothing fun with her.
Tomorrow is off. OFF. A very big holiday indeed, and if plans with Drunk Judge fall through I will happily stay home and enjoy the time off. I hope if I work hard today that everything else can wait until Wednesday.
Something shifted in me last week about Wednesday. I went from an adrenaline-ridden panicked state to cool as a Clint Eastwood character. It was right about the time I heard of the woman getting bone cancer. Of course I always know things can be worse, but it was a reminder I needed. And I made it through the rest of the insane week - still annoyed, but at a quieter volume.
And then the weekend wrapped me in its arms and reestablished my equilibrium.
We'll see how long it lasts. 15 minutes? Really, today will be another day of full-court crazy. This whole week will be. And I'm supposed to be at the training all weekend, and I just don't think I'm up for that. How can I get out of it? No - I know how to get out of it. But should I? I'm not sure. I really don't want to see VIM. In a room of 50 people, he'll be the one refusing to acknowledge my existence. Ick. And everybody watching, watching.
No, I don't care about that. I can ride that with a smile.
What I do care about is sleeping in a bed that is not mine. In a room without electricity, with a dirty mosquito bed net with holes (defeats the purpose!), with mold on the ceiling. I don't know when I became so obsessed with creature comforts, but I am. I don't even care about no running water, but I DO care about getting malaria again. (Not enough to take the prophylaxis and be nauseated all day every day, though.)
I cannot fall into a weekend if I'm someplace else where I have to plaster on the nicey-nice smile and dress up. Bah.
I used to really look forward to these out-of-town trainings. And then every damn time they're miserable. This is not fun for me. I'm no longer adventurous. I just want to curl up in my bed at the end of the day and get a good night's sleep.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
today's T. S. Eliot
On the list of things I'm too old to do, please include eat too much at a buffet and crawl on the tile floor to safety pin a quilt together.
I grow old ... I grow old ....
I grow old ... I grow old ....
the fairies
I realized today that Supervisor and I are like magical fairies who sprinkle pixie dust and make things happen.
People don't understand how hard we work. They don't know how many hours of focus it takes for us to accomplish all that we do.
No, they think we just have cross our arms and blink and the work is done.
And in part, this is why we don't get credit. Then we're accused of trying to take over things from Liberians, because we know more of the inner workings. Hello? We know them because they got shoved onto us because nobody else would do their part!
She and I are of one mind: to scale back our involvement. Let the locals take over. Let us support, rather than do.
Now I just need to figure out how I can actually get credit for what I do, rather than it going to liars and thieves.
People don't understand how hard we work. They don't know how many hours of focus it takes for us to accomplish all that we do.
No, they think we just have cross our arms and blink and the work is done.
And in part, this is why we don't get credit. Then we're accused of trying to take over things from Liberians, because we know more of the inner workings. Hello? We know them because they got shoved onto us because nobody else would do their part!
She and I are of one mind: to scale back our involvement. Let the locals take over. Let us support, rather than do.
Now I just need to figure out how I can actually get credit for what I do, rather than it going to liars and thieves.
being in place
One of the things that I really loved about New Orleans is how dynamic it is on so many levels and there are so many levels of it.
Some of the levels are like City Councilman Oliver Thomas going down for bribery, but much of it is much more above-board and transparent. New Orleans is a small town really and it's not hard to have a finger on the pulse of what's going on. I would watch the zoning commission meetings and know the players; I would attend food coop meetings and see the slow progress - myriad such things.
The thing is that Liberia now is also very dynamic, but there's no one pulse that I can find. It seems fractured, disjointed; many players playing different games.
I may be wrong, and I think I need to make a serious effort to improve my knowledge and understanding of what's going on. From local newspapers (which are horrifically bad - from the poor spelling & grammar to the reality that they just print press releases as stories if they're paid sufficiently) to the international analysts, I should be paying better attention.
Instead, I make it from day to day, point to point, and I get my news from colleagues and friends and journalist roommate, with some radio programs.
And this is the typical Liberian way of learning things. Word of mouth is definitely how information is transmitted here - one reason that cell phones are so important (especially since all landlines were destroyed in the war and there appears to be no discussion of reestablishing it ... but hell, there's no talk that I know of for rebuilding the electrical grid throughout the country or of making the main roads passable year-round).
I mock the grants we apply for as having ridiculous ideological underpinnings - but who is informing them? Is the information really out there to allow better planning and implementation?
I don't know. I assume it's like education in the United States - we KNOW what needs to be done but we waste all this time and money reinventing the wheel to deny sufficient resources to the children in need. I got disgusted with the whole nasty mess and left my PhD in Education Policy.
So here I am in Liberia and maybe the answers aren't so clear here. I see so much thoughtless implementation of really bad ideas rather than a concentration of resources on actual improvement. And I cynically believe that it's because all these expats and wealthy locals want a piece of the development pie, but maybe there is still a need for research to better guide the planning and implementation.
Or maybe they won't listen to the sound ideas. That's what I suspect.
But maybe there is a place for me in all this, for my ability to think critically and to analyze situations.
Maybe editing textbooks is not my calling after all, but maybe I should be getting into the debates at the higher level. As messy and ugly as that is.
I don't know if I have the stomach for it, though.
Ugh, I also don't have the stomach for the people below my window who keep playing the same song over and over and over. I'm turning on French TV.
Some of the levels are like City Councilman Oliver Thomas going down for bribery, but much of it is much more above-board and transparent. New Orleans is a small town really and it's not hard to have a finger on the pulse of what's going on. I would watch the zoning commission meetings and know the players; I would attend food coop meetings and see the slow progress - myriad such things.
The thing is that Liberia now is also very dynamic, but there's no one pulse that I can find. It seems fractured, disjointed; many players playing different games.
I may be wrong, and I think I need to make a serious effort to improve my knowledge and understanding of what's going on. From local newspapers (which are horrifically bad - from the poor spelling & grammar to the reality that they just print press releases as stories if they're paid sufficiently) to the international analysts, I should be paying better attention.
Instead, I make it from day to day, point to point, and I get my news from colleagues and friends and journalist roommate, with some radio programs.
And this is the typical Liberian way of learning things. Word of mouth is definitely how information is transmitted here - one reason that cell phones are so important (especially since all landlines were destroyed in the war and there appears to be no discussion of reestablishing it ... but hell, there's no talk that I know of for rebuilding the electrical grid throughout the country or of making the main roads passable year-round).
I mock the grants we apply for as having ridiculous ideological underpinnings - but who is informing them? Is the information really out there to allow better planning and implementation?
I don't know. I assume it's like education in the United States - we KNOW what needs to be done but we waste all this time and money reinventing the wheel to deny sufficient resources to the children in need. I got disgusted with the whole nasty mess and left my PhD in Education Policy.
So here I am in Liberia and maybe the answers aren't so clear here. I see so much thoughtless implementation of really bad ideas rather than a concentration of resources on actual improvement. And I cynically believe that it's because all these expats and wealthy locals want a piece of the development pie, but maybe there is still a need for research to better guide the planning and implementation.
Or maybe they won't listen to the sound ideas. That's what I suspect.
But maybe there is a place for me in all this, for my ability to think critically and to analyze situations.
Maybe editing textbooks is not my calling after all, but maybe I should be getting into the debates at the higher level. As messy and ugly as that is.
I don't know if I have the stomach for it, though.
Ugh, I also don't have the stomach for the people below my window who keep playing the same song over and over and over. I'm turning on French TV.
rainy season and holidays
Before rainy season started, I was WORRIED. I grew up in southeast Alaska, and we could go months without ever seeing the sun - just a gray gloom would take over our entire lives. I've sworn I will never live like that again.
So, living in the rainiest capital city in the world and hearing about rainy season - I was worried. Nobody could really tell me what it MEANS. How much rain? For how long continuous? Because I don't hate rain, but I like it New Orleans style - heavy downpour on a summer afternoon but then clearing up.
Rainy season here is approximately May through October, and I hear July and August bear the brunt of it.
But so far so good. It is not six months on non-stop deluge. We've had lovely parts of days and even lovely whole days. When it does rain, it often rains HARD - which sucks when I need to be someplace, but usually I can just wait and be a little later.
One of the main issues with rainy season is that it's impossible to travel throughout much of the country now. The roads wash out in the rain and you can't get around off the main road. (And even the main road, which is very limited, gets pretty bad.)
I don't know what August will bring, but I can take it because it hasn't been two solid months of gloom and rain.
***
Tuesday is Independence Day, which is apparently a Really Big Deal. Gifts are given to children, the country shuts down.
Now, I don't really understand why it's "Independence" day. Liberia is one of the few places in the world that WASN'T a colony. It was settled by freed slaves from the US, by the American Colonization Society ... but those people never left. They have defined Liberia, rather than going "home." Only since the 1950s are they not the only people with right to vote, etc. (That day, of granting universal suffrage, is also a holiday - and frankly one that I would celebrate more seriously.)
I'm supposed to spend Independence Day with Drunk Judge - but since I'm not supposed to be dating my way through the judiciary, plans of going anything public are modified to time at his house. Though, we'll see ... I was pretty unpleasant Friday night. He just pushes too much and I'm not a patient person. The benefit of spending time at his house is that I can drive away when I'm done.
Anyway, I'm curious what the day is like and I would like to spend it with Liberians. Of course I'd also rather spend it alone, but so is the constant tension in my life.
So, living in the rainiest capital city in the world and hearing about rainy season - I was worried. Nobody could really tell me what it MEANS. How much rain? For how long continuous? Because I don't hate rain, but I like it New Orleans style - heavy downpour on a summer afternoon but then clearing up.
Rainy season here is approximately May through October, and I hear July and August bear the brunt of it.
But so far so good. It is not six months on non-stop deluge. We've had lovely parts of days and even lovely whole days. When it does rain, it often rains HARD - which sucks when I need to be someplace, but usually I can just wait and be a little later.
One of the main issues with rainy season is that it's impossible to travel throughout much of the country now. The roads wash out in the rain and you can't get around off the main road. (And even the main road, which is very limited, gets pretty bad.)
I don't know what August will bring, but I can take it because it hasn't been two solid months of gloom and rain.
***
Tuesday is Independence Day, which is apparently a Really Big Deal. Gifts are given to children, the country shuts down.
Now, I don't really understand why it's "Independence" day. Liberia is one of the few places in the world that WASN'T a colony. It was settled by freed slaves from the US, by the American Colonization Society ... but those people never left. They have defined Liberia, rather than going "home." Only since the 1950s are they not the only people with right to vote, etc. (That day, of granting universal suffrage, is also a holiday - and frankly one that I would celebrate more seriously.)
I'm supposed to spend Independence Day with Drunk Judge - but since I'm not supposed to be dating my way through the judiciary, plans of going anything public are modified to time at his house. Though, we'll see ... I was pretty unpleasant Friday night. He just pushes too much and I'm not a patient person. The benefit of spending time at his house is that I can drive away when I'm done.
Anyway, I'm curious what the day is like and I would like to spend it with Liberians. Of course I'd also rather spend it alone, but so is the constant tension in my life.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
human relations
This article is a good reminder of expat privilege in Africa.
Everything is so freaking complicated here. Everything. And I add so many more layers of complication by diving straight into sex here.
I don't think of myself as white. I don't think of my race at all. And of course that is a symptom of my white privilege - and apparent infrequent use of mirrors, as I am always startled when I catch a glimpse of myself.
The article mentioned the book Emma's War, about an aid worker in the Sudan who married a warlord.
Oh, soul. I'm two decades older but not a bit wiser. Or am I?
These parallel lives of expats and locals, I can't stand it. But I'm an expat. I like electricity and don't like typhoid. I live a pampered existence, while I chafe at its yoke.
Many expats here get involved with locals, but it's usually a casual thing, something to benefit both parties. I'm not good at those kind of relationships - I fall for men. I'm not naive or idealistic, but I develop real feelings and don't think that different cultures is any kind of real impediment to love.
Of course, it never works out for me. And now there's Drunk Judge, and I just don't really care much about him. He wants to have all the benefits of us being in a relationship, but I would get none except regular sex. So, I would have to cook for him and give him presents and do whatever he says and submit sexually and ... why would I do that?
VIM is right. I'm WAY too set in my ways. I have no desire to yield to the demands of almost every man here.
They think I'm just being difficult. I think they're being ridiculous. And I never conform to somebody's demands if I don't buy in.
Shrug. Maybe I need to start meeting UN peacekeeping forces and hooking up with them instead.
But I don't really like that expat world. I'm very uncomfortable in it. But at the same time, I'm not fully comfortable in the Liberian world, either. I really don't much like "Sis" as my title.
It's a limbo, and it's very confusing. And I hate that I'm always on the defensive from somebody trying to scam me.
The problem boils down to the fact that I don't believe any old colonialist notion that I'm in any way better than anybody else. Sure, differences are real, but we all bleed the same red. I'm not fetishizing African men, and I rankle when they attempt to fetishize or objectify me. But when we feel a real attraction, why not act on it?
But when Drunk Judge starts getting pushy about, "When you go the STates, will you send for me to visit?" Dude. Seriously? I'm not even sure you'll make it through this evening, and I'm sure not making any commitment to you in the future - especially not one that costs any money.
If I just have a friend or a fuck buddy, I'm not investing emotionally or financially. But if I were to fall in love and be in a real relationship, we would work together to be together. I've done it before with an African man. But I'm not falling in love with any dick that comes my way, and I'm going to run, not walk, away from any man who sees me as an opportunity to get ahead. Sure I'm an opportunity - to be a huge freaking headache to any man who is near me. But I'm not investing in diamond mines or doing you any favors that compromise my ethics in any way. Really.
And of course it's complicated because Liberians ask these things of each other, not only of foreigners. But it's not part of MY culture. And I'm not comfortable with it.
Shrug. It's just all so freaking complicated.
Everything is so freaking complicated here. Everything. And I add so many more layers of complication by diving straight into sex here.
I don't think of myself as white. I don't think of my race at all. And of course that is a symptom of my white privilege - and apparent infrequent use of mirrors, as I am always startled when I catch a glimpse of myself.
The article mentioned the book Emma's War, about an aid worker in the Sudan who married a warlord.
Oh, soul. I'm two decades older but not a bit wiser. Or am I?
These parallel lives of expats and locals, I can't stand it. But I'm an expat. I like electricity and don't like typhoid. I live a pampered existence, while I chafe at its yoke.
Many expats here get involved with locals, but it's usually a casual thing, something to benefit both parties. I'm not good at those kind of relationships - I fall for men. I'm not naive or idealistic, but I develop real feelings and don't think that different cultures is any kind of real impediment to love.
Of course, it never works out for me. And now there's Drunk Judge, and I just don't really care much about him. He wants to have all the benefits of us being in a relationship, but I would get none except regular sex. So, I would have to cook for him and give him presents and do whatever he says and submit sexually and ... why would I do that?
VIM is right. I'm WAY too set in my ways. I have no desire to yield to the demands of almost every man here.
They think I'm just being difficult. I think they're being ridiculous. And I never conform to somebody's demands if I don't buy in.
Shrug. Maybe I need to start meeting UN peacekeeping forces and hooking up with them instead.
But I don't really like that expat world. I'm very uncomfortable in it. But at the same time, I'm not fully comfortable in the Liberian world, either. I really don't much like "Sis" as my title.
It's a limbo, and it's very confusing. And I hate that I'm always on the defensive from somebody trying to scam me.
The problem boils down to the fact that I don't believe any old colonialist notion that I'm in any way better than anybody else. Sure, differences are real, but we all bleed the same red. I'm not fetishizing African men, and I rankle when they attempt to fetishize or objectify me. But when we feel a real attraction, why not act on it?
But when Drunk Judge starts getting pushy about, "When you go the STates, will you send for me to visit?" Dude. Seriously? I'm not even sure you'll make it through this evening, and I'm sure not making any commitment to you in the future - especially not one that costs any money.
If I just have a friend or a fuck buddy, I'm not investing emotionally or financially. But if I were to fall in love and be in a real relationship, we would work together to be together. I've done it before with an African man. But I'm not falling in love with any dick that comes my way, and I'm going to run, not walk, away from any man who sees me as an opportunity to get ahead. Sure I'm an opportunity - to be a huge freaking headache to any man who is near me. But I'm not investing in diamond mines or doing you any favors that compromise my ethics in any way. Really.
And of course it's complicated because Liberians ask these things of each other, not only of foreigners. But it's not part of MY culture. And I'm not comfortable with it.
Shrug. It's just all so freaking complicated.
that old familiar feeling
I'm kind of itching to go back to school.
Yes, yes, I cut myself off. Three degrees is enough for any person.
But.
I miss thinking.
I work hard and do much, but nothing is mentally challenging. It is emotionally draining, but I'm losing mental acuity because it doesn't challenge me at all. I spend far too much of my time proofreading laws, arguing about silly budget problems, trying to find a printer that works, fighting the copy machine, explaining and reexplaining how to organize books on shelves - and then just doing it myself, attending events.
But when do I think? I don't. And I really miss my German counterpart who was always forcing that more. Last night Drunk Judge and I argued law while lying in bed. I pulled out the volumes and we argued wording. It was fun for him but for me it was a silly contentious argument that stems from sexism in the country. I don't really want to hear it at the upcoming training. But maybe that's what got me missing thinking.
Who I really miss for that is VIM. The asshat could make me think. But we're not going back there.
Maybe the horrors of Norway have it on my mind, and an LLM there that tempts me.
I don't really want to continue in the type of work I do, and after this week without Supervisor I know that I really don't want to be a project manager. A bunch of ass kissing and making do, but no real thinking. Bah.
Of course I'm also thinking of this because I'm desperately seeking a new hobby. Doesn't a PhD sound like a great hobby?
Sigh.
It just keeps me further and further away from what I really want: a home. And yet, I change all the time. Perhaps by the time I can have a home that won't be what I really want. Who knows.
First, I need to work on my French. (If I do research in West Africa for a PhD, I need access to Francophone countries and texts, and I may also need to find a job in a Francophone country if I stay in the area.) That's a hobby. I've been watching more TV in French - sadly I only get one channel. What I realized today is that I definitely understand African French better than France-French.
So. After this week my life will be less crazy, and I will reclaim it. End of nights and weekends of work.
Well, it's a nice dream.
Yes, yes, I cut myself off. Three degrees is enough for any person.
But.
I miss thinking.
I work hard and do much, but nothing is mentally challenging. It is emotionally draining, but I'm losing mental acuity because it doesn't challenge me at all. I spend far too much of my time proofreading laws, arguing about silly budget problems, trying to find a printer that works, fighting the copy machine, explaining and reexplaining how to organize books on shelves - and then just doing it myself, attending events.
But when do I think? I don't. And I really miss my German counterpart who was always forcing that more. Last night Drunk Judge and I argued law while lying in bed. I pulled out the volumes and we argued wording. It was fun for him but for me it was a silly contentious argument that stems from sexism in the country. I don't really want to hear it at the upcoming training. But maybe that's what got me missing thinking.
Who I really miss for that is VIM. The asshat could make me think. But we're not going back there.
Maybe the horrors of Norway have it on my mind, and an LLM there that tempts me.
I don't really want to continue in the type of work I do, and after this week without Supervisor I know that I really don't want to be a project manager. A bunch of ass kissing and making do, but no real thinking. Bah.
Of course I'm also thinking of this because I'm desperately seeking a new hobby. Doesn't a PhD sound like a great hobby?
Sigh.
It just keeps me further and further away from what I really want: a home. And yet, I change all the time. Perhaps by the time I can have a home that won't be what I really want. Who knows.
First, I need to work on my French. (If I do research in West Africa for a PhD, I need access to Francophone countries and texts, and I may also need to find a job in a Francophone country if I stay in the area.) That's a hobby. I've been watching more TV in French - sadly I only get one channel. What I realized today is that I definitely understand African French better than France-French.
So. After this week my life will be less crazy, and I will reclaim it. End of nights and weekends of work.
Well, it's a nice dream.
where is our compassion?
Norway.
Oh my.
What a tragedy. Who the hell kills kids like this?
Such horror.
I keep flashing back to the Oklahoma City bombing.
But teenagers? I can't imagine how their families and communities are feeling.
And I'm troubled because on Facebook, everybody's talking about Amy Winehouse but nobody's talking about Norway. Of course Amy Winehouse's death is tragic, but she's long been self-destructive. Even if it wasn't a result of her self-destructiveness, it was likely an accident.
It was not a "Christian" who picked up two weapons and aimed and deliberately killed every person in sight. Every youth.
So horrifying.
Oh my.
What a tragedy. Who the hell kills kids like this?
Such horror.
I keep flashing back to the Oklahoma City bombing.
But teenagers? I can't imagine how their families and communities are feeling.
And I'm troubled because on Facebook, everybody's talking about Amy Winehouse but nobody's talking about Norway. Of course Amy Winehouse's death is tragic, but she's long been self-destructive. Even if it wasn't a result of her self-destructiveness, it was likely an accident.
It was not a "Christian" who picked up two weapons and aimed and deliberately killed every person in sight. Every youth.
So horrifying.
forgot how to be happy
I keep trying to shift my attitude, but then things keep happening to force me back into defensive mode.
I want to find joy. I want to find love. I want to find happiness.
Instead, I try to make it through the day without snapping.
I do believe that we create our own realities - I speak often of how advantaged children in the US create drama, suffering meltdowns when they don't get the brand-new X-Box when first in stores. Yet I see children here all the time that laugh with such glee for taking a bath in a little plastic bucket in front of their houses. It's all about expectations of what life owes you.
Yes, I do create my own reality. But I don't know how to shift it. Everybody with their hand stretched out, demanding more so greedily. Demanding I do things completely outside my power - and I don't WANT the power. "Let me explain this to you AGAIN; the SUPREME COURT AND THE PRESIDENT OF LIBERIA MADE THIS DECISION. I have *nothing* to do with it. Stop complaining to me!"
I'm so tired of "you" being used at me as though I represent the entire donor community and all of the northern world. Sure, I represent all of Europe. France, you hear that?
Or how about how Bossman is mad at me for not including our new leader in so many decisions - but can I point out that she started A WEEK AGO, so if somebody asked me three weeks ago what I thought should be served at an event and I said "potato greens or cassava leaves or whatever Liberian food they usually serve," how did I do wrong? And we had this huge void in leadership and Supervisor and I had to step up, and now we're blamed for trying to take over, blah blah blah. I work hard. Sue me. But that's about to end. If only I could find something better to do with my time.
At the end of this stint in Liberia, I will regret two things: that I didn't save more money and I didn't lose weight. Well, I'm trying to save money, but life is damn expensive here (good news though is that I've almost paid off private student loan - yay!). And I have all this time to exercise, and I don't. Why? I don't know. Lazy? Embarrassed to put myself out there? (Everybody has to comment all the damn time when I'm walking.) Sick too often keeps throwing me off?
My belly is waaaaaaay larger than it's ever been. And Drunk Judge looks at all of me and gasps, "You're soooooo beautiful," over and over again, and I know he means it. But *I* don't feel that way. I don't mind my apparently large ass or strong thighs - but that belly and backfat? Yeah, it needs to go. But instead I eat junkfood and sit on my couch which is super super uncomfortable. I've never been in such bad shape before. It's disheartening. The B vitamins from Germany do seem to help with my energy levels, and I just took the last, so maybe I'll go for a walk to buy them. Facing the lecherous masses staring at my ass. (I'm making it worse than it is - usually I can handle it fine. I just get tired of it. And Drunk Judge said last night that every time I walk past anywhere everybody comments on my alleged hotness and how much they want to get with me - they make this gesture of biting their finger to contain their desire. I had no idea. I thought they were ignoring me, honestly. I know he didn't mean to make me self-conscious by saying that, but it does. Feeling like I'm always on display, being objectified. Too much. I'm going to just assume that he's exaggerating, because I can't think of that.)
It's 9:00 on a Saturday morning and I'm looking at a weekend of work and boredom. We're supposed to go to monkey island (where they released lab test chimps during the war), but I don't know if I'm up for it frankly. I hate riding in a car here and then a canoe, and the rain and the mosquitoes and ... ? Sigh. Where did my adventurous spirit go?
What I want is a home, where I have little projects to work on, where I have loved ones to spend time with. I have none of that here. And I'm really trying to make it through, but I'm really not happy. And frankly it's making me a pretty unpleasant person. I don't WANT to push myself beyond all physical comfort any more. I don't WANT to dodge lies and corruption.
Well, it's not raining. Off to walk I go.
***
I did walk. It was fine. There were lecherous advances. I bought everything I wanted (carrots, garlic, cipro made in Cyprus, B complex, bananas). It did not rain and the heat was not too oppressive.
Today I will cook - probably chicken fried rice and chicken noodle soup, after I go to the grocery store. Good ways to eat vegetables. Today I will work - editing another book. Today I will quilt - I'll tape the quilt back to the floor and attach to top to it, and then figure out what/how I'll quilt it together. Today I will call a friend or two in the US. Today I will read a book. Today I will get on the exercise bike (if I feel up to it - the walk was pretty strenuous with the highest hill in Monrovia both ways). Today I will organize all my belongings and begin to pack for next week's training.
That is a pretty good day.
And what's with this obsession with happy, anyway? Why do I expect to be satisfied and content? Why can't it be enough to not be shot at, to have enough to eat, and to have a lot of self-determination over my workday?
I really need to lower my expectations.
I want to find joy. I want to find love. I want to find happiness.
Instead, I try to make it through the day without snapping.
I do believe that we create our own realities - I speak often of how advantaged children in the US create drama, suffering meltdowns when they don't get the brand-new X-Box when first in stores. Yet I see children here all the time that laugh with such glee for taking a bath in a little plastic bucket in front of their houses. It's all about expectations of what life owes you.
Yes, I do create my own reality. But I don't know how to shift it. Everybody with their hand stretched out, demanding more so greedily. Demanding I do things completely outside my power - and I don't WANT the power. "Let me explain this to you AGAIN; the SUPREME COURT AND THE PRESIDENT OF LIBERIA MADE THIS DECISION. I have *nothing* to do with it. Stop complaining to me!"
I'm so tired of "you" being used at me as though I represent the entire donor community and all of the northern world. Sure, I represent all of Europe. France, you hear that?
Or how about how Bossman is mad at me for not including our new leader in so many decisions - but can I point out that she started A WEEK AGO, so if somebody asked me three weeks ago what I thought should be served at an event and I said "potato greens or cassava leaves or whatever Liberian food they usually serve," how did I do wrong? And we had this huge void in leadership and Supervisor and I had to step up, and now we're blamed for trying to take over, blah blah blah. I work hard. Sue me. But that's about to end. If only I could find something better to do with my time.
At the end of this stint in Liberia, I will regret two things: that I didn't save more money and I didn't lose weight. Well, I'm trying to save money, but life is damn expensive here (good news though is that I've almost paid off private student loan - yay!). And I have all this time to exercise, and I don't. Why? I don't know. Lazy? Embarrassed to put myself out there? (Everybody has to comment all the damn time when I'm walking.) Sick too often keeps throwing me off?
My belly is waaaaaaay larger than it's ever been. And Drunk Judge looks at all of me and gasps, "You're soooooo beautiful," over and over again, and I know he means it. But *I* don't feel that way. I don't mind my apparently large ass or strong thighs - but that belly and backfat? Yeah, it needs to go. But instead I eat junkfood and sit on my couch which is super super uncomfortable. I've never been in such bad shape before. It's disheartening. The B vitamins from Germany do seem to help with my energy levels, and I just took the last, so maybe I'll go for a walk to buy them. Facing the lecherous masses staring at my ass. (I'm making it worse than it is - usually I can handle it fine. I just get tired of it. And Drunk Judge said last night that every time I walk past anywhere everybody comments on my alleged hotness and how much they want to get with me - they make this gesture of biting their finger to contain their desire. I had no idea. I thought they were ignoring me, honestly. I know he didn't mean to make me self-conscious by saying that, but it does. Feeling like I'm always on display, being objectified. Too much. I'm going to just assume that he's exaggerating, because I can't think of that.)
It's 9:00 on a Saturday morning and I'm looking at a weekend of work and boredom. We're supposed to go to monkey island (where they released lab test chimps during the war), but I don't know if I'm up for it frankly. I hate riding in a car here and then a canoe, and the rain and the mosquitoes and ... ? Sigh. Where did my adventurous spirit go?
What I want is a home, where I have little projects to work on, where I have loved ones to spend time with. I have none of that here. And I'm really trying to make it through, but I'm really not happy. And frankly it's making me a pretty unpleasant person. I don't WANT to push myself beyond all physical comfort any more. I don't WANT to dodge lies and corruption.
Well, it's not raining. Off to walk I go.
***
I did walk. It was fine. There were lecherous advances. I bought everything I wanted (carrots, garlic, cipro made in Cyprus, B complex, bananas). It did not rain and the heat was not too oppressive.
Today I will cook - probably chicken fried rice and chicken noodle soup, after I go to the grocery store. Good ways to eat vegetables. Today I will work - editing another book. Today I will quilt - I'll tape the quilt back to the floor and attach to top to it, and then figure out what/how I'll quilt it together. Today I will call a friend or two in the US. Today I will read a book. Today I will get on the exercise bike (if I feel up to it - the walk was pretty strenuous with the highest hill in Monrovia both ways). Today I will organize all my belongings and begin to pack for next week's training.
That is a pretty good day.
And what's with this obsession with happy, anyway? Why do I expect to be satisfied and content? Why can't it be enough to not be shot at, to have enough to eat, and to have a lot of self-determination over my workday?
I really need to lower my expectations.
Friday, July 22, 2011
not that girl
There are countless things I love about my friend Jessica. One is how she loves to feed people and makes everybody feel at home.
I'm not that girl.
If a man shows up for some nooky, then nooky we will have. Why do I have to cook for him? He opened the freezer and said, "You have food!" - and I should have handed him an almost empty carton of ice cream, a bag of frozen peas, and a half-empty jar of tomato sauce, and said, "Here you go, honey."
It wasn't a good evening. I told him about Bossman's conversation with me about not sleeping my way through the judiciary, and I told him about VIM. Yikes. He freaked out about what VIM could do to him if he found out, about what my boss would do to me, etc.
Blah. It put him in the mood but put me totally out of it. When am I not in the mood? Oh, when I talk about VIM. Blah.
And if I'm not in the mood for sex, then I'm not in the mood for cooking.
And really I just wanted to snuggle but he smelled and tasted like cigarettes and it was gross.
And he makes himself too comfortable in my space.
I don't want the bad things about marriage without the good things!
I'm not that girl.
If a man shows up for some nooky, then nooky we will have. Why do I have to cook for him? He opened the freezer and said, "You have food!" - and I should have handed him an almost empty carton of ice cream, a bag of frozen peas, and a half-empty jar of tomato sauce, and said, "Here you go, honey."
It wasn't a good evening. I told him about Bossman's conversation with me about not sleeping my way through the judiciary, and I told him about VIM. Yikes. He freaked out about what VIM could do to him if he found out, about what my boss would do to me, etc.
Blah. It put him in the mood but put me totally out of it. When am I not in the mood? Oh, when I talk about VIM. Blah.
And if I'm not in the mood for sex, then I'm not in the mood for cooking.
And really I just wanted to snuggle but he smelled and tasted like cigarettes and it was gross.
And he makes himself too comfortable in my space.
I don't want the bad things about marriage without the good things!
Thursday, July 21, 2011
random thoughts
It is difficult to overstate how important paydays are to me.
Never have I been so obsessive about it. But now ... every two weeks, it's like I hit the jackpot. Every two weeks I am reminded why I'm here (oh, it's NOT sleeping my way through the judiciary). Every two weeks, I feel good for a minute.
Two more paychecks, and I'll be in the financial position I was in when I arrived AND I will have paid off a private student loan.
That feels righteous.
***
I'm persistent. I didn't really know this about myself, but I am PERSISTENT. Today I left a note in 24 size font at VIM's office, demanding he answer my questions.
Problem is ... he's more stubborn than I am. And I'm soooo tired of chasing him.
Everybody else in Liberia cannot withstand me, though. And that's pretty righteous.
***
I need hobbies. I'm hoping this insane time of multiple books and trainings and directors will come to a slowdown and I'll work a reasonable schedule and have time for hobbies.
Sadly, I doubt it will be quilting. The fabrics here have patterns so large, and the quality is so often lacking. Oh, I'll finish what I'm starting - probably this weekend, once I finish two more books and go see released laboratory chimps.
***
Drunk Judge was supposed to come see me tonight and I never heard from him. I didn't see his car at work, he didn't respond to texts or calls ... and so my mind goes straight to, "Oh my god he's dead in a ditch!" I hope not. I think his phone was likely stolen - apparently this happens to him all the damn time. I got a text back that was empty, that seems like somebody accidentally sent. I was like, "Dude, how does your phone get stolen so often?" "Oh, sometimes I forget to lock the car." He leaves a phone in plain sight in an unlocked car? Hello?
Car break-ins are DEFINITELY on the increase here. Sigh.
***
I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life. I probably don't want to meet somebody to be with forever, but it'd be nice to be in a relationship for real. Not hiding from the public eye, not tumultuous, not hot-cold, not sometimey. But somebody to count on and spend time with. It'd be nice.
***
This whole time of the 2nd in command who's extremely unqualified being gone? HEAVENLY. I really hope he quits soon. Preferably not after killing somebody and disappearing to a country without extradition.
Never have I been so obsessive about it. But now ... every two weeks, it's like I hit the jackpot. Every two weeks I am reminded why I'm here (oh, it's NOT sleeping my way through the judiciary). Every two weeks, I feel good for a minute.
Two more paychecks, and I'll be in the financial position I was in when I arrived AND I will have paid off a private student loan.
That feels righteous.
***
I'm persistent. I didn't really know this about myself, but I am PERSISTENT. Today I left a note in 24 size font at VIM's office, demanding he answer my questions.
Problem is ... he's more stubborn than I am. And I'm soooo tired of chasing him.
Everybody else in Liberia cannot withstand me, though. And that's pretty righteous.
***
I need hobbies. I'm hoping this insane time of multiple books and trainings and directors will come to a slowdown and I'll work a reasonable schedule and have time for hobbies.
Sadly, I doubt it will be quilting. The fabrics here have patterns so large, and the quality is so often lacking. Oh, I'll finish what I'm starting - probably this weekend, once I finish two more books and go see released laboratory chimps.
***
Drunk Judge was supposed to come see me tonight and I never heard from him. I didn't see his car at work, he didn't respond to texts or calls ... and so my mind goes straight to, "Oh my god he's dead in a ditch!" I hope not. I think his phone was likely stolen - apparently this happens to him all the damn time. I got a text back that was empty, that seems like somebody accidentally sent. I was like, "Dude, how does your phone get stolen so often?" "Oh, sometimes I forget to lock the car." He leaves a phone in plain sight in an unlocked car? Hello?
Car break-ins are DEFINITELY on the increase here. Sigh.
***
I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life. I probably don't want to meet somebody to be with forever, but it'd be nice to be in a relationship for real. Not hiding from the public eye, not tumultuous, not hot-cold, not sometimey. But somebody to count on and spend time with. It'd be nice.
***
This whole time of the 2nd in command who's extremely unqualified being gone? HEAVENLY. I really hope he quits soon. Preferably not after killing somebody and disappearing to a country without extradition.
conversations I wish never happened
The big meeting with the Bossman?
To be scolded for my relationship with VIM.
Rumors finally came to him and he's unhappy. He was careful - "I can't tell you how to run your personal life, but it would be helpful if you didn't date within the judiciary."
That really interferes with my plans of sleeping my way through the entire judiciary.
Really, an unpleasant conversation for us both. I got to say how VIM and I aren't in a relationship because we can't make it work. Really, not what I wanted to talk about today. Especially not with my Bossman.
To be scolded for my relationship with VIM.
Rumors finally came to him and he's unhappy. He was careful - "I can't tell you how to run your personal life, but it would be helpful if you didn't date within the judiciary."
That really interferes with my plans of sleeping my way through the entire judiciary.
Really, an unpleasant conversation for us both. I got to say how VIM and I aren't in a relationship because we can't make it work. Really, not what I wanted to talk about today. Especially not with my Bossman.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
the troubles with menfolk
So, I've been doing the work of seven or more people. My life is too crazy. I'm trying to put out three books this week when finance can't just write a damn contract, I'm planning four trainings to take place immediately to shortly in the future, I'm handling different budgets (NOT my job), I'm dealing with crazy and lazy people, and I'm exhausted and whupped.
And now my Bossman wants to meet with me tomorrow.
I seriously doubt it will be anything good.
And he will come at me about something stupid and wrong, and I can come back swinging ... or, I can have a little breakdown. I could cry. I could let it all out.
I'm already annoyed because I'm soooooo freaking busy. And it won't be pleasant.
I've racked my brain and I have no idea what it could be about. I know I aggravated people lately, but frankly I don't care if it aggravates them when I report that I can't get a ride to a meeting or if I hound them to get a damn contract signed so I can get my materials back on time. If it's going to be that, I'll be aggravated my damn self at their complaining.
Maybe he wants to tell me something, to keep me in the loop, but I doubt it.
Maybe ... oh damn, I have no idea what it's about. And I don't want to obsess.
I just know he's all wrong about me, and he was very persistent about meeting tomorrow, so I can't imagine it's anything good. Sigh. Our personalities are very different, and instead of appreciating our differences he can't stand me.
But ... one of our differences is that I can take whatever comes at me. The very worst he could do is ... fire me? I mean, really, he already sabotages me and I just work around him. So what can he do? I don't have nearly enough money saved up to go back to the US, but if that's the worst he can do, I'll live. He can't give me cancer. He can hurt my feelings, and lord knows that's been done plenty of times already and I always survive. I can't even harbor a grudge anymore, and I don't play those machinations of revenge. Whatever. Move on. I don't have the energy for that nonsense.
Oh, maybe he found this blog. Ha! Wouldn't that be funny! It would be unpleasant and I don't want him to know about my sexventures, but I haven't revealed anything that links to me or my job or him, so what can he do?
I think he's probably going to do a Part II of the last scolding, where he tells me I'm not a project manager. Um, ok, but the project manager is out of the country, so who's picking up the pieces? One of the strongest things about my personality is that if something needs to be done, I do it. I pitch in. I work hard with a team. And he seems to think that's my evil strategy of taking over his job (good god you couldn't pay me enough to do his job), but he's soooooo wrong.
Of course, he's not really that bright, so once an idea is in his head, I can't seem to shake it loose. Maybe because I don't try. I shrug and move on. I work around. I know that there are bad bosses and good bosses, and it's not really my responsibility to train the untrainables. It's my job to do my job. That's more than enough.
So, there's that. So much fun. The part that I resent is that I've been working like a crazy person for the past two weeks, and if he comes at me for being less-than-perfect, I might lose it. So be it.
The other possibility is that something I've said has come back to him. Lord knows I can't keep my trap shut. And he's super secretive, so he really hates that about me. I haven't ever shared anything improper, but I do have feelings.
And then there's Drunk Judge, who's really trying. He did a nice mid-afternoon text, and then we talked later. Not too much, but enough to let me talk through that I'm stressed. I can't really tell him things because we don't communicate well. Then I called him for a work question, and he was very helpful. He just texted good night, which was nice until the "Always love you babe."
Sigh. Too much, man, too much.
The troubles with menfolk is that they rarely seem to like me the right amount. They like me too little and want to fire me, or they like me too much and want to marry me when I hardly know them.
I'm Goldilocks here, just wanting a man with the "just right" amount of affection and appreciation.
Wait, that sounds wrong. Just to be clear, I do NOT want to date my boss (ick!!) or anybody else at my job. But it's this love-hate thing, the choosing one or the other, that exhausts me. How about if we all just get along?
And now my Bossman wants to meet with me tomorrow.
I seriously doubt it will be anything good.
And he will come at me about something stupid and wrong, and I can come back swinging ... or, I can have a little breakdown. I could cry. I could let it all out.
I'm already annoyed because I'm soooooo freaking busy. And it won't be pleasant.
I've racked my brain and I have no idea what it could be about. I know I aggravated people lately, but frankly I don't care if it aggravates them when I report that I can't get a ride to a meeting or if I hound them to get a damn contract signed so I can get my materials back on time. If it's going to be that, I'll be aggravated my damn self at their complaining.
Maybe he wants to tell me something, to keep me in the loop, but I doubt it.
Maybe ... oh damn, I have no idea what it's about. And I don't want to obsess.
I just know he's all wrong about me, and he was very persistent about meeting tomorrow, so I can't imagine it's anything good. Sigh. Our personalities are very different, and instead of appreciating our differences he can't stand me.
But ... one of our differences is that I can take whatever comes at me. The very worst he could do is ... fire me? I mean, really, he already sabotages me and I just work around him. So what can he do? I don't have nearly enough money saved up to go back to the US, but if that's the worst he can do, I'll live. He can't give me cancer. He can hurt my feelings, and lord knows that's been done plenty of times already and I always survive. I can't even harbor a grudge anymore, and I don't play those machinations of revenge. Whatever. Move on. I don't have the energy for that nonsense.
Oh, maybe he found this blog. Ha! Wouldn't that be funny! It would be unpleasant and I don't want him to know about my sexventures, but I haven't revealed anything that links to me or my job or him, so what can he do?
I think he's probably going to do a Part II of the last scolding, where he tells me I'm not a project manager. Um, ok, but the project manager is out of the country, so who's picking up the pieces? One of the strongest things about my personality is that if something needs to be done, I do it. I pitch in. I work hard with a team. And he seems to think that's my evil strategy of taking over his job (good god you couldn't pay me enough to do his job), but he's soooooo wrong.
Of course, he's not really that bright, so once an idea is in his head, I can't seem to shake it loose. Maybe because I don't try. I shrug and move on. I work around. I know that there are bad bosses and good bosses, and it's not really my responsibility to train the untrainables. It's my job to do my job. That's more than enough.
So, there's that. So much fun. The part that I resent is that I've been working like a crazy person for the past two weeks, and if he comes at me for being less-than-perfect, I might lose it. So be it.
The other possibility is that something I've said has come back to him. Lord knows I can't keep my trap shut. And he's super secretive, so he really hates that about me. I haven't ever shared anything improper, but I do have feelings.
And then there's Drunk Judge, who's really trying. He did a nice mid-afternoon text, and then we talked later. Not too much, but enough to let me talk through that I'm stressed. I can't really tell him things because we don't communicate well. Then I called him for a work question, and he was very helpful. He just texted good night, which was nice until the "Always love you babe."
Sigh. Too much, man, too much.
The troubles with menfolk is that they rarely seem to like me the right amount. They like me too little and want to fire me, or they like me too much and want to marry me when I hardly know them.
I'm Goldilocks here, just wanting a man with the "just right" amount of affection and appreciation.
Wait, that sounds wrong. Just to be clear, I do NOT want to date my boss (ick!!) or anybody else at my job. But it's this love-hate thing, the choosing one or the other, that exhausts me. How about if we all just get along?
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
the oversharingest of the overshares
Really, probably nobody should read this. I'm writing it anyway.
I'm a pretty highly sexual person. I like sex. I like lots of aspects of it - skin on skin, heavy breathing, earnestness and laughter, total focus. I like how it erases everything else out of my mind, which very little else can do. (OK, nothing else can do.) It puts me there, in that moment, in that sensation. Not in work projects, not in stress, not in the future. There, then, and that is all.
I've had my share of partners. More than my share, really. I have no idea what my number is - I stopped counting long ago. I'm hyper-cautious and knock on wood have never had any STI or problem. I've been really, really lucky with partners who are really good people. There are many horrible and abusive people in the world, but they've never been in bed with me. Oh, they can be jerks and whatever, but I think any of them would save me from drowning - not necessarily because they like me (I do wreck people), but because they are good people who wouldn't let somebody die.
But I have to admit that it's really, really hard for me to orgasm during sex. I hate to be a cliche, but it doesn't really matter much - sex still feels really good even if I don't have some magical moment like a man obviously does.
I do have an extremely close relationship with my vibrator, and it is lifesaving. But it's REALLY not the same as sex with a person. That said, I rarely have the patience for oral sex. I'm told I give well, but receive? Shrug. Other things I like better. Maybe all those many men and few women who have tried just didn't know what they were doing. So, it's not really my thing.
Until now.
In an extremely bizarre twist of fate, Drunken Judge satisfies me orally more than anyone ever. I mean, it's amazing.
Why amazing? Well, he comes from a culture where women have no clitorises. Female genital mutilation is alive and well here in Liberia, and his tribe requires it. (He will not send his daughter, though, which I think speaks to his character. He's a single father of one.) Tonight I was all, "Tell about what it's like to be with a woman without a clitoris!" Same as I'd heard before - they just can't feel satisfaction really and it can make some women hypersexual, seeking a release and relief they can never find. That makes me sad.
But also it's amazing because he cannot keep it up. His erections will not last. So he focuses completely on my pleasure. Completely and totally.
I've only faced this ED issue once before, with a man 25 years old than me who'd long had issues with it. But this? He says he's never had the problem before, that he's nervous, etc. I guess I buy that. Or want to buy it, since he's the Best Vibrator Ever. He says he's never been with a white woman before and maybe that's it. Look, I've been First White Woman more times than I can count, but it never caused this reaction. Quite the contrary.
I don't see a future with this man for so many reasons, and I just ignore him when he says he loves me or calls me Mrs. Drunk Judge.
But then he plays the role I usually play: "I feel good even if I don't cum. Really." And I could reciprocate, but tonight it just didn't go that way. I'm not opposed to doing oral on him, especially considering how good he makes me feel.
I've never been the only person in the bed orgasming before. It's very disorienting. Good, but disorienting.
And I'm torn between two impulses. 1) Let's talk this through! 2) Pressure bad, makes problem worse. I try to walk the line. He thinks it's just a matter of being more comfortable together, so his plan is to come visit me every other day, staying for a time to make me feel good, and then going home.
That is the PERFECT PLAN. A man who makes me feel so good on a regular basis and then leaves when I'm done? Hello! Well, we'll see if he keeps up his plan. It's kind of exhausting being such a stud.
But if I'm honest, I know it's not enough for me. I like penetration. And not with an inanimate object, but a human inside me. There's something in that moment that releases me from everything else. And that is what I seek in my trysts. The rest of the world evaporating, for just a little while.
And then that moment is over, and other thoughts flood me. And I think of the last sex I had: with Former Student. We spoke today. He asked, "Why you trying to cause trouble with me?" I could have said, "Because you're an asshole!" But I was kind of trying to cause trouble. Poking him until he snaps. We do it to each other. Because we're not mature. Sooooo not mature. And he's crazy-making. Soooo crazy-making. But I like him. Wish he weren't the manifestation of hot and cold.
Drunk Judge offered me money tonight. I had told him about my student loan burden, and he felt bad for me. "Every paycheck, I'll set something aside for you. You're my girl, I have to take care of you!" Dude. It's sweet but perverse. Yes, I tell him I'm not his girl, I make it all clear. He doesn't listen. Do I have to stop doing him?
No, I won't take his money. Though, as Supervisor said, I could entitle my memoir "The Accidental Prostitute - How I went from development work to paid sex worker in Liberia."
So, after the World's Worst Date Ever, Drunk Judge might redeem himself somehow.
I'm a pretty highly sexual person. I like sex. I like lots of aspects of it - skin on skin, heavy breathing, earnestness and laughter, total focus. I like how it erases everything else out of my mind, which very little else can do. (OK, nothing else can do.) It puts me there, in that moment, in that sensation. Not in work projects, not in stress, not in the future. There, then, and that is all.
I've had my share of partners. More than my share, really. I have no idea what my number is - I stopped counting long ago. I'm hyper-cautious and knock on wood have never had any STI or problem. I've been really, really lucky with partners who are really good people. There are many horrible and abusive people in the world, but they've never been in bed with me. Oh, they can be jerks and whatever, but I think any of them would save me from drowning - not necessarily because they like me (I do wreck people), but because they are good people who wouldn't let somebody die.
But I have to admit that it's really, really hard for me to orgasm during sex. I hate to be a cliche, but it doesn't really matter much - sex still feels really good even if I don't have some magical moment like a man obviously does.
I do have an extremely close relationship with my vibrator, and it is lifesaving. But it's REALLY not the same as sex with a person. That said, I rarely have the patience for oral sex. I'm told I give well, but receive? Shrug. Other things I like better. Maybe all those many men and few women who have tried just didn't know what they were doing. So, it's not really my thing.
Until now.
In an extremely bizarre twist of fate, Drunken Judge satisfies me orally more than anyone ever. I mean, it's amazing.
Why amazing? Well, he comes from a culture where women have no clitorises. Female genital mutilation is alive and well here in Liberia, and his tribe requires it. (He will not send his daughter, though, which I think speaks to his character. He's a single father of one.) Tonight I was all, "Tell about what it's like to be with a woman without a clitoris!" Same as I'd heard before - they just can't feel satisfaction really and it can make some women hypersexual, seeking a release and relief they can never find. That makes me sad.
But also it's amazing because he cannot keep it up. His erections will not last. So he focuses completely on my pleasure. Completely and totally.
I've only faced this ED issue once before, with a man 25 years old than me who'd long had issues with it. But this? He says he's never had the problem before, that he's nervous, etc. I guess I buy that. Or want to buy it, since he's the Best Vibrator Ever. He says he's never been with a white woman before and maybe that's it. Look, I've been First White Woman more times than I can count, but it never caused this reaction. Quite the contrary.
I don't see a future with this man for so many reasons, and I just ignore him when he says he loves me or calls me Mrs. Drunk Judge.
But then he plays the role I usually play: "I feel good even if I don't cum. Really." And I could reciprocate, but tonight it just didn't go that way. I'm not opposed to doing oral on him, especially considering how good he makes me feel.
I've never been the only person in the bed orgasming before. It's very disorienting. Good, but disorienting.
And I'm torn between two impulses. 1) Let's talk this through! 2) Pressure bad, makes problem worse. I try to walk the line. He thinks it's just a matter of being more comfortable together, so his plan is to come visit me every other day, staying for a time to make me feel good, and then going home.
That is the PERFECT PLAN. A man who makes me feel so good on a regular basis and then leaves when I'm done? Hello! Well, we'll see if he keeps up his plan. It's kind of exhausting being such a stud.
But if I'm honest, I know it's not enough for me. I like penetration. And not with an inanimate object, but a human inside me. There's something in that moment that releases me from everything else. And that is what I seek in my trysts. The rest of the world evaporating, for just a little while.
And then that moment is over, and other thoughts flood me. And I think of the last sex I had: with Former Student. We spoke today. He asked, "Why you trying to cause trouble with me?" I could have said, "Because you're an asshole!" But I was kind of trying to cause trouble. Poking him until he snaps. We do it to each other. Because we're not mature. Sooooo not mature. And he's crazy-making. Soooo crazy-making. But I like him. Wish he weren't the manifestation of hot and cold.
Drunk Judge offered me money tonight. I had told him about my student loan burden, and he felt bad for me. "Every paycheck, I'll set something aside for you. You're my girl, I have to take care of you!" Dude. It's sweet but perverse. Yes, I tell him I'm not his girl, I make it all clear. He doesn't listen. Do I have to stop doing him?
No, I won't take his money. Though, as Supervisor said, I could entitle my memoir "The Accidental Prostitute - How I went from development work to paid sex worker in Liberia."
So, after the World's Worst Date Ever, Drunk Judge might redeem himself somehow.
I'm an idiot
I look at Drunken Judge, and my hormones surge. I mean, really surge. Rage.
I look at him and I know that there is no hope for a future with us, that he thinks we will wed, that we are so unbelievably ill-suited for each other.
I know this, and yet I look at him, and he says, "Do you want me to come over tonight?" and I just can't say no.
It is insane how hot this completely unsuitable man makes me.
I look at him and I know that there is no hope for a future with us, that he thinks we will wed, that we are so unbelievably ill-suited for each other.
I know this, and yet I look at him, and he says, "Do you want me to come over tonight?" and I just can't say no.
It is insane how hot this completely unsuitable man makes me.
Monday, July 18, 2011
today's best conversation
Me to intern: So, I'm not sure what's happening with this other project run by JerkFace Coworker [the guy who refused to pay the driver for personal mileage]. Did I tell you what happened?
Intern: No, what?
Me: Well, he killed a guy. And now he's fled the country.
Yes, this truly happened. And I truly said that. And intern, who manages to keep a straight face though all my shenanigans, lost it.
This is a guy who wanted me to move in with him. No joke.
I tell you people - MY LIFE IS CRAZY BEYOND ALL MEASURE.
Intern: No, what?
Me: Well, he killed a guy. And now he's fled the country.
Yes, this truly happened. And I truly said that. And intern, who manages to keep a straight face though all my shenanigans, lost it.
This is a guy who wanted me to move in with him. No joke.
I tell you people - MY LIFE IS CRAZY BEYOND ALL MEASURE.
the good, the bad, the crazy
When I first started teaching, I used to come home some days and feel like I'd been run over by a huge truck. Every fiber was exhausted beyond reason.
Yeah. That's how I feel today.
I'm so sick of being tired, so tired of being sick.
I miss my supervisor. All the BS I'm having to handle because she's gone? Good freaking god. I sent the intern out to get invoices, and she didn't read all of my email and then she kept calling me when I was in meetings. Dude. I know, I'm pushing her too much, but there's only one of me and I cannot physically be in two places at once. So now she has to go back tomorrow, or I do, and then the other of us has to correct the book - oh no, that's just me.
Sigh.
I need about three assistants, and instead I'm everybody's bitch.
And VIM kicked me out of his office today, saying he's too busy to talk to me about upcoming training. And honestly it didn't hurt my feelings - he actually IS too busy - but I'm going to stop asking him for permission. Other people of his status talk to me, but he? Oy. And I know it's not personal - he does it to everybody. I just want special status with him because of our history, and that's not fair. No, that's not true or fair to me. No ... I want that when I'm working my ass off to do things to better his country that he can spend five minutes handing me a freaking document that only exists in his office. That he can agree to present at a training where he will be the Rock Star. That's what I want.
One very, very busy person came to see me today so I didn't feel like he blew me off. I like that man. No chemistry whatsoever between, which is actually kind of nice. Just very professional. Of course I'm probably too friendly and giving him all wrong signals but ... whatever. All fine. I think he's happily married. I hope so. He's too scrawny for my tastes.
My friend sent his driver to me today to make my day. I tell you, that driver is HOT. So hot. The chemistry between us crackles. I just about threw him in the book room and ripped off his clothes and had my way with him. Too bad the shelving isn't strong enough.
Speaking of shelving, here was today's conversation in the bookroom with the office assistant:
Me: Money?
D: For the book organizing. [Supervisor] gave me something, but I had to pay the maintenance men from my own.
Yeah. That's how I feel today.
I'm so sick of being tired, so tired of being sick.
I miss my supervisor. All the BS I'm having to handle because she's gone? Good freaking god. I sent the intern out to get invoices, and she didn't read all of my email and then she kept calling me when I was in meetings. Dude. I know, I'm pushing her too much, but there's only one of me and I cannot physically be in two places at once. So now she has to go back tomorrow, or I do, and then the other of us has to correct the book - oh no, that's just me.
Sigh.
I need about three assistants, and instead I'm everybody's bitch.
And VIM kicked me out of his office today, saying he's too busy to talk to me about upcoming training. And honestly it didn't hurt my feelings - he actually IS too busy - but I'm going to stop asking him for permission. Other people of his status talk to me, but he? Oy. And I know it's not personal - he does it to everybody. I just want special status with him because of our history, and that's not fair. No, that's not true or fair to me. No ... I want that when I'm working my ass off to do things to better his country that he can spend five minutes handing me a freaking document that only exists in his office. That he can agree to present at a training where he will be the Rock Star. That's what I want.
One very, very busy person came to see me today so I didn't feel like he blew me off. I like that man. No chemistry whatsoever between, which is actually kind of nice. Just very professional. Of course I'm probably too friendly and giving him all wrong signals but ... whatever. All fine. I think he's happily married. I hope so. He's too scrawny for my tastes.
My friend sent his driver to me today to make my day. I tell you, that driver is HOT. So hot. The chemistry between us crackles. I just about threw him in the book room and ripped off his clothes and had my way with him. Too bad the shelving isn't strong enough.
Speaking of shelving, here was today's conversation in the bookroom with the office assistant:
Office Asst: We need to talk about the money.
Me: Money?
D: For the book organizing. [Supervisor] gave me something, but I had to pay the maintenance men from my own.
Me, looking at her arms to see if they are also broken: O.A., we have a full staff of people who can move books from those tables right there to these shelves right here.
D: You want us to move them OURSELVES?
Me, thinking "Oh my god, what the fuck else are y'all actually able to do beside make me insane?": Yes, I do.
D, staring at me aghast. Speechless.
Me: Have you not seen me hauling books regularly? Intern and I will help like we always do. We do not have to HIRE people to move books. Really.
D: STill speechless with horror.
THIS is the problem with this GD country - all this learned dependence. Today when the super hot driver came, we looked at all those books and I said, "Dude, didn't you bring help?" But then I pulled them all out, stacked them, and went to the computer lab to yell at all our former students to come and all take one stack downstairs for me before I sent them to bed without any supper. And they did. Well, all except the one whom I fucked two weeks ago. He has attitude now. Though he did answer the phone this morning.
And we did it. Very quickly.
Just like when I had to pull out and drag 1500 of the books last week. I informed all staff they were helping, and they did - we had a line system and it went fast and well. It took maybe 15 minutes because we worked together. They hated me for it, but GOOD GRIEF. Such lazy. Ugh.
Anyway, the best part of today is that Bossman had to call me tonight. Twice. I hated speaking to him, but I did. Because he hates it more than I do. He hates, hates, hates having to talk to me, and not being able to hide behind Supervisor.
So, that was fun. Hehehe.
THIS is the problem with this GD country - all this learned dependence. Today when the super hot driver came, we looked at all those books and I said, "Dude, didn't you bring help?" But then I pulled them all out, stacked them, and went to the computer lab to yell at all our former students to come and all take one stack downstairs for me before I sent them to bed without any supper. And they did. Well, all except the one whom I fucked two weeks ago. He has attitude now. Though he did answer the phone this morning.
And we did it. Very quickly.
Just like when I had to pull out and drag 1500 of the books last week. I informed all staff they were helping, and they did - we had a line system and it went fast and well. It took maybe 15 minutes because we worked together. They hated me for it, but GOOD GRIEF. Such lazy. Ugh.
Anyway, the best part of today is that Bossman had to call me tonight. Twice. I hated speaking to him, but I did. Because he hates it more than I do. He hates, hates, hates having to talk to me, and not being able to hide behind Supervisor.
So, that was fun. Hehehe.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
surprisingly relaxing
I wasn't looking forward to this weekend. A car not working, too much work, too many awkward plans with men.
And I did work a lot. But I also cooked, quilted, read, napped, watched TV, exercised. All man plans were canceled, and I'm kinda over everybody in the running now. (At the rate I'm going through men, there won't be any left in Liberia that I haven't wrecked somehow!)
My roommate is out of town until Wednesday, and kicking her out at the end of this month is the best thing I could have done. I love living alone. Of course I also have deduced that I'm a horrific person that no good man will ever love, but I'm ok with that.
But I finally put things in perspective, at least a little. I can spend 16 hours a day painfully reading through Liberian laws to find a few more errors in the conversion process ... but it's not worth it. There will be errors in these texts, and that will not kill me. The problem is my lack of quality staff (though an awesome intern!), that it took more than three months and a temper tantrum to get the raw documents, and a printer that requires 20 days to publish.
AND, I'm giving myself credit for my work. Listing myself as editor. Thanking others who helped, but giving myself full credit.
I NEVER give myself credit, and I never seem to get it anymore. So, I'm listing myself by name. Maybe this will be a whole new world for me ... but I doubt it. I'll probably regret it later somehow.
Despite not getting nearly enough sleep, this is the best rested I've been in awhile. Which is good, because there is no limit to the crazy that will face me this week. I need to disengage. Supervisor's out of the country all week, so it can all come to me and I'd dodging it. Dancing around. That's my strategy of the week.
And work less.
And I did work a lot. But I also cooked, quilted, read, napped, watched TV, exercised. All man plans were canceled, and I'm kinda over everybody in the running now. (At the rate I'm going through men, there won't be any left in Liberia that I haven't wrecked somehow!)
My roommate is out of town until Wednesday, and kicking her out at the end of this month is the best thing I could have done. I love living alone. Of course I also have deduced that I'm a horrific person that no good man will ever love, but I'm ok with that.
But I finally put things in perspective, at least a little. I can spend 16 hours a day painfully reading through Liberian laws to find a few more errors in the conversion process ... but it's not worth it. There will be errors in these texts, and that will not kill me. The problem is my lack of quality staff (though an awesome intern!), that it took more than three months and a temper tantrum to get the raw documents, and a printer that requires 20 days to publish.
AND, I'm giving myself credit for my work. Listing myself as editor. Thanking others who helped, but giving myself full credit.
I NEVER give myself credit, and I never seem to get it anymore. So, I'm listing myself by name. Maybe this will be a whole new world for me ... but I doubt it. I'll probably regret it later somehow.
Despite not getting nearly enough sleep, this is the best rested I've been in awhile. Which is good, because there is no limit to the crazy that will face me this week. I need to disengage. Supervisor's out of the country all week, so it can all come to me and I'd dodging it. Dancing around. That's my strategy of the week.
And work less.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
debt ceilings
Turns out the plan for the car repair was NOT clear, and I wasted a whole lot of time and gas on a fruitless mission. Driver Paramour and I are not really speaking now. We'll get over it - we're both just really stressed and not gentle with each other right now. I'm frustrated at the situation that he dropped the ball, but I know it's not intentional. Just ... frustrating.
On the way to take him back home we passed women with piles of greens and I asked if those were potato greens. How sad that I can't identify them, but so it is. He showed me a back way to a market that I'd never gone to because the front is on a very busy street with no parking. A woman right by the entrance had potato greens, along with some other things like cassava leaves and water greens (which I had in something once but can't remember, but have positive associations). She was trying to be helpful though was a little too agreeable. A little boy who I assumed was her son reached for me, grabbing my hands and trying to crawl up me, then holding very tight to my leg. He had a runny nose, some skin condition, and looked rather pathetic. And oh how he wanted to be with me - when I walked away he watched me so pitifully it would break my heart if I weren't a cold bitch. He watched me get in the car, and stood watching with arms outstretched to me.
This is my first time buying potato greens (not already cooked - I try to eat them at least a few times a month at restaurants) and I almost got a side of little boy for free.
They were 25 Liberian dollars, about 35 cents. Normally here you cook them in a lot of oil, onions, garlic, MSG, Maggi cubes, hunks of meat (beef, chicken, fish). I will cook them in a little oil, with curry spices, onion & garlic, coconut milk, diced tomatoes, and a local frozen fish steak I got at the supermarket. I wish I had okra to throw in, but this will be fine, I hope.
I have moments like this, where things are ok. I take baby steps at making this place a home. And then I see all the problems in the US - debt ceilings, Michelle Bachmann - and why do I want to return there? I don't know, I don't know.
Maybe if I just had a different employer, things would be so much better.
For now? I need to distance myself. Take small steps. Disengage. Decrease my stress levels.
There is no promised land back home, where people are happily functioning. No, nothing is perfect.
For now, I'm employed. I have other perks like a very flexible work schedule. Things could be far worse. Far, far, far worse. My friend here just told me her supervisor just found out she has bone cancer. Malaria pales in comparison. I had worked myself up into a frenzy of stress, and that was like a slap across the face. SNAP OUT OF IT!! This is all manageable, all of life here. I get overwhelmed, but I can take it. I can ride the waves and get to safe shore.
And ... as much as I would like to go home in December permanently, I need to be smart about the job market. I need to get back to studying French, and I need to get back to getting into shape. Being sick put me in a slump, but I'm getting back to myself. I hope I can stay myself and don't get felled again soon.
OK, back to work. After a nap.
On the way to take him back home we passed women with piles of greens and I asked if those were potato greens. How sad that I can't identify them, but so it is. He showed me a back way to a market that I'd never gone to because the front is on a very busy street with no parking. A woman right by the entrance had potato greens, along with some other things like cassava leaves and water greens (which I had in something once but can't remember, but have positive associations). She was trying to be helpful though was a little too agreeable. A little boy who I assumed was her son reached for me, grabbing my hands and trying to crawl up me, then holding very tight to my leg. He had a runny nose, some skin condition, and looked rather pathetic. And oh how he wanted to be with me - when I walked away he watched me so pitifully it would break my heart if I weren't a cold bitch. He watched me get in the car, and stood watching with arms outstretched to me.
This is my first time buying potato greens (not already cooked - I try to eat them at least a few times a month at restaurants) and I almost got a side of little boy for free.
They were 25 Liberian dollars, about 35 cents. Normally here you cook them in a lot of oil, onions, garlic, MSG, Maggi cubes, hunks of meat (beef, chicken, fish). I will cook them in a little oil, with curry spices, onion & garlic, coconut milk, diced tomatoes, and a local frozen fish steak I got at the supermarket. I wish I had okra to throw in, but this will be fine, I hope.
I have moments like this, where things are ok. I take baby steps at making this place a home. And then I see all the problems in the US - debt ceilings, Michelle Bachmann - and why do I want to return there? I don't know, I don't know.
Maybe if I just had a different employer, things would be so much better.
For now? I need to distance myself. Take small steps. Disengage. Decrease my stress levels.
There is no promised land back home, where people are happily functioning. No, nothing is perfect.
For now, I'm employed. I have other perks like a very flexible work schedule. Things could be far worse. Far, far, far worse. My friend here just told me her supervisor just found out she has bone cancer. Malaria pales in comparison. I had worked myself up into a frenzy of stress, and that was like a slap across the face. SNAP OUT OF IT!! This is all manageable, all of life here. I get overwhelmed, but I can take it. I can ride the waves and get to safe shore.
And ... as much as I would like to go home in December permanently, I need to be smart about the job market. I need to get back to studying French, and I need to get back to getting into shape. Being sick put me in a slump, but I'm getting back to myself. I hope I can stay myself and don't get felled again soon.
OK, back to work. After a nap.
because my day wasn't already stressful enough
I have soooo much work to do. Three books to format, edit, etc. for publication next week. Two more to start working on to get to print no later than the beginning of the following week. All that while preparing trainings and various other things.
AND IT'S SATURDAY. But I'll work the whole freaking weekend again. FML.
But to add to the stress:
I have to spend the day with mechanics. My "SERVICE ENGINE SOON" light came on yesterday, on top of the whole car not starting regularly problem. Our operations manager told me about a "good" electrical mechanic who would come to my house. Yeah, no. Turns out I have to go to his garage and wait there all fucking day. Normally Driver Paramour would handle all this, but he can't drive for another couple weeks, and the SERVICE ENGINE light makes me think I can't wait.
Awesome.
No, I can't take my laptop to work there because there is no electricity, I'm sure, and probably not even a chair or a place to sit. I'll be standing in a muddy parking lot the entire day while being lied to by incompetents. I'm so happy.
Yesterday I had such a crappy day and Driver Paramour wasn't prioritizing me (didn't return phone call as promised), and then he played some stupid game of refusing to tell me how long it would take to get someplace. THIS IS HIS JOB TO KNOW THESE THINGS AND I AM NOT FROM HERE. I've never been to the place and I need to plan my day. I got so pissed and was yelling and cursing at him. OK, only one cussword. But seriously, I was pissed. DON'T PLAY FUCKING GAMES WITH ME. 15 minutes. That was the answer. Why did I have to shout to get it?
And then I have to figure out my man juggling today.
But to add exponentially to the stress, my ex-fiance just Facebook messaged me. And I responded, reminding him that every time I suggested we meet, he disappeared. Of course he wants things his way right this minute and there is NO WAY I can possibly deal with him today. I have Driver Paramour, Drunk Judge, and Airplane Guy (whom I'll have to cancel on - there's no way I can start something new today).
What do I really want to do today? I want to sit home and format the GD books. I want to finish them and move on. If I don't get them to the printer on my timeline, they won't be ready by my critical deadlines, and I'm stressed just thinking about it.
And I'm imagining shouting at VIM because he blows me off about work stuff. I need a document from him but he's MIA. I just want to shout, "I'M NOT ASKING A PERSONAL FAVOR, YOU ASSHAT. I'M TRYING TO IMPROVE YOUR GODDAMN COUNTRY AND YOU INTERFERE WITH MY WORK AND FOR WHAT PURPOSE?!?! TO PUNISH ME? HOW'S THAT WORKING OUT FOR YOU?"
Because I wanted to shout and call him names, I resisted the impulse to stalk his office yesterday in the brief window he was there.
I'm doing the work of seven people in a chaotic and sabotaging environment, and I'm frustrated. I just want a nice man who will take my mind off all that and not add to my stresses.
Dear Universe - please take care of me sometimes. I know I'm crazy strong, but sometimes I just want a break. Thanks.
AND IT'S SATURDAY. But I'll work the whole freaking weekend again. FML.
But to add to the stress:
I have to spend the day with mechanics. My "SERVICE ENGINE SOON" light came on yesterday, on top of the whole car not starting regularly problem. Our operations manager told me about a "good" electrical mechanic who would come to my house. Yeah, no. Turns out I have to go to his garage and wait there all fucking day. Normally Driver Paramour would handle all this, but he can't drive for another couple weeks, and the SERVICE ENGINE light makes me think I can't wait.
Awesome.
No, I can't take my laptop to work there because there is no electricity, I'm sure, and probably not even a chair or a place to sit. I'll be standing in a muddy parking lot the entire day while being lied to by incompetents. I'm so happy.
Yesterday I had such a crappy day and Driver Paramour wasn't prioritizing me (didn't return phone call as promised), and then he played some stupid game of refusing to tell me how long it would take to get someplace. THIS IS HIS JOB TO KNOW THESE THINGS AND I AM NOT FROM HERE. I've never been to the place and I need to plan my day. I got so pissed and was yelling and cursing at him. OK, only one cussword. But seriously, I was pissed. DON'T PLAY FUCKING GAMES WITH ME. 15 minutes. That was the answer. Why did I have to shout to get it?
And then I have to figure out my man juggling today.
But to add exponentially to the stress, my ex-fiance just Facebook messaged me. And I responded, reminding him that every time I suggested we meet, he disappeared. Of course he wants things his way right this minute and there is NO WAY I can possibly deal with him today. I have Driver Paramour, Drunk Judge, and Airplane Guy (whom I'll have to cancel on - there's no way I can start something new today).
What do I really want to do today? I want to sit home and format the GD books. I want to finish them and move on. If I don't get them to the printer on my timeline, they won't be ready by my critical deadlines, and I'm stressed just thinking about it.
And I'm imagining shouting at VIM because he blows me off about work stuff. I need a document from him but he's MIA. I just want to shout, "I'M NOT ASKING A PERSONAL FAVOR, YOU ASSHAT. I'M TRYING TO IMPROVE YOUR GODDAMN COUNTRY AND YOU INTERFERE WITH MY WORK AND FOR WHAT PURPOSE?!?! TO PUNISH ME? HOW'S THAT WORKING OUT FOR YOU?"
Because I wanted to shout and call him names, I resisted the impulse to stalk his office yesterday in the brief window he was there.
I'm doing the work of seven people in a chaotic and sabotaging environment, and I'm frustrated. I just want a nice man who will take my mind off all that and not add to my stresses.
Dear Universe - please take care of me sometimes. I know I'm crazy strong, but sometimes I just want a break. Thanks.
Friday, July 15, 2011
a second chance?
I'm watching Big Love (sort of - I'm really formatting a book). I've never watched it before ... ironic, since only a few months ago I almost seriously considered polygamy? And funny enough, that Kody fellow and his Sister Wives group were on Oprah and I didn't turn away.
Why is polygamy reemerging as a theme in my life?
Anyway, I'm putting that away. I love VIM, but I'm way too needy and greedy to share and be stoic. And it made me see some other things - how controlling he can be. He mixes it up with being loving, and he confuses me. He got so deep into my heart. And maybe I'll always regret that we couldn't make it work, maybe I'll always love and miss him. I hope not.
So, Drunk Judge came to my office today (with permission), begging me to give him another chance. He was so shy, so nervous. I throw him off-balance.
I see how sweet he is - he's a good man even if he drinks too much. And I try to explain, how we're just not suited for each other. "Why?" he asks. "Because you keep asking me why when I've already explained."
And I see him and we look at each other, and there's such attraction and chemistry. And he's so vulnerable and his heart so open to me, and I don't know what to say, what to do. He's just so aggravating, though not intentionally.
I haven't been nervous like him for a long time, but I remember it, and I want to be gentle. And I want to kiss him. But I don't want to call security on him again, I don't want to fight with him, I don't want him to try to mold me to his desires.
He said today, "I'm so sorry for how I acted." But he didn't know what he did, not really. He figured out it was trying to make me do something I didn't want to do, and I just looked at him pitifully. "That will never work out for you. Not ever." I simply don't do what I don't want to - social censure doesn't work for me like it does for other people. Especially when it's things like, "Move into my best friend's house so your rent money we can invest and build up our investments for when we marry." Um, what? On a second date?
So there's this innocence about him, that he doesn't hide all his dreams and fantasies. He tells me exactly what he wants. I have to appreciate his honesty, but I don't want to know. I can't think ahead like that. I just try to get through every day.
So, I don't know. His bumbling is kind of sweet, nonaffected. He's hot. I've wanted him since I first saw him, and the sex was really good in some ways.
I don't want to be controlling, I don't want to torment him like VIM torments me.
I don't know what I want.
But it's nice to be loved, touched, appreciated, desired. He wants to be fiercely loyal, pulling me into his circle to let us face the world together.
And he really is sweet. I liked him quite a lot until he started drinking.
Sigh.
Just lonely? Overwhelmed? Horny?
Sigh.
Why is polygamy reemerging as a theme in my life?
Anyway, I'm putting that away. I love VIM, but I'm way too needy and greedy to share and be stoic. And it made me see some other things - how controlling he can be. He mixes it up with being loving, and he confuses me. He got so deep into my heart. And maybe I'll always regret that we couldn't make it work, maybe I'll always love and miss him. I hope not.
So, Drunk Judge came to my office today (with permission), begging me to give him another chance. He was so shy, so nervous. I throw him off-balance.
I see how sweet he is - he's a good man even if he drinks too much. And I try to explain, how we're just not suited for each other. "Why?" he asks. "Because you keep asking me why when I've already explained."
And I see him and we look at each other, and there's such attraction and chemistry. And he's so vulnerable and his heart so open to me, and I don't know what to say, what to do. He's just so aggravating, though not intentionally.
I haven't been nervous like him for a long time, but I remember it, and I want to be gentle. And I want to kiss him. But I don't want to call security on him again, I don't want to fight with him, I don't want him to try to mold me to his desires.
He said today, "I'm so sorry for how I acted." But he didn't know what he did, not really. He figured out it was trying to make me do something I didn't want to do, and I just looked at him pitifully. "That will never work out for you. Not ever." I simply don't do what I don't want to - social censure doesn't work for me like it does for other people. Especially when it's things like, "Move into my best friend's house so your rent money we can invest and build up our investments for when we marry." Um, what? On a second date?
So there's this innocence about him, that he doesn't hide all his dreams and fantasies. He tells me exactly what he wants. I have to appreciate his honesty, but I don't want to know. I can't think ahead like that. I just try to get through every day.
So, I don't know. His bumbling is kind of sweet, nonaffected. He's hot. I've wanted him since I first saw him, and the sex was really good in some ways.
I don't want to be controlling, I don't want to torment him like VIM torments me.
I don't know what I want.
But it's nice to be loved, touched, appreciated, desired. He wants to be fiercely loyal, pulling me into his circle to let us face the world together.
And he really is sweet. I liked him quite a lot until he started drinking.
Sigh.
Just lonely? Overwhelmed? Horny?
Sigh.
bad timing
I think I just triple-booked. Three men I'm supposed to see tomorrow.
But none tonight?? When my brain is overfull of drama and conflict and despair, and all I need is something to totally take my mind off all that?
Sigh.
But none tonight?? When my brain is overfull of drama and conflict and despair, and all I need is something to totally take my mind off all that?
Sigh.
the evil that is women getting along
I had my share of crazy girlfriends in middle school and my first year of high school - "tests" for friendship and rather evil sabotaging. But I grew out of it - I didn't want to be around those people, so as soon as I was really able to break free of my parents' friends' children, I hung out with a very different crowd. Far more likely to have marijuana than books in their backpack, but they didn't judge me for being different from them. I was lucky enough to be friends with people from all sorts of different groups, so I never got pegged into any one category. I could be valedictorian who was at keggers.
One of the smartest things I've learned throughout my life is how to be a good friend. My friends are critically important to me, and I pick the best people I can find.
But you know, that's dangerous..
Long through history there's been fear of women's friendship. Hordes of one-breasted women who kill men and boys. Witches cackling around a cauldron.
Because the only thing more powerful than a woman is more than one woman.
But honestly, I never really thought about how this is seen so negatively until recently.
My Supervisor and I get along well. I don't know if we would have become friends under different circumstances, but we have to rely on each other, and we know how to be good friends. We support each other and make it through a very challenging job. We are very, very different, and we use that to our benefit.
But now, that's a bad thing. Our Liberian boss says we conspire against her. Because clearly that's all we have to do is try to bring her down. Our American boss says we "tag-team" him and he should only have to deal with her. I thought that was a dig against me, but I realize now that he just couldn't handle us working in concert. He said she needs to do her job and keep me out of certain spheres. Mind you, our arrangement works very well for us. But he's intimidated.
And he almost fucked things up between us. Things have been tense for awhile between us in a way they never were before.
But our new crisis will bring us together again, even if it's because she was rocking back and forth at lunch with tears welled in her eyes.
The point is: we are stronger together, and that offends and horrifies people who are insecure in who they are. We have never been exclusionary in any way. We are not a tight clique, we are two people who get along and include others.
Why this is so scary, and why so many other people have really done quite awful sabotage to us, that I do not understand.
It's middle school all over again.
But I'm not playing.
No, I'm continuing to be outspoken, loyal, and truthful. And all these crazy people who want to hurt us - fuck them.
One of the smartest things I've learned throughout my life is how to be a good friend. My friends are critically important to me, and I pick the best people I can find.
But you know, that's dangerous..
Long through history there's been fear of women's friendship. Hordes of one-breasted women who kill men and boys. Witches cackling around a cauldron.
Because the only thing more powerful than a woman is more than one woman.
But honestly, I never really thought about how this is seen so negatively until recently.
My Supervisor and I get along well. I don't know if we would have become friends under different circumstances, but we have to rely on each other, and we know how to be good friends. We support each other and make it through a very challenging job. We are very, very different, and we use that to our benefit.
But now, that's a bad thing. Our Liberian boss says we conspire against her. Because clearly that's all we have to do is try to bring her down. Our American boss says we "tag-team" him and he should only have to deal with her. I thought that was a dig against me, but I realize now that he just couldn't handle us working in concert. He said she needs to do her job and keep me out of certain spheres. Mind you, our arrangement works very well for us. But he's intimidated.
And he almost fucked things up between us. Things have been tense for awhile between us in a way they never were before.
But our new crisis will bring us together again, even if it's because she was rocking back and forth at lunch with tears welled in her eyes.
The point is: we are stronger together, and that offends and horrifies people who are insecure in who they are. We have never been exclusionary in any way. We are not a tight clique, we are two people who get along and include others.
Why this is so scary, and why so many other people have really done quite awful sabotage to us, that I do not understand.
It's middle school all over again.
But I'm not playing.
No, I'm continuing to be outspoken, loyal, and truthful. And all these crazy people who want to hurt us - fuck them.
where the crazy never stops
I can't say details, but the levels of crazy of my job have escalated to out of control level.
I've never seen Supervisor so close to snapping. She's realizing she's been a pawn and people she believed have shifted loyalties and now won't answer the phone when she calls.
The levels of insanity go so far deep, we can't seen anywhere near the bottom. Of course, that's every day - but today? I ran away. I ran to the hotel to drink Lebanese coffee and not see any of the crazy.
Supervisor will probably join me for lunch here, and then we will have a meeting with others, and then maybe I'll go home.
It's like I'm distancing my mind from my body. I'm disengaging. Supervisor says she won't come back from vacation if this goes down like she fears it will. She'll come back. She paid rent through November, and she thinks like me about those things.
I am already scheming how I can avoid actually coming to the office for the next five months. How much work at home or the other office can I do? A lot.
Supervisor and I are being fingered as being co-conspirators to depose a tyrant; what's ironic is that we paid utterly no role. We'd figured out our work-arounds, and I didn't care what happened. I do my thing.
But sometimes, doing my thing is stressful beyond measure because of the insanity that surrounds every aspect of my life.
My dating life may sound insane, but it's frankly the sanest thing I have besides quilting. Everything else - from work with locals to work with expats to getting my car worked on - is completely insane. We always laugh that "There is no truth, there is no reality" - but it is soooo accurate.
Sigh.
I have far too much work to do to allow myself to get swept along in this drama. But when I'm dragged in, what can I do?
Disappear, I guess.
Sigh.
I've never seen Supervisor so close to snapping. She's realizing she's been a pawn and people she believed have shifted loyalties and now won't answer the phone when she calls.
The levels of insanity go so far deep, we can't seen anywhere near the bottom. Of course, that's every day - but today? I ran away. I ran to the hotel to drink Lebanese coffee and not see any of the crazy.
Supervisor will probably join me for lunch here, and then we will have a meeting with others, and then maybe I'll go home.
It's like I'm distancing my mind from my body. I'm disengaging. Supervisor says she won't come back from vacation if this goes down like she fears it will. She'll come back. She paid rent through November, and she thinks like me about those things.
I am already scheming how I can avoid actually coming to the office for the next five months. How much work at home or the other office can I do? A lot.
Supervisor and I are being fingered as being co-conspirators to depose a tyrant; what's ironic is that we paid utterly no role. We'd figured out our work-arounds, and I didn't care what happened. I do my thing.
But sometimes, doing my thing is stressful beyond measure because of the insanity that surrounds every aspect of my life.
My dating life may sound insane, but it's frankly the sanest thing I have besides quilting. Everything else - from work with locals to work with expats to getting my car worked on - is completely insane. We always laugh that "There is no truth, there is no reality" - but it is soooo accurate.
Sigh.
I have far too much work to do to allow myself to get swept along in this drama. But when I'm dragged in, what can I do?
Disappear, I guess.
Sigh.
just an ordinary morning
I get up and turn on the computer, check blogs, Facebook, etc.
Then I open up the document I'm currently editing for books - Judiciary Law.
I edit a little, but then I need that reality check. I open up my bank account page and see that I'm not overdrawn. Then I open up Sallie Mae page and see that I've almost completely paid off the private student loan.
So then I sip some more coffee, turn on the air conditioner, and settle in for some editing time before I even go to the workplace.
This work may be tedious and ridiculous that I'm doing it instead of somebody without two post-grad degrees, but I do it best and I'm getting paid, so I suck it up and let my eyes bug out from staring at the computer screen too long.
Then I open up the document I'm currently editing for books - Judiciary Law.
I edit a little, but then I need that reality check. I open up my bank account page and see that I'm not overdrawn. Then I open up Sallie Mae page and see that I've almost completely paid off the private student loan.
So then I sip some more coffee, turn on the air conditioner, and settle in for some editing time before I even go to the workplace.
This work may be tedious and ridiculous that I'm doing it instead of somebody without two post-grad degrees, but I do it best and I'm getting paid, so I suck it up and let my eyes bug out from staring at the computer screen too long.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
boy dramz
VIM is back, and though I thought we were doing ok, apparently we're not speaking to each other. He saw me approaching and he deliberately turned away. The three men he was talking to ogled me and my intern, but VIM? Avoided all eye contact, an important meeting, and everything else to do with me. He did answer the phone when I called earlier, but clearly my perky cheerful, "Welcome back! How are you?" pissed him off and I'm really persona non grata. The good part? I can laugh about it. This is about him, not about me. I was a jerk, he was a jerk - but he's stewing and I'm moving on.
I saw Former Student and it became clear that I'm just fine. There was a group of people and I was able to joke around and converse. I acknowledged him and he couldn't help but respond, and I didn't linger. Hey baby, I was starting to like you, so thank you for making it clear what a prick you are so I could walk away from that. Appreciate it! Oh, and I was wearing a dress that I know makes him want me (he likes my legs). And I'm resisting the impulse to call him, so I'm doing just fine.
Drunk Judge is begging forgiveness. Frankly, I don't know what to say. I mean, he's not a bad guy - he's just a REALLY bad fit for me. We are completely incompatible. And I don't want to be that unhappy grumpy bitch who makes him apologize all the time for just being himself. That's not fair to either of us. But he thinks he loves me so, and we're really physically attracted to each other, and maybe I'm a little torn. He's a nice guy, for a drunk and all. And maybe it's the gin talking, but that one time we were together? Best Oral Skills Ever. How can I walk away from that when the man just really wants to make me happy? Oh yeah - because HE DOESN'T LISTEN.
Airplane Man hasn't called again, and since I had zero investment in him I don't care. But I have to wonder about people who say they will do things and then don't. Why say it if you don't intend? And if you say it, isn't that a promise that you have to keep? I don't get it.
Driver Paramour will spend the weekend with me. OK, not the whole weekend. But Saturday. He's coming over to help with the mechanic and my electrical system. Usually that's a whole day ordeal, but because he can't drive now it means we'll spend the whole day hanging out at my apartment. Not sure how that will look since I need to do a lot of work and he probably can't have sex yet post-surgery ... but we're pretty happy together no matter what we're doing. We laughed today at work because Supervisor said somebody turned in an application for a new job and listed Driver Paramour as a reference, and I said, "Oh, what's the name? Are you hiring his GIRLFRIEND to work with me?" She lost it and laughed until she couldn't breathe and tears ran down her face. I've never admitted sexing him, but she knows. She knows we love each other, that it's complicated, and he's the only man I never tell her about.
Work felt better today. My intern rocks and makes my worklife better, though I'm oversharing with the poor child. My Supervisor just about suffered a nervous breakdown from all the intense crazy today, but I guess that's the zone I'm comfortable in. Or maybe Cipro has knocked out the nasty crap and I'm getting better.
Either way, I don't want to hurt anybody right now, and that's the sign of a pretty good day. But I do still have over 100 pages to edit, so blah blah blah.
I saw Former Student and it became clear that I'm just fine. There was a group of people and I was able to joke around and converse. I acknowledged him and he couldn't help but respond, and I didn't linger. Hey baby, I was starting to like you, so thank you for making it clear what a prick you are so I could walk away from that. Appreciate it! Oh, and I was wearing a dress that I know makes him want me (he likes my legs). And I'm resisting the impulse to call him, so I'm doing just fine.
Drunk Judge is begging forgiveness. Frankly, I don't know what to say. I mean, he's not a bad guy - he's just a REALLY bad fit for me. We are completely incompatible. And I don't want to be that unhappy grumpy bitch who makes him apologize all the time for just being himself. That's not fair to either of us. But he thinks he loves me so, and we're really physically attracted to each other, and maybe I'm a little torn. He's a nice guy, for a drunk and all. And maybe it's the gin talking, but that one time we were together? Best Oral Skills Ever. How can I walk away from that when the man just really wants to make me happy? Oh yeah - because HE DOESN'T LISTEN.
Airplane Man hasn't called again, and since I had zero investment in him I don't care. But I have to wonder about people who say they will do things and then don't. Why say it if you don't intend? And if you say it, isn't that a promise that you have to keep? I don't get it.
Driver Paramour will spend the weekend with me. OK, not the whole weekend. But Saturday. He's coming over to help with the mechanic and my electrical system. Usually that's a whole day ordeal, but because he can't drive now it means we'll spend the whole day hanging out at my apartment. Not sure how that will look since I need to do a lot of work and he probably can't have sex yet post-surgery ... but we're pretty happy together no matter what we're doing. We laughed today at work because Supervisor said somebody turned in an application for a new job and listed Driver Paramour as a reference, and I said, "Oh, what's the name? Are you hiring his GIRLFRIEND to work with me?" She lost it and laughed until she couldn't breathe and tears ran down her face. I've never admitted sexing him, but she knows. She knows we love each other, that it's complicated, and he's the only man I never tell her about.
Work felt better today. My intern rocks and makes my worklife better, though I'm oversharing with the poor child. My Supervisor just about suffered a nervous breakdown from all the intense crazy today, but I guess that's the zone I'm comfortable in. Or maybe Cipro has knocked out the nasty crap and I'm getting better.
Either way, I don't want to hurt anybody right now, and that's the sign of a pretty good day. But I do still have over 100 pages to edit, so blah blah blah.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
who loves you, baby?
You know whom I love?
Kathy Bates.
Oh, there are many women older than me whom I adore and respect. Helen Mirren, for example. But I'll never be Helen Mirren.
I'll never be Kathy Bates, either, but I can master her sense of self and humor; her dignity and sense of place.
I'm pretty ok with being me - with my Lofa ass, my detesting high heels and makeup. I think I'm fine the way I am. No desire to be anorexic or conform to anybody's standard of anything.
I love her for being beautiful and being herself.
Kathy Bates.
Oh, there are many women older than me whom I adore and respect. Helen Mirren, for example. But I'll never be Helen Mirren. I'll never be Kathy Bates, either, but I can master her sense of self and humor; her dignity and sense of place.
I'm pretty ok with being me - with my Lofa ass, my detesting high heels and makeup. I think I'm fine the way I am. No desire to be anorexic or conform to anybody's standard of anything.
I love her for being beautiful and being herself.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
I never said I'm mature
My friend J is pretty much an asshole. Now, that's just fine because he's my friend - but I would never, ever date him or let any of my friends date him.
But for hanging out for Saints games as he'd cook up a huge pot of alligator chili or roast whole pigs? For Facebook chatting my way in and out of a warlord's bed?
For that, there is no one better than my friend J, the asshole.
And because he's an asshole, he's able to walk me through asshole logic.
So when he chatted with me today, I had to ask. "Dude, Former Student went from Saturday totally begging me to rush back to town to Sunday unavailable all day at CHURCH to Monday not returning my calls. What the hell?"
Ignore him, was the resounding answer.
I cornered Former Student today. Well, we entered the parking lot at the same time so I could say, "Hey, dude, what the hell?" He was so busy with his reflection in the window of the car that he barely talked to me. "I was in a meeting. Didn't answer any calls." "And you didn't call me back? When I texted asking you to?" Shrug. "Without an explanation?" Adjusting tie. "All right," I said and walked away. Got to door, turned back, and said, "And when I say all right, I do not mean that it is all right." He laughed (it seemed a laugh of allowing me a point in this ridiculous game we play).
OK, I know that when I cross-examine witnesses, I'm unpleasant. And I also know that I do it to unsuspecting people ALL THE TIME. I'm so bad, that a Supreme Court Justice today cried uncle and set up a meeting with all the Justices and me to talk through an issue so then I'll leave them alone. I'm persistent and I interrogate everybody like they're hostile witnesses who murdered their baby and are lying about it.
Yeah, and that's how I treat my friends.
And, I have to admit - not being called back? Um, yeah, I have that issue because of VIM's bad phone habits. I'm just a walking wound from him. A person being in a meeting and then busy is not the end of the freaking world. At all. Over it.
Anyway, J said to ignore Former Student.
I wanted something a little more active, to make him remember that *I* am in charge and have the power here.
Look, I never said I'm mature. The man is aggravatingly arrogant. I want to bring him down a few pegs as much as he wants to bring me down.
So, J helped me through it. Because he really gets the asshole point of view, what with being one himself and all.
Ignore him.
OK.
I had good conversations with Yoga Friend and Supervisor and Driver Paramour and Airplane Man (who seems to think that I'm his girlfriend now?). Pondered calling Drunk Judge for a booty call but missed the window. Worked a whole lot.
Point is, I so don't need Former Student.
And then at 10:30 pm he called. And I rejected that call. I didn't just ignore it - I actively rejected it.
And now we're even.
But I'll still probably not sleep with him again. This man will only lead me to frustration and heartbreak. I should run, run, run, run away.
I said to Yoga Friend, "I just want a nice guy!" But I have nice guys. I guess I don't REALLY want them. Oh, I'll give Airplane Guy a shot, but we'll see what's up.
Maybe the problem is that nice guys don't do in bed what I want men to do. Nice guys focus too much on the wrong things and aren't in touch enough with their own sexual prowess to let me let go and be in touch with mine. Nice guys don't push me out of my box of comfort, they don't challenge and frustrate me.
So maybe I don't want a nice guy, though I think I do. What I want is a man who embodies all the sides of a man that I want.
And I've never met that man. I don't think he exists.
So I just keep kissing frogs and rejecting drunk dials, and so life goes on.
Maybe someday I'll grow up, and maybe I'll meet The One ... but I kinda doubt it. So I'll keep on entertaining myself to make it through the week.
Driver Paramour is giving me his Saturday to help me get my car fixed. He would do anything for me and never complain or ask for something in return, though I would do the same for him. I so <3 him. I just wish he didn't have a girlfriend and liked sex more. J says we're adorable, like star-crossed lovers. That's how Driver Paramour sees us. "I'd never be with her if I knew you were coming along. But I didn't know, and so I'm with her. And I can't hurt her by breaking up." Better to cheat? Here, I guess so. Blah. So I let us have our platonic relationship and maybe it builds up the sexual tension and makes him think how much he wants me - but then he doesn't need it again for another week or month and good god, if I'm going to start I want it regularly.
So, another day of drama in the life of the lovelorn.
Things could be worse. Things could be better.
I made it through another day. Five more months and I should be back in the US of A. That doesn't suck.
****
He called some more times after I slept, and I didn't see him at all the next day.
I'm glad. I was starting to like him, and I needed a reminder that he's just an asshole who wants to use me. But a drunken booty call? Really?
Reminded.
And VIM is back in the country. I can pretend that first time I see him I won't reel, but I'll be lying. I'm supposed to meet with him tomorrow. It will not be easy. Even when I used to see him regularly, I would always spend the first five minutes at least trying to reorient myself to how it is to be in his presence.
OK, buck up Gringa. He's not the one. He's only going to break my heart worse than he already has. He doesn't mean to, but there will never be any time or space for me in his over-full life. People tell me about things they demand of him and I get resentful ... but I have to let it go. Not my issue.
But for hanging out for Saints games as he'd cook up a huge pot of alligator chili or roast whole pigs? For Facebook chatting my way in and out of a warlord's bed?
For that, there is no one better than my friend J, the asshole.
And because he's an asshole, he's able to walk me through asshole logic.
So when he chatted with me today, I had to ask. "Dude, Former Student went from Saturday totally begging me to rush back to town to Sunday unavailable all day at CHURCH to Monday not returning my calls. What the hell?"
Ignore him, was the resounding answer.
I cornered Former Student today. Well, we entered the parking lot at the same time so I could say, "Hey, dude, what the hell?" He was so busy with his reflection in the window of the car that he barely talked to me. "I was in a meeting. Didn't answer any calls." "And you didn't call me back? When I texted asking you to?" Shrug. "Without an explanation?" Adjusting tie. "All right," I said and walked away. Got to door, turned back, and said, "And when I say all right, I do not mean that it is all right." He laughed (it seemed a laugh of allowing me a point in this ridiculous game we play).
OK, I know that when I cross-examine witnesses, I'm unpleasant. And I also know that I do it to unsuspecting people ALL THE TIME. I'm so bad, that a Supreme Court Justice today cried uncle and set up a meeting with all the Justices and me to talk through an issue so then I'll leave them alone. I'm persistent and I interrogate everybody like they're hostile witnesses who murdered their baby and are lying about it.
Yeah, and that's how I treat my friends.
And, I have to admit - not being called back? Um, yeah, I have that issue because of VIM's bad phone habits. I'm just a walking wound from him. A person being in a meeting and then busy is not the end of the freaking world. At all. Over it.
Anyway, J said to ignore Former Student.
I wanted something a little more active, to make him remember that *I* am in charge and have the power here.
Look, I never said I'm mature. The man is aggravatingly arrogant. I want to bring him down a few pegs as much as he wants to bring me down.
So, J helped me through it. Because he really gets the asshole point of view, what with being one himself and all.
Ignore him.
OK.
I had good conversations with Yoga Friend and Supervisor and Driver Paramour and Airplane Man (who seems to think that I'm his girlfriend now?). Pondered calling Drunk Judge for a booty call but missed the window. Worked a whole lot.
Point is, I so don't need Former Student.
And then at 10:30 pm he called. And I rejected that call. I didn't just ignore it - I actively rejected it.
And now we're even.
But I'll still probably not sleep with him again. This man will only lead me to frustration and heartbreak. I should run, run, run, run away.
I said to Yoga Friend, "I just want a nice guy!" But I have nice guys. I guess I don't REALLY want them. Oh, I'll give Airplane Guy a shot, but we'll see what's up.
Maybe the problem is that nice guys don't do in bed what I want men to do. Nice guys focus too much on the wrong things and aren't in touch enough with their own sexual prowess to let me let go and be in touch with mine. Nice guys don't push me out of my box of comfort, they don't challenge and frustrate me.
So maybe I don't want a nice guy, though I think I do. What I want is a man who embodies all the sides of a man that I want.
And I've never met that man. I don't think he exists.
So I just keep kissing frogs and rejecting drunk dials, and so life goes on.
Maybe someday I'll grow up, and maybe I'll meet The One ... but I kinda doubt it. So I'll keep on entertaining myself to make it through the week.
Driver Paramour is giving me his Saturday to help me get my car fixed. He would do anything for me and never complain or ask for something in return, though I would do the same for him. I so <3 him. I just wish he didn't have a girlfriend and liked sex more. J says we're adorable, like star-crossed lovers. That's how Driver Paramour sees us. "I'd never be with her if I knew you were coming along. But I didn't know, and so I'm with her. And I can't hurt her by breaking up." Better to cheat? Here, I guess so. Blah. So I let us have our platonic relationship and maybe it builds up the sexual tension and makes him think how much he wants me - but then he doesn't need it again for another week or month and good god, if I'm going to start I want it regularly.
So, another day of drama in the life of the lovelorn.
Things could be worse. Things could be better.
I made it through another day. Five more months and I should be back in the US of A. That doesn't suck.
****
He called some more times after I slept, and I didn't see him at all the next day.
I'm glad. I was starting to like him, and I needed a reminder that he's just an asshole who wants to use me. But a drunken booty call? Really?
Reminded.
And VIM is back in the country. I can pretend that first time I see him I won't reel, but I'll be lying. I'm supposed to meet with him tomorrow. It will not be easy. Even when I used to see him regularly, I would always spend the first five minutes at least trying to reorient myself to how it is to be in his presence.
OK, buck up Gringa. He's not the one. He's only going to break my heart worse than he already has. He doesn't mean to, but there will never be any time or space for me in his over-full life. People tell me about things they demand of him and I get resentful ... but I have to let it go. Not my issue.
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