BOFH Here…

I just introduced our IT guy to the magic of Three Dead Trolls in a Baggie’s Wes Borg doing Welcome to the Internet Helpdesk live. The first time I watched it, I felt like I was dying of asphyxiation, I was laughing so hard. Years later, it’s still funny, but when you’re watching it in a group of IT people for the first time, it’s just the most brilliant video you’ve ever seen in your life. It describes our jobs perfectly, and every reaction is spot on. By the time we got to 12:00 flasher, we were all doubled over together.

I also sent him a link to Bastard Operator from Hell. The first time I read it, I devoured every entry. It took about seven hours, because I was reading it in between calls on the night shift. It was hard not to laugh so loud everyone in the building could hear me. My coworker was reading it with me, and at about the same speed, but not quite… so I’d laugh and second later, when he got to the same part, he’d laugh. It went like that all night. Stifled laughter because it was just guffaw-worthy… the kind of laughter that you cannot help… the kind where tears and snot are running down your face as you try to hold it in…. like the time I discovered that there was a composer in the hymnal named P.P. Bliss in the middle of the sermon. I was maybe 11, so of course I just lost my snot (here are some of my other church stories). His real name is Philip, and I cannot for the life of me figure out why the Methodist hymnal lists him that way. Did they not realize what they were doing to pastors across the country as kids read the hymnal when they got bored? Not that I ever got bored in church, mind you……………

I’m on my lunch break, and it’s already been a day and a half. I stayed up way too late last night, and I am a ball of energy that I am sure will wear off shortly because I am jazzed on a 200mg caffeine tab and a cup of tea. Then, when I get to work, the assignment I have requires Micro$oft Visual Studio and it just won’t run on my computer. I have been fighting with it all morning. I finally gave up and switched to a burner laptop with Windows 7. I’m building and deploying cubes, which will mean nothing to most of you, but for the people who do, please understand that I am at the point where my eyebrows are going over my forehead trying to get this fucking thing to work. I really needed it to be lunchtime so I could decompress and get back to work. I might run to 7-Eleven just to get out of the office, but I doubt it. I’m not sure I have enough energy to get up from my desk. Have I mentioned it seems like it’s been a day and a half already?

I’m listening to my Spotify playlist called “High School,” and Amanda Marshall is singing Birmingham in my ears… turned up very loud to keep me awake. I was chair dancing to keep my energy up, but it’s not working anymore. Maybe the next song will be better. It just turned to an ad. If you were in high school in the ’90s, I’m pretty sure you’ll love this playlist. If you have more suggestions, add them in the comments. OMG. Now it’s Roxette. That ages me. It’s “Must Have Been Love.” Low energy. Skip. OMG. Now it’s The Tony Rich Project… Nobody Knows… Low energy but many, many memories attached to it. I’ve been listening to it since Meag and I broke up almost 20 years ago. I remember walking into a Walgreen’s with this playing overhead and just losing my shit in the middle of the store. It’s also on the Argo playlist, because there were a few times I died inside thinking about what a mess I’d made of our relationship. I will never get over it. Never. It’s just this huge emotional scar that will take years to scab over. The hardest part is absolutely knowing I dug that hole, and it feels like I will never get out… at times. At others, I allow myself to smile and remember that it happened at all. Actually, I take it back. The hardest part is that she’s not my first and last call anymore. Not literally calling. I hate the phone. But a few words over e-mail in the early morning and late at night were absolutely life-sustaining. When I lived in Portland, the three hour time difference worked well, because 4:00 AM in PDX is 7:00 AM in DC. At 4:00, I was in my stillest, smallest space… just writing into the night and receiving intelligent, well-thought out responses that made me laugh and cry (in a good way, sometimes laughing until I cried). She had the capability to remind me who I was, building me up from the scorched earth.

Now it’s “Back for Good” by Take That!

Ironic.

Although that song belongs entirely to Meag…. it was “our song,” because it was on the mix tape she made me for my car. Yes, children. Mix. Tape. Google it.

A lot of the songs she put on that tape are in the high school playlist, because of course they are. I remember the days of buying calling cards so that we could talk a bit cheaper, because my phone bills went into the astronomical when Meag moved to New Brunswick.

She’s ghosted, and it hurts, but I’m good with it most days. Others, I really wish I had that friend that’s known me for 20 years. Knows absolutely everything about my ups and downs, and one day I will take a road trip back to Ottawa, whether we’re in touch or not. It’s one of my places. I still wear my Carleton Ravens sweatshirt often, especially in the office, where in the winter it’s like a meat freezer. We could age steaks in the bathroom.

But more about Meag ghosting. I choose to believe that nothing is wrong, she just wanted to close that chapter of her life. So does Dana. She actually used those words, “closing the chapter,” and it resonated with me. I respect it. I hate it, but I respect it. I am making new friends and hoping Scott moves here soon. He’s thinking about running for Congress later in his life, and God willing, I’ll still be here. If I could, I’d vote for him. Yes. I love him that much. I would sacrifice a straight D. I would vote for him just to get him here. 🙂

We’re going to spend the day together tomorrow, and I’m really looking forward to it. Hopefully I’ll have some pictures to post of us palling around. Did you hear that, Scott? I want *evidence.* When he arrived, we went to Off the Record. We didn’t see anyone we recognized, but it’s a life goal to go there with Kathy, my reporter friend that’s known me since I lived here the last time. Then, she worked for Congressional Quarterly, and Politico offered her an obscene amount of money. She’s my Zoey without the sleeping with people for stories.

Speaking of which, one of the reasons I’m trying to achieve wholeness is that in my nothing space, I am Frank Underwood to a T. I need to cut that shit out. Integration of my personality is key, because my nothing space has no limits. I think i have mentioned that before. I need to make my darkness of service, rather than being a total political monster. I can work people, and I know it now. Knowing is half the battle. Hail Cobra.

And on that note, my lunch break is over.

 

 

 

 

 

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