‘cos I have been to hell and I’ve been back, all in the period of one day

I woke up particularly early this morning to try to help someone out.  How I know her is fairly immaterial, but she reminds me of me.  In a lot of ways, at least.  One way in which she does *not* remind me of me is this helplessness that is clearly learnt, and possibly even cultivated for effect.  Holy mary.  Even though I feel helpless at times, or discouraged, down-hearted, whatever, the last thought on my mind is how if I sit and cry about it, someone will come along and make it all better.  Which she does a fair amount.  It is odd to me in that one would think that this should be *my* reaction, or at least I *think* that is what they would think; ages ago I used to take a considerable amount of flak for having led a “sheltered life”, which should imply that I fall to pieces at frustrating circumstances.  Or so I would think.  I want to suggest to her that she learn to hold it together a little better; the world is filled with circumstances that are less-than-ideal.  

So she wanted to register in a particular school, and having dealt with that crap for a while now, I offered to help out ‘cos she was, well, crying.  I guess she felt that she was getting a bureaucratic run-around (oh, welcome to god damned Life, already!), and was finding it frustrating.  As if I hadn’t faced the exact same thing all by my lonesome when I enrolled for the first time, but whatever.  If I cannot work my way around a bureaucratic wall peacefully, then I am the psychobitch who will walk into your office one day with a sack lunch and a guitar, plop down on the floor and sing Kumbaya until you figure out a way to help me, whether you are part of the problem, or not.  I figure that in an unknown situation, anyone who rates a private office probably has a better idea of how to solve the problem than I do, anyway.  

Plus they have cushier carpeting, usually.

And it works!  Every time!  Okay, true, I don’t really bring a guitar.  But I will reach a max and duck into the first office I see after the max has been reached, and plead my case.  To whoever is standing there.  If I get run out, I move on to the next office.  Eventually, I have always gotten help, even if it is a tip on who to go talk to, or Office Admin A phoning over to the Office Of Stalling People to talk to Admin B, to explain that there’s a really nice girl here who is getting a run-around, or an offer to print out the correct forms so that I can fill them out right away and walk them back over to wherever they should be.  Contrary to everything Life has tried to teach me, most people aren’t Evil, they aren’t out to “get you”, and if they see a way to help, they will.  Usually things become so bureaucratic-ed up ‘cos some twit had a Brilliant Idea to make everything flow more easily and somehow got it approved.  Twits abound; get over it.  At least, that is my philosophy.  

Not Andie’s.  The last time she was there, she ended up walking around for a couple hours, whilst sobbing her eyes out, trying to figure out where she had parked because some Twit had walked her over to an office that was closed for the day and ran off before she realised the office was closed.  She did not feel welcome.  She did not feel like anyone cared.  

To me, this sort of thing is just the normal course of events; remember where you parked, ask questions, bring your purse with you, and don’t let someone who is “helping” you out of your freaking sight until you are certain that you are done with them.  When that sort of thing happens to me, I return at seven in the morning the next day, often with a chip on my shoulder.  I feel I win when I get what I want and by that time, I am DETERMINED to win.  Especially because whenever I *have* pulled out the “Boo-hoo!  I am a crying female!” shtick, posilutely no one gives a fuck.  That act has an incredibly low rate of return, I have found.  I, on the other hand, have an *amazing* return rate, but no one ever cares when I am frustrated, tired, or just plain sad.  

So I push everything aside and get up early to try to help Andie, and as I am driving out there, she phones to tell me that she has to go be with her boyfriend, whose car is acting up.  WTF?  But things like that cannot be reasoned with, so I say ‘fine’.  Fine.  So I go run my own errands whilst composing a State of Ancodia Address that I have to give this afternoon.  So, boarding Squoosh—check.  More memory for the laptop—check.  Phone and finalise flight crap and beg for the same jack ass that screwed up my last materials to screw up some more for me—check.  And so on.  And in the meantime, I actually am feeling rather hurt.  Not that I feel abandoned, or anything like that…it is more of a thing where I am not relating to her priorities.  I mean, *I* took the morning off and frankly, my time is more valuable, if not more important.  And I know that sounds bad, but it is how I feel all the same.  Not that I would ever say such a thing, but when you blow people off at the drop of a hat over things like that (I can only assume her boyfriend is in his twenties as well, and should damn well know how to deal with a dead car by now; if not, it is high time he learnt how), do not be surprised when they do not drop everything to help you again.  Or at least a third time.  

And then, as I am heading over to have yet another Meeting Which Hath No End, Scooter phones (am I the only person on the planet who owns a cell phone?  Say it isn’t so!), because he wants me to tell everyone that he cannot come because his car won’t start in this cold weather.  

DAMN it.  

I hate being the go-between on shit like this.  Scooter’s missed several of these meetings (not that I can say as how I blame him; if I had my druthers I’d slink off, too), and although this reason sounds legitimate, the others aren’t, and this is pointing towards a pattern.  And, he informs me, he will be missing next week’s meeting as well.  Could I just relay all that?  

AAAAUUUUGGGGHHHHH!

Sure.  Fine.  FINE.  And I am irritated, ‘cos he turned down my offer of a jump, saying he didn’t think that was the problem (huh?  Clearly your battery is most likely dead), leaving me instead to make him sound more legitimate.   Whatever.  

And I was butted out of my Justify Your Existence talk, so I just had to sit there and look interested whilst someone else gave theirs (In addition to being the only person on Earth who owns a cell phone, am I also the only person who understands time limits?!?), then I begged meg to meet me for lunch ‘cos I had let myself get sick again from not eating.  

And I still have Squooshneck, though it is significantly better.  

So I just don’t know.  And I have crap to read for *another* presentation on Wednesday that I just don’t want to read.  And I do not know if I should be hurt over Andie’s crapping out on me, or not.  She knows how busy I am.  I think I will give it one more try and if that fails, I will tell her that she is on her own.  What I am really the most upset over is that I went to sleep early, and had to record Flavour of Love.  But I did watch it when I came home.  God, yes…I have gotten sucked into it. I am rooting for Goldie, in case anyone cares; she is the cutest, sweetest, and most non-mental of them all.  Kinda makes you wonder why in the hell she’s there, rilly.  :-)  I half-watch Flavour of Love as I type stuff, or read, or whatever.  Damn, but Brigitte Nielsen is looking like a man these days.  And I have also been half-watching Celebrity Fit Club, when I remember.  And I have noticed an uncanny resemblance between Gunnar Nelson and Chastity Bono.  I mean really spooky.  I keep forgetting to look and see if I see them both at the same time.  

And I just meowed back at Squooshable ‘cos he meowed at me; whenever I meow at Squoosh, he gets this alarmed look on his face—instead of appreciating my attempt to communicate in his language like all my other cats do.  I think he doesn’t like my mouth-words.  :-)  It’s kind of funny, though I try to not do it, ‘cos it seems to upset him.  My little Squoosh-Fingers.  

Butsoanyway.

On the drive home, I hear on NPR that the FAA is implementing a new system to better direct planes as they are taxiing.  About damn time.  Well, at least that will be one less thing to worry about; now if they could only get rid of those mercenaries that take over the airport, I could maybe fly in peace.  

And don’t tell me that there are no mercenaries!  You’re in on it!!  BWAAH!