we are all just prisoners here, of our own device

Today was one of those days that I should label "bad," but in the grand scheme of things, it is not really bad. I can't call it bad at all-- no one died, there were no car accidents, lay-offs, diseases, disasters, tragedies. In the vast landscape of days before and following today, this one is destined to fade from memory completely (unless, of course, I read this).

So while it was not what I would call a bad day, it is one I am glad to have over, glad to be rid of, glad to come home to a person and two cats who love me. A pox on your existence, August 29th. Good riddance.

Last night, I thought to myself, gosh, I don't think I have cried in months. I can't remember the last time I did. That's good, right? OK, movies don't count. Listening to Hilary talking up Barack and trying to brush off her disappointment brought tears to my eyes. (No, I am not talking about politics, I am talking about empathy for that bitter disappointment.)

Moving on. I thought this last night, then thought, "I wonder if that is why I have so many hives and allergic reactions right now." You know, the tears allow you to vent, or you bottle it up and it sneaks out through your pores. I know I know. New Age bullshit. But when you are this itchy, you resort to crazy thoughts.

This morning, I had an upsetting dream. The content wasn't significantly bad, but I was very upset in the dream, and when I woke up, I started crying just thinking of it. When I remembered the thought I mentioned above, I felt relief ("Oh good, now I've cried.") and instantly stopped crying ("Darn, that's probably not enough."). Even though it was a short cry, I did become melancholy most of the morning.

It was in this mood that my boss accidentally slammed my finger in the door.

I wasn't going to make a big deal of it-- I want them to hire me. But as soon as he left, my lip began shaking and I wanted to cry. I go to my office-- and there is someone in there using the printer. And they need help. For the rest of the day. And interrupted me while I tried to work. So I didn't get my work done. And I left late, ruining my Friday night plans.

Later, I'm in my office, alone briefly, and a man wanders in (who looks homeless). He asks if I have seen the other professor, and explains he was this man's student thirty years ago. I say no, he doesn't come in on Friday. The man asked if he could leave him a message. I said, you could, if you would like, you can use my phone. He starts leaving his message, explaining who he is, and "your secretary says you aren't in..." to which I interrupt, "I am not a secretary." He turned back to the phone and said, "she says she's not your secretary." He hemmed and hawed and then asked where the bathroom was. Anything to get him the heck out of my office.

The icing on the cake of the day: yesterday, four guys wanted to add my class, today, none of them do, and someone dropped my other class. Normally, I am happy to have a smaller class, but short of getting the Dean to run me over to give me a pity-job, I am convinced I need to show my worthiness and usefulness in all these imperceptible ways. (Yes, tricky, I know; see above about the hives.)

I walked home at 6:30 (I got to work at nine, had a work-related lunch, so didn't leave the building that whole time. Apparently, it rained at some point.), during which I called the Illinois auction house (I couldn't go to, from having left so late) to make an absentee bid, and buy myself a quirky, arty present. Assuming I win the auction. This would be the highlight of the day, by the way.

As I turned onto my street, I see the local pedophile, standing legs-straddled over the sidewalk, staring in my direction. I don't know if I have mentioned him here before or not, but he is my direct-next-door neighbor. I usually avoid eye-contact, but the last time I saw him as I left home, our eyes did meet, so I felt obligated to say hello. He continued to stare at me in his creepy, menacing way, and neither smiled not responded. Hence, when I saw his opposing stance down the street, I decided to take the alley instead. That would never have been true in California.

I came home to discover my sweetheart had reinstalled my computer without my asking, knowing, or backing up of data first. Everything is fine (I think), but I don't even step on cracks or walk under ladders this close to three major exhibitions (of which the work is not printed or burned into a DVD yet).

Basically, I am having trouble with folks of the opposite gender right now, and I am trying not to feel paranoid that I also work at an all-male college.

And that was my day. Should be bad, but really, I did my job, even if it was inefficient. I will have good classes this fall, even if not as full as I'd like. And nothing terrible happened. That's what I keep telling myself.