the air temperature in the office is seventy eight degrees – wait, that’s misleading. there is no air in here. at least no oxygen. so whatever lifeless, inert gas this is i’m trying to breathe, it’s not sustaining me. i’d go mess with the thermostat but i’m too bitchy to just go solve what’s pissing me off. i’d rather feel freakishly violently angry than get up and push a stupid, little, annoying button.
it is possible that the only thing that is keeping me awake is this vague, unfocused rage. wanting desperately to go home, curl up on the couch, and generally not be here at work, sitting up, stressing, not resting, not healing. i’m angry because it’s a matter of money. it costs me the equivalent two utility bills, or an average trip to the grocery store, just to take my germies home and spend time recovering. i’m angry because i’m fighting myself over posting this because i generally hide the worst parts, and this is one of them. i’m angry that there are judgemental assholes in the world, and i can’t go any further than that without breaking my own rules of weblogging.
right now i am mad at pretty much the entire world, with very few exceptions, and i can sum it up with this: right now, i’m pretty sure i’ve decided against going to blogcon. i just don’t fucking care. and it’s not that i don’t want to meet bloggers, i like bloggers, i just am sick of everything. and i’m not making sense. and in spite of four aspirin my head hurts really bad and i want to go home and i can’t. and crying at my damn desk is so girly and stupid and i hate myself for doing it and i’m almost sure i’ll delete this in a little while.