Apparently, I am anonymity incarnate. Today was my last day at work. I've worked at this place for almost two years now, and am one of three people being laid off. I've worked here much longer than either of the other two. So, we had a potluck lunch as a fairwell party for all the people who are leaving today. No one said a word to me the entire time. Our boss' boss came in to say goodbye and my boss pointed out the three people who were leaving and he shook the other two people's hands and walked completely past me as if I wasn't there, though I was standing right there with the others. Everyone else barely spoke a word to me the entire time, though they talked to the other two about what their plans were, etc and said they were going to miss them. These are people I've worked with for two years. I've listened to them bitch about their problems, I've picked up the slack for them numerous times, and half of them don't even know my name.

This happens all the time, and it's not that I avoid interacting with these people, because I've tried to be friendly and to help them out when they need it and make a point of at least saying hello to them every day. I don't know if it's them or me that is the problem, but since this happens a lot in various settings, I'm thinking there's just something about me that makes people want to look past me no matter what I do and I have no idea what it is. I'm not really angry about it, I'm just puzzled and a little disappointed. I'm not capable of really giving up, but the thought that this is how it's going to be forever regardless of what I do is depressing as hell.

Anyway, I've decided to try to find a project to work on and take my mind off things for a few days, otherwise I might go into a depression tailspin with all the crap going on. I'm trying to think positively about school, but I'm terrified I'm going to screw it up somehow at the finish line. I've decided just to talk to my professor about it tommorrow and find something to distract myself with till then. I don't know what, though.

Rant ahead. You have been warned.

So, for the better part of the year, I've been doing better with my avoidant tendencies. I still can't quite get the hang of conversation, but I can go places and do things with people and be more or less happy just being the big silent one. However, relapse is inevitable, and I'm the midst of a big one now.

So, my husband and I have Monday as a regular gaming night. We alternate between running World of Darkness and D&D each week. I run the D&D games. So, I've been having trouble with one of the guys that games with us. Let's call him S for simplicity. S has a myriad of psychological issues, which often comes out in game because he makes and remakes the exact same character over and over again (the character's father is always some demonic creature or horrible powerful person that rapes his mother and S's character is determined to hunt him down and kill him. Freudian much?). If anyone else in the party wants to play the same race or class, he immediately has to change it and he always wants to play an extremely unusual race. When I point out to him that people, especially in a medieval setting, tend not to react well to strangers who look entirely different than anyone else they've ever met and that being a half-demon/half-drow is likely to be difficult in a kingdom where drow are well-known as viscious raiders and most of the populace subscribes to a religion that does not truck with demons at all, he gets mad and just can't understand why that would be the case.

So, recently, we ended a campaign and have been trying to start another one. First, after I told S that he could play a race I've never even heard of out of a third party supplement because it was just too over the top, S said he was going to give up gaming entirely (or rather he sent his roommate M who also games with us to say so on his behalf since he is apparently too chicken to come tell us himself). Then, trying to be nice, I gave him a few days to cool off, invited him to a movie night my husband was wanting to do at the house and told him if he changed his mind, I would keep his seat open for awhile. Then he wanted to play again and talked about this new character he wanted to play. Then, when we were set to run the first session last Monday, M shows up and says that S has decided he's not going to play after all because he's gained five pounds and needs to spend more time at the gym. Despite the fact that he's still going to play in my husband's game every other Monday as usual. Riiiiiight...

The thing that gets me the most is that he can't summon the balls to actually talk to me about what's going on. I'm not going to compromise the rules of the game just so he can play a character that is probably going to die or fall apart completely in the first session, but I would still rather he actually say, "Hey, this is why I don't want to play" and be honest about it. I should say that I appear to be cursed with an apparently extremely accurate ability to detect lies and insincerity in other people, possibly because I used to lie like crazy when I was a kid and also because I'm very good at noticing slight changes of tone and movement and facial expression, and it doesn't help my avoidant tendencies at all. Even simple social lies that would satisfy other people drive me crazy. And people do it all the time.

So, I'm really thinking about just giving up the whole thing entirely. I'm tired of S demanding that he be able to play out this unhealthy psychodrama in game that really needs to be addressed by a trained psychologist, I'm tired of M trying to sound worldly and intelligent when he totally isn't in such a way that it's painful to listen to and trying to get on my good side with flattery that a three year old could see through. They're the closest thing to friends that I have right now, but there are times when they just about drive me crazy and all I want to do is just kick them...

[ Continued ]

I have a real problem believing that there is anything particularly good about myself much of the time. There are things that I enjoy doing, but I don't think I'm any good at them, so that keeps from doing them sometimes. And that can't be right. If I enjoy doing it, I should do it just for that, not for what other people think. One of the things I enjoy doing is art. I especially like doing "stick figure" drawings, like the one in my avatar. So, I think I might include a small picture with my posts when I have the time. I'm better at drawing how I feel sometimes than finding words for it.

http://i195.photobucket.com/albums/z98/gyaza/cat-1.jpg

Today, I feel okay. I actually got enough sleep last night, and work has been slow. The clock is ticking on how much longer we'll have jobs, but I'm not going to worry about that right now. I was feeling pretty crappy yesterday, but one of my cats seemed to pick up on it and when I laid down to read before going to sleep, he came and curled up on my chest and purred like it was the best possible place in the world to be. So, I petted him for awhile and scratched behind his ears and felt better. He curled up by my head when I finally went to sleep and was still there when I woke up. I love my cats. My husband works 2nd shift and doesn't get home till midnight, so it's nice to have the kitties in the bed when I go to sleep, it makes me feel like I'm not alone.

Firstly, I'm a nerd, but the comic book reference I'm about to use is my husband's fault. There is a superhero called Green Latern (the movie recently came out, don't even get me started on it) who has a "power ring" that can allows him to do several things like fly and create constructs with the light from his green lantern ring. What many people who don't keep up with the comic books don't know is that there is a whole spectrun of "Latern Corps", from Red to Purple. Green in the spectrum represents the power of will, while the others correspond to different emotions. The Red Lanterns, for instance, are fueled by rage (but righteous rage), while the Purple Lanterns are fueld by Love. These different Lantern Corps interact with each other in a number of ways. Yellow (fear) interferes with Green (will), Blue (hope) discharges Red (rage), and so on and so forth.

The reason I bring this up is because my husband, in his sweet comic book geek way, says that I'm a Red Lantern, because it seems like I'm angry a lot (though usually for good reason), but that he's a Blue Lantern, because he has an abundant supply of optimism, and can always discharge my Red Lantern-ness, so we're perfect for each other. Yes, I know, it's dorky and complicated, but it got me to thinking and there is a point buried in here somewhere, so bear with me.

Most people would never think I had a rage problem. My kung fu instructor used to get on to me constantly for being too timid in sparring class. Most people only get to see the taciturn me, because I'm normally good at compartmentalizing my emotions. In reality, there are times when I am so angry it's frightening to me. I rarely act on it, but it's there, seething underneath my skin. Since I never allow it to erupt, it hardens up inside of me like lava turning insto stone, and that worries me, because, to continue the metaphor, it hardens me. There was a time in my life when I would have been called a compassionate person, and I still try to be, but it's more of an effort now. It takes more effort to forgive people for their mistakes (myself included), and it makes that part of me that says "Weakness is failure, failure is death" seem louder. I feel like I'm turning into stone sometimes, figuratively speaking, and I think people pick up on that, because that's how they treat me, as if I were emotionless stone. Then when I actually crack and display emotions, they're always surprised.

I'm not even sure what can be done about this. I'm not sure what causes the rage to exist in the first place, except perhaps that I often feel like I'm trying to swim upstream with a backpack of lead weights, and nothing really ever seems to make it go away. It just goes dormant inbetween flairs and pops up next time.

So, I was hoping to have a restful weekend, because I knew today would be stressful. Saturday and Sunday were not too bad, but all the crap going on around it just made me want to jump out of my skin.

I try to avoid terms like "full blown bat#&%!", as I am not without problems myself, but that pretty much describes my mother-in-law. I can't put my finger on exactly what's wrong with her, but she has a lot of histrionic qualities, as well as being...not the sharpest tool in the shed, let's say. Anyway, she has done everything possible to alienate everyone around her, and then moans about how no one cares about her. She has two chihuahuas that she treats like children, and she spoils them so much that both of them weigh about three times what they should and have advanced diabetes that requires quite a bit of management, which she cannot afford and often asks us for money to compensate. So, not unexpectedly, one of the dogs starts having seizures last Wednesday and had to be taken to the vet. The vet said that not only has the dog's sugar level become unmanageable (big surprise there, since we came to visit her one time and caught her feeding the dog chocolate turtles ) resulting in severe brain damage, he also had a brain tumor. So, rather than do the sensible thing and put the dog out of it's misery, MIL wails and waffles about it and keeps insisting that she wants to wait and see if the dog will get better, despite my husband, me, and the vet telling her that the dog would be blind, deaf, unable to walk, and miserable.

So, by Friday, my husband convinced her to go ahead and put the dog down. He took two days off to stay with her and build the coffin which she demanded we make for the dog (complete with cushion and lining), and I took a half day off to go down to the vets with them to attempt some damage control. When they finally brought the dog out, you could tell he was suffering terribly. He couldn't see or hear and she was petting him [i]hard[/i] and all but laying on top of him, so he was making these little terrified noises and trying to get away from her, only he couldn't move. It was one of the sadest things I've ever seen. After a few minutes of this, I got my husband to walk her around the building for some air for a minute while I tried to calm the dog down and eventually got it comfortable enough to go to sleep, which I'm sure was a mercy.

Anyway, to make a long story short, they put the dog down, she cried on the shoulder of absolutely every vet tech and doctor in the place for an hour before we finally got her herded out to the car. My husband dug a hole for the casket in 106 degree heat, while the MIL alternated between bemoaning her woes and snarking at my husband and me. And then she had the gall to get mad when we told her firmly that we would not be putting a headstone in our yard for the dog, (a) because it would be macabre and (b) because it would interfere with being able to mow the yard. I feel for her, I really do, but letting an animal suffer for three days just because you can't let go is horrible, especially when you caused the majority of what was wrong with them to begin with. And not showing just a smidgen of gratitude to the people who have put themselves out and spent hours of their time trying to make you feel better is just wrong.

So, we've agreed that when dog #2 goes, we will not be doing this again. We will go with her to see the dog put down, if necessary, and the dog can have a sensible burial in our back yard, but there won't be anymore of this casket business and we definately will not be footing the bill for three unnecessary days of vet hospitalization.

*sigh*