Story-telling

So, yesterday was the culmination of the gigantic project at work. Our largest project of this kind to date, and it was not a total success. It all worked out and everything worked out well. I was on the result end of it, and I think that really everything was fine--better the fine--a success even. On paper, however, which is where my boss is looking from, what was delivered is not what was asked for...

I'm getting myself all worked up about it. I put in alot of hours, a lot of phone calls, and called in a lot of favors for this to come off as well as it did--but because it didn't look right on paper, I'm not getting any praise for it. I want praise. I didn't work this hard to feel badly or less-than about my efforts.

I called my dad about it and he told me he was proud of me. That made me feel about a million times better.

In these high-stress times, T has been totally absent. Of course, if I were laid off of a job I hated and only had 4 weeks left I would skip as much work as possible too. And we only really speak when he's in the office so that the evil corporation can pick up the international call tab. We have been "communicating" through very short emails and I'm freaking out that he's falling in love with some random European slut. I have nothing to base this idea on, except the rock hard foundation of fear.

My first forays back into the dating world have sent me scuttling back to my whole 'T in shining armor' fantasy. This is one of my favorite stories where I imagine the man who left me for another woman then ran away to Germany when he realized other woman was a psycho and things with me were wrecked ends up moving back to the US (in my most perfect dream-worlds to New York) and wants to have babies with me and grow old together. The other fantasy is that I pine away for him as my youth and beauty fades, but people write books and sing songs about me--people like Alfred Lord Tennyson who comes back from the grave I'm such an inspiring romantic.

Good lord, I need to get laid.