Wherein I'm not who I was...
I haven’t been feeling like myself lately. Did you ever feel that? Like you were a stranger in your own skin. It’s an odd feeling, like you’re floating above yourself watching someone else’s life from a distance. And it’s not a very interesting life. Frankly, if it were a television show it would have been cancelled before the pilot aired….and all copies burned in some sort of ceremonial sacrifice.

If I had to feel like someone else why couldn’t I feel like Angelina Jolie? I might be feeling odd but at least then I’d be smoking hot. Actually, then I’d be married to Brad Pitt, and really he does nothing for me. I’d also have half a dozen kids and while they’re cute being saddled with my own little league team doesn’t allow me to really take advantage of my hotness, so what’s the point.

Okay, forget Angelina. How about Selma Hayek? She’s hot and engaged to a bazillionaire. Only one kid. That I can handle. Also, a bazillion dollars buys many nannies. Maybe I could buy one for Angelina; seems like she could use one.

So….where was I?

Oh yeah, I don’t feel like myself lately. I feel out of sorts. Work has been tough and I feel like that’s all I can think about, like my brain can’t handle my job and an actual life. Two people in my department want to quit. When you have a department of four that doesn’t bode well for the rest of us. One of the disgruntled workers is my manager - this is also not a good sign. Not that I blame either of them, I’d like to quit too. The part that sucks is that I like the work - it’s interesting - I just think I’d like it better at a company that didn’t work me to the ground and expect me to be chipper about it. There’s nothing about me that says ‘chipper’ or ‘perky’ or any variation there of. I don’t even care enough to be apathetic.

Why couldn’t I feel like someone who likes her job? :o)

Family is still good and that counts for something. Counts for a lot actually. And it will be Christmas soon which means I can put up my tree and my ornament collection. For those of you that don’t know I’m obsessed with Christmas ornaments. (Obsessed as in my Harry Potter was mildly amusing in comparison.) I have a couple of hundred and have even started a collection for my son so that he will have one (or four) for each year of his life. If I could, I’d have my tree up now but my husband insists on waiting until after Thanksgiving (the heartless bastard).

So, in short, I’m not me and I’m not Angelina Jolie. I like Christmas and my husband is a heartless bastard but only until after Thanksgiving.

ETA: Heartless Bastard husband wants it duly noted that he just made me a cup of my favorite tea while I sat mocking here him to you all. So who ever this is who I am currently, is a bitch. :o)

Good night all.