Miss Saigon makes me so dang emotional.
Jun. 19th, 2003 11:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
judecorpI am freaking out. Verily.
I picked up the keys to the apartment after work today. Work was insane again. We had to call the squad again, because a client took a whole handful of pills. The best part was when he blamed it on me. Hooray! So, yeah, we called the squad and they took him to the hospital. And then it went back to the part in the script where no clients wanted to see me, so I got a bunch of administrative stuff done and returned some phone calls.
The interview, by the by, was alright. The people were very nice, and the work environment was very laid back. Most of them were wearing jeans and tennis shoes (yay), and the director had a nosering. I got so discombobulated that I forgot to give them my references, even though I had them in my bag. I got all flustered because my phone started buzzing in the middle of the interview. I thought it was my movers, but it was a call for another job interview. They wanted me to come in tomorrow, but alas, I'm busy - so I'll be going Monday morning. I have two interviews on Monday now. I don't even remember applying for this job (Ohio Youth Advocacy Project). Aah well.
Anyway - the freaking out. Jennifer and I went to the new place to measure the rooms so we could figure out the furniture layout. Since we're hiring movers, it would make sense to know where everything is going, and then they could just put the stuff down in the right places. So we're measuring, and I realize (again) how tiny the bedrooms are. And that the toilet is in a weird place. And so my mind quickly masks the fact that it's freaking out about losing my job and moving and going on job interviews and getting my wallet stolen and having to call the cops a million times at work this week, and everything becomes about the smallness of the bedrooms and Jennifer's wardrobes. I don't know how she puts up with me. Or why.
It's just such a daunting prospect. I could wax philosophically about how all of the different stressors in all of the facets of my life are starting to build and compound on one another, but when you get right down to it, I'm just terrified of this new step. I'm so damned scared to fuck it up. I love this girl, and I love our life, and I don't want anything to go wrong.
I wish I had more confidence in myself and my ability to make a relationship work. Because gods know I really want it to. I want this (and her) for a lifetime.
I picked up the keys to the apartment after work today. Work was insane again. We had to call the squad again, because a client took a whole handful of pills. The best part was when he blamed it on me. Hooray! So, yeah, we called the squad and they took him to the hospital. And then it went back to the part in the script where no clients wanted to see me, so I got a bunch of administrative stuff done and returned some phone calls.
The interview, by the by, was alright. The people were very nice, and the work environment was very laid back. Most of them were wearing jeans and tennis shoes (yay), and the director had a nosering. I got so discombobulated that I forgot to give them my references, even though I had them in my bag. I got all flustered because my phone started buzzing in the middle of the interview. I thought it was my movers, but it was a call for another job interview. They wanted me to come in tomorrow, but alas, I'm busy - so I'll be going Monday morning. I have two interviews on Monday now. I don't even remember applying for this job (Ohio Youth Advocacy Project). Aah well.
Anyway - the freaking out. Jennifer and I went to the new place to measure the rooms so we could figure out the furniture layout. Since we're hiring movers, it would make sense to know where everything is going, and then they could just put the stuff down in the right places. So we're measuring, and I realize (again) how tiny the bedrooms are. And that the toilet is in a weird place. And so my mind quickly masks the fact that it's freaking out about losing my job and moving and going on job interviews and getting my wallet stolen and having to call the cops a million times at work this week, and everything becomes about the smallness of the bedrooms and Jennifer's wardrobes. I don't know how she puts up with me. Or why.
It's just such a daunting prospect. I could wax philosophically about how all of the different stressors in all of the facets of my life are starting to build and compound on one another, but when you get right down to it, I'm just terrified of this new step. I'm so damned scared to fuck it up. I love this girl, and I love our life, and I don't want anything to go wrong.
I wish I had more confidence in myself and my ability to make a relationship work. Because gods know I really want it to. I want this (and her) for a lifetime.
