ooooo. Inside my stomach and intestines viral infection rages. It’s probably a stomach flu. The symptoms I looked up match. I feel so frail and weak. Poor bloated delicate stomach.

Been on the couch all day. Watched some Saturday morning cartoons. Then Fight Club. Then Fight Club with the actor commentary. Now it’s playing with the author, screenwriter commentary. I tried reading The Idiot but just got to Chapter four. All the blood is working on the stomach and the brain is deprived.

A****‘s such a hopeless infatuation. I feel she’s tied to her husband the way ******’s tied to me. On Friday afternoon I was starting to feel queasy and burned out. As a consequence I missed a fantastic opportunity to come up with a dazzling and suggestive answer to her question, “Do you ever dream of your coworkers?”. Instead, my deadpan reply was, “No. When I dream it’s total darkness. I go to bed then I wake up.” An uncalculated and exhausted honest reply. Such a blown chance. Plus I bet she had something good to share. I hate TV and being sick.

I need to check up on everyone soon. And I mean everyone. Xanga contacts, parents, sister, old neglected friendships. I live in such a shell.

At work, all the In Vitro lab technicians eat together in the cafeteria. There are nine techs in the department now. And they all like to squeeze together at a table meant for four. So ridiculous. And it seems like my level of boredom with the conversation grows as the number people swells. I can’t engage with that many in any meaningful way. If there’s four at the table when I come down, I sit with the quality assurance or chemistry people. Not them though. Cliquey sheep.

Today, out of protest I ignored them and started my own table.

A**** came and sat with me.

Just like I was hoping for.

I’m so sick of fighting with ******. I fought for some space and time today and now that I have it, I’m not enjoying it.

Because of all the new hires at work, I’m moving out of the main tech office and into the small one that only seats two. With A****.

I wish I was a better writer and more articulate. I wish I wasn’t such a personality chameleon, changing for whoever I meet. I wish I would love the work I do. I wish I didn’t feel so restless.

I’m going to go to the MIT library I think to do some research related to my job. Once there I’ll probably just fall asleep in a cubicle for a while then come home. I’m so sluggish. Addicted to coffee.

“Dude, why are you so pissed?”
“But everything’s Ok at home right?”
“What are you doing this week-end? Just relaxing? Good. you need it.”
“Oh no. There it is again, the angry face.”

So this week at work it seemed everyone was alluding to how tightly wound I was. Besides being a hard ass on the new guy I think it showed in everything I did. The way I stomped around the lab scowling. The nasty aggressive tone that crept into my voice. Staring at people like they were a piece of juicy red meat and I a hungry Duran Duran wolf.

The problem’s pretty simple. I don’t deal with celibacy well at all. It brings about a whole personality change. Everyone’s used to sexually satisfied me. Happy, smiling, joking, charming. Not the asshole horny me. I almost got into a fight in a parking lot. I assume if this state of agony continued over a longer period of time, all the tension and aggression would shrink. Just like my testicles. This is the last day I swear. If I don’t get anything from my ice queen tonight, during my morning shower tomorrow I’m going to explode. Repeatedly.

So A**** commented that I was being pretty hard on the new guy. Even that I had a cruel streak. Eeep. Ok. Yeah I was and maybe yes I do (but it’s small!). I don’t like to admit it but unfortunately I fit my astrological sign to a T. (I never understood that expression, does it mean like a T-shirt? cause those don’t always fit so well.) but yeah, I rode his ass hard and pushed him to the limit yesterday. But the thing is, first off, the study director personally requested that I challenge him to see what he could do. Number 2, on his first day, he seemed to take offense and get all huffy when I was instructing him in the more simple laboratory skills. He’s got this smarmy confidence that just rubs me the wrong way. It’s very frustrating to have a trainee with this attitude. I hate smarm. So yesterday I thought, “well if he think he can handle anything, then we’ll see.” (except the voice I thought it in was dripping with dark ominous malice)

I loaded his plate with a ton of time sensitive and challenging, complex work, but throughout the day was by his side guiding and helping him. (while leaving ample opportunities to excel on his own.) Turns out he made some large errors when I left him alone. He also wasn’t truthful and tried to cover up one of the major mistakes. But that didn’t work and after bickering with me about it, at his suggestion, we involved the study director to review the large error and that’s where he really got his confidence stomped on. At the end of the day, walking through the hallway with the study director and I, he held his head low, looked at the floor and mumbled like a broken man, “that’s what I get for trying to fly solo.” Sweet music to my sadistic ears. So if my goal was to totally crush his spirit and emasculate him in front of the whole lab then mission accomplished. Except it wasn’t. I was fair. I think.

first this

then the delightful parody this.

We’ve got a new technician that I’m training. I don’t like him. He reminds me of Saul Rubinek except fleshier and less interesting.

I feel like writing something interesting. However I also feel empty and bland. I attempted commenting but that’s not working out so well these days.

I was thinking about those powerball winners in the shower today. The most important thing that a lottery win of that size would buy is time. Money would allow a corporate cog to jump out out of the machine, escape the crush and figure out just what he is and wants.

I don’t think I enjoy the crush I’m experiencing. I’m picturing how wonderful being with this woman would be without any negatives. Unhealthy obsession. Three traits that I find extremely attractive in a woman are intelligence, a kind nature and … imagination. A**** has all of them in lethal amounts.

When getting out of a car in a giant parking lot I can’t resist saying, “Now remember …. we’re in the Itchy lot.”

Someone is stealing my Adbuster magazines. Or they’re being confiscated at the border.

We’ve bought so many things for the apartment. Buy buy buy. And I want more. A new printer. Because writing is too slow and takes more effort. But it’s more concise and meaningful.

Bar stools. Window curtains. Amplifier. TV. Cable with HBO. Massage chair. Why all this extraneous unnecessary crud. Why do I want a new XBox or Gamecube or Playstation. They sure make whittling away hours upon hours look glamorous.

There were two new hires in my department at work. Jessica and Elliot. Elliot’s quiet and nerdy. Jessica’s a soulless barbie doll consumer droid.

And A****. A****. A****.

Hmmmm. I like that ****** works late. How the apartment is dark, silent and mine for a few hours when I come home.

I’m going to try yoga for the first time ever this week-end.

What am I doing here. I feel like I’m living the wrong life.