january 25

end o' week

Today I've been emailing back and forth with a designer friend of mine, Jeff, who is feeling about the same as I am about the state of affairs in the industry/this town/the weather/people in general. Only on top of the usual shit he has this long-standing affair with self-imposed loneliness. I don't understand why he isn't attached because he's good-looking, talented, totally chivalrous. I know he has play dates with women who share his sexual kinks, but no one lasting. Our plan is to drink as much as we can afford to tonight and commiserate along with A*, Lisa and some poor unsuspecting designer I'm meeting at the bar downstairs an hour before the weekend festivities begin. It will either be fabulous or it will be pathetic.

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I'm going to drive to LA to visit Beverly in a few weeks. I have to figure out how I can afford it. But I just have to get outta Dodge for a week or so. I need sun. I need my girlfriend who always tells me how smart and wonderful I am. She's going through her own life transition right now so we can support each other and boost our resolve. Or just drink a lot.

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Polly called me at work the other night while I was trying to crank out some really boring documentation (I used to love writing scope docs and tech specs. Now it just makes me want to cry) to tell me about an appalling occurrence in her day. She is interviewing for a kick-ass job that she totally should get (remember, she's been unemployed for over a year now so we're really, really, really rootin' for this one) and the HR woman handling the process actually told her that she was going to be out of job soon and would Polly mind helping her since she seems so well connected? I was, I told her, appalled. I realize that these are desperate times, but there is a protocol to desperation. You don't hit people up for contacts when you're interviewing them. I mean. Whatever. I don't know how this woman could have thought that was okay.

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A* has been all sorts of cranky this week, although he claims it's all me. That makes me feel SO much better, lemme tell ya. There's nothing like trying to tip-toe around someone who's on the edge and then have them turn around and tell you it's all your fault. I know he's stressed and depressed about looking for work (he's still employed, theoretically, until the end of March) and I'm doing my best to be supportive, but I guess I just don't have much extra to give. So what do I do? Hide out at work. At least I get some of the most boring shit done that I never want to do otherwise.

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One and a half hours until the drinking begins. Thank you, Jesus.

- january 25