pathologicaly punctual

i've got this thoroughly irritating proclivity towards chronic punctuality. sometimes, this is a good thing. it means that i am rarely late, barring unforeseen circumstances. it's also irritating, because sometimes i get very fed up with the phenomenon of GST (that's gay standard time for those of you playing along at home), because i have no choice but to put up with it and chronic lateness makes me unhappy.

the reason i'm thinking of this right now is that cosmic forces seem to be aligning to get me to the office by 8:30 am. no earlier, no later. i leave my house at 7:40? here by 8:30. i leave my house at 8:10? here by 8:30. it's positively uncanny. and exceptionally irritating, because of late, i've not really found myself feeling the whole "getting into the office early" vibe. it's more like the "let's spend as little time in the office as possible" vibe. so, i'm sure you can understand my distress.

but, you know. i'm making strides. i'm going on the low-key offensive. my resume is out there. i'm poking. i'm maknig inquiries. unless we're living in a justice-free zone, i'll have something new by january. hopefully.

the thing is, though, i believe in the theory so artfully described thusly by bridget jones: "it is a known fact that as soon as one area of your life gets in order, another one falls spectacularly apart." and thus, the dire situation of my working life at the very least gives me hope for the subway boy. but, then , i suppose that's just being realistic, seeing as how the job market is fairly pants right now.

ah, subway boy.

i think that if you're single long enough, particularly in this city, some of the wiring in your head starts to go ping, and you start to automatically assume that there's something horribly wrong with anyone who's interested in you. that's kind of where i am now. i'm intrigued and pleased by this boy. he seems intrigued and pleased by me. so, what's wrong with him? i mean, i've been getting picked over by all members of his gender i've found interesting, because clearly they all can (or believe they can) do better than me. so, what is it about him that he (a handsome boy with big hair and a brain and sideburns and a career in music promotion) couldn't catch one of his own? and just how fucked up is that line of thinking? i should be thinking that he's a more highly evolved member of his species, one at last worthy of my affections, because he saw that i had something to offer, or at the very least liked the looks of me. i should be thinking not that there's something wrong with him, but something right. right? because anyone who gets me, who get my attention like this...has got to be something special. not something screwy.

thank you, real life for skewing my thought processes away from believing that i actually have a chance with someone wonderful and towards believing that only fuckups would want me.

yeah, thanks. you're a peach.