People doing things that affect me affects me, and it sucks. What happens is in trying to be compassionate I forget myself. Not that I am usually remembering myself, it's just that I either operate from headquarters here or half ass the world and myself leaching off someone else's problem.

a. Chris at work is a dick, plain and simple. What to say to him though. Something? Nothing? Nice? Bitchy? I realized yesterday how thinking about it so much had turned me inside out. I imagine I'm supposed to be nice. There's the problem, though, I'm not supposed to be anything. Whatever I do has to be for me. Smiling and making him think I hold valuable information, which I do (him being a dick), sounds like me. Solved.

b. My counselor at school is pissing me off in a number of ways. First of all, I'm paying a lot of money to have her piss me off. Second, she hasn't called or emailed me back in over three weeks. The message from all counselors now is leave one message and wait for a reply; the system is slowed by repetitive calls and emails. I called once and emailed once. I called again yesterday. Problem is I wanted to begin a certain class today. Third, she screwed up and bumped a class I already took to today's start date. I had to call another counselor to resolve this. Fourth, I also asked her for an elective list because my counselor failed to send me one when I asked. So, now I have no idea what class will be next and when. What bothers me most is that when I finally talk to my counselor I'll probably tell her it's alright when it isn't. Perhaps I'll sabotage my wuss plan by calling my counselor everyday, leaving multiple messages, to slow down the system so much that it stops on yours truly. Then I can apologize. Woops! Solved.

c. Aaron's energy focused on drinking is pathetic. I am not allowing him to drink in my presence, in fact, I said I'd kick him out if I catch him again. Weeks ago he hinted that drinking was different than using drugs, which it is for the normal, non-heroin-experimenting person. I replied, "go to a meeting," which he hasn't, and I don't entirely blame him because it's an effort in itself just to process the group's Christian god into the right, nameless feeling. Drinking would be acceptable if he transformed the dark, dusty buddha and thousand-legger warehouse basement into a logical place for himself to spend drunken evenings alone until morning. All I need to know about this is that I don't like him when he is drinking. When I don't like someone, I am safe to resort to the same type of treatment I will offer in example a.= smile and make him think I know something.

The smile truly invigorates the exact parts of the brain necessary for the moment. Me smiling about my husband's drinking/self loathing cycle? Sounds powerful. Much more powerful than words. Solved, I guess.