Little Green Man Weekend

I may be having a little green man weekend.

They happen from time to time.

In Season 5 of Northern Exposure, they introduced this little green man who would follow Ed around and torment him. He was the physical manifestation of the voice inside Ed's head that would tell him he was incompetent and stupid and ugly and dumb.

I'm probably having a little green man weekend.

I woke up fighting with a coworker in my head. She's hopefully temporary . . . but she's being really awful to people and hurting my friend's heart and I'm just over it. I don't have the energy to deal with her stubborn quick temper, and she had no right to jump my shit over shit that is no longer her business.

Then I thought about my last interaction with EWAK and he seemed just distracted and not at all attracted to me. He didn't have that gaze and smile that he usually has . . . and so I fell straight into the deep dark stinking hole of doubt. How could I have asked him OUT on Tuesday? Oh holy Jesus. It's going to be awful.

Then I thought about how badly my feelings hurt because I don't get to go to this very important meeting about the future of South Pole. I know, I know. It shouldn't be a big deal. Technically, I wouldn't have a lot to contribute. I deal with the real people . . . not the theoretical. And I run the stupid store, for fuck sake. But I found out yesterday that my boss submitted my name to go and I was taken off the list . . . either by the NSF or her bosses. They obviously don't think I would be useful. And that kind of pissed me off. Yes, I run all the soft and fluffy stuff and yes there are far more critical staff people who need to be there. But, it feels like EVERYONE else is going. (No offence because he is a really good guy . . . but the fire alarm tech gets to go?) And it didn't help that the people who are going kept telling me I really should be going. Great. "Why aren't you going? You really should be going!" Yeah. Thanks. I'm not going.

Because what I do for South Pole doesn't actually matter.

And this is the phrase that the fucking little green man keeps repeating.

What I do for the South Pole doesn't actually matter.

At least the Art Museum was pretty.