Thursday, with feeling

Spent most of today with Denny, which was a nice change from my previous relationship with him. That usually made me want to puke up a lung, as he was so totally NOT into anything important to me.

We motored around, looking for a Passat W8 that was listed on eBay. The dealer had moved, left no forwarding address, their phone number was answered by a fax machine, and I couldn't log into eBay on my Treo to save my life. We went all the way down to Stafford, looking for this dealer.

After, I was talking to Lisa - she pointed out that it was NOT the car for me, as it had been such a struggle to even find it, and I wasn't successful with that. I realized - well, no, it was NOT the car I wanted - it was a compromise. The car I want is in Austin.

I spent another couple of hours tonight researching the Phaeton, pulling down the build codes, looking through the equipment/option code lists and combination choices. I need more expansion cards for my Treo; even after deleting all of the pictures of other Phaetons, I don't have room for these new pdfs.

Which leads to a whole conversation about compromise and settling for less than what we really want. That's a big clue, a HUGE clue that you cannot accept something larger for yourself. In other words, as soon as you start to think that you should settle for something less, it's a clue that you believe yourself unworthy of having what you want.

I'm really about over listening to some people's non-stop conversation about their sex lives. I've been having recurring conversations with several people that involve me listening and lobbing in occasional "uh-huhs" while they carry on about how hot, how wonderful, how .. who gives a fuck? I'm WORKING? Of course, one friend, who shall remain nameless, REPEATS everything. Over and over and over and over and over and over.

"Did I tell you how hot he was?" Yes, sixteen times. "Did I send you his picture?" Yes, and you've asked me if I received it five times.

So rarely do one of these people even ask a.) how I am, b.) if I am busy, c.) do I want to listen to them carry on about their random sexual acts and d.) have I yet opened up my wrists with a dull, rusty razor blade.

In these conversations, a consistent feature is:

Caller: "droning on"
Divo: "Uh, I have to go - I have an appointment/death squad at my door/suicide note to write."
Caller: "oh, okay .. drone, drone, drone, drone."

My weakness is in failing to interrupt these calls right off with "Hey, these are work hours and I want to focus. Call me later (like shortly after I've sawed my head off with a blunt sugar spoon, please.)" It is also in not bellowing down the horn "Hey, I'm busy and have to hang up. GOOD BYE."

Perhaps I can adopt these conversational techniques in the next few days.