Heather L. Barmore
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Heather L. Barmore
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Heather Barmore
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    Change In Action at Babble Voices



    "If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it." ~Mary Engelbreit

    One of the things I dislike most about myself (besides my lack of hotness. Ha!), is that I spew things out without fully thinking about what I'm saying or without explanation. I do it so often and then later in hindsight I realize what I've done. I contemplate retracting things that I've said and/or done, but no. That's not what needs to change. I read about this last week. That part of what makes someone an adult is the ability to edit oneself. I don't think that I need to edit myself to feel more like an adult. But I do need to realize how I approach things and situations and how they make me feel in the long run. It's not necessarily editing yourself, because when that happens-at least for me-everything is held in and I become a passive aggressive person who is upset all the time. That's not what I want. And that doesn't make me an adult, it makes me cranky.

    60% of the time, I let what other people think and say and their moods, affect my mood. It's not work that's the problem and definitely not the place I work (I've said it time and time again that I have always wanted to work here), it's that I let what others do define my mood.
    It's more about how I react to how the people around me are than getting frustrated.

    This morning, during a routine scheduling meeting, something sunk in. Something that I can't quite get my finger on, but a realization that things aren't always sempiternal and that I can do more to make things less routine, but in a way things are starting to become more normal. I will at least for many years, have four people tell me to do the same thing. There will be a Mr. Lumbergh in every office. And sometimes people just won't say good morning before asking you to do something. And sometimes people just blatantly ignore me. These are things that I cannot change and I can complain about them to everyone and their brother (and I will), but it's best to not let things that cannot be changed by me alone, upset me.

    It's just how things are; how people are. I can let it all make me more neurotic and upset or I can just let it go and move on. I'll choose the latter. And that's what will make me more of an adult.

    *Addendum: I just received a pep talk of the "No you don't suck you're doing great so stop being a neurotic freak and taking things personally or I will have to drop kick your ass" variety. And just then, the smallest of smiles, crossed my face.

    *Addendum part II: Sometimes it's smart to not ask questions. And don't even attempt to think of a reason for why people think the way they do, because in this world you will meet some very special people. Just roll with it. No worries, it will become routine.

    Note to Self

    When checking your work email at 11:30PM on your day off, makes you anxious and almost to tears, because someone has pretty much told you on numerous times how much you've done wrong and you continuously feel patronized; there's a problem.

    This is going to be one of those situations in which I can let other people define my mood and how I feel about myself or I can just say, I'm doing the best that I can and if that's not good enough, tell me and I will attempt to do better. Because I must say at this point, I'm really fucking sick and tired of feeling like this. Feeling inept and like I'm a constant fuck up. You know what, I'm not.

    There's a huge problem when one goes to work and is thisclose to tears every minute of the day. What the hell is wrong with me?? Yes, this is an adjustment period and yes this is hard, but my God, I spend everyday waiting for someone to tell me what I've done wrong. Even my days off, I know that somewhere someone is saying that I've done something terrible.

    Enough. I've had it with myself and the fact that I have been letting other people make me upset and anxious and in need of (more) therapy.

    I'm going to have one last good cry about work (since that's what I've done 75% of the time for the past two months) and I'm going to bed. In the morning, I will get up and run and go into work and I will be damned if I'm letting someone else's mood affect how I feel, because this is getting pretty fucking ridiculous.

    (ahhhhh that felt better)

    Play on Player

    "I'm not a player. I just crush a lot"-Big Pun

    Let’s play “woe is me” for a second here.
    I understand the plight of the middle class, the homeless, and hurricane victims, but right now I’m a little frustrated and miffed. You see, that’s what happens when you end up with hot roommates.

    My roommate is hot. Not in an “I’m attracted to him” way, but in a “girls love him and want to hook up with him” way (and for the record, after college, is it ok to use the terms “hook up” and “walk of shame”? I wonder). He’s had a date every night for the past three weeks. Girls that come into his work, practically fawn and swoon over him. I’m thinking it’s because he can get them in the door. But still, I must say that he’s smart, nice and a lot of fun; thus the reason for why he’s my roommate and friend.

    (For the record, as I sit and type this, I’m watching the Yankees lose and try to get my night guard to mold to my teeth properly. I feel like a pubescent teenager who didn’t get asked to the dance.)

    My previous roommate, Kimber, was (ok still is) also hot. And she too gets her fair share of ass. She too falls in the nice, smart and fun category. And also into the ‘playette’ category.

    For the record, I’m not anal about hooking up and or dating. It’s not something I’m constantly thinking about and obsessing over, unless someone else has brought up the subject. That said, there are times, such as now-while trying to get my dental appliance to not be painful-I think about why I’m not capable of “player hood.” Not that it’s my ultimate goal in life, but Lord knows there is no hotness to me.

    Oh, but sometimes, I will admit, I wish there was.

    Addendum: Roommate just finished playing his Acapella tape for this evening’s girl (a girl who didn’t even know that Randy Johnson plays for the Yankees). Kimber sings and was a musical theater major. I play the clarinet. I get hotter every second.