How the hell can you work at a company for six fucking years and still not know the most rudimentary elements of the system you develop and sell!? How the fuck can you make a mistake that is likely going to cause us tremendous credibility loss, and quite possibly, legal trouble!? How can you sit there and say you didn’t know and pretend like it’s not your fault!?
You asshole!
So I got the keys to my new apartment yesterday. Well, “new” ain’t exactly the word I’d use to describe the place. It’s nice enough, but it needs work. I got to see it for the second time, and it really doesn’t look as nice as I remembered it. I really need to get rid of the interior, but I want to store it some place so I can put it back once I leave. It’s really quite horrible – to the point where even the landlord says he’s absolutely cool with me chucking things out; he just wants a furnished apartment back with furniture of at least equal quality. There’s green carpet on the floor that really needs to go. I mean…green carpet…
Marco hasn’t really been responding to any of my e-mails lately, and I’m wondering if my leaving is putting him in a position where he’s upset with me. I’ve been asking him over and over if we can make a deal on some of the furniture in the house and he hasn’t replied to even one of my e-mails regarding it. It’s getting to the point where I think I should call him soon. It would be awesome if I could take two or three sticks of furniture and perhaps some kitchen stuff.
The coming week is going to be crazy. Veed (Claus), Lin (Megan), Toryu (Jan), Tease (Lindsay), Flak (Simon) and Big Jim (Jim) are coming over to visit Amsterdam, and with the exception of Jim they’re all staying with me. Heavy D has already been sweet enough to offer up his home from Saturday onward, and Eva has done so, too. But seeing as how she lives in a studio-apartment with her boyfriend, it’s not such a good idea to put people up there. I think it’ll be a combination of my apartment, “Studio de Baars” or my house, “Villa BdV.”
Veed and Lin are coming quite early, on Wednesday, with the rest trickling in on Friday night and Saturday morning. It’s going to be a hell of a weekend.
I suffer from clusterheadaches. If you don’t know what they are, think of the worse migraine you’ve ever had, multiply that by a hundred then you’ve got its intensity. They show up in small clusters, hence the name. The clusters usually last for about one or two weeks for me, in which I’ll have a headache attack about once every two days. For me they don’t last very long, perhaps 30 to 45 minutes, but for others it is known to last up to 3 hours. Sometimes I pass out. If I don’t, I throw up. I haven’t had one in a long time, and for that I’m glad. The first time I had one and where I understood what I was suffering from was in the spring of 2001. My doctor asked me to find out if, as a child, I had suffered headaches like this as well. My mother told me I had spells in which I was nearly unhandlable and crying all the time when I was very young and unable to explain what was wrong. We think that they might have been clusterattacks, too. It goes away for months, sometimes years at a time, and they really don’t know what causes it, nor do they know if there’s a cure. The only thing I have is Immitrex, which is like horse-tranquiliser, that I can administer by pen-injection, but I lost that thing, so I’ve got some pills around. They keep me from passing out, but they make me more nauseous once the pain is gone.
Anyway, while I’ve been actively dealing with that for a few years now, why, oh why can’t I just endure a two day normal, vanilla-icecream, jetlag headache without getting cranky?
One of my colleagues just decided to leave the company. Well, he didn’t just decide this, he’s been thinking about it a while, and he and I have even discussed it in the past, but he just announced his departure. It’s going to be a very difficult few months when he departs since work is stacking up as it is.
Home
So, I’m home. Well, I’m home-ish. Home doesn’t really feel like home anymore, I have to admit. Where I once looked upon the house I live in as a spacious, slightly Spartan but comfortable home, now I just see an old house, with a garden I don’t care about in a neighbourhood that I don’t understand. The only thing it has going for it is that it has a driveway, it’s close to the trainstation, and close to where my mother lives.
I have an option on an apartment in the old western part of Amsterdam the deal on which I’ll most likely be closing this Thursday. I’ve talked about it before in this journal, so those of you that read it (semi-)regularly should know all about it by now. It’s far closer to work, closer to some of my friends and, well, it’s something new. It’s not better than the house I have now, because it comes with its own problems, like not having a place to park my car, it being smaller, and it being rather far removed from Kung Fu, but it’s going to be a change, which is welcome.
An Angry Friend
In other news, I managed to severely piss of Sam yesterday when I called her after not speaking to her in nearly three weeks. We had a falling out due to miscommunication before I left for New York, and about ten minutes into the phoneconversation yesterday it became really aparent that we weren’t quite done being angry at eachother. It sucks severely.
In case you’re interested in my side of the story, which most likely differs quite a bit from her side of the story, our falling out was due to some miscommunication the blame of which she puts squarly on my shoulders alone, telling me that “[I] just need to interpret [her] properly,” which, I think, is a little too one-sided in a case of miscommunication.
Well, she’s made a list of demands that I need to meet before things can be resolved. I really don’t know what to do with them as some of them are, well, hard as all hell to meet, and all of them put together is, once again, rather one-sided penance.
She’s always made a point to tell me that she felt like I was like family to her, and in her list of demands she made it very clear that she doesn’t consider me like that any longer. Very clearly she stated “I am not your family,” which, to me, sounds like a rather significant statement.
Perhaps I’m misunderstanding her again.
