Office Moving Day

Another 2 entry day. You must think I'm a demon on the keys. Yeah baby! She's out of control. Well, I had written my entry that you just read last night at home while it was all fresh in my mind. It all just sort of flowed and today needed a little bit of tidying up spelling/grammar wise, and message wise. I normally never edit myself. It's a bit of a censorship, taking back things that I write when I feel those things at that time. But I think I got a little too anti-Christianity at one point and pulled a paragraph out.

The concept of me being like Jerry Garcia meeting the Pope is pretty much true with me meeting and dealing with someone who is a die hard super evangelical. As mentioned, I went to a Christian College. I hated a lot of the students there. The dean of chapel while I was there refered to a lot of students and their sentiments as "Pink Fluffies" cute, cuddly, not a lot of substance. Most of the girls in the education program at my college would wake up at 5:30 am to work out, do a devotion, iron their dresses, put on all their makeup... and be there pert and bushytailed for their 8am classes.

I, on the other hand, when I actually MADE it to my 8am classes, was usually exhausted after staying up until 4am making out with my boyfriend or cramming for a test. I wore sweatpants to class. I rarely showered for a first period class, but would wait until around lunch time to slither back to the dorm to either nap then shower or shower then eat.

I am not your typical evangelical woman. The 700 Club makes me nauseous. Some of the women I went to college with had never had their faith tested at that time, whereas I believe mine was tested on a daily basis through high school. But that is neither here nor there. I don't hang around with Pink Fluffies. Oftentimes you get a "Your God isn't big enough" smug assed kind of attitude from them when you're experiencing strife, and watching some of them actually HAVE to deal with crisis is too funny, er, painful to be in close proximity.

So that's the thing with me and Evangelical Culture. I'm not in it. I don't dig it. I go to church, but it isn't a crazy church. I'm an Episcopalian, commonly and jokingly refered to as "Whiskyopalians" (thanks Scott in Chicago) or "The Frozen Chosen."

But that isn't why I'm writing again today.

I'm writing again because I honestly have nothing else to do today. They are moving our department to the first floor in this building, and there is a lot of movement and chaos surrounding this event... and all my stuff is boxed up and gone, save for this PC upon which I click away with my chubby digits. The rest of my office mates are running around, acting silly, being kind of like office versions of Pink Fluffies and it's pissing me off. And, on top of all this, I am losing my office. I am moving into

...a cubicle.

Fuck !!!!!!

I hate cubicles. Especially now that I have spent nearly 7 months in an office of my own with the ability to slam my door shut when someone is playing Christina's Retarded Remake of "Lady Marmelade" and singing in the hallway. I had never had my own office before and am now officially spoiled completely by the ability to self-isolate at anytime.

And I knew I would feel this way when it came time to relocate.

And I knew this day was coming.

Our department was at one time about 40 people. We are now down to 15, mostly through self-atrition. People just left, at a rate of one a week at one point, over the course of this last year... And the space established for upwards to 50 was an echoey canyon with a long hallway of very dark and empty offices.

Seeing as most of the people who left were higher up the ladder in the group, they had offices. These offices were vacated. My boss lobbied to have our group in the department move into these offices. The Executive VP of our department was against it, but she couldn't see having us sit crammed in a corner in cubes when there were these nice offices going unused.

And, on top of that, no one thought anyone worked up here anymore. They'd come into our office area, and they'd have to walk down this long, lifeless hallway with offices dark and dreary. It was depressing.

So he relented, we got offices. It was the happiest, most glorious day of my life, the day I moved in here. Little did I know my joy and freedom would one day bring ever so much sorrow onto my little heart... my office gave me the ability to listen to music without headphones, to have personal phone conversations without the rest of the fucking company listening in. My office gave me the chance to start and successfully live in this journal, to surf crazy assed webpages higledypigeldy all damn day if I felt like it. Now I am losing it. Sniff. Sigh. Weep.

I have to go back to a cubicle, much smaller than the last cubicle I had here because they are cramming our happy asses into a smaller workspace. My cubicle downstairs doesn't have room for someone to pull in a chair and sit in it to work with me. This totally sucks... What is even worse than not having a good collaboration space, is now I have to sit with my back to the rest of the office. So sitting and typing my thoughts and feelings at the office is short lived.

After lunch I'll go down and start unpacking. It'll be noisy as hell. I'm way to used to peace and quiet of being able to sit here alone. Barf.