The Cantankerous Old Bat

So it's first thing this Monday morning, an unremarkable Monday morning made bleak by the fact that there's no coffee and the sky is ominous with the threat of rain, and Dee (the septuagenarian secretary here) is standing at my desk rasping out some type of question or demand that as yet I am unable to translate from Whinespeak. Later she will feel badly about coming at me with such abrasiveness so early in the morning, and she'll compensate by being overly nice and interested in my life, and this will be worse than her pontificating.

I was feeling so angry last night, after Lee came over. It made me feel silly to have such a reaction to her aloofness, but it also made me see just how tightly the strings that connect my mind to my ego are tied. I was trying to think of the last time I felt so judged/mislabeled/unnecessarily awkward, and I think it was while interacting with Kevin at OU. Feelings I haven't dealt with, I guess... Walking to work this morning involved sort of the same feelings, though duller; black and white instead of technicolor. The OC students are back, walking around downtown and the campus, dressed to disguise the affluence that they come from, as I pass them I wonder about the glances in my direction, disdaining, blonde headed chica with lipstick and a skirt, I am not a doormat and you don't own what it means to be tough. It's a tender issue but only because I used to be the one doling out these wary looks. I suppose that I hate that I used to be that way, hence the reaction. Being judgemental is most limiting for the person doing the judging. The more I live the more I believe that the average person has much more depth than they are willing or able to show.