I gave my resignation 2 weeks ago. This Thursday will be my last day working for the District. I have a whole pot of different emotions going on. Swirling into some kind of survivors-guilt soup. There really is no one that I know of who will be able to do for my department what I can do. So what, right? I guess. But there is an addictive part of me that likes to be needed and essential.

So Friday night, a group of co-workers met at the Texas Martini Ranch for some cocktails. The first half hour I was there, I just wanted to go home. But after the alcohol does what it does, I relaxed and had an interesting time.

People are scary-fucked-up sometimes. I told an ex-co-worker about my open house. She not only came and pretended she was interested, she stayed a long time and told me that she went through all my things, just looking. Okay. I feel a little violated. First of all, how does anyone who calls themselves your friend, justify going into your house uninvited and go rifling through your night-stand drawer? I’m not even going to address the “got a souvenir” comment that she made. I chose to believe it was a fresh baked cookie I left on the kitchen counter. I know I’m in denial. I informed the realtor of the whole incident.

Okay, here’s the thing. Some of the people I work with are so homo-phobic that I have never said anything about myself. I listen. I have learned more about what they really think than I ever would have if I had exposed myself. Just last Friday, one of them referred to a T.V. personality as Ellen the Degenerate. Now, this woman who made the comment believes herself to be a born-again-Christian. Why is it, all the born-again-Christians I know are usually the most hateful, judgmental and self-absorbed people you’d ever want to met? Is it a prerequisite? Or is it they need saving the most?

Just let me get through this week.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can . . . . . .