I’m a strong independent gamer who needs no tutorial
In all fairness though,
I’m more concerned about my sister’s state of being right now.
My poor car.
I know how fond you were of your tires. You were just sitting there, being the innocent little thing you are, when that ranting, drunken idiot decided to take his hatred for my sister out on you, stabbing at your wheels with a blind fury. How many holes he must have had to carve before he pierced them with that pocket knife!
Forgive me for not reacting quickly enough to save them all. It took everything I had not to slip into an adrenaline-induced, savage rage. I could have hurt him. I could have been hurt. But instead, you took the blow.
And the nerve of his mother, to defend him, to consider his actions acceptable simply because you aren’t able to move. In what world is it okay to further damage something that doesn’t belong to you just because it’s already broken?
Somehow, I will find a way to bring you retribution, be it by new tires, paid for out of pocket by those wretched people, or simply in the shape of a notice stating that our home is off limits to these defilers, so that they may never hurt you again.
At least you can rest easy tonight knowing that reckless boy is behind bars. I can only hope that tomorrow, we’re still standing at a loss of only two. (Hold out, third wheel, please!) Regardless, I will be here, helping to patch you and lift you until we can properly fix you.
What a night.
I haven’t really gotten around to watching much Doctor Who, though I know I need to, which is why my dream strikes me as incredibly peculiar.
Last night I had a dream that I was traveling with the Doctor, and had been for quite some time, when we got caught in a rather sticky situation that we couldn’t get out of. (Details are foggy because as I wake to type this, it’s fading.)
It ended up coming down to this very emotional sort of showdown between the two of us. It wasn’t like the typical sheriff vs. bad guy showdown that you see in westerns though. It was more like a twisted version of Russian roulette, with two strange laser guns, each of us pointing a gun at the other’s head. Our captors wouldn’t let us leave until one of us was dead.
I remember the Doctor trying to convince me to just let him sacrifice his life to save mine, but I wouldn’t let him, because he was too important to the universe. So there was an awful lot of crying on my end, and sweet words whispered before we pulled the triggers.
Neither gun went off, and it should have been relieving, but our captors made us pull them again, and right before we did, I woke up.
I couldn’t even begin to imagine why I dreamed of this, having only seen a total of maybe twelve episodes of the show, but now I feel like I really need to watch it. However, I’ve also heard it is an extremely emotional roller coaster ride of a show, and I don’t know if I can handle that.
I think my desire to get out of second-hand fandom outweighs that of my emotional stability.
PS* The Doctor didn’t look like anyone we’ve seen yet. Odd, right?
I received my first written customer complaint. I have never been more disappointed in myself.
The worst part, after reading it, is knowing who made the complaint, reading their stretched truth, and then having your boss mostly take their side. I’ve been talked to before about how I deal with my stress at work, but never have I ever been called half the things that letter called me.
It stated that I have, and I quote, “one of the ugliest and most unapproachable personalities” the customer had ever come in contact with. Even in times of trial, I have gone out of my way to hold back snide comments and gestures because being rude never gets you anywhere, and this is just downright mean.
To make matters worse, my boss won’t let me have a copy. I just want it to reflect upon, but no. One glance and now I have to try to remember everything that was said so I don’t screw up again. He says he’s going to keep an eye on me, and hopes that I can change my attitude so he doesn’t have to let me go.
I just want to curl up in a ball and die. Why is it that no one in this place has my back?