Tomorrow I have to change cubicles.

This really blows. Partly because I had one of the best cubicles on the floor - one of the few where you can sit facing the traffic flow instead of always having your back to part of it - but also because I won't get to sit next to EwokGirl anymore. She's moving to the other side of the building, and I'm moving just one row over next to this old man who is quite a good guy but who probably won't appreciate my running commentary on the idiots of the world.

I'll also have to cut way back on my complaining about how much Lotus Notes sucks. Not because it doesn't suck, but because the language that I typically use to describe how much it sucks, and what it sucks, well that language is really not suitable for my new high-traffic location.

People that I hate:

1. Whores

2. Fuckheads

3. Sluts

4. Whores again

This list is not all-inclusive.

I feel kinda dumb.

I didn't read the company name on the box. What I thought was perhaps a charity with a stupid name turned out to be a parody of those "inspirational" posters that you sometimes see at work. If your job sucks, at least.

Oh, well. Live and learn I guess.

A few people did ask me what was in the box though. I answered that I had no idea. It wasn't addressed to anyone I know. I suggested that the cure for hope might be different for everyone.

A terrible diagnosis, a failed final exam, a guilty verdict, a rejected marriage proposal. Hope can be cured in so many ways - it's a wonder that it ever exists at all.

And some things, some things can remove all hope from one person yet breathe new life into another's.

Such as the situation I'm currently facing.

I don't know for sure if there's anyone that's happy about this. I think that, for now at least, I'm better off not knowing. But conventional wisdom would indicate that this is a happy event. Perhaps even a joyous one.

But not for me. For me, it's a cure for hope.

I know what's in my box. What's in yours? What would it take to cure your hope?

This was spotted with the rest of our incoming mail at work today.

I have no idea why I'm still here, seemingly as good as ever. Not that that is saying much. May as well say that smotlock is as subtle as ever.

There, I've mentioned smotlock. That should get me some hits.

My friend SassyGirl asked me today how I was doing. She did that head-tilting thing when she asked me which meant that she already knew the answer.

At least she thought that she did.

I dunno if I'm in denial here or what. It doesn't really feel that way. It feels more like I've given up, like this latest obstacle looming before me has finally caused me to accept that which I've been denying for a very long time.

This place where I'm at. That place where I long to be. There's no way to get there from here.

And, oddly enough, I'm okay. Obstacle after pitfall after trap after ambush have been placed before me, and until now I've always found a way to just go around, to just keep moving, to keep hoping.

And now, not so much.

I see before me a barrier that I'm unwilling to cross, and a part of me is relieved that I can finally stop this mindless quest. And, even if this respite turns out to be temporary, it's still a chance to rest, and that's something that I haven't had in a long time.

I told RockGirl today that I was waiting to die. Tonight, at least a part of me is waiting to live.

So, don't throw dirt over me just yet.

I'm still here. For now.

The nice thing about this is that it's giving me something to think about, but the bad thing about this is that it's giving me something to think about.

Too many things, actually.

My mind is aswarm with thoughts, my heart is teeming with feelings, all with their own agendas. Some will merge for a brief time, join forces in fierce battle against their enemies, swear allegiance to false alliances, but all the while only truly working toward their own vision of an idealized conclusion.

Others are adversaries from the start. Like dogs and cats, like Arabs and Jews, they are born into this war which began long ago and which will continue long after these individual skirmishes and battles and betrayals have become nothing more than forgotten footnotes in a history book.

And the individual combatants, so full of resolve and so possessed of purpose, they will become nothing more than patches of ground where the flowers, nourished by the blood-soaked earth, grow vibrant and strong.

And me?

Well, I'm Mars, The God of War.

...here are some things that made me feel good today:

1. I got a bunch of anonymous messages and emails all containing wonderful words of encouragement.

2. A hot girl sent me a picture of herself in a bikini.

3. HatGirl is finally back from her vacation.

4. It was actually halfway warm outside.

Three times today, I went and pushed the elevator button, and three times the door opened immediately. That means that the elevator was already on my floor, right?

Then why was there somebody in the damn thing? How long had they been there? What were they doing in there?

This kind of shit bugs me.

My sanity is like a game of emotional Jenga right now. It could collapse at any moment.

I wrote that simile in an email today, and I immediately liked it. I'd like it a fuck of a lot more if it wasn't so true.

I figure that there are two people on Earth that know what I'm talking about right now. Then there are maybe one or two more that could guess. Those numbers will grow over the next few days and perhaps weeks until eventually most of the people in my life will know.

And then, once they know, they'll all turn to look at me. To watch me crumble into dust. Again.

Some of them will, I'm convinced, watch with genuine concern, with sympathy and empathy. Those are the people that truly care about me. They will feel pain because I will feel pain. And for that I am both eternally grateful and profoundly sorry.

The rest of you, the rest of you who will watch this happen to me with nothing but amusement and smugness and self-righteousness, don't let me catch you giggling and pointing in my direction. Don't let me see you rolling your eyes at me as you dismiss my pain with a wave of your hand. I will take you down with me. I will fucking tear you apart.

There is actually irony here. I've often used this scenario to describe how much worse things could get. I was living in the eighth circle of Hell, but I could always point to the ninth circle and say, "You know, maybe it isn't so bad here after all. Those poor souls really have it rough."

Well, I'm about to relocate.

Those words which I've used to describe what's the worst that could happen have suddenly and horribly been transformed from impossible nightmare into cold hard fact. I seem to be, so far, unable to accept it. I seem to be refusing to accept it and recognize it for what it is. I imagine that I will continue to refuse to accept it until this protective bubble bursts, until that camel's back breaks, until that last game piece is moved and everything collapses.

My sanity is like a game of emotional Jenga right now. It could collapse at any moment.