Darren Endymion's Blog, page 36

Ironic Interview

*sigh* Sometimes I think like I’m too much of an ass for my own good.

For instance, my publisher has a deal with a review site which allows us writers to have our own pages on said review site. There is an interview form that we fill out and submit it back to our publisher, who then forwards it to the review site itself. It’s free marketing/publicity, so I decided to do it.

The irony?

Out of all the review sites I have found that reviewed my book, this is the only one that didn’t like it.

Granted, not that many sites reviewed my book anyway, and I am sure there are sites and know there are people who didn’t like what I wrote. I’m just saying (with no small amount of pride and gratification) that out of the ones I have found or who have contacted me, this is the only one that didn’t like my book.

Here’s the thing, though. Almost all the reviewer’s comments were spot on. I read her review and was bewildered at the two star rating she gave it (which she posted on multiple sites, thankyouverymuch). I had to read it three times to come to the conclusion that what she thought were bad traits, I strove to bring out. What she thought were negatives, I saw as positives.

There was only one particular in which she was flat out wrong, but though it chafes me, I can’t blame her. I imagine she has never been in a guy’s locker room, heard guys talking to each other when there are no women around, or perhaps even spent much time around straight men. (That last part was low and probably not even true, but I thought it was funny, so I’m leaving it. Ha!)

In a locker room setting, the most intelligent of guys will often dumb down their intellect, and become base, crude beasts. Not all, of course. But you get that much testosterone in one small space, and a great many social niceties are abandoned. There was a story recently about a NFL pro who was bitching about the horrible things that are said in the locker room. So many people were saying, “It’s a locker room! What the hell did you expect?” This doesn’t excuse them (especially the ones he was having trouble with, which I hope were atypical), but guys do terrible things when together in a group.

This reviewer said that Tim and his friends in my novel were stereotypical rednecks. False. They were douchebags. When they were together, even Cris, who was normally well spoken and bright, would sink to their levels. Furthermore, I live in California right next to a college (not that it’s the best of places, but it’s hardly redneck-ville). Some of the horrid language that Tim and his drunken asshole friends, some exact phrases, I plucked from the drunken idiots who would parade in front of my window, vainly trying to find their daddy-bought cars while bellowing ignorance and obscenities to each other. Tim and his friends in my novel were exactly that: young, drunk, ex-frat boy, over-privileged, douchebags. However, when it was just Tim and Cris or Cris and Hector, a lot of Tim/Hector’s more douchetastic qualities were lessened. I did this on purpose.

These aren’t rednecks. These are young, drunken idiots, who may be decent folk in real life, but the peer pressure of great gatherings of testosterone turn them into something else. This type of attitude, these conversations between Tim and his friends,were literally lifted from real life conversations. Their attitudes and language skills are despicable, unforgivable, and shouldn’t be encouraged, but they are, in fact, sadly real. I did my best (and frankly, I did a good job) at listening to how these guys actually speak, and replicating this in my novel.

So, to reiterate, this reviewer thought something good as far as writing style goes, was negative and stereotypical. In fact, all my good reviews, from both my incredibly kind and generous readers and the review sites themselves, all praised what this woman was damning and lamenting about. Multiple story lines, fleshed out characters, the pain and redemption of the main characters, the bigoted abuse heaped on my main character, etc. She saw these things as negative.

So, now I am trying to fill out this interview form, thinking about this and wondering at the irony of it all. Every writer, singer, actor, etc. feels that he or she has been wronged by a critic or the public at some point. It’s so common that it’s boring. But for a relative beginner (who frankly needs all the exposure he can get), I find myself in a weird spot. Would it be dignity to say, “Well, if they don’t like me, then I wouldn’t deign to be part of their site”? Or would I have my head all the way up my own ass and be so full of myself to not use this opportunity? I suspect the latter, honestly. So, I am planning to go ahead with it.

Regardless, I don’t know what she was expecting or what she normally reads, but if those are negative qualities in a book, then I strive to be bad.

Stupid Decisions

So, after the madness of Thanksgiving, I have a big decision to make.

I have found out that my rent will be going up $30 for the next year, which is considerably less that what I expected. It is just within the realm of possibility on an already stretched budget. Staying here would mean saving less than the small amount I already was, would mean being locked into a lease for another year (therefore necessitating my presence at my current job during the worst of all life-killing seasons), and paying a whole lot of money.

However, it would also mean freedom, lots of alone time, the ability to spread out, not having to deal with other people’s messes, having anyone I want over, etc.

On the flip side, I do have a friend who is renting a room from a well-established older man who happens to have another room for rent. The rent would be less than half what I pay now, I wouldn’t be locked into a lease, I could save tons of money, I would be able to move in a year like I had planned (and with lots of money), I could therefore miss another season of Hell at my current job (one which I am currently toughening up to brave), and I would be able to breathe again.

The bad side? The friend I mentioned is my ex. He’s the one who suggested that I move in there. Essentially, I would be living with my ex and his friend. My ex and I are friends, good friends, in fact, and we are talking about getting back together if certain requirements are met, but it could potentially be really uncomfortable. Neither of us would feel free to date or *ahem* anything else, and there’s the potential for ugliness. I wouldn’t have the freedom I do now, I would be living in someone else’s house, I would be pretty much holed up in my room (which is what I did with my previous roommate, the one who boiled forth from Satan’s bowels), and I would come to be frustrated and possibly resentful.

The older man is a smoker, but wouldn’t be in my room. I have been there on many occasions and have never smelled it, and I have a very strong sense of smell. I have no doubt I would eventually, but it hasn’t been bad so far. He is also a conservative Republican gay man (no, I don’t understand it, either), and is very fond of talking out his points. I am tactful in saying that I don’t agree with someone and leaving a discussion that will never go anywhere, but…

Still, with my ultimate goal in mind, this situation can’t be beat. There is nothing that would allow me to save the amount I would in this situation. I adore my ex, we have tons in common, and we can hang out for hours and hours and not get on each other’s nerves. Also, everything in this area is ridiculously expensive.

*sigh* There is going to be good and bad at any place I go to, and I understand that. But why does it have to have such dramatic high and low points?

So, this is the stupid decision I need to make.

This week.

Flighty Randomness

Do you ever have those days where it seems that either too much or not enough is going on and you therefore cannot concentrate? That’s pretty much where I am. Only on the too much side this time.

1) My old friend and manager, who used to come to my cubicle and whisper, “Someone farted in my office!” and then leave contacted me last week out of nowhere. She, of course, wanted to send me a flatulence joke. The woman has known me for thirteen years and, when I told her of my recently published novel and ensuing (disturbing) lack of motivation to write more, informed me that I am essentially whining. She told me that she knows it’s something I want to continue to do, that I am a good self-promoter (unless it’s serious or I have done something big), and offered me advice on how to deal with negativity. As usual, she was completely right, and I feel somewhat invigorated.

All this from a fart joke.

2) Thanksgiving is this week. The last time I spent it with family my aunt made dinner. While I appreciate the effort, I would rather have eaten wallpaper paste. I’m not sure that I didn’t. The ham was dry and tough. Ham jerky. The turkey was somehow slimy. The cranberries (which I abstain from in the best of situations), were actually expired, meaning she somehow found a can of them I can only assume was buried in a time capsule from the 1950s. I love mashed potatoes. Generally speaking, they are amazing. These mashed potatoes, however, tasted like wasp paper. I wasn’t sure if I should eat them or build a nest.

I have declined the invites to Thanksgiving since then.

3) I moved into this lovely apartment last February. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I was stuck without a roommate and with very high rent and very little money to do anything. In the interest of not being poor and being able to save enough to (likely) move out of state next year, I have come to the conclusion that I must rent a room. The only place in the area I think would be good is with my friend/ex/possible future boyfriend and his more established roommate — an older man who owns his townhouse near my work. It’s to save and within a year to move. It’s a place which will make my goals attainable.

Yet, the idea of going from living alone to living with two roommates, one my ex, the other a conservative, Republican, older gay man chafes me.

4) I’m a stubborn idiot, even when it comes to things which will benefit me, Consequently, I am simultaneously getting on myself to set up a schedule and start writing, and inwardly throwing a tantrum and refusing to do so. Still, as I mentioned above as the result of a fart joke, I think that will change soon.

Balancing that with having to pack (again!), changing my address (again!), putting my extra stuff into a storage unit, cancelling my utilities, essentially living out of a room (again!), having to deal with telling certain friend(s) to shut the hell up about the decision, all during the busiest season of the year at work will be…unpleasant.

Because my brain is a perverse, probably demon-possessed thing, I will probably wish nothing more than to write during this period when I will be nearly unable to.

5) My job. January through April is an extremely busy time of year (people require many pigs to launch during these months), one which makes all the other months look like dances around the Maypole. For the first month I am looking at 10 hour days, six day weeks, possible illegal amounts of caffeine and Advil for my aching, typing, exhausted wrists, and an involuntary hissing when I see the building I work in. Still, the pay is good, the overtime plentiful, and I don’t know many who could turn down being paid to work their asses off…while listening to audio books, music, and the blessed silence I will get when my seat is changed.

I haven’t been able to celebrate New Year’s Eve with proper abandon in years. Still, it’s all working toward a goal, and if I ring in the New Year while packing, at least I know that it will mean a better New Year and a huge step toward my ultimate goal.

6) Alas, it is late. I go now to sleep and to a respite from my worries. Hopefully stupid Pandora won’t wake me up with some random shit music like it did last night. Taylor Swift, gleefully trashing an endless line of beautiful ex boyfriends, came on for the first time EVER on my Pandora station. I literally woke up saying, “What is this awful shit being pressed into my ear canals?”, pressed the thumbs down button, tore my headphones out, and went back to sleep.

Have mercy.

Motivation and Signs

Truth is, I might just be a lazy sow, but I just don’t have the motivation to write much lately.

Whatever higher power you believe in is immaterial, even if yours of is one of coincidence and indifference. I have often been lost and dazed about what to do, or wondered if I am on the right track. When this happens I have asked the Universe (insert your preferred god here) for some sort of sign, and have been rarely disappointed.

For instance, my first published novel Winter’s Trial started as something written only for myself. Wanting to be a writer, I would think about how great it would be if I actually got it published but with something only resembling inactive hope. Werewolves? Yawn. Gay novels? Generally unimpressed. So, why the hell was I writing about them both? True, I loved Austin and Cristiano, Taylor, Quinton, Pearl, and the whole cast. Writing was like spending time with friends, but I started to doubt if anyone would want to spend time with them, too. I kept wondering if I should even bother or move on to something else. Maybe even abandon the idea of professional/novel writing altogether.

Walking home one day thinking about this question, I noticed something on the ground. It was an abandoned green name tag sticker. On it were the words, “Hello, my name is: Austin”. I literally stopped in my tracks. I got the chills.

Hello, sign! How are you? Next time please don’t his me so hard, thanks!

I was going to take a picture of it with my phone and decided not to at the last moment. Some things should remain imprinted in the mind. I think memory is sometimes better than proof.

I wasn’t above taking the sticker, though. I tried to nudge it, pick it up, whatever. It was very much stuck to the sidewalk. I decided it was best left alone. My spirits raised, I went home and wrote and wrote and wrote.

The next day I was determined to take a picture of it. The sticker was gone.

There were none of the remnants of sticker, nothing indicating it had been reluctantly removed from the sidewalk. Sure, it wasn’t super glued, and it shouldn’t have been difficult to get it off, but why? Had this mysterious Austin come back to claim his property? Was someone offended by the name and removed the sticker? Was it less stuck than I thought and ended up on the bottom of someone’s shoe?

I will never know. And I think that’s all for the best. It was there when I needed it, and gone before it could become common and therefore have all its imagined magick robbed from it.

Coincidence? Probably. Unremarkable on any other day? Certainly. Really means nothing? Yeah. Am I making a huge deal out of nothing? Of course.

But what if?

That was the first in a series of such signs, but that was the first and the one that kept me going. Now, when I allow life to intrude to the point of lunacy, I think I may ask for another sign. I am plagued by doubts. Do I have any right to ask for more than one? Should I find that strength within myself? We all know the answers to that. But even if it means nothing more than widening my perception to see something to point me in the direction I know deep inside I should be going, isn’t that enough? Even if I attach mystical meaning to some unrelated, totally mundane coincidence, if it sets me on the right path, then who cares what set me on it, right?

Either way, that’s enough for one night. Maybe I will discuss some of the other signs which led me to produce what I did. Winter’s Trial, incidentally, can be bought on Amazon, Torquere’s site, or any number of other book sellers.

Maybe the sticker was right.

An End to the Pain

No, this isn’t some low-distribution suicide note. I’m far too ornery for that.

It’s no secret to anyone who knows me in real life, or through perusing this blog, that my writing schedule has been lax at best. I try to come here twice a week to annoy and bore people, but I am lucky to get here once a week. I had wonderful plans to write more and be done by a certain time with projects I have thought about. Fail!

It’s also not a secret that I have been experiencing horrible headaches. I have had mild to severe headaches nearly every day for over a month. My Excedrin bottle is swiftly becoming hollow, a pathetic rattle whose sound means only pain. All I have done is come home, sleep, eat, watch some TV, and go back to bed. I have had to take 2-6 Excedrin a day for the past two weeks before all this. The only writing I have been able to do is here.

It was too much. I shouldn’t have waited so long, but I was planning to make a doctor’s appointment when I got a call from Rite Aid. My Flonase was ready to be picked up.

I suffer from allergies, usually due to the weather by Sybil we have here in southern California (in one week in October it went from 90 to high 60s in about four days). We have these winds that I’m told come off the surrounding deserts and sweep toward the coasts. These winds give us 90 degree heat in October and November (last week, in fact). Deserts? I don’t believe it. Truly, I believe that these winds come right from Satan’s backside, blow across his boiling taint, and ooze out toward the beaches. It’s the only logical explanation.

So, I have been taking my Flonase every day during this non-autumn we Californians have every year (I’m looking at low 70s and high 60s for the next two weeks. I love autumn and the cold, so this rather blows). This is the cause of my headaches. I have been taking my Flonase every day since I was given the prescription about a eight months ago. My headaches have been getting steadily more frequent and more painful over that time, but it was so gradual that I barely noticed.

I talked to a pharmacist and he said this reaction was common, likely, and understandable considering. He recommended that I watch the weather and projected pollen count and start using about a week before it will set me off.

I have been off it for almost two weeks now and I have not had a single headache. I used it during the most recent Satan’s Taint winds and had nothing. It’s the constant reintroduction of this into my nostrils that has been giving me a headache. Apparently, it’s common with most nasal sprays.

I feel like I’ve been to a tent revival where the Holy Pharmacist of the Gods has lain his hand upon my head, pushed my little ass down, and HEALED me! Yeah. It’s been bad. Hopefully my writing and other life duties and pleasures will return. And hopefully I regain the sense that was clearly taken from me which prevented me from figuring it out sooner. *sigh*

Don’t judge me. hahaha.

Writer of the Month Nomination

My friends often tell me that I try to soften or mitigate all my successes, so I will just state the facts here.

I was nominated for Writer of the Month on Mrs. Condit Reads Books’ LGBT section. They gave me five out of five sweet peas (their versions of stars, apparently) for my first novel Winter’s Trial. From there, I think there is an elimination round and then all the books with two or more votes get nominated, people vote again, and the ones with the most votes go to the finals. I can’t seem to load who the finalists were, but it’s not going to kill me.

You know all those stars who say bullshit things like, “It was an honor just to be nominated” and you think, “Whatever, freakin’ liar. You want to WIN!”? Yeah, well, winning is great (I assume) but as a first time author with a novel that is very high end expensive and with a high page count for the genre, it was amazing.

I didn’t know about it until the voting was over (I just found out this weekend), but it truly was awesome to be nominated.

Almost all of my “professional” reviews, save one, have been 4-5 stars, so I guess it’s doing well. Here are some links to the rated reviews I have been able to find:

5 Sweet Peas

http://mrsconditreadsbooks.com/index.php/?p=15010

4 ½ stars

http://thenovelapproachreviews.com/2013/09/05/winters-trial-offers-plenty-of-twists-and-turns-in-the-shifter-world/

5+ kisses

http://top2bottomreviews.wordpress.com/2013/11/08/winters-trial-by-darren-endymion/

4 ½ hearts

http://mmgoodbookreviews.wordpress.com/2013/09/09/winters-trail-by-darren-endymion/

In addition to that, I’m apparently on several lists on Good Reads (a site I can’t decide if I loathe or love). My current low, low, LOW placement on those lists makes me giggle, but I’m on them nonetheless.

I’m on:

Best M/M Book by a Debut Author of 2013

Best Gay Romance with Abused/Traumatized Characters

M/M Books with Themes of Restricted Freedom and Personal Choice (wtf?)

Best Gay Shifters

I’ve also had some very wonderful people go out of their way to reach out to me, be it on Facebook, my web site, or here, and that’s wonderful. I had another one this weekend, and I appreciate every last one of them. There aren’t words to express how satisfying it is to have produced something you love and to find that other people love it, too.

Not bad, I guess. Right?

Enough with the Titles Already!

When I was a young kid I thought the literary fantasy world revolved around Piers Anthony. Huge fan of the Xanth series. Reading them as an adult will likely induce migraine-inducing eye rolls. The puns! Such a good premise for a world, utterly compromised, seemingly by the region of madness mentioned in the books. Castle Roogna, Night Mare, and a few others are worth reading, even now. His series, the Incarnations of Immortality, is fantastic (skipping the unnecessary abomination that is the eighth book). They are sexist, but if you read anything of Mr. Anthony’s, you are going to be appalled by that aspect, but those books are wonderful. He was an amazing writer and had an imagination that is truly staggering.

As an adult I started branching out more, reading science fiction and more fantasy and realized there was a whole world without puns. It was amazing.

Within the past few years I started getting into historical fiction and biographies, mostly about the Tudors, Catherine de Medici, Isabella of Castile, etc.

So, then I get to the my most recent fantasy read (whose title I will not name). I can tell that the woman did a shit-ton of world building and it pays off with the story elements. The book itself is great, but the titles she assigns these people are extensive to the point of lunacy. I am familiar with the extensive titles given to the nobility, particularly through the Tudor dynasty, where most of my reading has centered. But this woman…Jesus freakin Christ. She adds more than anyone ever had in reality. And she mentions them all very frequently.

It got to the point where I was frustrated. I don’t give a shit if this goddamned prince has seven mufukin titles (yes, I counted). I don’t need it to be told to me one time, much less three times within the first 40 pages. It does not matter for the course of the story (imagine how pissed off I was when I realized I had concentrated on all these titles just to have them never matter at all in the whole series). It never comes into play. I don’t have to remember any but two–that he’s a prince (I got that), and that he can control fire. That is told to me within the story, the way most people think it should be.

Every person in this story has a minimum of three titles, and they are mentioned every time these people come “on stage”. When four people enter a room, I am tempted to skip ahead three pages so I can get to why they are in the freakin’ room in the first place. I don’t need all that. It’s not like the world of the real Tudor dynasty where everybody was named Mary, Anne, Catherine, or Thomas and you used *gasp* their last names to tell them apart. The people in her novel have vibrant, distinctive names. So why all the titles?

This woman is a good writer with amazing talent. Putting that many titles in the text so frequently seems, to steal a quote from Silence of the Lambs, “like the elaboration of a bad liar.” Having read so much about the actual people in the times most fantasy books draw from, it comes across as exactly that: like she is trying too hard. It worked for Tolkien, but tossing seventy-five titles into the mix means nothing anymore. We no longer care. But if you are going to make us read it, it had better have fucking relevance later, not just some nonsense to give your book the illusion of depth.

Am I the only one who this bothers? Has anyone heard of Gilbert and Sullivan’s comedic opera, The Mikado? Love it. It’s goofy, fun, etc. Early in the operetta one of the characters talks about all the heads of state quitting and how he took on all their titles (and the salaries attached to them). Reading this aforementioned novel I am reminded of Poobah’s speech about his ill-gotten titles. I leave you with this speech (drawing from other performances where they added more titles for comedic value), which is what this book seems like between her otherwise amazing writing.

Poobah: It is consequently my degrading duty to serve this upstart as
First Lord of the Treasury, Lord Chief Justice, Commancter-in-Chief,
Lord High Admiral, Commander General, Master of the Buckhounds,
Groom of the Back Stairs, Head Groom of the Imperial Polo Ponies,
Lord High Snitch to the Mikado, Arch bishop of Titipu, and Lord Mayor,
both acting and elect, all rolled into one.

Vacation’s End, Hell’s Beginning

*sigh*

Tomorrow it’s back to the soul-sucking place of employment after exactly seven days away from it. In that time I spent a great deal of time with my friends, ate enough to cause irreparable harm to the elderly or very young, carved a pumpkin inspired by the beloved Trick r Treat, read, wrote, figured out a back story for a character I will eventually write about (and her mother), and realized that I will have to move (again) when this lease is up if I ever want to get my little ass out of this state and to my desired location.

Then I received a call today from my friend and coworker, Krysta. The aforementioned hated coworker, Janice, is reportedly up to her usual shenanigans. I was going to train her how to do our big report, but she put it off for two days, saying she wasn’t in the mood. Then she called out “sick” for two days, and came back on what can be our busiest day of the week. I trained Krysta in her stead for two days, and when our supervisor gave her time off our normal work to complete the report, Janice the Hateful threw a fit.

She blamed me for not training her sooner. She complained that Krysta was needed with the normal work (Janice also does this when I get time away to do this report). Then she was informed that some people were moving. When she found out that I was one of those people, another fit was thrown. Her other seat-neighbor is also being moved. Another fit.

Then she started attacking Krysta, asking why she was trained and not someone else, implying that Krysta was trained because she and I are friends. *sigh* Janice was my first choice, but she flaked out. Another coworker, Penny, was my second choice. Penny declined to learn this time because she was behind on her work. These things should not need to be explained, but with Janice, it’s best to tell her and shut her up ASAP. After telling her, you get to hear her complain for 10-45 minutes about why she doesn’t agree, how it should have been done, why you were wrong, etc.

That, however, is the lesser of two evils. The alternative is to hear her yammer, make snide comments, and bitch for however long it takes until you tell her. Then you get 20 minutes to an hour of complaining. If you have a stubborn streak (as I certainly do) and don’t tell her at all, she will not forget it. It will come up over and over and over literally for years. Now I tell her, put my headphones in, and turn my back to her. Unlike Freddy Krueger, this only seems to enrage her and lend her Extra Evil Nagging Powers. And the band plays on.

Then, after all those fits and knowing there would be a lot of work today, Janice called out again.

This is what I get to return to. Whatever. Enough of my bitching. Thank you for reading. Next time I will be cheerier, I hope.

I know I will survive. I will push for the moving of my desk. I will push for us to work at home. I will push forward. Not because I have a positive attitude or some shit. Because I’m too damned ornery to give up.

Halloween Approacheth

Yeah, I’ve got nothing going on today.

I needed a vacation badly (see my annoying coworker entry), and I figured my favorite holiday would be the perfect time. I have from tomorrow to next Tuesday off, ostensibly for Halloween, but really to get the hell away. A week, which would last roughly forever if I was at work, but which will pass in a flurry of movies and blinking and seem like only a day. Maybe two. Damned perception.

Tonight I am watching Hocus Pocus. I love this movie, and it definitely puts me in the mood for Halloween. Later I will watch It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. After that, since I only have one errand tomorrow morning (and much of the fun of being off is that I can stay up until a million o’ clock in the morning), I will watch Trick r Treat. After that, I will read Legion by William Peter Blatty (author of The Exorcist), which I will be reading on my new Kindle I just got this weekend (thank you unexpected bonus from my manager at work!) Maybe after that I will play Costume Quest on my PS3…maybe while listening to the audio book of The Demonologist. 

It’s going to be a night of fun for the geeky Halloween lover in me.

Tomorrow it’s pumpkin carving with friends, more movies, and much hanging out. Since the other day I try to post here will be Thursday, and that happens to be Halloween, I hope to post more, but it may be (for once) very brief.

I have started writing again, a little at a time, and hope to continue the trend. I need to clean the disaster that is my desk, but…well, I’m boring the hell out of myself. Gods help anyone who is trying to read this tripe. Hahaha.

I’ll try to be more entertaining later this week. If I am too inebriated and having too much fun to post, then I hope everyone’s Halloween is amazing.

And, I have just this moment found out that there will definitely be a Trick r Treat 2. Hopefully my downstairs neighbors aren’t bothered by my back-handsprings. And yes, I can actually do them. Woo hoo!

The Autumnal Ninja strikes again!

*throwing Gobstoppers and disappearing in a flurry of autumn leaves*

That One Annoying Coworker

Warning: this has nothing to do with writing, and is simply a lengthy work rant…or is it?

Everyone has that one coworker who needs to be bludgeoned and tazed into submission. Usually, this is someone who refuses to do his/her work and drags the whole team down.

My team has two of those. They irritate, don’t get me wrong, but they aren’t the issue anymore. We have a very good supervisor who doesn’t take any shit and actually holds these assholes accountable for their negligence.

No, the issue, the fester, the canker on our team is ironically one of the best, smartest, and hardest workers.

Have you ever known someone who is universally seen as difficult? Someone who is just cantankerous and ornery and whose mood is subject to change without notice or reason? Yeah, that’s my coworker — we will call her Janice. And she sits right behind me. I’m strong willed and so is she. It’s lucky for those around us that we usually agree. However, she has systematically alienated the entire team with her abrasive, volatile, brazen evil, which borders on bipolar disorder.

But, when she is good, she is good. She’s smart, funny, and talkative. Gods help us, is she talkative. In fact, this is where most of our clashes stem from for the past year. Because of the way we sit, when she calls me, I have to stop what I’m doing, turn around, and attend to her. Usually, when she’s not Demon-Janice, I enjoy talking with her, but if I am busy, it gets old. And that’s when the horror starts. As an example:

Recently she called me and I didn’t hear her because I was doing a report for our manager, the director, the sales team, and ultimately the senior vice president (who had recently caught me researching Henry VIII, as I mentioned in a previous entry). I had my headphones in and my iPod turned up because they needed the report in a few hours, and I needed to block everything out. The whole team knew this, and was leaving me alone. She apparently called me. I didn’t hear. She called me again, louder. I didn’t hear her. We have IM. She could have easily summoned me that way, but did not. The third time she actually yelled my name. That, I heard, ghetto ass.

I tried to keep the irritation from my voice. “What’s up, Janice?”

“Did you hear me calling you?” Irritated. Already confrontational.

That set me on edge because I knew what was coming. I wanted to say, “Bitch, even if I did, my job is not to be your personal assistant, eternally at your beck and call, so ask me your goddamned question and let me get on with my work.” Instead, I said, “No, sorry. What can I help you with? I’m working on this and need to get back to it.”

“Uh, well, we’re ALL working…”

“Of course. What’s up? What was your question?” I tried to sound cheerier here, but my face is a traitor and always gives me away.

“I’m trying to ask you a question, and you’re sitting there with your headphones on, ignoring me. I don’t think you should have them up so…”

“That’s great. If you think I’m abusing the headphone policy, talk to our supervisor about it. I need to get this done.” I turned around.

“I was calling you.”

I turned around again and almost said I was sorry. But I didn’t because I wasn’t. “Okay, what can I do for you? Did you need something?”

“Yeah, I need for you to pay attention…” and started her rant again, about how I should listen and, again, berating me like I was a negligent spouse. Yuck. Never once did she ask me her question (I still don’t know what it is, nor do I care).

“IM me when you decide to ask me your question. I’m busy.” I was a total asshole, and I realize that. I could have handled it better, I am sure. I was doing this report and still being expected to do the same amount of work that everyone else on the team was, with no overtime. It comes with my slightly higher position and pay, so I try not to complain, but I was a little cramped for time.

I turned around to my monitor and was greeted by two IMs from people who heard the confrontation and wanted to commend me for dealing with it well. I don’t think I did, but thanks. The woman who sits next to Janice and knows my pain, said, “Well, if every question didn’t involve an hour long story, it would be easier to help her!”

My headphones were in, a song began. Janice was yammering on behind me, basically nagging me as though I was her husband. I worked on the report. That song ended, and in the space between songs, I heard that Janice was still nagging at my back. “…you ask questions, too, and if you…” and then the next song started, blocking out the kawing harpy behind me.

Incidents like this happen pretty much on a weekly basis. Think about that. Knowing you are going to have some ridiculous altercation every week because someone doesn’t feel like she is getting the proper amount of attention she deserves — even if it’s just for me to sit there and listen to her stories about her kid or for her to read an e-mail she thinks is ridiculous, or to just complain about someone else on the team.

I realized that I was walking into work every day, irritated and cranky, wondering what the bipolar hag would think of to harp on that day. I don’t need that kind of stress, thank you. I used to get along with her, so I figured it was me that had changed and my tolerance which has faltered. It’s not my fault, but in the past year, I have changed so that our former dynamic no longer works. Realizing that, I finally asked my supervisor if I could move. He said he would see, and I understand that. That was about a month ago.

For the past two days, Janice has called in sick. The team dynamic altered dramatically. We all chatted, laughed, went to eat together, talked about American Horror Story (without being told that this kind of television hurts the soul, half-jokingly or not), reminisced about Bates Motel (without Janice declaring for the umpteenth time that she didn’t understand how we like that stuff), talked about work, and enjoyed ourselves. Headphones were on the desks, unused. Yet, work got done. We weren’t hunkered down, trying desperately to look so preoccupied that someone wouldn’t interrupt us. I had a long chat with one of the managers and several people jumped in. It became a fun social call after the work nonsense was dispensed with. (I also didn’t have Janice jumping into the conversation, having heard a snippet, offering misguided advice, thus necessitating the conversation to begin from the start so I could refute her points, this time with her involved).

I have been dealing with this for five fucking years.

It has finally started plaguing me at home. I’m proud that it took me this long to be so affected by it, but still upset that I have allowed it to bother me at all. I am so exhausted after work that I sit and daydream and am too lazy and emotionally tired to do anything. Including writing. No, that’s not the only reason I have been having difficulties lately. I would be a whining, inappropriately projecting asshole if I even implied that. But I think it is a factor.

My supervisor pulled me aside today to tell me that three other people had complained about Janice over time and that he was going to move people around. He implied that it was my complaint which cemented the deal, because he apparently sees me as normally able to deal, even if I do get cranky. (Shocking news to me.) Since Janice is technically just annoying and not often work inappropriate, he has opted to not move her, but to move those around her. I will be closer to him (as I probably should be, considering my position), and will have a divider, a WALL of beauty between me and Janice. Two of my friends and coworkers will be moved away from me, unfortunately, but we eat lunch together every day, they come over and watch movies, we text each other outside of work, etc. And we actually use our work IM. I think our friendship will survive.

And I may not hate coming into work every day.

For those who have made it this far, thank you for reading. Hopefully, if you have experienced something like this, you can find some solace in my pain and not choke a bitch out. Feel free to vent in similar fashion in the comments. I am here to tell you that it helps take the edge off. Here’s hoping for serenity for all of us.