Deep breath, set, wait.
What a frustrating process, am I supposed to come to peace with that? Though let's face it, the alternative is admittedly, much, much worse, something about go-getting (or desperation, to snooty people) makes one want to slap a huge yellow "UNSEXY" sign on the offender's forehead, it's just not how we operate.
The higher up I go, the more waspish my life becomes, the drones infiltrate every last opening standing. And the compressed mess of unoccupied passions remain the attractive, polished queen bee it always seems to be.
**
Friday, March 19, 2010
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