Wednesday, January 25, 2012

I hate everything right now.

Seriously, I want to know when and why I became everyone's bitch. It's been like that for years but I'm really getting fucking sick of it.

Yesterday, I had a client. Not unusual. It was a microcurrent treatment, which isn't difficult but the machine we have is needlessly complicated (I've seen others that only had a few buttons, this one has about fifty) so I'm a little shaky on how to work it. My client had two dental screws in her mouth, which should've counted her out for the treatment automatically, according to what we're taught, but I was told to go ahead with it (although my teachers both said they wouldn't have done the treatment if it was up to them). Someone must've had the owner come in and check on me, because she came in and informed me that the machine wasn't on. Well, it was, the current just wasn't on (like I said, needlessly complicated). After she left, I re-did everything, following the protocols to the letter, and my client kept saying she couldn't feel anything. But we're taught that clients are liars and they'll say things like that so that you give them more. Besides, I was afraid I would hurt her if I turned it up... I didn't want to send electricity through her metal implants and blow them out of her face or something.

After I finished the treatment, I went to the school's owner and asked what I should do, and she chewed me out in front of her class about how she was going to have to comp the service. She said, "You would know more about the machines if you didn't sit on your ass all the time and not take services!"

Um... Excuse me?

First of all, it's incredibly unprofessional to yell at a student in a room full of other students. Second, I do take services. I may go one or two days a week out of the five I'm there without getting anything, but I'm part-time. Of course I won't have as much to do. And you know, I would like to attend class once in a while, because we may not be tested on what we're learning now, but it's useful information.

And this morning, she cornered me and asked me why I didn't like taking services. I didn't know what to say, so I just didn't say anything. It's hard to stand up to a bi-polar drunk who can and will find some bullshit reason to expell you if she decides she doesn't want to deal with you anymore. She also gave me shit about leaving early on Saturdays- I'm supposed to be there until 4PM because I'm part-time, but I leave earlier at 1PM because fuck that noise, I get there early every day and I have more hours than most of the full-time students in my class. Why shouldn't I fucking leave? Especially if I've already taken a client and done my part.

Why doesn't she ever go bitch at my classmates who never show up? Or the ones who never take clients at all? Why have I got to be the one she decides to shit on? I'm there every Goddamned day the school is open, with the exception of a few days here and there when I was sick or had an emergency or my family was visiting. I have never outright refused a client- I may not leap up and beg for something when the receptionist brings the client sheets in, but I do take what I'm given. I have shown distaste in front of her before (which is when all this shit started), when I was handed a cellulite treatment to do and I didn't even say no, I just cringed a little. Why? Because my hands are pre-arthritic and I can't find my wrist brace. She have that client to someone else (after tearing me a new asshole, of course), but I took another one a couple of hours later, and I could hardly hold onto my steering wheel when I drove home. My hands were so stiff and painful that I was in tears. It's getting worse, too- my wrists and knuckles crack when I'm working on clients all the time, whether I take a moment to crack them before the service or not. Nobody's complained so far, but I know they can hear it.

I made a mistake. I have no problem admitting that. But I felt I was doing the right thing in regards to my client's safety and I can't believe I'm being punished for it. Don't they teach us to make our own calls? And I got a second and third opinion, all of us agreed it was probably best to either not do the service or to take it easy. It's all about money with that woman, she could give two shits about how good we are past how much dough she can rake in on our blood, sweat, and tears.

I cannot wait to graduate and never have to touch this paramedical shit again. I hate using machines, I hate chemical peels... I didn't get into this so I could be someone's doctor. I just want to help people relax. It's what I'm good at, it's what I love. I care absolutely nothing about burning people's faces off with chemicals or sandblasting their skin or laser resurfacing or any of that bullshit.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

See, this is why I never confide in anyone.

Earlier today, I was having a conversation with a friend, and I mentioned that I have a new obsession. Nothing new for me, I cycle through them all the time. But when I told her who it was, she made fun of me.

See, I barely understand it myself... I just came to realize this last weekend, while I was driving home from meeting my mom and getting my car back (I had some minor repairs done after a minor accident) and I've been like a giggly schoolgirl ever since... But it's my sexuality and I can't really control it, much as I've tried.

Oh, and... It's Benedict Cumberbatch.

Yep, you heard me. I'm a Cumberbitch.

I know he's strange-looking. In my own words, he's like an alien disguised as a human, only he doesn't have a real grasp of how humans are supposed to look. But he's so talented, and funny, and incredibly sweet... And upon reflection, maybe this is just my weird sense of aesthetics, I actually think there's something quite beautiful about him. Something about the off-putting structure of his face is appealing to me, and it's so hard to put my finger on.

Let's break it down and take a closer look at his face, shall we?

(Sorry it's another GIF, this is the best shot of his face I have)

1. Great eyes. I mean, look at them, they're fucking gorgeous and he's got amazing eyelashes.
2. High, extremely prominent cheekbones.
3. Very pink, nicely-shaped lips.
4. Curly hair. I have a serious thing for curls, and I don't really know why, I just like them.
5. He's a natural redhead, and it looks way better on him than the dark brown hair he sports in Sherlock Holmes (the BBC1 series, not the Guy Ritchie movies). You can see it in his eyebrows.

Overall, he's very British-looking, much the same way Matt Smith, David Bowie are, with a slight alien edge to it. Not a bad effect, really, but it's an acquired taste for sure.

Also up for consideration: This video of Benedict reading the children's book, The Little Red Hen, which I remembered from my childhood and I was delighted to hear him read in his very, VERY sexy voice.

I should be used to this by now. But I've never seen anyone get visibly disgusted like that when I mentioned someone I'm attracted to. He's not exactly Brad Pitt, but he works for me. And to be honest, I would be proud if I found someone like Benedict. Hopefully he would be proud of me, too... or at least not embarrassed to be seen in public with this clingy, needy weirdo who wears green lipstick and dyes her hair gray. I would be happy to do that well.

I hope I don't get shit if I do find somebody and he's not to everyone's tastes... That would be heartbreaking.

But honestly, I think this all started because my hormones have been so fucked-up recently. The birth control isn't really helping anymore, and I need to see a doctor up here and try to find another way to control my PCOS. One that won't accelerate weight gain and will keep me in check a little... I'm tired of either being depressed or raging horny all the time. There has to be something better.

It's really getting bad. I had a cyst burst when I was driving home one day, and I honestly thought I was going to die because either it was going to kill me right then or I was going to inadvertently drive off the highway. The pain was incredible... I've only cried from pain six, maybe seven times in my entire life and I was screaming and crying. Not just crying out, like full-on, death metal screaming. It was terrifying. Pain and nausea for about ten straight minutes while my entire torso felt like it was in a vise. Not fun.

But when stuff like that isn't happening, I'm out-of-control horny and I think about sex constantly. It's always there, in the upper recesses of my mind, and I have to work to push it down when I'm with clients because I could end up giving them a weird kind of energy and that wouldn't be good. Especially with male clients, there are already so many other ways that can turn awkward...

And I hate it that, when I'm having an alright day and I have a new thing I want to share with someone, they have to knock me down and tell me it's weird. God forbid I shouldn't want to go vanilla. I hear women in my class talk about dumb apes like Channing "Worst Actor in Hollywood" Tatum and Tim "I Make a Mockery of Real Prayer in the Name of Sports" Tebow, but the second I mention anyone with something interesting about their looks, anyone who doesn't fit the mask, I get jumped on like I'm some sort of freak.

Fuck it, though... In my mind, Benedict is some of the best I've ever had.