Title: The Diary of Donnatella Moss Entry 2
Author: Rhasa
Category: Drama/Humour
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Vague Season 4
Summary: Donna continues to muse over Josh's strange behaviour.
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made (but I often wonder just what
life would be like if it did). No Infringement intended.
Feedback: YES please Rhasa4@yahoo.com
Archive: Yeah okay.
The Diary of Donnatella Moss Entry 2 By Rhasa
Entry 2 'Spinning out of control'
Sometimes I really wish that I was more assertive. Yeah, I know. Some people already think I'm assertive - a certain unappreciative boss comes to mind. Maybe "opinionated" is a better way to describe me. I have opinions. I have strong opinions, but that is totally different to being assertive, which is something I'm not, but desperately want to be.
I know a lot of assertive women.
CJ is assertive.
Mrs Bartlett is assertive.
Mrs Landingham was assertive in her own kind of way. God rest her soul.
Hell, even Amy was assertive.
And Mandy was. no, Mandy was freakish.
I look around work and notice that every woman there is more assertive than I am. I don't know exactly what it is, but Margaret, Ginger, Carol - especially Carol - Bonnie, Cathy; they all seem to put themselves out there with an air of confidence that just astounds me. I'm really not like them - I'm not - no matter how much of a poker face I put on.
When we first started here, in the White House, I used to think that the doubts that I had about myself were because I was a freak. Oh, not a 'freak' in a bad way, just in the I'm-the-only-one-here-who-didn't-finish- college kind of way. I mean you've got to admit that's pretty strange working where I work. I used to feel that the reason I didn't have as much confidence as the others was because I didn't have a degree. And a part of me still feels that.
I know that if we are all philosophical about it people will say "you don't need a piece of paper to be a worthwhile person." Mind you, the very people who say such things are ones with such a piece of paper. But I've come to believe that it's not just the actual piece of paper that changes you but what you had to do in order to get that piece of paper.
These people worked hard, they analysed and argued, debated and convinced. They stood up for their theories and convictions, and grew a back bone, basically. So when they came into a job like this one, working in the White House, they had a confidence that I was yet to gain. That piece of paper and all the experience it gave them made them self-assured and, for most of them, assertive.
I long for the kind of self-assuredness, confidence and assertiveness that CJ possesses. I know I will never be half the woman she is. She is just such a special person, so strong, so formidable. All the men are secretly afraid of her. All the men except the President, that is. I think the President has a deep sense of respect for CJ. I imagine that he wants his daughters to turn out something like his Press Secretary, and it's no wonder given who their mother is. Mrs Bartlett and CJ are alike in many ways. I am amazed at how they can have such strength and yet so much compassion for others at the same time.
When I broke up with Dr Free ride (forever known and referred to as such courtesy of Josh), my friend Amanda told me it had taken a lot of strength to walk out on him. She was studying to be a social worker at the time and phrases such as "it took a lot of strength to walk out" were kind of stock for her. I had always felt it took far more stupidity to stay with him for as long as I did rather than strength to leave. I mean, it wasn't like I was married to the guy or had kids or anything like that. I had a choice. I chose to believe his lies and his promises. I chose to think that things would get better once the stress of his studies were over. I chose to believe that he really did love me. And when I eventually chose to pack up and leave it wasn't strength that made me do it, is was the sudden realisation of just how stupid I really was.
I was kind of in a slump after that. Even when I first met Josh, I was in a slump. My other friend Nicole had said that it had taken a lot of guts walking into that campaign office and demanding a job. Well, for, one it didn't really happen that way and two, it wasn't guts, it was sheer desperation.
When I left, he who shall not be named, I knew I had to jump straight into something else. I had thought about contributing to the campaign when I had seen the President - I mean the then Governor - on television giving a speech about the future America we all desire, but at that time it was only a passing fancy - but you know all this.
My point is, even in those moments where others have perceived me as having great strength, of having courage and even being assertive, there was always something else at work that meant I was really none of those things. And even as I grow more competent in my job, as I learn more and develop in other ways, I still lack a degree of assertiveness that I think I need. (And refusing to bring Josh coffee doesn't count!)
I need to put myself out there more. I mean, I need to have more front. Maybe take a few risks. Maybe make a few demands (in a totally professional and positive kind of way).
I need to be assertive.
I need to confront Josh and find out just what the hell is going on.
I need to be able to go up to him and demand to know what is running through that head of his.
I've been trying. I really have. I know the last time I wrote in here I said I was going to just wait, I was going to be cautious. I thought that I would just be patient. I thought that it would be okay if I just went along with things and that maybe, just maybe, things would kind of work themselves out.
Except they didn't.
Things only just got more confusing.
Sometimes, if I allow myself the luxury of really thinking about it, of going over every last detail, every sensation, that whole hand-holding incident just gets to me. It stirs up feelings, deep down inside of me. I would prefer if these feelings would stay settled, kind of like tea leaves in the bottom of a cold cup that has been standing for so long undrunk. But sometimes, it's like Josh takes this big invisible spoon and stirs for all he's worth and I go spinning out of control as those feelings rise up once more.
Spinning out of control just like I was yesterday.
I wish I could say as we approach polling night that all of the hard work is behind us, but I don't think the hard work will ever be behind us, re- election or otherwise. This week we've been working extremely long hours. Beginning work at seven in the a.m. and staying until three or four in the next morning is now a regular work day. It's not easy. But it's important.
The one thing I hate about working long hours is not so much the fatigue, I do get exhausted just like everyone else, but the tension. After an eighteen hour day I tend to freeze up. My muscles protest at the abuse I subject them too. They cramp and go into spasms, and render me something like a walking human pretzel.
We've had lectures about workplace safety and occupational hazards, the need to take a break from your computer every hour, the need to stretch, to rest your eyes, to keep hydrated even. But it's not like we really get the chance to do any of those things in the jobs that we do. We can't take a break when there is some international or otherwise crisis. We just can't. Everything, including to an extent our health, is secondary. Sam worked almost forty-eight hours straight once with no voice. We soldier on. We persevere. And we help each other as much as possible.
Yesterday, I'll admit, I was struggling, but I've struggled on plenty of other days. Josh and I were working in his office. He was dictating and I was typing directly into his p.c. To be honest I wasn't really paying attention to everything he said. I was sort of on auto pilot by this stage - we'd been working on this particular thing for the past four hours. It got to a stage where I was solely concentrating on each word that came out of his mouth rather than his sentences as a whole. All I remember is that it was something to do with tax cuts for parents paying for their kids' education, but other than that I couldn't tell you specifics.
Josh didn't seem tired at all. I hate it when he gets like that. He stood behind me talking a mile a minute, sometimes pacing across the room, sometimes coming to lean over me directly, and I was typing furiously, trying to keep up, when he stopped and paused to read the notes that Toby had sent over.
Sometimes you don't realise just how exhausted you are until you stop doing something. Sitting there waiting for Josh to start talking again I suddenly felt totally and utterly exhausted. But what was worse was the fact that the muscles and tendons in my neck and shoulders were clenched so tight that I didn't think I would ever get them to relax again. I started stretching, easing knots out of places, rolling my neck around to try and loosen up. Every so often I would feel a satisfying 'pop' as things snapped back into place. I needed a long hot bath, but I knew that that wasn't going to happen anytime soon, especially when Josh started up again even more enthusiastic than he had been before (which I didn't think was possible!).
He seemed so focused on what he was he was doing. Hell, I 'know' he was focused. Which is why I don't think he realised what he was doing when the next thing I knew, his hands were on my neck and shoulders rubbing and massaging away.
Oh, the things that man can do with his hands.
At first I froze but it didn't seem to make any difference to him. My hands were poised above the keys, stopped in mid sentence. I know my heart began to race almost immediately. I remember hearing the roar in my ears as blood surged throughout my body as he pressed and kneaded the tender flesh of my shoulders. And then. you can't blame me, I was tired, I was exhausted and what he was doing to me was the most satisfying thing anyone else has done to me in such a long time, I closed my eyes and gave in to the sensations with a deeply contented sigh. I mean there really wasn't anything sexual about it - at first. I don't think Josh meant it to be anything other than what it was. But that is the problem, between the neck rubbing and the handholding from the other day just what did Josh think he was doing?
I sat there transfixed as it were, wondering, as if I was in some dream, what was going on, what was Josh doing to me. I was sitting there waiting, not really wanting it to end; it was heavenly, just what I needed, in more ways then one. He had managed to ease away the tension of the day and replace it with the nervousness of the moment. I had been searching for signs since the meeting with Stackhouse. And I sat there waiting and wondering, worrying and enjoying it all at the same time, just waiting for him to say something - which, eventually, he did.
"Donna," he whispered against my ear. "You've stopped typing."
His hands had stilled and his tone was like being doused in ice cold water. My eyes sprung open as I abruptly straightened myself in my chair mumbling my apologies. My cheeks were probably stained red with embarrassment for getting so caught up in the moment like some virginal old maid. God, I had practically swooned in my chair.
"It won't be long now, I promise," he said, as I took up my position above the keys once more. "I know it's late - no early- but just another ten minutes."
I nodded not trusting myself to speak at the moment least my voice come out all squeaky. He dropped his hands as he returned to the pacing that had occupied him for most of the night. And without sounding like a desperate school girl I missed him from the moment his skin left mine.
Now I don't know whether to be angry with myself or. or. well, I don't know what the other option should be. I should have seen it for what it was. It was merely an offer of relief. Sheer and total relief. A gesture. An innocent gesture from one friend to another. Well that's what I will keep telling myself. My boss was just trying to alleviate the tension and discomfit that his assistant was feeling.
But.
If I imagine it now, it could have gone so differently. I would have closed my eyes and relaxed further into his touch. My lips would have parted on a soft sigh that Josh would have heard. He would have changed his technique and moved further down between my shoulder blades causing me to drop my head back and to the side as a small appreciative moan passed my lips. His thumbs would have caressed each vertebrae, causing little gasps in my throat. The sheer pleasure of his touch would have intoxicated me, so much so that when he leant down to capture my lips with his I would have been powerless to resist.
OH MY GOD.
Okay if I didn't have this little policy of crossing out things that I have written in my diary then that paragraph would have surely been forever stricken from these pages. I can't believe I just wrote that. I'm blaming it on exhaustion.
I think I'll blame everything on exhaustion.
I'm delusional because I am so exhausted.
And Josh is delusional too. He only massaged my neck because he wasn't thinking straight because he was exhausted.
Keep it simple, Donna. Don't read too much into things.
The hand holding, the massaging both happened because Josh was tired.
See, I knew there was a simple explanation for things.
But damn, it's just my luck that as soon as I think that thought another pops into my head to make me doubt it. Josh and I have been exhausted before, many, many times. But never before has he held my hand or massaged my neck, so just what is going on?
Maybe if I was a little more assertive I would pose that very question to him. Maybe if I could take a risk and put myself out there and have a bit of front I could straighten all this out.
But to be honest, I'm too cowardly.
No 'coward' isn't the right word.
Hesitant. Cautious.
Okay, I'm going to make an admission here. The real reason I don't want to ask him is that maybe I will find out and it would have all been nothing and meant nothing and then maybe Josh will get all uncomfortable that I had misinterpreted it and brought it up when it was a non issue for him and he would stop doing it.
Phew
That's it. I don't want it to stop. As much as his sudden new closeness to me is confusing I don't seek to clarify it because I don't want it to end.
So I guess I won't be asserting myself anytime soon. I guess I have made my decision to remain confused, slightly satisfied, but still confused.
Unless, he does something like this again.
Fini
Author's note: Okay I guess I'm like Donna in this piece and lack a certain degree of assertiveness except when it comes to requesting feedback. I had so much great feedback on the last diary entry, some of the suggestions I have put in here. Others - well I couldn't get them to work, especially those who asked Josh's POV which I can't give right now because this is Donna's Diary. Maybe in a later entry she will relay a conversation where Josh explains himself to her.
Anyway I love feedback. Really there are several pieces that I haven't finished because I literally received NO feedback - not even an " I read it, Liked/hated/though it was okay" kind of response. I mean sometimes I just don't want to bother with a particular piece if I don't get anything out of it. I mean if I was one of those writers who wrote purely for myself, to further develop my writing skills and got enjoyment from simply finishing a piece and not needing anyone else to read it why would I post it on a fic group list?
I need feedback to continue it's like fuel for my car. no that doesn't make any sense.
Anyway this one is for Katie who begged so nice. I finished it right after you e mailed me.
Feedback Rhasa4@yahoo.com
The Diary of Donnatella Moss Entry 2 By Rhasa
Entry 2 'Spinning out of control'
Sometimes I really wish that I was more assertive. Yeah, I know. Some people already think I'm assertive - a certain unappreciative boss comes to mind. Maybe "opinionated" is a better way to describe me. I have opinions. I have strong opinions, but that is totally different to being assertive, which is something I'm not, but desperately want to be.
I know a lot of assertive women.
CJ is assertive.
Mrs Bartlett is assertive.
Mrs Landingham was assertive in her own kind of way. God rest her soul.
Hell, even Amy was assertive.
And Mandy was. no, Mandy was freakish.
I look around work and notice that every woman there is more assertive than I am. I don't know exactly what it is, but Margaret, Ginger, Carol - especially Carol - Bonnie, Cathy; they all seem to put themselves out there with an air of confidence that just astounds me. I'm really not like them - I'm not - no matter how much of a poker face I put on.
When we first started here, in the White House, I used to think that the doubts that I had about myself were because I was a freak. Oh, not a 'freak' in a bad way, just in the I'm-the-only-one-here-who-didn't-finish- college kind of way. I mean you've got to admit that's pretty strange working where I work. I used to feel that the reason I didn't have as much confidence as the others was because I didn't have a degree. And a part of me still feels that.
I know that if we are all philosophical about it people will say "you don't need a piece of paper to be a worthwhile person." Mind you, the very people who say such things are ones with such a piece of paper. But I've come to believe that it's not just the actual piece of paper that changes you but what you had to do in order to get that piece of paper.
These people worked hard, they analysed and argued, debated and convinced. They stood up for their theories and convictions, and grew a back bone, basically. So when they came into a job like this one, working in the White House, they had a confidence that I was yet to gain. That piece of paper and all the experience it gave them made them self-assured and, for most of them, assertive.
I long for the kind of self-assuredness, confidence and assertiveness that CJ possesses. I know I will never be half the woman she is. She is just such a special person, so strong, so formidable. All the men are secretly afraid of her. All the men except the President, that is. I think the President has a deep sense of respect for CJ. I imagine that he wants his daughters to turn out something like his Press Secretary, and it's no wonder given who their mother is. Mrs Bartlett and CJ are alike in many ways. I am amazed at how they can have such strength and yet so much compassion for others at the same time.
When I broke up with Dr Free ride (forever known and referred to as such courtesy of Josh), my friend Amanda told me it had taken a lot of strength to walk out on him. She was studying to be a social worker at the time and phrases such as "it took a lot of strength to walk out" were kind of stock for her. I had always felt it took far more stupidity to stay with him for as long as I did rather than strength to leave. I mean, it wasn't like I was married to the guy or had kids or anything like that. I had a choice. I chose to believe his lies and his promises. I chose to think that things would get better once the stress of his studies were over. I chose to believe that he really did love me. And when I eventually chose to pack up and leave it wasn't strength that made me do it, is was the sudden realisation of just how stupid I really was.
I was kind of in a slump after that. Even when I first met Josh, I was in a slump. My other friend Nicole had said that it had taken a lot of guts walking into that campaign office and demanding a job. Well, for, one it didn't really happen that way and two, it wasn't guts, it was sheer desperation.
When I left, he who shall not be named, I knew I had to jump straight into something else. I had thought about contributing to the campaign when I had seen the President - I mean the then Governor - on television giving a speech about the future America we all desire, but at that time it was only a passing fancy - but you know all this.
My point is, even in those moments where others have perceived me as having great strength, of having courage and even being assertive, there was always something else at work that meant I was really none of those things. And even as I grow more competent in my job, as I learn more and develop in other ways, I still lack a degree of assertiveness that I think I need. (And refusing to bring Josh coffee doesn't count!)
I need to put myself out there more. I mean, I need to have more front. Maybe take a few risks. Maybe make a few demands (in a totally professional and positive kind of way).
I need to be assertive.
I need to confront Josh and find out just what the hell is going on.
I need to be able to go up to him and demand to know what is running through that head of his.
I've been trying. I really have. I know the last time I wrote in here I said I was going to just wait, I was going to be cautious. I thought that I would just be patient. I thought that it would be okay if I just went along with things and that maybe, just maybe, things would kind of work themselves out.
Except they didn't.
Things only just got more confusing.
Sometimes, if I allow myself the luxury of really thinking about it, of going over every last detail, every sensation, that whole hand-holding incident just gets to me. It stirs up feelings, deep down inside of me. I would prefer if these feelings would stay settled, kind of like tea leaves in the bottom of a cold cup that has been standing for so long undrunk. But sometimes, it's like Josh takes this big invisible spoon and stirs for all he's worth and I go spinning out of control as those feelings rise up once more.
Spinning out of control just like I was yesterday.
I wish I could say as we approach polling night that all of the hard work is behind us, but I don't think the hard work will ever be behind us, re- election or otherwise. This week we've been working extremely long hours. Beginning work at seven in the a.m. and staying until three or four in the next morning is now a regular work day. It's not easy. But it's important.
The one thing I hate about working long hours is not so much the fatigue, I do get exhausted just like everyone else, but the tension. After an eighteen hour day I tend to freeze up. My muscles protest at the abuse I subject them too. They cramp and go into spasms, and render me something like a walking human pretzel.
We've had lectures about workplace safety and occupational hazards, the need to take a break from your computer every hour, the need to stretch, to rest your eyes, to keep hydrated even. But it's not like we really get the chance to do any of those things in the jobs that we do. We can't take a break when there is some international or otherwise crisis. We just can't. Everything, including to an extent our health, is secondary. Sam worked almost forty-eight hours straight once with no voice. We soldier on. We persevere. And we help each other as much as possible.
Yesterday, I'll admit, I was struggling, but I've struggled on plenty of other days. Josh and I were working in his office. He was dictating and I was typing directly into his p.c. To be honest I wasn't really paying attention to everything he said. I was sort of on auto pilot by this stage - we'd been working on this particular thing for the past four hours. It got to a stage where I was solely concentrating on each word that came out of his mouth rather than his sentences as a whole. All I remember is that it was something to do with tax cuts for parents paying for their kids' education, but other than that I couldn't tell you specifics.
Josh didn't seem tired at all. I hate it when he gets like that. He stood behind me talking a mile a minute, sometimes pacing across the room, sometimes coming to lean over me directly, and I was typing furiously, trying to keep up, when he stopped and paused to read the notes that Toby had sent over.
Sometimes you don't realise just how exhausted you are until you stop doing something. Sitting there waiting for Josh to start talking again I suddenly felt totally and utterly exhausted. But what was worse was the fact that the muscles and tendons in my neck and shoulders were clenched so tight that I didn't think I would ever get them to relax again. I started stretching, easing knots out of places, rolling my neck around to try and loosen up. Every so often I would feel a satisfying 'pop' as things snapped back into place. I needed a long hot bath, but I knew that that wasn't going to happen anytime soon, especially when Josh started up again even more enthusiastic than he had been before (which I didn't think was possible!).
He seemed so focused on what he was he was doing. Hell, I 'know' he was focused. Which is why I don't think he realised what he was doing when the next thing I knew, his hands were on my neck and shoulders rubbing and massaging away.
Oh, the things that man can do with his hands.
At first I froze but it didn't seem to make any difference to him. My hands were poised above the keys, stopped in mid sentence. I know my heart began to race almost immediately. I remember hearing the roar in my ears as blood surged throughout my body as he pressed and kneaded the tender flesh of my shoulders. And then. you can't blame me, I was tired, I was exhausted and what he was doing to me was the most satisfying thing anyone else has done to me in such a long time, I closed my eyes and gave in to the sensations with a deeply contented sigh. I mean there really wasn't anything sexual about it - at first. I don't think Josh meant it to be anything other than what it was. But that is the problem, between the neck rubbing and the handholding from the other day just what did Josh think he was doing?
I sat there transfixed as it were, wondering, as if I was in some dream, what was going on, what was Josh doing to me. I was sitting there waiting, not really wanting it to end; it was heavenly, just what I needed, in more ways then one. He had managed to ease away the tension of the day and replace it with the nervousness of the moment. I had been searching for signs since the meeting with Stackhouse. And I sat there waiting and wondering, worrying and enjoying it all at the same time, just waiting for him to say something - which, eventually, he did.
"Donna," he whispered against my ear. "You've stopped typing."
His hands had stilled and his tone was like being doused in ice cold water. My eyes sprung open as I abruptly straightened myself in my chair mumbling my apologies. My cheeks were probably stained red with embarrassment for getting so caught up in the moment like some virginal old maid. God, I had practically swooned in my chair.
"It won't be long now, I promise," he said, as I took up my position above the keys once more. "I know it's late - no early- but just another ten minutes."
I nodded not trusting myself to speak at the moment least my voice come out all squeaky. He dropped his hands as he returned to the pacing that had occupied him for most of the night. And without sounding like a desperate school girl I missed him from the moment his skin left mine.
Now I don't know whether to be angry with myself or. or. well, I don't know what the other option should be. I should have seen it for what it was. It was merely an offer of relief. Sheer and total relief. A gesture. An innocent gesture from one friend to another. Well that's what I will keep telling myself. My boss was just trying to alleviate the tension and discomfit that his assistant was feeling.
But.
If I imagine it now, it could have gone so differently. I would have closed my eyes and relaxed further into his touch. My lips would have parted on a soft sigh that Josh would have heard. He would have changed his technique and moved further down between my shoulder blades causing me to drop my head back and to the side as a small appreciative moan passed my lips. His thumbs would have caressed each vertebrae, causing little gasps in my throat. The sheer pleasure of his touch would have intoxicated me, so much so that when he leant down to capture my lips with his I would have been powerless to resist.
OH MY GOD.
Okay if I didn't have this little policy of crossing out things that I have written in my diary then that paragraph would have surely been forever stricken from these pages. I can't believe I just wrote that. I'm blaming it on exhaustion.
I think I'll blame everything on exhaustion.
I'm delusional because I am so exhausted.
And Josh is delusional too. He only massaged my neck because he wasn't thinking straight because he was exhausted.
Keep it simple, Donna. Don't read too much into things.
The hand holding, the massaging both happened because Josh was tired.
See, I knew there was a simple explanation for things.
But damn, it's just my luck that as soon as I think that thought another pops into my head to make me doubt it. Josh and I have been exhausted before, many, many times. But never before has he held my hand or massaged my neck, so just what is going on?
Maybe if I was a little more assertive I would pose that very question to him. Maybe if I could take a risk and put myself out there and have a bit of front I could straighten all this out.
But to be honest, I'm too cowardly.
No 'coward' isn't the right word.
Hesitant. Cautious.
Okay, I'm going to make an admission here. The real reason I don't want to ask him is that maybe I will find out and it would have all been nothing and meant nothing and then maybe Josh will get all uncomfortable that I had misinterpreted it and brought it up when it was a non issue for him and he would stop doing it.
Phew
That's it. I don't want it to stop. As much as his sudden new closeness to me is confusing I don't seek to clarify it because I don't want it to end.
So I guess I won't be asserting myself anytime soon. I guess I have made my decision to remain confused, slightly satisfied, but still confused.
Unless, he does something like this again.
Fini
Author's note: Okay I guess I'm like Donna in this piece and lack a certain degree of assertiveness except when it comes to requesting feedback. I had so much great feedback on the last diary entry, some of the suggestions I have put in here. Others - well I couldn't get them to work, especially those who asked Josh's POV which I can't give right now because this is Donna's Diary. Maybe in a later entry she will relay a conversation where Josh explains himself to her.
Anyway I love feedback. Really there are several pieces that I haven't finished because I literally received NO feedback - not even an " I read it, Liked/hated/though it was okay" kind of response. I mean sometimes I just don't want to bother with a particular piece if I don't get anything out of it. I mean if I was one of those writers who wrote purely for myself, to further develop my writing skills and got enjoyment from simply finishing a piece and not needing anyone else to read it why would I post it on a fic group list?
I need feedback to continue it's like fuel for my car. no that doesn't make any sense.
Anyway this one is for Katie who begged so nice. I finished it right after you e mailed me.
Feedback Rhasa4@yahoo.com