Sitting on go

I am unacquainted with standing by.

Apparently.

Since I have finished school, I've found myself at kind of a loss. For…well, anything.

I sit at home and listen to the alternate fighting and love of my children. I think of all the things I should be doing – laundry, writing, reading, cleaning. Making things to hang on the walls since they are all presently blank. Also, there is a strange conglomeration of 8-9 nails on the wall above my couch and I spend more time than I care to admit sitting and wondering what could have possibly ever hung there.

 

I've thought about grad school. But…what? What could I do? I'm thirty four damn years old and really I have no more idea of what I want to be when I grow up than I did when I was nine.

I thought about teaching. Praxis testing is expensive. And what happens if I do all that work and find myself in front of however many kids…and then I hate it?

Problem is, I got used to school. I got used to being occupied. I also have the fortune/misfortune of being married to a man who is always on the go, so many nights the kids and I find ourselves at home, existing through the night. I don't mind it, though. I have time to watch King of the Hill, talk about movies and games with Max, play 4,000 games of various substance with Lucy, or decipher Pretty Little Liars with Ava.

Then I think about what I'd want to do, given the chance.

I'd be creative, I'd have a different outlook on every day. I'd solve and make and do and be.

Or I'd be Beyoncé.

Anyway.

Enough. Enough with the thoughts.

 

A change of pace then

Another thing in all the business of neglecting my blog that I did mention once but then quickly pretended to forget it existed – I changed jobs.

I have had lots of jobs in my adulthood. Well, I mean – I’ve worked places and moved on. I haven’t ever job hopped FUTURE EMPLOYERS WHO MIGHT BE READING MY BLOG, but for reasons of whatever time it was, I haven’t just kept one job for the last ten+ years.

I did insurance. I did retail. I worked for God and Jesus and a lovable British man. A cubehospital, attorneys.

I had a great job. I worked for great people and I loved my (only) coworker. Sometimes, though, there are chances you are given that are simply not negotiable. Things you KNOW you will look back on and always wonder if they would have changed your life for the better.

One of those chances wrapped itself around me almost exactly a year ago, and I jumped. I left a job with people I knew and adored at a job I didn’t suck at doing, and I took the chance.

It’s been over a year now.

I have a retirement plan, I have days of paid leave, I have insurance. I have what could qualify as a career, you know? People do jobs like mine for their whole lives.

And maybe I will. I just never thought I’d feel…well, so much like a grown up, if that makes sense. Kids and bills are one thing, but a desk, a cubicle, a time clock? It’s all a little too Dilbert for me, still.

Existential Crisis

I came very close to giving up on school altogether this past week.

 

No really. I’ve run my mouth about being a student for years and I was all set to just fuck all and give up.

I’ve talked myself out of that, mostly.

 

I got sick. Like, snot and boogers and I can’t breathe sick. I stopped trying to do much of anything except exist and be, and I succeeded.

But in the succeeding, I fell behind on my school work. Quite behind, for me. Due dates were passing and I had never let that happen. It was like being in a bad dream.

It got to the point where I was afraid to check my online learning site because I just didn’t want to think about how far I’d fallen behind on everything. ABSOLUTELY ALL OF IT. And since recent revelations had established that I have a semester more than I had originally thought to go, I was decidedly discouraged.

This past weekend, I knew it was do or die. I was either going to buckle down and get my shit done or I was kissing the whole semester goodbye.

And what did I do? I put it off until Sunday. Which, of course, left me with loudmouth children and baseball and OMG THE WALKING DEAD SEASON PREMIERE and I was totally distracted.

But it got done. I live to fight another week.

 

And that’s what’s happening here.

All God’s creatures – except the ones we smash

I am a helper. I see someone in need, I want to help them out.
Even if I don’t like them.
Even if they don’t like me.

It may be some sort of complex, but if I have it in me to assist someone in any way, I want to do that.

Just to read what I have said thus far sounds kind of braggy. I swear I don’t mean it that way. Lots of times I’ve not thought before I offered to help someone and it’s turned out terribly. Like, “Sure you can borrow my refrigerator/rocking chair/video camera, I don’t mind at all!”

Except then it takes effort to make the swap or the donation. Pickup and delivery and interacting with human beings who aren’t accustomed to my baby-powdered hair and yoga pants (baby powder is what I put in my hair when I don’t have time to wash/rinse it, and often always I go overboard. So if you ever see me with a white powdery scalp it means I tried to give a shit and it just didn’t work out). And then I resent myself and the other person for the whole time.

So over the years I have learned not to be quite so generous when I offer help, unless fully prepared to do what needs to be done.

Last week, my coworker Mandy needed some help.

Mandy is one of the coolest bitches in the world and we have a blast working together. We’re a lot alike and we do pretty well. So of course when Mandy needed help I wanted to help her.

Here is the situation:

Mandy doesn’t like bugs. I don’t either, for that matter, but I can usually handle the smashing and otherwise dispelling of undesirable creatures. So when Mandy came in after lunch one afternoon talking about the terrible bug that was in her car at that very moment, I thought why not help her out. How bad can it be?

Turns out, pretty bad.

I shit you not. This creature inside the car was half horsefly, half dragonfly, half bee, half possessed little girl from The Exorcist.

Seriously, it had her eyes.

I see this thing and suddenly all my resolve drains away. I was armed with an orange flyswatter and nothing else, and jesushellmoses I was pretty sure this Jumanji bee creature would take one look at my wimpy ass arm and attach itself for dear life just because it could.

Not to be swayed, though, I proceeded to poke and swat at the increasingly-angered insect. I’m not sure what my plan was exactly, just to rake him out of the window so he could get away, maybe to get lucky and get a well-timed strike in? Not likely.

So there we were, two shrieking women in the middle of the sidewalk, me inexplicably jabbing in the car door with a flyswatter while Mandy coached from the other side of the windshield – “There it is! He’s over here! He’s mad Emily, oh he’s mad.”

Of course a passerby was going to take pity on us. A passerby who was covered in tattoos (he even had one of those spiderweb elbow things) and weighed at the most 100 pounds soaking wet stopped to see what our problem was. He then handed me his presumably new license plate, took the flyswatter, and killed the skulldemon hell bug.

For real. Just like that. Bip, bop, dead.

He then took his license plate, acknowledged our thanks, and went on about his way – which turned out to be three cars down where he proceeded to slimjim his way into a vehicle we could only presume was his.

He got the benefit of the doubt.

Randomer and randomest

There are weird things about me, you know. I realize I present myself in a very pristine manner and I may seem totally put together, but I am totally deceptive like that.

So, randomly, here we go…

It makes me feel special and cuddly when someone new follows me on Twitter.

I haven’t run in a billion years.

I confirmed my schedule for next semester. Eeee.

On the subject of school, I applied for Spring 2013 graduation. That’s soon, you know.

Gordon Ramsay is a complete sellout. Complete.

That said, I adore him beyond all reason and will watch anything he does.

Yesterday we (well, Max) finally found Lucy’s left sneaker. This is a huge deal, since we have been looking for those shoes for at least a month and the child has instead been wearing sandals or rain boots. Every day. He found it behind the toilet in the bathroom that he and Ava share, which I really don’t even want to think about.

I am a new convert to the world of bananas and peanut butter. Seriously how have I never realized the wonder of this combination before?

I hope you all have a fantastic Monday. It’s a good day.

About work but not.

I’ve said that I went back to work fairly recently. I did.

I work for what seem to be lovely people, in an office with someone I genuinely get along with and enjoy being around.

This is a big part of what makes or breaks any job. And I have it made.

The other part of making or breaking is actually being able to do what you were hired to do.

I’ve never had a problem with that, you know? I’m a good worker. I learn (or I thought I learned) fairly quickly and I catch on with no problem. I’ve always considered myself smart and intuitive.

Don’t get me wrong – I have always required a learning window.

Maybe it’s because I’m in an field that I’d never really encountered before. Maybe it’s because it’s been years since I’ve worked for an employer. Maybe it’s just that I’m getting old.

Whatever it is, I am having the worst time learning the order and flow of things. I ask questions and I worry that I’m annoying and then I just keep to myself and I worry I’m being useless.

No win.

What would be perfect is if someone told me, step by step, everything to do. Every time. And then gave me a pop quiz. Then once I learned what was going on, they would need to step off and leave me alone.

I know it’ll get better. I know I’ll know what’s going on soon enough. I just hope no one kills me before that happens.

About Mondays

It’s so cliche to have an opinion about Monday.

So much so that I feel kind of dumb admitting to having any feelings whatsoever about it.

Dumb is okay, though, so I’ll just go ahead and say…

I have no clue why it works this way, but my bed is always the most comfortable on Monday morning. Lucy chooses that time to not have her feet in my kidneys, my pillow is positioned perfectly, and the room temperature is finally (finally) neither freezing nor stifling.

And at that point, at the apex of perfection that it took the entire weekend to achieve, the damned iPhone alarm starts blaring (I have never found a good ringtone to wake me up that doesn’t simultaneously piss me off) and it all disappears.

It’s all psychological, I know.

Still. Garfield was so right, all along.

Things I’ve learned by returning to work

If I were to be honest, I would say that I didn’t really expect much to have changed when I reentered the work force a couple of weeks ago.

And in saying that, I would be wrong. So very, very wrong.

Therefore, in list fashion, I submit to you things that returning to work has taught me:

  • I have really lost all of my fashion sense. Today I am wearing a black shirt and black pants and have really no discernible body shape (aside from “round”). Josh poked fun at my outfit this morning, asking me if I was working backstage on some production he wasn’t aware of…when the real answer is that I just picked up the first thing I saw in the clean clothes area this morning. I wanted to be comfortable…but I have fallen kind of far from that as well. I’m just glad I can wear jeans tomorrow.
  • People are, truly, just as odd as I’ve always remembered.
  • Makeup is actually kind of fun. Seriously it’s kind of like dressup everyday.
  • People look in windows as they pass by them. Without fail.
  • Adele really is perfect.
  • People with unlocked wifi are gracious angels from heaven.
  • There is something to be said for working in the heart of the town you’ve known for always.
  • There’s also something to be said for working alongside people you like.
  • It’s difficult to rearrange your life when you’ve become accustomed to one way. Even if the new way is better.

So there you have it.

Things have been happening. My big sister moved away, and that’s been….weird. I haven’t been able to run much (read = at all) because I am a great big pansy about the heat and about sleeping as long as I can.

So the upshot of it all is that while I need to rethink my wardrobe decisions, I really think I’m going to like the way things are these days.

Working stiff

It’s been two years, but it happened.

I went back to work.

Today was my first day, and I’m pretty sure once I’m not all derpy clueless and stumbly annoying, I’ll like it a great deal.

Lucy left this morning with Josh, waving goodbye like it was the greatest day in the world.

Did I cry? I didn’t. Not really. But I did catch myself wondering throughout the day if she was laughing. Or crying. Or being a bossy sass pants.
The other two never needed me as much as she always has. Or maybe it’s the other way around.

In other news, why do I even own shoes with strangely heighted heels? Tallish I’m good with. Flat – even better. But weird in between height? All of the pain.