I guess the endless head injuries are starting to get to me.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about work and what that should mean and what one should look for in the 80% of life that gets tied up in the pursuit of money…and I’ve noticed that most people seem to be okay with the whole pointlessness of it all and I wonder whether they’re just better at accepting this than I or they’re just that much happier with where their choices have led them – you know? Maybe I’m giving myself too much credit or them not enough? Probably both-really. Regardless, even knowing I need to leave my current job sooner not later, the prospect of going to another job doing essentially the same thing, even when I consider the more money aspect, just isn’t all that appealing when it comes right down to it. Not that I wouldn’t leap at the chance but I’ll still be spending 80% of my life doing something that doesn’t actually matter…not in any real way…at least, not to me. I guess I’ve come down to the cliché yet again that you have to do what you love and let the rest take care of itself…sigh…enough – I’ve been playing this tune in all it’s endless variations for years now and I’m still sitting here feeling sorry for myself about it – bleh! Waaaa, poor me – don’t you just want to make it all better for me yet?? What drivel!

So, what is it that I love and why don’t I do that? It’s ultimately both tied up with so much that it’s ridiculously complicated and so simple in itself that it would seem the easy choice if I could just take that last step. I’ve been working my way toward it for as long as I can remember.

As a writer, I think I need to accept that I suck at dialogue. I’m going to chalk this up to my somewhat regrettable conversational skills in most situations. People just don’t talk the way I hear things in my head and I need to stop fighting myself about this. I’m not quick-witted or funny or sincere enough to endear myself to people with what comes out of my mouth. I have to write things down and rearrange them and tweak them for hours sometimes before they say what I want them to say and, any dialogue that happens along the way inevitably ends up sounding horribly staged and far, far too structured to ever come close to mimicking real conversation. I have flashes of good dialogue from time to time but rarely enough to fill even half a page and it’s almost never anything to do with anything that I’m actively writing anyway…and often it’s not anything to do with anything I’m gonna be passing out for general consumption no matter how much I like it.

So, the point is-writing is work that I love, whatever roadblocks I run into in the process so, obviously, that’s what I should do for a living in one form or another – right? Right. Problem being…well, scares the shit out of me to think about it too closely and that’s the truth. I don’t know why I should be scared to do what I love – maybe it has something to do with the possibility that I’m just not that good at it and, for good or ill, I need to be good at what I do to feel okay about myself, to feel I live up to expectations – both my own and those of people to whom I feel some responsibility. I think as long as it’s just a dream, I don’t have to think about it not being a real possibility. As soon as you take the chance, you could learn things you don’t want to know about yourself and about your abilities and the dream will shatter like so much glass. ‘Course, there’s an argument that at least you’d know and could then move on to the next thing – whatever that might be? I think my terror comes from the complete lack of desire to do anything else…’course, that something may not be apparent until writing is no longer an option…hmmm…see these circles I wander around in all the time??

A good friend once compared a relationship to a fragile glass ball – surpassing beautiful and surpassingly breakable. The relationship is a game of not damaging the ball – of trying to keep it safe and unharmed, protected. Further, once it’s broken, even by a little hairline crack, it can never be what it was before, never have that fragile beauty again, perhaps never have any beauty…perhaps, when looked at with the crack, never be seen for itself again – only what it once was, what it once was and can never be again. Ahhh, the possibility of the bitterness of a shattered dream that can never be recovered…this holds as much fear for me as the possibility of it never coming to pass at all, in any form. And that’s the wall I keep bashing my head against despite all my best intentions…despite the ladder over standing right next to me or the door a few paces to the right or the hole in the base just big enough to squeeze through. The other side is the unknown and thus frightening whatever its possible beauty – what if the grass really isn’t greener? What if the wall is all there is?

Forgive me whatever impatience I may have shown towards any poor sap pounding his/her head against a wall I could clearly see over…or for watching some one at the wall I’ve just conquered and feeling in some way superior…or even for envying those who’ve reached the next wall to bash their heads against for being ahead of me…there is a part of me that realizes how very childish I must still seem to so many people and I cringe at the thought but, if there is another way through all this without all the dramatics, all the…I don’t know…the slogging through the muck, the endless head injuries…I don’t see it. That bloodless path must be beyond the next wall, eh? One can only hope, maybe…and keep bashing away, I suppose. Do we ever get to the point where there are no more walls?

Are you serious?

Among the blogs I read, there is a post from one of my favorite authors that is basically a complaint that the book she’s writing now is looking to be over 1,000 pages long…now, I can understand how 1,000 pages might seem…overwhelming…but I’m coming at it from the perspective of some one who has yet to reach the 300 page mark on any work and the complaint feels a bit…ummm…what’s the word?...stupid. I would love to have 1,000 pages to work with even with the thought of having to eliminate a few – at least I’d have the story out and on paper. I know, one person’s fortune is another’s downfall and all that but, sheesh, have the grace not to complain about having more to talk about than you expected! Given her last book – we may all be regretting 1,000 pages by Christmas but that’s not really the point, is it?

Under the weather

I had a great entry, full of clever turns of phrase designed for your reading pleasure all ready to go and the computer ate it when I tried to post it…grrrrh. I don’t think I’m quite up to recreating the witty account of my morning adventures today…sigh. Enough to say I destroyed a pair of socks and showed up late to work (which, in itself is hardly a new thing), ended up watching the front desk for an hour and deciding that’s the kind of job one could really get a lot of personal shit taken care of doing-who wants to have to focus on doing what they pay you for all day?…that about covers it. You’re gonna have to trust me when I say I would have had you in stitches w/my original composition built around these bare bones events. No….really.

So. My latest thought to think about is this whole vegetarian thing. Basically, I’ve been mulling over the idea of giving up meat in general though not exactly specifically…that doesn’t actually make any sense does it? The thought goes like this – I’m going to stop purchasing/fixing meat products for/in my home as a first step and gradually phase meat out in the rest of my life as it seems reasonable. I have a few reason as to why this seems like a good idea: one – it’s cheaper, two-it seems cleaner (yes, I’m aware this is mostly bull-sh*t-but we’re talking impressions here), three-I think I might have better luck on the health front by removing meat as a central feature in my diet (again, probably bull-sh*t in practice but – impressions folks, impressions) and four (and really the most important)-I’ve been having difficulty w/the slaughtering process as a concept much less as a reality my eating habits tend to support. It’s not that I have any great ‘save-the-poor-animals’ complex or anything though it does have something to do with the assembly-line nature of meat production these days. It occurs to me that, if I am wholly unwilling to actually take part in the slaughter of a cow or a chicken or any animal beyond a fish, maybe it’s a bit hypocritical to eat the product of said slaughter…I don’t know but that’s where my thoughts have been circling for awhile now. I hesitate to commit myself to this as, as an experiment, I seem to do alright not eating meat for about 2 to 2 ½ days and then I lose my mind and have a big juicy hamburger or something along that line like a junkie feeding her habit…including the rush of excitement and good feelings followed almost immediately by the crash and sense of failure…I somehow think if I seriously decided to do this and broke down and bought a hamburger anyway I’d have to lose faith in my ability to police my own actions…pretty much, historically, I do okay with anything but saying no on things I want…you know – my budget mostly exists to track what I spend rather than put any real guidelines in place to control it…I could be headed for trouble w/the whole ‘no meat’ thing, I’m thinkin’…I might have to admit to a certain lack in my character – you know, the whole controlling impulses thing…as in I can’t…not when control conflicts with my desire to do or have something I know I shouldn’t or have decided not to do or have…yeah…

Insanity = when one repeats the same set of actions over and over w/the expectation of acheiving a different result...

I have not written nor have I felt like writing anything since early last week. It’s something of an odd thing for me and usually indicates some form of depression. I made an agreement with myself about a year ago now to the effect that I cannot be a writer if I don’t write so I need to write at least 500 words a day. They don’t have to be worthy of review or even something I ever go back and try to salvage but they have to be on paper (well, on screen anyway) and they have to have been written that day for that day. I’ve missed quite a few days in the past year so I suppose I’m not all that good at sticking to my agreements…at least not the ones I make with myself…and, if I’m being honest, not always the ones I make with others either. I’m something of a flake when it comes to these sorts of things...I’m still deciding whether this is something I need to work on…that or stop making agreements that I know I won’t adhere to.
All this talk of agreements and where am I headed? Well, I finally got my raise…if that’s what we’re calling it and I’m feeling a bit like I’ve been slapped and shown just how much I’m worth to the powers that be – thank you very much, we don’t really care if you stay or go but, as long as you’ll stay here and take it up the ass we’ll be happy to compensate you for your time by showing you exactly how little we respect you. Thanks for playing, now get back to your desk you worthless peon. That pretty much covers it-that and my boss actually being surprised that I’m insulted by all this. I told him it’s not that I’m surprised it’s just that I really didn’t expect to be slapped and I’m still sort of reeling from that….I also told him it doesn’t change anything and, I’m just not gonna be the better person so he can stop dreaming that I’ll find it within myself to continue to be the good little worker bee despite the shit they’ve decided to pitch me into just cuz they can. I’m still feeling a bit betrayed which I know is stupid given the situation but one feels one’s effort should be recognized and rewarded without one having to scream and yell about what a great job she’s doing. So, in the interest of adhering to my agreements…well, let’s just say all bets are off and I could give a shit what they want or expect from me from here on out. That and I think I may just do some spring cleaning – I mean, how much crap can one be expected to keep at one’s desk, eh? I’m back to where I started and I suppose this horse has been well beaten but there’s a part of me that wishes I could find a reason not to continue looking for another job because – wouldn’t that be easier? No, it wouldn’t and I think I’m a bit bitter about that too. My options involving self respect have dwindled to one and I’m never happy about having my hand forced.
The healthier way to look at this is to realize that it’s an opportunity I would not have otherwise taken advantage of…especially if it ends with me making more money for doing the same work. This is something I could seriously get my head around with very little effort. To that end, I had a meeting with a staffing agency on Friday and, they’re sending me to an interview for a position doing almost exactly what I do for at least 5K more a year to do it. If this doesn’t work out, they’ll find me something else and I’d really, really like my last day to be the 7th of October…I can go on my cruise (have I mentioned the cruise yet?) and come home to a brand new job – no backlog of work and no more of this shit to deal with…at least not in the same old setting. It’s a dream I’ve begun to cherish and there’s a part of me that thinks I’ll make it happen w/or w/o another position in place for me when I get back. The idea of quitting my job without another to go to is a bit extreme for me, but it’s looking more and more tempting the longer I consider it.

The other 2

And here are pictures of my other two children - Julian & Dynah...it's bad enough I favor the brat cat much less forget to brag on my other 2...sheesh!...Julian is the black and tan and Dynah is the grey and cream.

Pictures, flash drives and other thoughts...

Okay, here is my (not so little) brat cat, Sinclaire. For those of you who've been following along, this is the furry four-legged child who has worked his way through every available electrical cord he's been able to get his teeth on...and through. Who couldn't love this face?? He's a year old as of the 18th this month - how is that possible?? Have I really been in this place a whole year now??

Seriously, just got a new camera-spent too much and got more camera than I was looking for but I'm not complaining - just look at the kind of pictures I've been taking (all of my cats so far - no, I don't need any comments about my cat-ladyhood becoming more and more evident)! And, as I'm going on a 7 day cruise in October, I think it'll come in quite handy. It's a cute little Sony # they call the 'Cyber-Shot' whatever the hell that's supposed to mean-7.2 megapixals. I'm hoping this means I won't have to buy another camera for years to come. I had no idea how much fun I could have w/just a camara and...well, let's not really get into that...

Also got my first flash drive - I had no idea these things were so nifty! I can hardly wait to load it up and carry around far too much information in one place just cuz I can. I will never go back to discs again - not when I can have this cute little USB thingy instead...don't quite know what I find so remarkable about it except I've been exceedingly pleased with the damn thing from the moment I took it out of the package...maybe I'm looking for excitement in all the wrong places?? Apparently technology is the path to a happy me at the moment.

As another point of absolutely no interest to anyone but myself, I completely rearranged my living room this weekend and decided to put all of my CD's into those folder thingys and get rid of all the jewel cases...so far, I'm pleased with the results for both CD's and living room...we'll see how long it lasts but, as it is, this is the first time I've had easy access to all my CD's since I moved in a year ago and had both doorways into the back half of the apartment open and I'm quite excited about the whole thing. Next project is shelves for the DVD's - yes! I will stop living out of boxes in the very near future...probably just in time to box everything up and move again but, well, that's how it works, right?

All the projects this weekend and I got very little sleep...at night...so today I'm working on about 3.5 hours of sleep-most of it not good. I really, really, need to stop doing these things-seemed completely reasonable last night to stay up and finish the whole CD project even allowing that it kept me up till 3:00 am (as a side note - The Incredibles is way funny at that time of day)...at least for as long as I work a 8-5 sort of job...bleh...why is it I do so much better between 10:00pm and 5:00am than I do between 7:00am and 5:00pm?

Speaking of movies (I was, wasn't I?), finally saw "Donnie Darko" this weekend...now, maybe I'm just stupid 'cause I know this thing is supposed to be a big cult thing but I don't really get it...I mean, I get it, but I don't see what the big deal is supposed to be? I kept waiting for it to resolve itself into that 'wow-neat-idea' thing and it just...didn't really ever get there...I rewatched it just to be sure and it's still underwhelming...

Okay, so I think that's it for now...nothing terribly coherent but, hell - you can't expect me to string everything together well on 3.5 hours of sleep, right?

Tagged-5 Songs

Well, brother (RCS)'>RCS)'>http://rcsthinkingoutloud.blogspot.com/">RCS)) tagged me w/this last week and I think I've finally nailed down a list of 5 - this would have been much easier if I'd been allowed 10 or more...

1. In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel -
2. One Flight Down - Nora Jones -
3. Put Your Lights On - Santana w/Everlast -
4. Goodbye to Romance - Ozzy Osbourne -
5. Revenge - System of a Down

So that's the list today. Ask me again next week and you'll likely get something slightly different but, there it is.

Ruminating upon my much overdue review

I've been dinking around with the other blog for the last hour rather than doing any of the mountain of work I've got to get through before the weekend...I mean - there's always tomorrow, right? I know this is the wrong attitude but...well, I just don't care that much...that's really the point here. And, for once, I'm not casting around for something to explain my lack of enthusiasm. I finally got the unimportant part of my review this week (still no money) and I've been mulling it over and I'm kinda pissed about it. Apparently I lack initiative, consistency,a good attitude and I have issues with punctuality and scheduling (or is that more like an issue with making work my number one priority)...oh, and I have a hard time dealing with my co-workers effectively sometimes (especially when they're psychotically vicious billing clerks who take every/create opportunities to point out their co-workers' mistakes/possible shortcomings and never take responsibility for/acknowledge their own)...I'm exagerating a bit here (not about the billing clerk) because, overall it wasn't a negative review it's just possibly the most non-positive review I've had to date...in any job (and this includes the one where I spent my time cleaning hotel rooms - I'm not kidding-that has got to be one of the most disgusting jobs on the planet short of sewage maintenaince or something and, trust me - my attitude there could certainly have stood some positive adjustment and initiative is more of a handicap than anything worth pursuing when you're talking about cleaning up after people who are away from home-no you don't want to know what it was that got shoved under the bed!-seriously-they loved me there). So, I'm feeling a bit...slapped and sort of stabbed and possiblely kicked a few times too - also, I may have had some salt rubbed in my eyes. Oh, and this isn't something that officially counted as a negative, but apparently I dress like a hippy-tree-hugger type, (?-for those of you who know me - is that how I dress?) and that's okay. (That's okay if you never want to succeed at anything in this business...have I ever mentioned the gym teacher that told me-at the impressionable age of 13- that I would never succeed at anything if I didn't jump the hurdles?-but dress however you like, really). All that and my boss is being extra nice to me now for some reason - like he knows damn well he pissed me off (for no good reason), like he did it deliberately, like he's doing his best to make it even more unacceptable for me to stay here, but maybe I'm giving him too much credit. Okay maybe, possibly, the motive could be something I could support, however I do not appreciate being marked down for things he's never so much as mentioned to me as problems just for the sake of motivation. The only point on which I'm forced to concede is the issue with punctuality - I never get to work at or before 8:00am. I don't do it on purpose, it's not a philosophical statement on the worth of office work or anything-it just, doesn't happen- sue me...better yet-fire me if it bothers you that much. Besides which, I think it has a great deal more to do with the infinitesimal nature of the raise I'm likely to be offered for my continued services. Even as I'm preparing myself to accept this (temporary) slap (okay, what's a permanent slap?) in the face, it still pisses me off!

PMS and other random thoughts...

Except for dinner on Friday w/N- and a late dinner Saturday w/K- I have seen no one and done very little for the past 3 days and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it…quite regretting that the time is already spent though. These weekends always seem to be gone just as they’re beginning. Ah, well, better that than the alternative, eh? I think I’ve figured out what was wrong with me last week – PMS…had a killer couple days there and now I’m all stocked up on sweets and potato chips I have no more cravings for. Despite the fact this series of events occurs in various incarnations every month, I seem to always find it surprising and mysterious…I suppose this doesn’t actually reflect well on my powers of recall? I’m never sure if it’s just a couple of down days or a legitimate hormonal thing…I suppose I could just make it easier on myself and blame it all on PMS regardless of the time-frame…it’s not like I’ve got anyone taking note of these things and I’d get to feel better for always having a legitimate excuse for my moods…I mean other than depression…you know – I hate having to say I’m depressed, people always want an explanation for that…PMS though – that’s an explanation in itself and no one questions that…they just give you a wider berth than usual and let you be…

I think I’ve managed to talk myself into a space where I’m okay with whatever happens with this other position I interviewed for. ‘Course, I say that and then I hear myself thinking things that manifestly contradict that statement…right, let’s just say I’d really, really like this band-aid to be ripped off as soon as possible and leave it at that. It’s icky torturous, this waiting!

Neighbors were quiet today…actually, got pulled into conversation while dragging my 40lbs of cat litter up the stairs. I have no idea why this is such an issue for me but, every damn time I bring a box of litter in, it’s a struggle to get up all those stairs with it. This is the one thing I would change about cat cohabitating…okay, not the only thing but, if I only got one, this would be it. Cat litter and all that that implies – the whole chore from beginning to middle to end is just…icky. The dust that gets kicked up, the stink that builds up, the ache in my knees and breathing through my mouth cleaning it up, the bags cutting into my fingers carrying it out and the damn 40lb boxes up all the damn stairs to begin the cycle again. The only thing I like about the process is that I end up with a freshly vacuumed house at least once a week for it…and I could live just fine without that. Okay, as a trade-off for having the furry little four-leggers…well, it still sucks but it’s done for another week and that’s all that matters now. Stay tuned for my upcoming in depth analysis of why laundry is such a bitch…

Brain wobbling...

It’s a wonder to me the way people can spend so much of their time speculating and judging and gossiping about things that don’t actually matter and, even if it did, they don’t have enough information to be judging anything. I’m sitting here as I type, listening to my neighbors discuss the relative burnability of our building, the tendency of neighbors to look in any open window, the uselessness of absentee landlords, Section 8 housing and the general decline of this nation we call home. Glad to hear I’m not surrounded by supporters of a regime I find difficult to respect but the tone in their voices is at best uninspiring to hear. Its one of weary acceptance laced with the bitter certainty that life should mean more than the whole in the bottom of your kitchen cabinet and burning dumpsters. Or is that me? I dream of a place where I can’t hear my neighbors unless I’ve invited them in, where I can vacuum or move furniture around at 2:00 am when the mood strikes without pissing some one off. Life should mean more than the petty crap I have to listen to when the people on either side of me get together to smoke. They’re both old enough to know better…old enough to have moved on from here…they depress me because they’re proof that a person’s whole life is perfectly capable of ending in a tiny apartment bitching about the same damn shit for so long you can’t even muster any real passion about it. Weary bitterness is the best they can do. It reminds me of my grandmother – the unhappy one, the one who has spent her entire life playing the victim…the one that, in my bad moments, I see where I could end, if I’m not really, really careful. So much come to so little…what a disappointment!

The following incomprehensible mess is due to the mess going on in my head – I apologize, but from moment to moment I’m thinking about whether or not I’ll get this job I just interviewed for and, behind that the fear that I won’t and that nothing else will come along either and, at the same time, I’m thinking what if I have to stay where I am? And do I have the balls to leave without somewhere else to go? And will I flake out again after everything is said and done anyway?…I have nothing going on of any interest in my head at the moment, when was the last time an idea sparked something for more than a moment and, as long as we’re at it, when will I find that next, all-consuming, great read?....and with that is a fear that I’ve found all the unexpected, interesting surprises I’m going to find in my life, in my books, in…well…anything. I’ve way overdone it (but come nowhere near enough) and everything is finite when all is said and done right? …and what will I do then?...when nothing strikes me to read? When there is nothing to grab my interest and push me into new directions, to come up with new lines of thought, new story ideas and plot points…new reasons to keep going – where are my next landmarks, next rivers to cross, mountains to climb – that sh*t?...what do I do with my time if this is all I’m gonna get?...and, mixed in with the rest is the usual, what if I really can’t write?...I mean, I can write but what if I can’t tell a story that is even remotely interesting to anyone but me?...and is it even possible to build as much as I think about into something entertaining but not fluff?...oh, and I’m feeling very, very fat right now for some unknown reason and I’ve lately felt a growing certainty that this is my life and it’s dripping away with every moment that passes and I don’t think I have the…energy… to care that much except I really, really don’t like the idea of ending up like my neighbors or my grandmother…weary and bitter and…unsatisfied.

Bleh! What a load of hooey! Not everything has to mean something and every moment doesn’t have to be perfect or interesting or even anything but what it is. I know that, I just have a hard time accepting it. I blame this on a lifetime of movie and television watching despite the cliché I’m buying into to do it. Life, is life, whatever that looks like and, reality, just isn’t as endlessly exciting as, say, an episode of Farscape or something. I amuse myself sometimes by imagining these larger-than-life characters in the time between the big adventures. I mean, they couldn’t possibly spend every day solving life-threatening problems with no breaks for the day to day crap that makes our lives livable …you know, everyday living, right? It’s just that, watching them eat breakfast, brush their hair, read books, stare off into space, pick their noses, fix things, exercise or sit on the toilet just wouldn’t be great television…or something…

We had a fire in our dumpster at 3:11 am on Tuesday morning – the whole building was out in their jammies and mussed hair and sleep blurred eyes. Milling around and staring at other people saving the day…well, saving the dumpster anyway. Even with all the excitement we just didn’t live up to the likes of John Crichton. At least some people get to do the fun stuff. Firemen do great and necessary things but they create an incredible mess while they’re at it and, once the fire is dead, they leave. Theirs is the big, dramatic role (yes, even they, with all their excitement still have to fill the spaces in between – I know, but that’s not what we see from the outside)…everyone else is left with the mundanity of putting whatever has become the destroyed back in order…and, really, where’s the fun in cleaning up? We’re back into the moments that only happen during the commercials, or after the show is over...

The thing is, those moments make up the bulk of our lives and I can’t help feeling…sometimes…a little…let down by it all…and then I realize what my problem must be – yes! I have it! My problem is that I haven’t been shot through a worm-hole to a distant galaxy or accidentally stumbled into an alternate dimension or woken up with wings or anything half so interesting but, what I have done is that I have imagined all those things and, to the brain, imagining something is no different than actually doing it…or something like that…maybe it’s that remembering something produces the exact same activity in the brain as experiencing the thing itself? Whatever-I’m just thinking here but, how different can imagination be from remembering? – keeping in mind, of course, that human memory is largely an exercise in imagination anyway. So, to my brain, all these things have happened to me – could happen again…and quite reasonably might – I mean, anything that than can happen once, can happen again, right? If reality really is just a construct created by our brains to help us cope, well…who says reality can’t be whatever I want it to be??

How’s that for a load of mush, eh? I do my best to express myself and end up sounding like that…it’s a wonder I know what I’m talking about much less any of you…assuming you’ve made it this far.

For some more practical, real life sort of information, I had an interview with another PEO yesterday that I’m thinking went alright but not great and, now that it seems to me I may not be offered the position, I’d really like to have it if only because it would be a convenient, relatively easily achieved escape from my current situation. That, and I’d be able to cash out my 401k (yes, I know that is not probably the wisest choice) and pay off a couple bills which would amount to at least an extra $200 a month not going out the door automatically…and leave enough so I could have some decent savings again…oooo, that holy grail of a stash of money in case of emergency…or a sudden urge to cross the ocean…you know – the image of freedom to go with the idea…At any rate, the interview reminded me that I’m complete crap at being continuously questioned and judged for 40 minutes straight. Oh, and I seem to have become less able to say things in a such a way so they don’t sound as negative as they actually are…all unknowingly, I started in to why I’m looking to leave my current employer, and instead of the nice, canned, perfectly acceptable answer I’d prepared (I’ve gone as far as I can there, I think it’s time to move into a position where I can expand my experience and learn more about this business of people herding…blah, blah, blah) I suddenly hear myself saying that things have become far too stressful because of certain personalities and that I’m not comfortable with where I fear things may be going with the company and that I haven’t gotten my review for 6 months…and…well…I think I may have screwed myself out of being offered a perfectly acceptable job out of nervousness and a lack of practice in presenting myself in the best possible light, you know? That and I wore a shirt that just wouldn’t stay in it’s place and kept insisting on slipping down and giving far too clear a view of my breasts to anyone looking in my direction – and, to make it worse, I’m so terribly white that all that abundant flesh framed in lacey black could hardly be overlooked…by any sighted person…bleh! Ah, well, it’s not the only job I’ve applied for, just the only one I was actually asked to apply for…and the money isn’t that good, and I don’t like driving all that much and as I’ve said, more than once, I don’t really care for the PEO industry all that much and that, staying in benefits would be much easier at an individual company and…well, I’m sure there are other reasons why it won’t be a complete tragedy if I don’t get the job. Still, no one likes to be rejected but, if that’s what I’m in for, I wish it could be done quickly so I don’t have to think about it anymore. What’s the quote? “If twere done, twere best twere done quickly...” or something like that…

Hey! I’ve just remembered it’s a long weekend this weekend! Whoo-hoo! I still think the best job (working for some one else) would be one where I could work like, three days a week and have the rest of my time to do with whatever I’d like – that and make at least the kind of money I do now…that would be just about perfect. Enough interaction with the world around me to keep me from going off the deep end and little enough to keep me from losing my mind…;-)…could be too late in either case…