Encouragement

Well, here is a first in my life.  I have been "encouraged" to look for a new job.  By my boss.  


Wow, thanks, lady.


Apparently they can take only so much of my tardiness (including five minutes' worth), and two mistakes in a month is too high to tolerate now.


Granted, she and I had a meeting Monday wherein she asked me what I like to do. I answered generally first, then named things about my current position that I enjoy.  Perhaps I should have lied more.  
True, the things that feed my soul are nowhere to be found in my job.  True, she said it was obvious that I'm not happy here, and that chances are "we're" going to keep having problems if I don't enjoy my work.  True, I've been wanting a different job for, oh, more than a year.  I suppose now the fire under me is lit.


Positives: 

• my boss will "work with" me so that I can go to job interviews with little interruption in my work day, and make everything smooth with my teammates so they don't have to know what's going on.  (I think that last part is true.  I should probably check with her.)
• I finally have to do this.

Sigh.  It feels pretty ridiculous that I have gotten to be 29 years old before giving in to the fact that I just cannot effectively do a job long-term if I don't believe in what I'm doing.  Better late than never.  So here I go.


"There are many talented people who haven't fulfilled their dreams because they over thought it, or they were too cautious, and were unwilling to make the leap of faith."
-James Cameron


"All growth is a leap in the dark, a spontaneous unpremeditated act without benefit of experience."
-Henry Miller

I dreamed I was in a sketch comedy stage show for schoolkids. The cast was roughly 30 people. In the sketch about invasions, my line, delivered in a ridiculously whiny voice, was, "But Rome never let us leave last time!"
I have no idea what that is about.
There were also animals for the circus sketch: I found three baby elephants wandering around and was overjoyed.
They were about the size of baby goats when I found them, but they could shrink even smaller to be the size of dimes. When they were that small, they were just images of elephants on round white erasers. This delighted me, since it meant I could carry them everywhere in my pocket! However, because I didn't understand what magic made the elephants able to do this, I wasn't sure that they wouldn't get squished or suffocate in my pocket. My solution was to tie the erasers together (as if they were marching trunk-to-tail) and carry the trio in my outstretched palm.
The trick to getting the calves to grow again was simple: love them.  When it was time to rehearse the animal skit, I laid the erasers in a line in the floor backstage. Kneeling down, I put my face close to the first eraser. I whispered loving affirmations to the tiny elephant while petting him and slowly he grew, with the others following.
This took place a few times during the course of rehearsals and the performance. I eventually tried paying as much attention to the second and third babies, since I noticed they didn't seem to be getting quite as large as they were when I found them.
The guilt of neglecting elephant calves is heart-shattering.
Somehow, yarrow plants also featured, with mythical alpaca-like animals who survived on them. They were too unpredictable to have in our stage show.

Again?!?!

Really, Facebook?  This didn't resonate with you, so you one-upped yourself?  

Now Facebook is suggesting I friend an ex's mom.  I don't know how fb even knows to do this, because I'm not friends with that ex on fb.  I don't even think he's active on fb, though I have no way of knowing for sure.  Either way, we have no friends in common.

What the crap.  How does technology know these things???  STOP IT, INTERWEBS.  You have proved your superiority.  Now get out of my head.

Like a Prayer for Sleep

Never again.  Never again will I take two Excedrin tablets and listen to Madonna's Like a Prayer before bed.

Apparently, I haven't treated many headaches with Excedrin lately.  Therefore, when I took some for a growing headache last night, the caffeine in the tablets was enough to make me toss and turn for hours.
And Madonna sang the entire time.  The. Entire. Time.  I tried reading.  I even tried singing How Much is That Doggy in the Window in my head.  I tried planning art projects.  All I could do was wait for the effects of the caffeine to subside enough to enable sleep.

Why would I listen to Madonna at bedtime?  I had wanted to compare her song to the new Coldplay single, Every Teardrop is a Waterfall.  I've heard it on the radio a bit lately, and it took me a few days to figure out what it reminded me of.  Yesterday when Coldplay came on when I was driving to work, I tried singing Madonna's song on top of it.  It worked pretty well, except I didn't know most of Like a Prayer's lyrics.  At that time.  Now I think I do.  It's a five-minute song, did you know that?  And after last night, I am starting to consider having this be my karaoke debut choice, if I ever gather the courage to perform karaoke.

stream of consciousness

In an effort to actually write something on this again, I am going to insert a stream-of-consciousness blog entry. 
Here goes:


I'm eating an orange that was purchased from Aldi on May 20.  Today is June 17.  The orange tastes only slightly garbage-y.  All in all, a satisfactory pretend lunch.  Does rotten fruit have the same vitamins in the same amounts as fresh fruit?
I don't think I ever call grown men "big guy."  Maybe I've called babies that, because they don't know what I'm saying and therefore don't have to either be offended or wonder if they should be.
I should re-paint my toenails.  Painting nails is more fun to say than polishing nails.
I'm not good at stream-of-consciousness exercises all the time because I still fix my grammar and spelling mistakes, and sometimes think, "is this interesting?"
It is ridiculous that the annoying lady at work insists she can't say the surname "Rujel."  Just because it is from a language/ethnicity other than one's own, it doesn't require knowledge of different letters.  I feel bad for the guy who sits across from me when the ladies around him make him say his own last name on conference calls.  Make some effort, old ladies.  He doesn't call you "those old ladies," does he?  No, he uses your names.  Because that is respectful and appropriate.
I am thankful that certain people I know are not teachers, or counselors, or in any kind of guidance position to young or particularly vulnerable people.  Annoying Work Lady, I'm referring to you.  And no, I don't use your name #1 to protect your identity from my scathing internet barbs and #2 because you don't know mine either and I bet you never try if you don't even try 'Rujel.'

And I think I'm spent on this exercise.  Pat on the back for effort.

My parents have iPhones.  This is a ridiculous turn of events.  Below is an actual email from my dad:

Thanks       How are you?    Love     Dad


And that was written at a computer on a full-size keyboard. Why the strange spacing?  I have no idea.  This man has a master's degree.  
I am half-dreading seeing what a touch screen keyboard does to his communication style.  For the longest time when he started texting, he would leave out all vowels.  I got the text below from him once:


"Hm ths wknd r cmg fr fd n fn?"


I replied:


"I have no idea what you are saying. What do you have against vowels?"


His response:


"Hams do it not working this weekend if you want to come for food n fun"


Right. Okay.

Open Letter to Facebook

Hey Facebook:
Stop suggesting that I make my exes my facebook friends.  If I wanted them to be my facebook friends, don't you think I would have done that already?  I don't actually need a reminder that they exist.  Thanks for trying to look out for me and my online popularity, though.
Seriously,
me