The Unexpected Coffee

So I am at Two Creeks with Libby this evening ordering the largest conceivable raspberry mocha available on their menu. The cost was $4.30 (for once I had cash in my pocket) and as I was handing the five dollar bill to the cashier a man from behind me says "oh, just put that on my tab."

My response "oh, that's ok, I can get it" but at this point the cash is back in my hand and the guy is waving off my comment saying that it is fine. And in normal-Debbie-awkward-style I say "but I don't even know who you are."

Again he waves me off and reassures me that it is his treat.

So in true fashion of not accepting gifts from strangers (ah, my parents would be proud) I stick out my hand to shake his, introduce myself, and thank him profusely. His name is Peter if you are curious.

I take my obnoxiously large raspberry mocha and sit at a table with Libby... who of course notes that I am blushing. Whenever someone notices that, it always makes you blush more....which happened several more times this evening.

I am not sure what to think about this really. First of all, those who know me know that I have issues with others buying things for me (I will let the occasional a person do it, if I know them well, and if I feel like I have resisted sufficiently against the kindness). Second, I worry about people's motives all the time. The reality is that this guy was just practicing a random act of kindness on a Friday night, rather than trying to initiate some conversation with me because he is either in love with me or secretly stalking me.

And if the goal for a person in doing a random act of kindness is to make a stranger feel oddly appreciated, valued, and that there is something about that person which is worthy of praise (even if that praise comes in the guise of a free coffee)...then this guy's gesture fully hit the mark.

So thank you again random-act-of-kindness-coffee-guy.....I needed that more than I needed the mocha.

Incidentally, he is a doctor of some sort and drives a motorcycle.....and is a regular at the coffee shop. Libby said that a sugar-daddy could do me some good, but I am still unsure if I should try to hang out at the coffee shop in an effort to meet him again....cause that could just be setting myself up for disaster.

When the hell did it become November?

Seriously. When did that happen?

Anything new on my front? Not too much, not really.

The daily schedule is that I get up and work, then I go to the other work, then I come home and work some more, then I go work a bit more, and hopefully if I have time I either practice piano or do some of my volunteer work before I go to bed.

Routine or rut?
And does it even matter if that question is answered?

Things have been going surprisingly well at the center. In fact, I feel like a cloud has been lifted, and the new director has given me some very cool projects to be in charge of. I haven't felt enthusiastic about work for a while....and it is so refreshing to be excited about what I am doing there. I've even stopped looking for other jobs. Although I am still considering actually going into the classroom....but to apply for that program I have to wait until March. Until then, I will have to console myself with various projects at the center which have varying levels of coolness....such as this coming Monday I will be going to teach five separate six grade classes about the social life of ancient Egyptians.

While I am probably one of a handful of people who would be excited about this presentation....maybe I can perk up your interest by sharing the following picture with you.



Know what this is? Well.....this is what happens if you argue with the tax collector in ancient Egypt. You just know that the IRS wishes that they could do this.

And yes.....I am so totally showing this to sixth graders.

The View From the Pyramids

"I would like to welcome you all to our workshop 'The View from the Pyramids-A Glorious Past and a Challenging Future'. I said that right, right? Heh heh, yes, so... Thank you all for braving the parking from the football game. But I must say in my defense, when I planned this workshop, a game was not scheduled.

There are several people that I would like to thank. First of all we have a crew of dedicated volunteers from the education community that I could not do without. Unfortunately, none of them are in the room to hear me thank them, but you should know that I thank them. I would also like to thank the education department at the Utah Museum of Fine Arts. And......They also are not in the room at the moment.....but there are alot of people working diligently behind the scenes to bring this workshop to you today.

A couple of announcements: first of all don't forget to buy your lunch tickets today if you haven't already. And secondly we have stopped sending out our newsletter and event flyers in the mail, and we have moved to an electronic system rather than through the mail. So, yeah, if you haven't signed up for event emails there are sign-up sheets on our registration tables. Don't worry, we won't flood your inbox with silly emails....only ones of interest. Oh by the way, I'm Debbie. I'm the one who sends you the emails.

Now I have a few introductions that need to be made...."

That is only the beginning of my total manic and scatterbrained intro that I gave at our October workshop yesterday. The rest of my time on stage got a little better than the initial intro.....thank god. The workshop went well....or at least it seemed to. Even though I am done with the workshop, I still feel a little unsure of how it went. It was quite a blur....still is a blur.

But eyewitness accounts are all positive.

Breaking the Laws of Domestic Physics

I understand that the purpose of the newly revised household chore list was to get the items on it done.

I also understand that the purpose of this new list is to clean those odd things that you forget until they become really horrible....like sweeping the baseboards or removing the strange and possibly toxic dust buildup on the blades of the ceiling fan.

I thought that I would be relatively safe with tonight's task of cleaning and disinfecting the garbage cans....until this.

Know what this is?

No, it isn't something molding.

This is the crystallized mass of dryer lint and odd bits of laundry soap that were in the bottom of the garbage can in the laundry room. It came off in one large piece.


Here is a view of the topside of it, a mountain of dryer lint.

I think that it was beginning to fossilize.

I am positive that this is not only unnatural, but breaks some sort of natural law.

Yellow Legwarmers Make Me Feel Better

So the times where I don't blog are typically times of great busyness or great reflection. In this case, my absense is both.

On the busy front I had the following: parent's visiting, running a UEA booth for two days, bachlorette party, wedding rehearsal, Libby's wedding, fending off Jimmy's sickness, surviving running my first Outreach Advisory Council meeting, Jimmy's 21st birthday, succumbing to Jimmy's illness, and trying not to go crazy in the build-up to the October workshop.

After being sick, besides reveling in the ability that you can wear the craziest things when you are ill (yes--neon yellow legwarmers were involved), I've decided that I need to get my little brother a t-shirt that says "I am a human petri dish".

As to the period of great reflection, it has been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. It started with the realization after my Grandmother's death that I could survive without therapy. So I brought this to my therapy session with the idea of working towards transitioning out of treatment. And in many ways, my therapist earns her money, because she pointed out that we haven't discussed the elephant in the room, which is how I treat relationships in general.

A friend of mine recently was introduced to my blog and pointed out that I admit more on the blog about my feelings than I do to people face to face. If you just know me by my blog, you would probably have a very different view of me than if you knew me in person. It is easier revealing more of my emotional state in writing than it is in person. Here I can write about my weaknesses, my failings, but I don't have to deal with people seeing that pain in my face. To my friend who pointed this out....I can only tell you that there are plenty of members of my family who would gladly commiserate with you.

I've been avoiding talking about how I view the varieties of relationships that I have in my life with my therapist. I started out trying to date, trying to start anew....and I just can't do it. I feel judged by new people when I talk about my past. So in order to not have to talk about the real me I talk about my days in Turkey, or I ask them about themselves and foster that conversation. The result of this is that I know alot of people better than they know me. And in talking about relationships with Esther, I've hit my comfort threshold. I've probably revealed more of my layers to her than to any other person. Which is sad....and to me, frightening to the point of paralysis.

So I will admit that I have some serious relationship "issues". I fear being hurt, so I don't trust anyone with any information about myself. I want someone to take the time to get past my defenses, but I am not going to ask someone to try. I feel lonely, but don't want to do much about it....but I think part of that melancholy can be blamed on the fact that I just listened to Johnny Cash's Ballad of Ira Hayes.....which might be the most depressing song that I have ever heard in my entire life. So depressing that I totally lost any desire to practice piano tonight.....but not depressing enough to discourage me from wanting to take a nice hot bath. Which is where I am going now.

Hey, if you're lucky, I might take a picture of the yellow legwarmers and post them....cause they...were totally sexy.

Goodbye Grandma Ellie

Early last Wednesday morning my grandmother was found, she had passed away in her sleep sometime during the night. Her death wasn't unexpected. She was ill and had been for a long time...and even though you are expecting a death, it still feels unexpected when it actually happens.

I think that I have cried more for her passing than my grandfather and my uncle put together. But these haven't been tears of regret, but more tears of relief. I think that I am finally able to mourn them all.

When Uncle Don died it was the end of the semester, Mr.3 was just starting to get squirrely with the fateful forged loan check, my grandpa was shutting down and all I wanted to do was fix things for my family.

When my Grandfather died (five months later) my father was out of a job, Jimmy had been moved up to my house to finish out school, Mr. 3 was in jail, and my mom was valiantly trying to hold herself together after a grueling month of taking care of my grandfather before he died. All I wanted to do was fix things for my family.

But there is only so much that I could fix. I lived in a constant state of anxiety, feeling obligated to hold up my entire family (and Mr.3)....all the while I was crumbling inside. Realistically I never had time to mourn either of them. And it was heartbreaking watching my grandmother mourn someone that she couldn't fully remember anymore.

I didn't go to the funeral although I wanted to. My parents kept saying that it was "too much" citing that my car wouldn't make the trip. And while I think that was a really lame excuse for making me feel like I shouldn't come. Instead of letting it fester, I did confront my mom with it. There was no satisfying answer, but the mere fact that I even addressed it with her was huge. At least to me it is. There has been so many little injustices that I have felt in my life that I have just kept quiet about, just let fester and burn.....speaking out was huge for me. And when it comes down to it, it was "too much for me to handle"....not for my car, but for me. I've been a wreck since I found out on Thursday afternoon (please note, she was found Wednesday morning and my step-aunt didn't bother to get around to telling us until late Thursday afternoon). I've been exhausted and emotionally frayed. And for once.....I really wasn't physically able to make the long haul emotional drive in the middle of the night for someone who wasn't there. I did that once trying to find Mr.3 in Denver...and it was awful. Trying to do the same thing for someone who I have felt that I have lost years ago would have been lunacy.

I have never really had any strong inclinations about the afterlife. For the most part I figure that I'll find out when I get there....and as long as I have been a good and decent person in this life, things can't really be that bad in the next, if there is one.

Since my Uncle passed away in 2006, my life has gone through alot of turmoil. And each of the terrible things that I have experienced cannot be dealt with individually but as a whole.....and so it would make sense that I would be experiencing all this grief now. When you look at the stages of grief they go in cycles, and cycle out until the pain is gone. First, there is denial...and well, there is alot about the whole Mr.3 saga that fits under that category. Second, anger (uh, yeah!), the third is bargaining.....there has been alot of that. The fourth level has been depression....another checkbox there. And the fifth level is acceptance. I read an article that separated out the fifth step into three parts: the upward turn, reconstruction and working through, and acceptance and hope. And I think that my feet are planted firmly within stage five. In fact, when I saw Esther today, I realized that I could move on without her. I actually got up to leave almost 15 minutes before the end of my session. When she asked me why, I told her that I didn't really have anything else to say. I'm sad and that's ok. I don't want to talk about my grief but just cry to get that emotion out of my system. I don't wish for my grandmother (or even my grandfather and uncle for that matter) back. I am sorry that she is gone, but I don't feel abandoned. And even though the old drama between my aunt and my mom threatens to resurface again with the finalization of the trust...I don't even care about it. Because I can't fix it, and I shouldn't have to. I've offered what I can emotionally and physically and said where I have to draw the line. This is big. So big that every word that I could look up in the thesaurus for big wouldn't be able to describe the enormity of it.

I realize that very little of this post has been about my grandmother....but honestly....when we grieve are we grieving for the person or ourselves? Similar to the case of my grandfather, I wasn't able to have any mementos of my grandmother, and I am now on the lookout for a stainglass hummingbird decal for my window. When I was little, Grandma had just cleaned the stained glass window (leaving the screen door back) and had told me that the kids next door were waiting in the backyard to play with me. She told me that I could go out and play but not to run in the house. Being the little kid that I was, and seeing what looked like an open door, I only heard "backyard" "play" and "run". The result of which was me shattering the glass door and a permanent scar on my head. From then on, Grandma had hummingbird decals on the windows so that I would realize that the door was in fact- closed. Finding something similar would be a fitting memento of her.

As to memories of her, I like to think of her when I visited last just after my uncle's death. My grandfather was inconsolable, and Grandma and I had banded together to goof off and have a bit of fun to relax away from my brooding grandfather. We had gone for a walk in her neighborhood, did lots of giggling....and when we came back my Grandpa was in the living room talking seriously with my mom. Grandma had sat on the arm of the sofa...I can still remember how her feet looked in her slippers. As we were sitting there, she kept slipping backwards onto the sofa...finally she just let go of the arm and slided onto the couch with a little "wheee!". It was so unexpected. Grandma and I were trying to hold in the giggles because of the tenseness of Grandpa...and then....he let out this belly laugh. A laugh that I hadn't heard since I was a little kid. It was a moment of levity and closeness in the face of immense sadness...and that is how I wish to remember her...


wheeeee!

Goodbye Grandma Ellie, I love you.

Getting Rid of the Rest of the Books

Can you tell what these are?
These stacks of 60 odd books, 67 to be exact, are all books of Mr. 3's that I am going to be getting rid of.

I originally kept them because they represented a sizable amount of money that I spent buying them for him, and I also had some wild and crazy idea about writing a book on terrorism for parents and teachers. Honestly, I know that these are books that I will never read. I also don't want to try to sell them...that takes time and energy that I do not have. I don't need to have any more negativity from these books hanging around in my house.

So over the next day or so I am going to put them in the hallway by the MEC with a sign that says "Free, Please Take".

In honor of this latest cleansing, here are the titles of what I am giving away: Mirage- Power, Politics, and the Hidden History of Arabian Oil; Twilight in the Desert; Infiltration; The Eve of Destruction; Islam and Terrorism; Politics in the Middle East; Nation and Religion in the Middle East; Desecularism of the World; Religion and State; The Political Language of Islam; Through Our Enemies Eyes; Troubled Waters; The West at War; Disinformation; The Two Faces of Islam; Hamas; No God but God; An Anatomy of Terror; New Glory; The Osama Bin Laden I Know; Uncharted Journey; Over a Barrel; The West's Last Chance; The Palestinian Right to Return; Atomic Iran; A History of Islamic Societies; The War for Palestine; The Sword of the Prophet; The Shahids; Unholy War; God's Rule; The Story of Political Philosophies; Profiles in Terror; The Military Balance in the Middle East; Countdown to Crisis; Holiest Wars; The Muqaddinah; Why I am Not a Muslim; The Future of Political Islam; Airbourne Carpet; American Political Thought; Islam and Revolution in the Middle East; Seven Theories of Religion; European Union; Guadalcanal; Battle of the Reichswald; Rouge States and Nuclear Powers; Runaway World; Voices of Terror; the History of Jihad; War and Destiny; An Autumn of War; Unholy Alliance; Warrant of Terror; Modern Tyrants; Peace is Possible; The Road to Martyr's Square; the Myth of Islamic Tolerance; Information Assurance; Ideas and Foreign Policy; The Emerging European Union; The Government and Politics of the European Union; The Formative Period of Islamic Thought; Bringing Religion into International Relations; Journey of the Jihadist; Islam; Islamic Imperialism; and Between War and Peace.....phew! It is a long list! And probably represents close to $1000 in books.

So come one and come all....help yourself to a pile of books in the basement of OSH!

Brilliant! IKEA Heights

So I try to share the wealth with the various gems I find in the course of working Job 3, today's gem is a site called IKEA Heights. It is a melodrama that they are filming in an IKEA store, without the store's knowledge...it's just awesome.

IKEA Heights from DaveAOK on Vimeo.

The Staycation

Well I am now at the halfway point in the five day holiday weekend that I am taking. Part of the focus of this weekend is to reflect on what I want and how I want to proceed with the current employment situation.

A couple of odd things have happened since my last post. One, it was dictated to me that I must change my working hours from 7:30-1:30 to 9:00-3:00. This totally throws my work schedule out of whack, but more importantly it has just infuriated me. Yeah, I could adapt....but I am not willing to bend. The second thing that happened was that I approached the new Director with some concerns. Originally I had intended the conversation to be just about dispelling some rumors about the hiring of the new Outreach Director ("That's a personnel issue!"), but it ended up turning out to be about alot of my job frustrations...the triple workload, the new hours decree (he doesn't care that I have other obligations that might interfere). I think that if it had been anyone else, I might have come away from the conversation with a ray of hope. He was after all willing to consider other work-hour arrangements for me.....but then again he just wants me to be at his beck-and-call for as much time as humanly possible between 8 and 5 Monday thru Friday and not go over my 30 hours. He was willing to listen to my concerns, but kept reminding me that the Outreach program and how the system was set up was an "abnormality that shouldn't have been allowed to survive".....which unfortunately kept making me feel that the Outreach program was some runt kitten that he was trying to get rid of. Like in the Disney version of the Hunchback of Notre Dame when the judge first sees the infant Quasimodo, cries that it is an abomination, and is about to drown the baby when the priest stops him....it was sorta like that. But as I said, if it had been any other person I might have been able to believe the best of what he said. I might have been able to "just adapt" as he told me to do. Upon reflection, I can't. I cannot trust him. I have no respect for him. And I don't believe that anything he could do could make me change my mind.....well, at least, I can't think of anything at the moment that he could do that would make me feel better about him...not even something like saving my life, because I would be worried that he would hold it over my head for something else later.

My realization this morning was that no matter how much I might be able to look forward to some of the fun Outreach events that are coming up....the last thing that I want to do is return to work on Tuesday morning. If I could survive on the two jobs (I'd be about $400 short a month) I would give my notice immediately.

The very thought of returning to work at the Center makes my stomach lurch.

I applied for four jobs this morning. I have one other on my list that I want to apply to but I need to have a version of my resume that is appropriate to an advising job. And seeing that I know that another job of that nature will be coming up soon in my friend's department, I really should have a version for this as well.

In the meantime, this lowly events coordinator (as the term Outreach Assistant is not an actual job title--another 'abnormality") is going to get some hours in for her other job. The one she likes....

Sometimes the Silver Linings in the Cloud Doesn't Make A Difference

Call it jinxing myself.
Call it wishful thinking.
Call it counting your chickens before they were hatched.

Whatever its name, it comes down to the fact that I didn't get the job. Which really shouldn't be that big of a deal, but I pinned my hopes on that little paper star called "a new job". It was my chance for an escape of a work situation that I emotionally cannot handle. It was my chance to help myself and my family. And it has fallen off the wall, landed in a puddle, and that little paper star has disintegrated away.

Bye, bye little star, I shouldn't have made you in the first place.

I don't blame the UMFA for not hiring me. They hired the best person for the job. I do blame myself for believing that the job was mine. I blame myself for figuring out what the pay raise would be and then counting on the money being there. I blame myself for preemptively planning on how I wanted to write a blog post detailing the first interview, and the second interview- knowing that the job was between me and one other person- and for having it all planned out that I would drop the good news in the last line of the post.

Cause now I left with the double edged sword of being sad that I didn't get the job and feeling stupid because I let my hopes get up.

Have you ever noticed that bad news never has good timing, but that good news always does? Poor little bad news messenger..... the only time people are ever really happy to see him is when that person is glad that someone has come to great harm.

And of course, today's news didn't come at a good time. I was so overloaded and emotional about the current state of work, that I didn't have time to process the news....and having to process bad news at therapy isn't very constructive. It just results in me crying so hard that I can't speak but snort. It also results in my therapist going on about how my emotional reaction might have more to do with my inability to handle uncertainty in my life and how it relates to my abusive relationship with Mr.3. It results in her going on and on about how I was hurt my Mr.3, the constant state of pain and burden that I was in, etc. etc. etc. And I couldn't stop crying/snorting long enough to make her stop. Because my emotions are not focused on the past with Mr.3, but on the fact that I am not sure how I am going to handle Wednesday.

It will only be a matter of time before she starts to equate this with why I am not dating. I know that I can not handle uncertainty. I need to know where I am at all times. The uncertainty in dating is too much.....although I also can just say that it is a hassle -so why bother. I can't deal with my own issues, why add others to the mix? And while it is a hassle, it also helps me NOT focus on my deep rooted fear that I am woefully inadequate and not worth being loved by someone who is not already someone I consider family.

I am tired of feeling like damaged goods, and I'm tired of feeling bullied, and I'm tired of feeling overworked. I'm so tired of it all that I lack the strength to fight back. And I know that it is what I need to do.

So boys and girls, what is the moral for today's story? I think that it should be "playing with paper stars can be fun, but beware of papercuts", but I am willing to take alternative suggestions.

What to Wear?

Alright folks....tomorrow morning, I have a job interview.

I read online somewhere that only 2% of job applicants actually get to the interview stage. And while I kept trying to tell myself that I wasn't nervous about it....I totally lied.

I've been in a constant state of anxiety since I put in the application. I was doing the stupid jaw clenching thing....then once I managed to get that to stop all the stress just transferred to my stomach. Which has left me in alot of pain and feeling like I have been continually hit in the stomach. This afternoon, I tried to do some breathing and I thought that I had everything under control, until I went to look in the mirror. I've totally broken out in a matter of two hours.....it almost looks like hives! So while I am typing, I've got a face mask on hoping that it will suck all of the impurities out of my face.

I think that I am nervous because I have so much riding on this. I just want out of the MEC and this seems like the first major chance that I have gotten. I understand the enormity of the job....it would be a major pay raise and quite the learning curve. I know my potential boss and he was the one who asked me to apply for the job. Everything is looking really positive for this job.....but I think that I keep expecting something to ruin it all.

And I have no idea of what to wear tomorrow! Do I go for slacks and a blouse? A dress? Do I even want to address the idea of heels? I did some superficial google searches on what to wear...colors and such. Alot of them tell you just to wear something that would fit in with the work place and the job.....but honestly, what do you wear for an interview for an accountant's position at an art museum? I think that red and white might be a good color combo but that still doesn't narrow down the possibilities. Ugh!

I'm gonna go wash off this face mask and tear apart my closet.
Wish me luck!

Backups of various types

Wow...can I just tell you how glad that I am that I blog? Work on the Mr.3 memoir is in full swing (being that I try to write every day on it) and I refer back to the blog--A LOT. It is a good backup to have.

Speaking of backups, when I got the new computer I also bought an new disk drive in the hopes of getting files off of the terminally ill laptop. So far so good. It has only done one major data dump crash once so far..... but as I am a little over an hour into a major file transfer I am expecting it to die at any moment. I keep getting up every couple of minutes to check on it. I think I have it in my head that if I am constantly paying attention to it that it won't crash.....totally silly (and a bit of a time waster actually). Fingers crossed that this process doesn't drive me totally nuts!

The iMac Version of Rear Window

I got me a new computer.

I like it alot.

It is pretty.

Pretty like a princess.

Finally getting a new computer is a huge deal for me. I've been putting it off for months cause the money I was saving for it always seemed to need to go to other things like taxes or car repairs.... you know, the frivolous stuff. I've been operating on a netbook since my other laptop contracted a fatal virus. Now the netbook is devoted solely to job 3, so if it dies, it is no big deal. This computer is for me to play on...which really means that I am using it to write. I am starting to make myself sit and write for at least a half hour each day.....most of it is...well awful. But I can't expect to have pure poetry come out of my fingertips everytime they touch a keyboard, this blog is a prime example of that.

Rather than getting another laptop, I opted to get a desktop, which I now have in a corner of the dining room by the bay windows. It is a minimalist setup on an old bedside table of my uncles'. And as it is currently surrounded my my mom's plants it looks fairly unobtrusive. The only problem, well it isn't really that much of a problem, is that with it being by the window I tend to get easily distracted by my neighbors in the tenement next door. Usually you don't have anyone to look at, but the newest batch of neighbors are....well sorta fun to watch.

There is the guy on the third floor, who from where I sit looks pretty cute. He could be a troll up close for all I know, but for now 'the mystery of the neighbor across the way' is enough for me. Hot Troll Neighbor plays on his computer a lot, but every once in a while he paces his apartment, drinking a beer, and periodically stops to do this head-banging robot dance.

The Loud Techno Girl lives on the basement/first level. Her music isn't nearly as annoying as it used to be before I finally succumbed to the heat and closed the windows to put the air conditioner on. She has this friend who would be striking alone for his size, but when you add the foot tall spiked mohawk that he sports on Friday evenings....it becomes fascinating. First of all, I can't figure out what he uses to get it to do that...but secondly, I can't help but wonder how often he hits his hair in doorways or if he gets a crick in his neck when in the car.

On the second floor, and directly eye level with my apartment, are the latin drag queens. Every night they dress up and prance around their apartment. Their balcony has been turned into an impromptu hair salon. Jimmy was looking at them and actually recognized them. Apparently there are two main factions of drag queens that perform at Club Sound and these girls belong to Nova (one of the drag queen bees).

Jimmy has joked that I should move the couch into the dining room, but at least now that I can be seen typing at the computer the neighbors won't totally think that I am watching them completely. It amazes me how voyeuristic I am. I don't think that they are watching me though....I'm pretty boring, unless you find it fascinating that I cleaned my house at 9pm on a Sunday night.

Removing Assistant From My Job Title

If anything could be learned by my turning 30, it is the following:
I desperately need to work in a more professional environment.

With the latest round of drama at work, I've been really struggling to find some concrete terms to voice my dissatisfaction....besides the fact that everything keeps making me cry. What I have come up with is that there is a lack of professionalism and respect. I understand that respect is one of those terms that really depends on other factors. So, here we go.....

-An environment where administration makes promises as to pay raises/job advancement and then does nothing is not a professional one.
-An administration who says that they value employee input, but blows off the employee completely when they notify them of a very serious problem in the workplace, is not a professional one.
-A work environment that is continually unprofessional cannot be one that inspires respect and teamwork.

I've been applying for jobs for a while now. When I have asked about the Outreach position being posted, I've been told that they will let me know but that it is easily a month away from being open. So I check for positions every few days and apply. In the meantime, I am being actively recruited for a position on campus in another department.....don't want to jinx it so no details until I get the position- or not....so on Monday I checked the University job postings to see if it was listed. And while I was there discovered that the Friday prior they posted the Outreach job.

I was furious because I was not even told that they were officially going to post the job.
I was furious because I had to be looking for another job in order to find out.
I was so furious that I stormed into the AA's office and asked if the Director had someone already in mind for the position.

She told me that she wasn't aware of anything. I don't trust anything that she says, but I needed to let her know that I was upset.

I applied for the position, but I will not get it. I would be surprised if I even got an interview. For one thing, our AA, in her ever-present lack of professionalism, told another employee here that I would NEVER get the Outreach job because they had different plans for me. This upsets me on many, many levels. One, I am being denied even the consideration of advancement into a position that I am more than qualified for. Two, how dare they even assume that they have the right to determine my career? I understand that I am a great assistant. I know that I have desirable skills....but I am also not a slave, and sure as hell, not their slave. The very idea that they would not even consider me for anything else because they can't bare to have me not picking up after them..... ugh. When you couple this with the recent blow-off by administration on an employee issue....well, I've completely checked out of here.

I'm making plans that I will not be here past the end of the month. Of course, that assumption is also that I would have another job to go to at the end of the month, but it is also helpful in piecing together what I would need to get done before I leave in order to feel good about it. I have loved my job at Outreach, and I feel connected and obligated to the community that I have served there. From this point until I leave, the work I do is for them and not the Center.

So....here's to the determination to remove the term "Assistant" from any job title that I have.

Taking the Bad in with the Good

I haven't heard anything from the student loan company that Mr. 3 fraudulently co-signed me on his loans on for a long time. The last communication was from Wachovia telling me that they were processing my claims.

But today....at my office at the MEC (and we know how I feel on collection calls to begin with, but at work- ugh)....I get a phone call from a collection agency.

Here's the thing though....they were only trying to collect on 1 of the 3 loans he signed me onto. The other 2 have been removed from my record. Removed! Oh, I hope that they guy I talked to was telling me correctly on those 2 loans. If this information is correct, then it is logical to deduce that they meant to remove all the loans and that this one just didn't make it though the whole process.

So I need to fax in yet another fraud claim packet to this company. I've had to fax in that police report to so many places you would think that I would have left a copy of that here in a file somewhere. But I haven't. With all of the personal information I have in my office, that police report is a special brand of shame. I'll make sure to send in the fax tomorrow.

I think that this is an overall good sign...or at least I am trying to delude myself into thinking that. In any case, I think that this also shows (cough cough...are you paying attention Jimmy?) that even though handling these fraud claims is a giant pain-in-the-ass, that it can be done.

Hey Mike! Your catalog arrived!

Hi Mike (aka Mr.3)! Your catalog arrived in the mail today....you know the one. The one that you can purchase equipment to make your own fake IDs with. Well it came. I know that you must have been waiting for it. You can pick it up anytime.

Putz.

Time?

If you asked me what time it was, I would probably pull my cell phone out of my bra and tell you.

If you asked my Dad what time it was he would tell you "the same time it was 24 hours ago".

If you asked an astrophysicist what time it is you would get a debate on the theory of relativity.

If you asked the wicked witch of the west she would tell you "time's up my pretty".

If you ask David Bowie he would tell you that time is waiting in the wings and that it speaks of senseless things. "His script is you and me boys"

So, what time is it?

Well at least I applied for something, right?

The whither to work or not debate continues in my head. Tentatively I have plans to quit on September 30th, unless something different happens.
I applied for a job that I was perfect for at the local children's museum. The posting was online Tuesday, worked on the resume all day Wednesday and happily sent it off yesterday (Thursday). I felt on top of the world about doing the resume, looking forward to an interview, a possible new job. I felt new energy at work in order to get major projects finished before I leave. I even speculated on how much money I would make.... Yeah, I know, I really built my hopes too high on it.

So this morning, I'm still excited and impatient just to get acknowledgment of my application. And on a whim, I check the organization website....and the posting is no longer there.

I'm totally crushed.

I went from feeling like the world is full of opportunities to feeling utterly trapped.

And I know, it is stupid. It was stupid to pin my hopes on some phantom job. It is stupid just to think that since the posting isn't up any longer that my resume will not be considered. And it is stupid to feel trapped when I am not. Trust me, my forehead keeps getting flatter for each time I smack myself. But I still feel that way. I mean, I haven't felt this depressed in a while.

And the last thing that I want right now is to be at work.
I want to be away somewhere where I don't have to think about this stuff anymore and that everything is taken care of for me.

To Quit or Not to Quit Job 1

I've been really unhappy at the MEC for a while now. I loved my job, I really did.....but the last time that I really felt any joy at work was just before our conference on the 16th when I was prepping puppets for my art project breakout session. It was the first time in a very long time that I was having fun at work.

I thought that part of my fornlorness had to do with my boss retiring. And to some degree it was.... but now that she has been out of the office for a couple of weeks, I know that wasn't entirely it. I dread going to work everyday. I hate the fact that I need to get approval on things that I am working on, and that I can't get anyone in the "adminsistration" to give me the time of day for that approval.

First of all, I have zero tolerance for bullshit in the workplace. I have my job to do, and I work to get it done. I expect others to get their work done, and not impede me in doing mine. I admit that I do indulge in the odd bit of office gossip.... but I shy away from participating or even creating office drama. And I have no respect for those who lie. The personification of bullshit in my office is our program manager. Instead of telling people that she doesn't know the answer to something, she says that it is either "illegal" or that "it cannot be done" as if it is written in stone. Normally when these situations happen, it is only a task that she can do. So you end up going back to your office and fume, or go back and start calling anyone you can think of so that you can find a way to get the task done. By the time you've figured out how to do the task, the program manager comes back pretending that she has just discovered some miracle cure to your problem. She thinks that this makes her look like a hero..... but when she has been doing it for almost everything you come to her for.... it backfires horribly. Sometimes, she doesn't even bother to look for the answer and you have to go back into her office with university policy. When it gets to this point she can't escape from having to do the task, but she will also do everything in her power to stop you from making her do it. For instance, she didn't like it pointed out to her that she needed to fill out a requisition form to pay the Homestead for our conference next year Even though we had approval to sign the contract by the interim director and the new incoming director...she had a fit and made the incoming director put a stop to it. The contract wasn't signed......it was months of work and a negoiated discount of over 4000 dollars, all down the drain- for the sake of her pride.

She's also on this major power trip.... or rather she is on this trip to make it look like she has all of this power and authority over the staff. While I was trying to meet with our new director on the Homestead contract, she refused to let me make an appointment with him. She acts as if his schedule is super secret and only her and the office assistant has clearance to know what he is up to. I can understand wanting to control access to him, it protects her....at the cost of alienating the rest of the staff that make her look good.

Compound this situation, with a director who insists that you email him with requests.....that he never fucking answers. When he does answer your email it is just to tell you to do something- that he would realize was already done if he had actually read the email to begin with, or that you did something wrong that is unrelated to the email subject. I feel like I am being treated like shit.... that's not a complaint I can voice to them however. I guess that I can say that administration has laid the weight of three positions on me without extra compensation. Administration has promised support but denies it in reality. Administration has made promises as to a pay raise and increase in job status, and has fallen through. Administration has made me feel marginalized, overworked, belittled, and worthless.

I can hear Esther in the back of my head telling me to calm down and be patient.

I have been dealing with an unstable work environment for over a year now. I've put up with it because I was working towards the goal of being Outreach Director.. something that I have talent at and something that I want to make my career. But is it really worth going through all of this? I am not even sure if there is going to even be another Outreach Director... and no one will even answer my questions about it.

I kept getting to work earlier and earlier each morning. The goal of this is so that I can work and not deal with people, and that I get to leave the office earlier in the day. I'm getting in so early, that my 6 hours are up by lunchtime. I also just sit and bitch about work to anyone that will listen. It has hit a cresendo this week. Monday I started looking for job openings, and this morning I wanted to quit after reading an email from the new director. I'll never really wanted to quit a job before.....never wanted to give notice and walk out the door. Libby suggested today that I do just that. At first I just said that no, it wouldn't work....until I started to run the numbers. I normally don't count on GV money, just treat it like a happy surprise check in the mail..... but if I start counting on that money, and up my hours at job 3 from 30 hours a week to 40 hours. I could quit the MEC--- still keep my apartment, cable, therapy appointments, and piano lessons. So I have some options, which is quite empowering:

Option1: Give notice at the MEC immediately and have my 30th birthday (july 30th) be my last day at work. I can apply for other jobs if I like (and there is one at the children's museum that I am going to apply for anyway) but if I don't get extra employment along the way, I'm fine. Still could afford Christmas, but I might take a temporary Christmas retail job in order to pad up my non-existant savings.

Option 2: Give notice at the MEC and have the last day in September be my final day. Still all of the perks of option 1 except I can purchase a new computer for myself. That way, the netbook can be used for Job 3 and I could use the other computer to work on without the fear of it getting some horrible virus and dying. This would actually allow me to set things aside so that I could write, or work more on GV, or a myraid of other things that I have always wanted to do. I guess the perk of having three jobs and being used to working 70 hours a week is that when you arrange to have your schedule go down to 40 hours you have a ton of more free time.

Option 3: Get another job, and quit whenever.

Option 4: Stay at the MEC, but only under certain conditions. This is the one that I really need to think about. I am not sure if I want to stay at all anymore....even if I did get everything that I wanted. Even if I got the title and responsiblity that I wanted, the pay that I deserve, etc. I would still have to deal with the administration and their absolute determination to make things 8 million times more difficult than it needs to be. Do I really want that stress?

So it comes down to, really, what do I want to do with my life? Is the fight to the position I want really worth it in the long run? Is that position what I want or need in my life right now anyway?

Option 2 is in the forefront, option 1 is being held in reserve for that instance where I totally lose it and quit. I need something to change, and soon. Heck, I am so dissatisfied that loosing my health benefits pale in comparison to continue dealing with this stress. I don't care anymore that a major component of the Center is in my hands....because even if that reality is true, the new administration live in their own little world, oblivious. They remind me that I am worthless to this program anyway, I might as well relieve them of their burden. I can be replaced and I am not responsibile for the health and longevity of the MEC.

What do you think I should do?

MY CAR PASSED INSPECTION!!!

And in celebration, here are the lyrics to the song that I've had in my head for a week.... between this one and the umbrella mending song, I sense some new ringtones in my future.

What are we going to do with Uncle Arthur?
A blinking stallion, is Uncle Arthur.
When he goes a-strolling in the park,
Watch your step, girls, especially after dark.
Any old skirt's a flirt to Uncle Arthur,
He's over eighty, but how he can run!
'Give us a kiss, my dear,' he'd say,
And tickle you up the boom-di-ay,
And say it was just an 'armless bit of fun.

What are we going to do with Uncle Arthur?
Have him doctored like a tom-cat?
You'd have thought by now he'd has his fill,
But my aunt can't bloody well keep him still,
Saturday night'll find him at the boozer,
A couple of pints there, then off he will pop,
Straighten his hat and up the street,
As light as a feather on his feet,
A dirty old man who don't know when to stop.

What are we going to do with Uncle Arthur?
A public nuisance, is Uncle Arthur.
Though he's bald, deaf, dirty and decayed,
He's the uncrowned king of the esplanade.
Nothing on Earth can seem to damp his ardour,
He's trying harder, the older he grows.
One of these days he'll have to die,
What will he get up to in the sky?
Well Heaven and Uncle Arthur only,
You can be sure he won't be lonely,
Heaven and Uncle Arthur only knows.

Derby, Pride, and an Injured Turtle

Wow, busy weekend. Saturday Jimmy went with me to the roller derby double header game, and for once I remembered to bring my camera with me. Got a fantastic picture of Steph and of Jimmy's GIGANTIC nostrils!

It was also the Pride Festival this weekend and I went out to support Jimmy as he walked in the Pride parade. It was pouring rain, but that didn't stop the festivities. I have a bunch of photos on my Flickr account, but this one of the rain was my favorite. I offered my umbrella on several occasions to some poor freezing wet gay men who were trying to find their friends.


I was totally dead after Pride today....totally wiped. The walking that I did today wasn't too bad, but you add in the rain and it adds up to some aches and pains. When I got home I started to work Job 3. Zippy was sorta anxious today and kept trying to get out so I let him and Scooter run around the house. Zippy's under carapiece has always been bad. The previous owner didn't take good care of him and kept him in too wet of conditions. The result of this is that the shell has been lost and there is bare bone on the bottom. Like your skin, the under carapiece has several layers, so the top layer is gone (and unable to grow back) and in some spots he has lost secondary layers. There are several pieces of the secondary level that are threathening to come off. As Zippy was walking around today he kept getting caught on the carpet. I am not sure if this hurts him, but it sounds like it does.... and today I decided that I had to do something for him. So I covered the bottom shell with gauze and strapped him up with medical tape.


I know that he looks silly (and kinda sad) but it seems to be helping. Zippy didn't fuss around too much when I was trying to strap him up and he seemed embarassed for a little while....until he started to walk around and discovered that he didn't get caught on stuff anymore. Since then he has been happily running around the house like he was 10 years younger. I think that I am going to have to make this a permanent dressing for him. I might get some of that athletic tape. It will be less sticky and bulky than the current gauze and medical tape situation.

And now, it is time for bed....but I have to find the turtles first. Zippy was happily asleep under the houseplants last I saw.....but I haven't seen Scooter for a while. I suspect that he's made it to my bedroom and is hiding under the bed.