It’s not Data Entry, it’s Donation Processing
I just wrote an entirely too long spiel about what happened in the months of January, February, and March. I had a burning desire to document it but now I can't post it in it's current format; it contains too many details about things I shouldn't have been specific about. So, here is the cliff notes version:
In mid January I felt I was unfairly targeted and scrutinized at work by some of my coworkers who apparently did not want me to be employed there any longer. I could waste my time trying to speculate their motives but ultimately I will never really know why it happened or what I did to provoke it. I never thought I would find myself in that position, as if being unjustly held back was something that only happened in movies where the story is supposed to make you feel empowered when the main character beats the odds, but there I was: feeling as though my resignation was being strongly encouraged because I suppose firing me would mean they'd have to pay me unemployment. I felt blindsided, betrayed, and helpless.
After my job security was initially threatened, I dealt with my frustration the best that I could, and I spent the next month trying to do everything they said they needed from me in order to "prove" that I wanted to be there. Along the way I saw an opportunity to transfer to another department for an entry-level position in database maintenance, which is a career I'm really longing to break into, so I jumped at the chance and officially applied for the job at the beginning of February. After about a week of unproductive e-mail tag I was informed that not only was my transfer request denied but that my supervisor felt that she saw no improvement in my work performance despite the effort I had made for the past month.
I was at a loss of what to do; nothing I did seemed to be good enough and I could feel the stress of the situation reaching a point where I started become concerned about my IBS. Despite how erratic the past year has been I have somehow managed to keep my health under control and the last thing I could afford was for my body to give out on me while I was thisclose to losing my job. After talking about it with my boyfriend, we came to the mutual decision that I should quit. In fact, he insisted upon me doing it; he assured he could afford to support us both while I looked for another job, and while I was uneasy putting this responsibility on him, he was ultimately right: if my current job was putting me in a hopeless position then there was no reason for me to stay. He was offering me the opportunity to find a job that I liked rather than just one I needed and it was impossible to say no.
So, on February 12th, I put in my resignation and chose February 15th to be my last day. I felt a little bit shady for not giving a full 2 weeks notice, but my parents were arriving on February 16th and I already had approved PTO for the following Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday to spend with them. I wasn't about to work while they were here or prolong my time at the company in order to fit some standard of respect that I didn't feel my supervisor and certain coworkers deserved. Respect is a two way street and I think I did my part in returning what I had received for the past few months.
The weeks of unemployment that followed were difficult for me in a saddening familiar way. I probably picked the worst possible time to resign, as each day there seemed to be a news article about a major company in Phoenix laying off X amount of employees. I was applying to 1-5 jobs a day but I only ever received one call back, and that one call resulted in one interview for a position that I ultimately was not chosen for. I was starting to feel pretty sorry for myself, much like I did back in 2003 and 2005, and my thoughts lingered on dark subjects. It was like my father was living in my head, only it was my own voice instead, berating me constantly for worthless I was. I saw my remaining funds dwindling away and I was dreading the day I'd have to turn to my boyfriend and ask for money so I could pay my bills.
Then, on March 14th, I got an e-mail about a job from someone that managed to find my resume on monster.com. I looked up the business location and it was only 5 minutes away from home without needing to get on a single freeway - something that is almost unheard of here in Phoenix. It turned out to be in a business park I had passed thousands of times before but had never given that much thought to, probably because it is only too depressing to see that many businesses just sitting there, so close to home, yet feeling as though I'd never have the opportunity to work anywhere else than an hour commute away in central Phoenix.
I guess I was wrong.
I contacted them around 10AM and had an interview scheduled for 2PM. By 3PM it was over and I was home, and by 4:30PM I was hired and starting Monday. I called my boyfriend and my parents while I jumped around the house like an friggin idiot, hardly able to contain the burst of energy I was high on. I was ecstatic to finally be employed again at what seemed like a forward-thinking company, within my salary goals, and in a great location. AND I CAN WEAR JEANS TO WORK! There are no words to describe how good it feels to know that, at least for the foreseeable future, there is no reason why polyester should be rubbing between my thighs.
My first day was March 17th and so far it's been great. However, this is a completely new field and I feel a bit underwater on the learning curve. I've tried to use my mad google skills to see if there are any online resources I can tap into to help me be not such a noob, but what I've found and what keep hearing is that this is one of the most undocumented industries out there. Isn't that just peachy? For what my job is I've managed to catch on pretty quick, but I know I would be doing better if I knew WHY I was doing something and not just the HOW. Overall there are slumps and rushes in my work load, and it is due to these slumps that I've found time to not only write more but also work on a new layout.
And now that I've actually admitted I'm using my spare time for writing, effectively jinxing myself, I wonder how long it'll be until I post again
Last Place in the Lone Woman Race
The progress I've made on my 2008 New Years resolution so far can be summed up in two words: "epic fail." I wish that were different, but I'd be wasting my time to keep making promises about how "I'll try harder", and "this time I'll really put forth an effort" - it's been what it's been, and most of the time, it was nothing at all. It's hard to believe that it's already April 1st, 4 months since I attempted to start my journaling crusade, but I'm glad to be the hell out of March and coming into the warming weather. Considering how this project has been going it's actually pretty ironic that I choose to finally make a post on April Fool's day I just wish I felt more like the prankster than the fool. With each day that passes I don't know why I make something as simple as writing more elusive than it needs to be.
If I ever do want to get back to writing on a regular basis (which, IMO, would be kind of awesome), I should probably start off with being a little more honest: my intention for journaling again isn't because I want to document my life, restore my peace of mind, indulge my hibernating creativity, or any of the other earthy excuses people have for further polluting the internet with egotistical steams of consciousness. In fact I'm not sure if I was ever in that state of mind, and if I were, it was likely brief and the odds are good that I was high as a kite in Michelle's dorm room. Despite my true motivations, I still reaped the benefits as though it were for the sake of my creative flow; the older I get the more I appreciate having these archives to look back on that I otherwise wouldn't have if I had only a pen and a for-my-eyes-only paper journal to do the job. I doubt my entries would have had near the detail and enthusiasm if I knew that I was the only one who would read it.
When I was 17 and 18, a large part of me felt like I was a pioneer of the internet onslaught - I was helping push the world wide envelope of internet publication, however small of a contribution it was, and somewhere along the way I got to find out who I was and figure who I wanted to be. In short, it was this period of my life that I saw myself as A Pretty Big Deal, shamelessly self absorbed, and reasonably difficult to deal with if I was ever some other emotion than "calm." It was this period of my life that I became comfortable with not having many friends, and of those that I did have, I adapted the habit of keeping them at a distance that made whatever role they played in my life optional. I never would have admitted this at the time, and even now it's not something I'm proud of, but my writing enabled me to become my own best friend in a very unhealthy way. It gave me a way to glorify myself and sadly it was probably the most content I have ever been with who I am. If I take a step back and really compare what was pushing me back then to what is tugging at me now, it's essentially the same man behind the curtain it was just so much easier to pay no attention to all the ugliness when I was younger.
It was after the Summer of 2002, during the years that followed where I spent my days with only a computer to keep me company, that I misplaced whoever it was that I knew myself to be as a teenager. Well, "misplaced" is probably a poor choice of words: aborted is more fitting, as I was struggling to become a better person at the time and somehow I was able to not only gain the perspective to see what needed to be different but also the courage to change it. It's only at moments like this that I miss that person, that girl who wore red boots every day and lived for Alanis Morrissette, and it makes me wonder if I did the right thing to her.
So, to finally get to the point: I want to continue to use this space as a tool to prove that I'm smart and more interesting and that somewhere, deep down, there a tiny bit left of that Pretty Big Deal. However, this time I'm not trying to prove this to myself I want this so that the important people in my life can see that this side of me exists. It's something I feel I need to accomplish but I also need to find a way to do it differently; I want it to be something I can do casually, without it consuming me and changing my perspective, but it seems as though I can't find the passion for it without the self absorbed agenda. Where once this was so easy it is now a constant source of worry and struggle; can I no longer even bullshit how interesting I am? Does it really take that much time out of my day to sit and write down what I think? Does it matter if he can read what I write as I'm typing when he's the one I want the most to read it after it's published?
I sit here, again and again, struggling and straining to put the simplest ideas into words. So much effort and so far there is nothing to show for it. I wonder what is wrong with me when I already know the problem(s), and I wonder why I waste my time when I already know why I do. Then I kick my own ass for the shortcomings I've long sense accepted and persist to keep trying even though I know the odds are good that I'll fail. In short, I'm torturing myself and I know I'll continue to do so until I get it right. I just don't think that I ever will be able to again.
Promises, Promises – Take 2
So, lets try this again, shall we?
I've made many attempts of trying to write over the past month I just never seemed to "finish" what I was writing to a point where I thought it was ok to post it. But that's just more of me encouraging the problem I was struggling with before; the very same one that provoked me to make the New Year's Resolution that I did. I'll be the first to admit that I'm really out of practice when it comes to writing and for months now I've been trying to compensate for it by overanalyzing each sentence, word, and even sometimes syllable until I give up in frustration with little or nothing to show for it. I seem to have become convinced that I can out-think my literary rustiness no matter how many times I prove to myself that that approach isn't working for me. I need to just write, get it over with, let my hands muddy - who really cares, other than me, if it's not absolutely perfect?
I've been having trouble sleeping lately. It's 6AM on a Sunday - Super Bowl Sunday, as a matter of fact, in a year when the Super Bowl will actually be in the town I live in (insert faux excitement here) - and although I feel so tired and want nothing more than to lay back down, I just got done spending the last 2 hours laying in bed trying to sleep and ultimately failing. In fact, the longer I laid there the more a headache started to take root over my right eye, and the more it started to throb the more I could do nothing but focus on how fucking tired I am of getting headaches around that eye. I figured if I was going down that route I might as well and get up so I can devote my full attention to being bitter over things I can't control.
Things will be changing soon. We will likely be moving in the upcoming months, if everything works out. We went looking at houses yesterday and finally found one he liked enough to be interested in buying, so we're currently waiting to see what the final asking price will be in order to calculate the monthly damage. And although the neighborhood is sort of shit, it is a NICE house. I've changed my address 3 times in the past 3 years and it's a little exhausting to think of doing it again, but this time it's with him. There's something about the idea of going through that with him that calms my usual surplus of nervousness over change.
And that seems to be the on-going story behind how the past 5 months have been. He brings something out of me that no one else, in all of my short and treacherous life, has been able to before. I feel as though I'm a completely different person than I was a year ago, and there are times when that is relentlessly refreshing and others that the very idea of what I'm willingly getting myself into is terrifying. Despite the fact that I somehow managed to live through not only a 4 year but 5 year relationship too, both ending with the moral of the story being that I wasn't good enough, I'm finding that I am finally opening up to someone to the point where there is no turning back. I am completely at his mercy, hopelessly in his hands and my worst fear is that is not exactly what he wants from me. I don't think he realizes the effect he has had on me the way he makes me feel when he just looks at me. I tried to tell him how I felt - "you make me feel alive again" - and even if he was able to get past the utter cheesiness of it, I wonder if he really understands just what that statement means coming from me. It was only recently that even I understood what it meant. If my history continues to repeat itself I know that all of this means that one day, once it reaches that point where I'm not as appealing to him as I used to be, I'll be done for. And the part of it that I don't get is that I still couldn't be happier living in each and every moment I have with him for as long as I can.
Site of a Different Color
As I promised in the previous entry, here is a new layout. It's just as unfinished as the last one (no "easy access" to the archives, lack of the all-so-thrilling and original bio) but I'll have it up as soon as I am able. My process for writing and creating has always been a private activity for me, something I would wait to do until I was alone or out of sight, and while it's not a sign that I'm uncomfortable I still feel a little silly doing this with new eyes watching me. I'll get over it soon enough.
Dear 2008
For my 2008 New Year's Resolution I've decided to deviate from my usual "lose weight" or "reach X financial goal" and try something a little different. So, to make it official, here it is in writing:
I will post at least 1 entry to this website every 3 days. The content of these posts can be anything - they can be like my usual lengthy entries, be short blog-like snippets, or even just a picture with a caption. Anything will work as long as it's something more than nothing. The only excuses I can have for not posting will be illness, vacations, or lack of access to a computer.
I chose this resolution as a way to once and for all decide where I stand with this website. I have managed to keep it online since 1999, I continue pay for it monthly, and at least once a day I think about writing or designing something for it yet I have done nothing but neglect it for the past few years. I feel guilty about doing that, especially since this website helped me keep my sanity as I stumbled through the most difficult times of my young adulthood. As I turn 25 and start to head down another path in my life I feel the need to express myself again but it's been a struggle to get myself started. A post here, one there, and another one 6 months later isn't good enough; I need more. So, this is my way of giving myself a measurable goal and seeing if I can accomplish it. It's now or never again.
Can I do it? Sure I can. But will I? That is what I'm looking forward to finding out.
A new layout will be up shortly, once I decide how simple or complicated I want it to be.