Break Up
I think it could be time. You can yammer all ya want about how 10% of Americans are out of work and how lucky/funded I should feel, but I am not feeling self-congratulatory and I sure ain't happy.
How I stumbled face-first into a career of stuffing little numbers into boxes is still a mystery, but it started with being someone's Admin with a crap manager screaming into my face for no good reason in a locked stairwell. I wanted out of the trapped place and away from someone whose idea of work was to make other people feel small and to the next office I stalked and demanded that whoever it was in charge give me a shot at whatever it was they were doing. If it was bricklaying, I wanted in.
The Steven's right: I'm not here for the work, I'm here to use the spoils of work to practice creativity and make stuff. By "here" I mean HERE: occupying this space in this body at this time.
I have found a lot of reasons not be HERE (aside from a loving Ma and antidepressants) but making stuff and joyous messes has proven to be my purpose. I am not overly engaged in life and playing this scenario out in the typical fashion, but there's always something that needs to be messed with, spun, fixed, cleaned.
"Work" I like. Mum and Da raised me with a significant ethic that has suited me well. If there were chillun to be raised and a house to be paid for, I might feel differently but this is the unaffordable California and the awareness of what a lousy parent I'd be has pulled up reproduction short.
I think it's time for me to break up with the University. It's entirely failed to provide on it's promises and still feels entitled to kick some dedicated staff on the way out the door. If this was a bloke, I'd have burnt his clothes and told him to shove off with someone else. Maybe it's time.
Mlle. Joan of Arc occasionally appears under the desk, in the monitor dust, in a lace pattern. (Who doesn't weakness for a chick in armor.) The vision freely clocks one across the skull with are her supposed words prior to the battle of Siege d'Orleans: "I am not afraid. I am meant to do this." What does it mean? Dunno, but I may be looking around for something that makes sense or something to throw.
Just saying.
Lighter Notes:.
How I stumbled face-first into a career of stuffing little numbers into boxes is still a mystery, but it started with being someone's Admin with a crap manager screaming into my face for no good reason in a locked stairwell. I wanted out of the trapped place and away from someone whose idea of work was to make other people feel small and to the next office I stalked and demanded that whoever it was in charge give me a shot at whatever it was they were doing. If it was bricklaying, I wanted in.
The Steven's right: I'm not here for the work, I'm here to use the spoils of work to practice creativity and make stuff. By "here" I mean HERE: occupying this space in this body at this time.
I have found a lot of reasons not be HERE (aside from a loving Ma and antidepressants) but making stuff and joyous messes has proven to be my purpose. I am not overly engaged in life and playing this scenario out in the typical fashion, but there's always something that needs to be messed with, spun, fixed, cleaned.
"Work" I like. Mum and Da raised me with a significant ethic that has suited me well. If there were chillun to be raised and a house to be paid for, I might feel differently but this is the unaffordable California and the awareness of what a lousy parent I'd be has pulled up reproduction short.
I think it's time for me to break up with the University. It's entirely failed to provide on it's promises and still feels entitled to kick some dedicated staff on the way out the door. If this was a bloke, I'd have burnt his clothes and told him to shove off with someone else. Maybe it's time.
Mlle. Joan of Arc occasionally appears under the desk, in the monitor dust, in a lace pattern. (Who doesn't weakness for a chick in armor.) The vision freely clocks one across the skull with are her supposed words prior to the battle of Siege d'Orleans: "I am not afraid. I am meant to do this." What does it mean? Dunno, but I may be looking around for something that makes sense or something to throw.
Just saying.
Lighter Notes:.
- Amazing sugarcraft found this morning on Etsy. As far as materials go, anything sugar is damned trick. These entries are very expensive, but they seemed to have mastered their craft.
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