rescue

I think I was coated in gunk. Picture this: a penguin in an oil spill. It slowed me down. Dulled me. Changed my colors. I tried to think it was just a job. Some stress and a few sleepless nights. But it was really 40 hours of my week and then some. It’s one of the building blocks of calm. For as much as I claim it doesn’t, my career plays a role in how I define myself. I knew right away I wasn’t going to last there. By the end of week three I was already plotting a way out. I had applied for another job by month four. I started doubting myself. I started doubting my career choice. Second guessing everything I did. That was a recipe for a slow decline. I’d slump into Wendy’s office, open my eyes real big and ask her to take and peek and see if my soul was still in there. It was. But barely! I started looking for a job on December 2. I had one by the middle of January.

Thank GOD.

It’s been two weeks at the new place and I’m kinda in awe. My boss is supportive, encouraging and funny. My old boss - - eh -- not so much. This guy smiles and heaps on the praise! He’s asks me my opinions on things because he values my experience and perspective. He said that! Out loud! To me! WHO IS THIS GUY? My grandpa reincarnated? I keep expecting him to pull a quarter out from behind my ear! So the 9-5 is loads better and the gunk has been power washed away. I’m working my ass off and enjoying it. Best yet, my soul is firmly attached to my body and instead of plotting a way out, I’m plotting ways to move up.

Group hug anyone?

Went to the Seattle Central Library with Boo today. She had some research to do for an evil punk rock quilt project she’s up to her eyeballs in. I had high hopes of working on my kids’ book. Neither of us got much done. Instead we worked out an elaborate plan for a fanzine and are now in search of a leggy cover model wearing a Gucci dress to pose as if she were on the verge of cutting someone’s break lines. OH! It’s gonna be a good magazine!

Here is a picture of the Seattle Central Library:


Here is Boo’s first words upon entering it: Wow, this sure is fancy bum storage.

Boo also thinks Oprah is the only one who can bring about world peace.

A week has made a big difference in my mood. I think it was the fight I picked. Woke me up a bit. It was also a conversation I had with an unlikely confidant. And maybe time is kicking in. I'm typically pretty cheerful and it’s thankfully proven hard to hold down. I’m moving on and best part of that is I’ve given myself permission to do it. I hadn’t been. Thought I should feel like shit for a while. But I know that’s not needed and more importantly, it’s not respectful of The Events or lessons I learned to wallow in the discomfort. So I’m letting myself rebound and dang if I haven’t rebounded. I’m like a superball.

OH’Grady’s gonna have fun with that line.

Boing.

pull the ripcord

I am employed again! It’s like working for NASA. I went from a much smaller paper to a much larger paper and the amount of high tech gadgetry and sales support is making me feel like I’ve hit some sort of work jackpot. You can listen to your email over your phone and your voicemail over your email. This may not sound like much. For all I know maybe 75% of all companies offer this fine feature, but my email and voicemail have never met before and if I wanted them to it would have required the help of a grumpy IT guy and a tape recorder. But OH, It doesn’t end there! Customer management programs are chit chatting with Outlook. Emails and attachments are automatically saved in the customer program via seamless address recognition. We drink Tang every morning and wear silver sapcesuits around the office. There are zero gravity rooms and the coffee is freeze-dried and crunchy. Seriously, pinch me.

Plus, I somehow got paid already and I’ve only been there since Monday. How do they do it? Seriously. HOW DO THEY DO IT?!?

Went to see King Kong. Otherwise known as the worst movie ever. Save your hard earned money, Jimmy. I didn’t hold a gun until I was in the army, Jimmy. I had a drill sergeant. I was a man, Jimmy! We were in the theater for what seemed like three days and the monkey still wasn’t in New York.

One of my many problems with the movie: there are like 10,000 prehistoric species of animals on Skull Island and they take the angry gorilla as their prize. THERE WERE DINOSAURS, Jimmy. Dinosaurs? Big gorilla? Dinosaurs? Big gorilla?

Can you hear me slapping my forehead?

Who picks the gorilla?!?

I’m experiencing post KONG stress disorder. It’s been 72 hours and it’s still pissing me off. Matt and Boo were good movie buddies though. Our collective squirming and snide comments got us through. We were like a team that went in and played a good game. We high fived when it was over. I poured Gatorade over Boo’s head. It was fun.

Tonight we’re going to a show. Matt has some pals playing in this kick ass zany hip hop meets punk rock aerobics kind of band and I’m nearly wetting my pants in anticipation of the night’s festivities. It’s gonna be a rip roaring good time and I may even take a shower and attempt to look “cute” for the occasion. Although. Eh. Don’t count on it.

The Events are still making themselves known. It’s all left field kind of stuff lately. Things I overhear or stumble across will remind me of it. It’s like high tide when that happens. It washes over me and then slides away. Anger is the most persistent of the tides. I picked a fight with my costar and realized, rather quickly, that it wasn’t a smart move but I didn’t know how to get out of it once I was in it. It’s easy to blame him. It’s easy to spew mean mean words that have my full backing and support only in the moment. It’s part of this process. Part of accepting what happened. I hear that it’s normal. I hear that it passes. I hear that you can stay angry for a long time while this settles into you. And that’s where I am right now. Sometimes fine, sometimes not. The scales will continue to tip though. The fine days will stake their claim to me and the angry ones will turn to understanding and peace and calm instead. It’s all deep breaths and one day at a times. Picking up a little meaning here and there along the way. Filling up my pockets.

fly away

I’m on day, um, forty-five or something of my surprise unemployment. Seems like when you give your two week notice at the smaller paper to take a job at the larger one - - they aren’t such a fan of that. Suddenly you’re some kind of “media spy” or “security risk.” I got the same day boot topped off with no pay. The boot part isn’t so bad. I actually needed a few of the days off and have kept busy the rest of the time. The no pay part though - I pretty much hate it. I am broke. Broke broke broke. It’s temporary as the new job provides me with a pretty nice raise but until that glorious first pay period ends, it’s cereal in a bag for me.

Today I was cheerful. I have this idea that I shouldn’t be but was only momentarily concerned. I’m blaming it on hormones or full moons or my triumphant return to caffeine. Seems too soon after The Events to have this return to happy. But whatever the reason, it was a gift to feel like myself again. It’s been a while. I’m not usually a down in the dumps kind of person but it got pretty bad. My friend Laura said I seemed hollow. That’s how I felt. I was sinking into this circumstantial depression and couldn’t pull myself out of it. My friends were worried. My mom, calling 10 times a day. Brooke was the unexpected hero in my story. She crafted a phrase that turned on a lightbulb and helped me shift from depression into grief and while that sounds like not much movement at all, it was like an earthquake. Here is what she said: “You know in your heart what you need, you just have to give yourself permission to hear it.” That was about two weeks ago and today, happy. Funny how that works.

A 4pm coffee break was the icing on the good day cake. A rendezvous for a phone charger lead to seeing a bunch of people who I have sincerely missed. My old department turned out for the event and as I saw them file past the window and into the coffee shop, I was all smiles. Hugs and the same old jokes and lots of laughter filled the half hour and the residual smiley lasted well into the evening. I know they are a total buncha toads but dang if I don’t love ‘em.

This writing thing is coming back slowly. I feel rather rusty. Clunky. I know I’m ignoring the pink elephant in the room, but I’m not ready to tackle it just yet. Writing about coffee breaks and paychecks seems to be all I can muster for right now. And that’s probably a good thing. The dust needs to settle and I need a break. Some calm. Some peace. So it’s the surface for this girl. The ocean floor is safe for now.