What Do I Know?

I know that I should stop wishing. This week, my wishes for real snowfall, not these silly dustings we’ve been getting lately, was somewhat acquiesced. Somewhat in the sense that snow did come come, along with sleet, rain, and enough mayhem to paralyze the tri-state area. So, um, my apologies, tri-state area. And no more wishing.

I know that I have wonderful friends. This week has been a bear. With stress at work and not feeling like myself, I was starting to slip a bit down the emotional rabbit hole. Then came friends. Long conversations where I got to release some things off my chest and get some much-needed advice; text messages that I was being thought of; being asked about my day. It was amazing. And hardly surprising. This always happens. I have wonderful friends, and I’m constantly reminded of that fact. I just hope I can be there when they need me. No, I won’t hope: I know I’ll be there.

I know that I’m currently experiencing a bit of writer’s block, but that doesn’t mean failure! I’ll be torturing a few fictional characters in no time!

I know that this will be a short post, because it’s blissfully time to go home.

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Do Geniuses Get Better Parking?

I can’t cut a straight line to save my life. Yes, in the thrilling world of administrative assistance, there are times when projects require a return to 6th grade and using scissors and construction paper. And just like it was back then–I aim for consistency–I have zero ability to cut a simple, straight line. I read somewhere that my inability to do the latter means I think outside the box. Which, in my little world, according to solely me, might also mean that I’m a genius.

Let’s investigate further, shall we?

• Filling in those circles for standardized tests and questionnaires? Like this?  My pencil/pen goes so far outside the line that I’m invariably answering the next question without realizing it. Clearly genius.

 

• Um… I try to stay in these “lines.” I do. But someone has to change CDs and apply makeup and pretend not to stare at the Brad Pitt lookalike in the next lane, right? Sometimes the car drifts. I’ll work on it. But so clearly genius!

 

•  It’s a page from a coloring book. I was coloring with my friend’s 3 year-old daughter, and–let’s just say I was so far outside of the lines that the 3 year-old shook her head and gazed at me sadly. Along with her mother. SO, SO clearly genius.

And, incidentally, I’ve tried using the following…

 

…but something it makes me feel as if I’m operating a guillotine. Am I the only one who feels that way? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

I Thought We Broke Up!

It’s a love/hate relationship.

It needs to love me, it aches to love me, but I revel in hating it. (Secretly? I lean toward loving it, but my pride gets the best of me and I push it away.)

We break up and get back together time and time again. Very toxic. Very Fleetwood Mac, circa the 70s.

It patiently waits for me, calling out to me, until I make the decision to return. I get an open-armed, lovely welcome. Things are good. Springtime flourishes. My eyes shine. My skin shines. My heart is happy.

Then I change my mind. Then the hate returns.

It’s a vicious cycle. What can I say? I was born fickle.

Today, as we speak, we’re back in love. Back in the saddle again.

Because if I eat one more cheeseburger? I will officially join the Macy’s Day Parade as one of the blimps.

*Welcome back, Salad, my love.

(*Don’t get too comfortable, my “love.” You know the routine. See above.)

you’re so money and you don’t even know it.

So, I have this tendency to focus squarely on my flaws. I don’t know. As a reminder that I’m utterly human? To make sure that conceit/ego/arrogance are kept at bay? I don’t know. Throughout the day, as I participate in my usual internal dialogue, we (as in me, myself, and I; I’m not crazy, I swear; I believe most of us engage in an internal dialogue with ourselves; right, right? Oh, God, I said ourselves…) discuss things about the self that need changing. It’s important to be self-aware, isn’t it?

However, there’s self-awareness, then there’s recognizing that I rarely take on the role of being my own personal cheerleader. I spend more time telling myself that I’m playing the game wrong than cheering myself on. Therefore, with being in my 30s now and having a fuller understanding of myself and the many facets of my nature (thank you, 30s, because that kind of continuous clarity did not come in the 20s), it’s time to 1) acknowledge that there’s way too much mental naysaying going on, and 2) make some major changes.

What kind of changes?

Affirmations. Reminders. Cheerleading. (If I go into TOO much detail about the changes to come, nothing will be sacred. I’ll have to live my entire life online. No plans on doing that. The above two paragraphs and this current sentence are about as personal as I’ll get).

Hopefully, I won’t turn into a Stuart Smalley nightmare or something.

That Ole Magnetic Pull…

I have longed for international living for most of my adult life. (See past posts on my lovely, fully furnished dream apartments in Paris, London, etc.) The longing can be dizzying when it’s super high, and can be very quiet when I’m focused on other things, like how to avoid cheeseburgers (seriously, this love/hate relationship with them is sliding into love again, and this is so not good. More on that later). But it’s always there, the longing, whether loud or muted. And right now?

It’s super loud.

                                 

I’m considering the mechanics of it all. Of what? Of moving and living overseas for six months. Seriously. Seriously! At this point, I’m thinking of London or somwhere in England, simply because life in France would consist of me saying, “quoi?” (“What?”) and “Pardonne?” over and over again, which would invariably cause a lot of irritated, French headaches. Anyway, because I have a tendency to sometimes fly off the handle and do things without thinking it through (impulse buying is one thing, impulse moving to another country is another), I need to hunker down and think things through. So…

Pros (here come the bullets, how I’ve missed you so):

• I’m young (contrary to some of the 22 year-old kids in my life, who think 30-something is “old.” I pinch them in retaliation). I have no ties (other than a very close-knit family), I have nothing truly stopping me from doing this.
• It’s time for a change. I have lived most of my entire life in the same place/area. Change is peeking around the corner, making googly eyes at me, winking, trying to get me to dance. I would REALLY like to accept the invitation.
• Life overseas is not life in these United States, but things like bills and other financial responsibilities can be handled online.
• I can do this!
• My spiritual and personal life would blossom, being that I would use both to the full.
• I have to do this. I have to do this!

Cons (long sigh):

• I love my mom. And my sister. And my brothers. And we need each other for a number of reasons, some of which are financial, most of which are all about love and acutely missing them while I’m gone.
• Speaking of financial–the whole work issue. Said bills need to be paid while I’m overseas, which means there needs to be an income…and I have a feeling that my employer won’t keep paying me when I’m not working. (There’s no option for Leave With Pay, as far as I know. Except in my dreams.) I would most definitely try and secure a job while overseas, but it’s only for six months, so…
• I need to save money. This is a con simply because I was born without the ability to do such a thing. Ideally, I should save money and start a little 6-month international living fund, which would make it easier to take care of what I need while I’m overseas. But, again? I’m allergic to pineapple, aspirin, and saving money. So I suppose a PRO could be that wanting to see this endeavor through will force me to be disciplined and make better money decisions. Ok…

So…6 pros (well, really 7, based on that last bullet) and 3 cons doesn’t mean the decision made. Nevertheless, plenty of food for thought.

I just…I have to do this! The longing is so loud right now, and I don’t want to turn it off.

207. 207!

I took a day off from the job, to kind of clear my head and take care of some important things. (Like sustained sleep.)

Came in today, fresh from the mini-break.

To find that my inbox had…

wait for it…

207 emails. 207! Between last week (I took a half day on Friday), Monday (which was a holiday, of which we were ALL off, and therefore no one should have been sending emails), and yesterday. Utterly unbelievable. So I did what I usually do in cases like this–read the first line, if don’t see my name, delete.

Sheesh.

Briefly.

Kitten Heel Marvel–my thoughts, my opinions, my continuing obsession with Paul Newman. All here. New home, same marvel.

Yay.