Employed!

After several strange interview experiences (including one where I was asked the race of my husband), I have a job! I will begin my new life as a middle school English teacher in August, and it's hard to express how right this feels. While I thought I quit my job and went back to school to get a teaching credential in order to teach small children, it turns out God had another plan for me all along.

The Cat Left the Bag

I officially told my supervisors and coworkers that I am leaving my job at the library in about a month.

It feels good. I've got this huge weight off of my shoulders and now, instead of focusing on deflecting the multiple projects they wanted me to take on in the fall, I can concentrate on planning life post-library. And that mostly means moving, getting married, having a honeymoon and beginning my time as a student teacher.

That's right, folks.

I'm heading off to the gloriously fractured world of teaching elementary school.

And I feel so wonderful about my decision that I'm actually now getting through days at work without people "reminding" me to smile. I just smile on my own now.

Hard Lessons

I should know better than to judge. It's all over the Bible. It's all over my upbringing, but still, when family friends get married and don't have health insurance or jobs, I begin to mull over how I would like my own life to go and decide against their way of doing things.

And then sh life happens.

WG is still awaiting good news on the job front, and the wedding is in six weeks. This certainly isn't the ideal way to start out our marriage. But we can't delay life in order to wait out the job market. In fact, living together will save us both money, if you want to look at the most practical of angles.

I really hate it, though, when my specific judgments about people turn right around and become my situations. Does this mean I'm also going to get knocked up on the honeymoon? That's not in the plans, but it's certainly something I've judged in other couple's recent marriages.

Oh, boy, should I start saving for a crib? I hear those suckers are expensive.

This is the Least Stress I Will EVER Experience

I had a wee little melt-down on Sunday in front of WG (not the first time, ha!).

I let loose a detailed list of everything that's making me feel stressed right now (luckily, it had nothing to do with WG, so he was much more willing to sit and listen, since I wasn't railing against him).

As I was burbling and crying and just trying to get it all out to make myself feel better, he was saying things that made sense. I don't need sense!

Ah well, four days later, I can understand the sense, and I have to admit that he's right. This is the least amount of stress we will likely face in our entire adult lives. Right now, though not a married couple, we are, technically DINKS (double-income, no kids). Our main expenses are meals at nice restaurants. I mean, come on, what do I have to complain about?

It's a question I've been asking myself for years.

In light of my inability to handle stress and considering my 2009 resolution to be good to myself, I must force myself to deal with the stress, to approach it head-on.

Here's the problem...as I've been working to de-stress, I have essentially combed my life of a lot of potentially difficult situations. This means that when something stressful does come along, I'm shocked. Yeah, that's not going to work out in the long-run.

Yep, I've got stress.

Yep, there are a lot of boxes to check off before I can submit an application to a credential program.

But this is life, pure and simple, and it's time I woke up and realized that.

I Like the Planes That Go BOOM!

This Labor Day weekend, I had to work not one, but two days. I had Monday off, and looked forward to that glorious day outside of the library, spent with none other than WG and a couple of his friends from the Corral who know live in the Bay Area.

Still, I had two work days to get through, two work days while I watched everyone enjoying the gorgeous weather, soaking up the rays and otherwise not working.

And get through those days, I did, and you want to know how? Because I actually let myself enjoy them.

I let myself enjoy the special feeling that occurs only on early Saturday morning at work, when we're paid to work without our bosses around. At 8:30 on a Saturday morning, there is a strange giddiness that permeates the staff: we've been left to our own devices, alone, in an empty library. By 10, when the doors open and the public pours in, it's pretty much the same as any other day, but those first couple of hours are unique, and I have to admit that I enjoy them.

Saturday, I fled from work later than expected, because we had to move all the furniture to get ready for a carpet cleaning, but still got home and had time to spend with WG. We made pizza dough and indulged in the silliness that was Mad Money. The dough was ready, and we gently covered it with tasty toppings. One pizza was graced with tomato paste, chicken, feta cheese and sun dried tomatoes -- this one had a wheat crust. The other, with a regular crust, was decorated with a tomato-pesto sauce, feta, garlic and chicken. Both were quite delightful and went well with the caesar salad I whipped up. We enjoyed the pizza with a special beer WG has taken a shine to, a trappist with some special bits that make him happy. Of course, I can't remember the name at all, but I do appreciate that it's meant to be drunk out of a wine glass.

The clear blue sky on Sunday, yet another work day, amazingly, failed to make me shake my fist to the heavens and bemoan the fact that I would waste this glorious day indoors. We scurried around getting ready for church (this time, an attempt at a local Methodist church, as WG is a Methodist by birth), and arrived to find an all white, almost all old, congregation being led by an enthusiastic African American minister. We were regularly tapped on the shoulders and made to introduce ourselves, and everyone seemed quite pleased to have some fresh blood wandering into their midst. The service was nice and vaguely familiar for this Catholic girl, since this was a traditional service with a bit more order and form, and WG thought the pianist really rocked it out (which he did, as much as a pianist can rock it out to old school hymns.

I sat through church somewhat anxiously, waiting and waiting to go to the Air Expo, the first to be held on our local air force base since 2001. I had only found out about it in a helpful e-mail from my mom (and then gone and bounced around the apartment for ten minutes, waiting for WG to get out of the shower so I could share the news with him), but I was still itching to get out of church. I had to keep reminding myself how happy I'd been about going to church for the first time in weeks (I'm full of excuses about that, but I won't bore you with them), but the anxiousness to get out and see the big planes and listen to them go "boom" was quickly overtaking my ability to listen to the sermon or sit still for that matter. This should come as no surprise to anyone, since I am eternally a nine year old waiting for the excitement to start.

The expo did not disappoint me, and the familiarity of my annual summer haunt was comforting. The heat and light steaming up from the concrete ground, the smell of diesel fuel, the roar of engines. Sigh. I was at one of my all-time favorite locations.

I made the most of the mere hour and a half to spare before showing up to my time at work. I munched on a yummy cheesburger cooked by yummy Air Force guys. I watched, with my mouth hanging open, as an aerobatic pilot flew his plane into all kinds of twisty situations and then came down a little lower to race, a, wait for it, jet-engine car. The car measured 0-300 mph like we measure 0-60 mph. This was, perhaps, the coolest car I have ever seen, and it pretty much just looked like a jet engine on wheels. WG and I managed to meet up with my parents, and my mom and I were happy as clams waving when the cheesy announcer told us to wave at the pilot. WG and my dad wandered off to look at planes under closer inspection.

We meandered through a cargo plane and then, with only moments to spare, stared in awe at the KC-135 and the spot on the belly where men, like my grandfather did in his heyday, lay on their bellies and operate the "boom" out of the back of the plane. That's a bad-ass job, I tell you what. And I'm guessing those men would win any kind of hand-eye coordination competition -- I mean, operating a fuel pump in mid-air? I can hardly get the thing to my on-the-ground gas tank let alone in mid-air during a friggin' war!

And then I went to work.

And you know what? It didn't suck. I didn't feel like work had eaten up every last bit of my day, and when WG came to pick me up (a special treat that happens on Sundays when we've gone to church, and he drops me off and, thus, must pick me up), I was in a happy mood. I didn't feel gyped out of my day, out of my weekend, and that makes all the difference.

Then on Monday, we finally made it to the Exploratorium (it's been on an unwritten list for the entirety of WG's time in California). As the carload of us watched a woman finish her jog, slowing to a walk as she came out of Fort Mason, I said, "You know, there are those who take advantage of a day off to get in a work out or take care of chores, but I prefer to spend my holidays eating junk food and playing with toys."

And with that, we went to eat pizza and play Mario Kart.

Fast Forward

I have lots of changes that could potentially happen in my life in the next six to twelve months. Okay, so that's the vaguest sentence ever. There are a number of big changes that could BELIEVABLY happen in my life soon...not immediately, but soon enough to cause me worry.

There are moments, when I feel weighted down by all of the uncertainty, that I wish I could just know what would happen, that I could be through all of the rough stuff and content on the other side.

When I pause, half in and half out of the shower, or mindlessly standing in front of the fridge, thinking about this wish (because I always pause in the most awkward places when I'm caught mid-thought), though, I realize that I wouldn't actually do it if I could.

Where will I work? Where will I live? Who will I live with? Will things with WG have taken a step forward? How will I maintain relationships with my parents and my friends in California? Will I even have left the state? See. Big questions.

If someone walked up to me, with a DVD of my future life and said, "Hey, watch this. It's the story of your life, two years from now." I'd say, "First, you're a freak. Second, no thanks."

As much as I want to know what everything will look like, as much as I want to be over the big pain of moving far away from my parents and close friends (again), I know that living those moments will make the happiness all the better.

With my finger hovering over that fast forward button, I stop, and I just let my life play out as it will. The not knowing is both terrifying and exhilirating, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Clamming Up and Calming Down

I'm on a constant quest to calm down. That's just a fact. Another fact is that I HAVE calmed down, significantly, in fact, over the past couple of years. I still get worked up, and I still run around like a crazy chicken when things start get a little bit stressful. Overall, though, I feel ready to move onto the next project.

and that would be Clamming Up.

I talk smack about my co-workers. I could justify it to you all 100 different kinds of ways, but I'll limit it to one: Some people exhaust me, and their various antics require that I vent a little bit. Luckily (or unluckily), several other co-workers agree that the venting sessions are sometimes necessary.

Today, however, I called a halt. On Tuesday, three of us were standing in a huddle, sharing horror stories about "Dwight Schrute" (that's really the only name I can use to describe this person, because this co-worker really does belong on The Office). Over the next couple of nights, as I fell asleep, I was riddled with guilt. Three of us. Standing in public. Complaining about a co-worker. That's just not right.

And so, it's over. We're going to work as a team to not smack talk against each other and try our hardest to avoid what one co-worker faced with a previous employer: group therapy.

I Don't Like You. Don't Talk to Me.

I am not always the nicest person at work, and it's not the fault of the customers. Not really. Sometimes it is.

It's their fault when they've been borderline harassing me for two years and then decide to tell my supervisor that I've been "rude," when all I've been doing is resisting their creepy advances.

Tuesday was not a particularly splendid day for me. It was the first day of a week that won't end until this coming Tuesday; my ankle (sprained during our fabulous Memorial Day Camping Trip and re-sprained as Irene and I walked into what turned out to be the most-depressing movie since Schindler's List) hurt so badly that I felt sick to my stomach; the library had just opened.

The first few customers were courteous, and I happily answered their questions. I even ran out to re-align the front doors.

Then the creep entered. I won't go into all the details, but suffice it to say, he's overly familiar with a few of the younger women on staff, and we all act a bit differently. There are older men who flirt in that almost Southern way, calling all women "baby" and somehow managing not to offend anyone. This is not one of those men.

Anyway, I never want to talk to this man, and I always treat him the same, with a somewhat cold but polite demeanor. I don't encourage his conversation, but I smile and nod when he says hello.

That's not enough for him. He spoke with my supervisor for upwards of 20 minutes about my "rude" behavior.

The next morning, my two supervisors pulled me into an office and briefed me on some "techniques" I might try to make sure that he's "satisfied" with the level of attention he receives but won't perceive it as responding positively to his quest for closer communication.

These techniques:
1) Make eye contact, smile, but not too broadly, then look away.
2) When asked questions about my personal life, say "I don't talk about my personal life at work" and then giggle.

You think I'm kidding about the second one? No. They both demonstrated how I should say it.

It didn't help my situation that both of my supervisors - attractive in their own ways but not in the group that this man prefers to approach - said that they had dealt with this man before and "all of the encounters have been positive."

Let's repeat those techniques, just for good measure:
1) Make eye contact, smile, but not too broadly, then look away.
2) When asked questions about my personal life, say "I don't talk about my personal life at work" and then giggle.

I am now required by my employer to giggle at smarmy men.

I have a master's degree, and I am now required by my employer to giggle at smarmy men.

Crying Wolf

I don't so much have a crisis every now and then as I make big decisions, or start towards a big decision and then change my mind.

That's not bad in and of itself. No, what's bad is that I tell people my plans. I involve them, and then I call the whole thing off.

For a brief moment (okay, so for about the last 3 weeks), I had it in my head that the time to move was NOW, and that moving out of state was by far the best idea I'd had in months. I also had it in my head that WG would be coming along for the ride, ready to flee the joint before the end of summer.

Yeah, not so much.

As the initial excitment waned, I read more about the library systems in the state to which I intended, in my imaginary world, to move. I learned that one of the less expensive cities in the metro area is less expensive because it has a crime rate worse than Oakland. And my idea of keeping myself close(r) to home mean that WG was 13 hours FURTHER away from his family, and he's already 20+ hours away by car.

But even though I approached this with calm and cool. Even though I did research and made no commitments, filed no applications, I still feel embarassed about my enthusiasm, about my announced now-defunct-decision.

It's not the first time I've done this. It's not even the first time in a year that I've done this.

Last November, I seriously contemplated a move to another county...not job, just to a new apartment. But that fell through, and I found myself informing people that the decision had to be unmade. That's not an easy thing to do.

This time, I didn't tell a LOT of people, but I told enough people that I feel foolish about it. Clearly, I need to learn how to keep my mouth shut.

So, for now, there's no wolf. There's no need to set aside moving boxes for me. I'm still just sittin' here, a librarian with dreams of escape :Þ.

Real World Wednesday

Go Do Something

My union is in negotiations with what I shall refer to as "management." Both sides have points to declare, but many employees feel left without an unbiased opinion to guide them.

I know that's how I feel.

Still, it's my job, it's my co-workers' rights at stake. Well, our jobs aren't at stake, but issues of health insurance, disability coverage and alternate work schedules are at stake. There are big issues and small issues.

The point, though, is that I need to go do something. I'm starting small. I wear purple on "purple Tuesdays," I talk union talk with co-workers in the know, and today, well, today I signed up for a weekly e-mail newsletter. Baby steps, people, baby steps.

You may not be able to dive in headfirst to an issue. Taking action can take the form of taking an interest.

So, take an interest in something local.

Changing Room

The other day, as I announced another positive change I was making in my life, WG looked at me and said the following:

I find this fascinating. I have changed one thing about myself, and you're always working on changing something. When I was a high school freshman, I figured out that no one responded to the shy guy, so I changed. And that's the last time I've actively tried to change something about myself.

Well, that's true, and WG is gregarious (one of my favorite words, by the way) and outgoing to the max. He can make a friend in any crowd. So, his change paid a big dividend. Heck, the guy's got over 400 friends on Facebook, and he knows them all.

We're two very different people, though, and I don't think I'll ever be 100% satisfied with myself. Change happens in my life on a regular basis, and I am more or less okay with that by now.

I've noticed over the past several weeks that I've felt less and less cranky about my job. There's the partial explanation of coming to accept that God has got me on this path for a reason, but the realization of the other explanation took me by surprise earlier this week.

Other changes I've decided to announce (because when I tell them to just myself, they rarely last more than a week):

Leaving for work five minutes earlier (this includes coming back to work from my lunch break

Mentioning schedule concerns only when there is a true conflict, not just when I feel unjustly assigned

Not engaging in workplace whining...this may be the hardest to adapt into my routine

Leaving the building for at least one of my two daily breaks

And finally, when I first requested The Girls' Guide to Kicking Your Career Into Gear from the library, I was in the midst of my, "I need a new career" panic. By the time I sat down to actually read the thing, I realized that I don't want to kick a brand new career into gear. No, no, I want to work on actually turning my budding career into something that matters. For those of you trying to start, build or change your career, I highly recommend this book as a way to get motivated.

After flipping through the book, I think the biggest over-arching change is for me to be more mature about my job and the way I act when I'm there.

It is without regret that I step aside from my whining, complaining, irritating, irritated self.

And I have all of you to hold me accountable.

A Little Insight

into my job...courtesy of Unshelved, the comic strip about libraries and librarians.



Things (meaning my general attitude, mostly, though that's not a plural...)were better this week, and it always helps when I can see things using a different perspective...in this case, the perspective of people who've been there, too.

I Give In Change My Mind

Billy Joel said it best

Oh--she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh--and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind

I'm changing my mind. I've been wrestling with myself, the Internet and a whole host of decisions. I've thought I need to leave libraries. I've thought that what I need is a regular, run of the mill 8-5 that gets the bills paid and leaves me time for family, friends and Wii.

Essentially, this thought occurred to me, "Why am I doing this to myself?" Meaning, of course, why am I putting myself through a "from scratch" job search, when I have already chosen a perfectly reasonable career. I certainly still want a change of scenery, but if my desire for a new job rests a great deal on my desire to not work on weekends, then this requires some serious examination.

Teachers may not be in school on weekends, but they are working.
Jouralism? Uhm, hi, it's basically a 24/7 kidn of job.

And seeing as how those were my top two other choices, it seems wisest to stick with being a librarian (and a halfway decent one at that).

It's not a perfect job, but I enjoy creating a display board that asks library customers to write on the board the names of women who inspire them (and when I see that our security guard wrote down his two year old daughter's name, I enjoy my job even more). I like advising people on what to read. I absolutely love going into the teen parent program and doing a lapsit storytime for the kids and an age-appropriate program for the moms. I get to read books before anyone else does! And review those books! If you google my whole name, my reviews come up on Amazon! How awesome!

And, to be fair, I use my weird schedule to my advantage. I see friends out of town. I make appointments. I workout. I take photographs.

So, I've changed my mind about searching for a brand spanking new career. I'll remain the modern cliché of a librarian, the librarian who has cute glasses, short skirts and writes novels on the side :Þ.

Besides, in what other profession could I hear this:

"So, are you by the book at work but naughty when you go home?"

My Parachute Has at Least 1,000 Colors

Unless you've not been reading this blog very long, you know two things about my relationship with...my job.

1) I am not entirely thrilled with it.
2) I am not entirely thrilled with the fact that I got a graduate degree in order to do it and then ended up less than thrilled with it.

Over the past several months, I have tried my darndest to reconcile myself to this job, but there are a multitude of things inhibiting my complete acceptance of my job, and not all of them have to do with the job itself.

I work where I grew up, in a town I've been trying to leave since high school. I've left it in fits and starts over the years, but as I told my parents today, "I love you, but I hope that soon I get to come back to VISIT."

I work in an environment that makes me feel emotionally stunted and immensely frustrated.

I have pushed aside what I really want to do (write) for fear of failure.

In the past couple of weeks, I've caught myself being impatient and sometimes downright rude, at least by my standards, with customers. And, folks, I know it's not their fault. I recognize this as a pattern in myself. When I'm ready to move on, when it's time to move on, my work starts to get sloppy. In this case, it's my customer service skills that start to fall to the wayside. I've even said "No" to a few people, and that is not something a librarian is EVER supposed to say.

It should be, "Oh, I can't do that, but I can do...," but I've found that simple "No" saves a great deal of time and effort on my part.

There are things I love about my job, as I know I would find things to love and things to dislike in any job, but I'd love to somehow built what I love into another avenue.

I'm considering pursuing the following:
1) A job in a public library not in California
2) A transition to academic libraries
3) A more taxing transition to publishing
4) A less taxing but less likely transition to journalism (hey, I have half a masters in journalism!)
5) A complete switch to a graduate program in English and/or Creative Writing

After finally accepting the fact that teaching even one class leaves me both physically and emotionally exhausted, I've let go of the idea of pursuing a teaching credential.

I've also let go of any other kind of social service job. Oooh, social worker! Oh, my, I could totally be a literacy program assistant! Oh, now wait, what about school counselor! Believe me, my mind has wandered to just about every career it can in the last little while, but I'm being careful not to jump wholeheartedly into something completely brand new. I now want a career that I already know about, in which I'm already a bit experienced.

But it will be hard to let go of moments like this:

I was working at the front welcome desk. A mother and her five year old daughter came in the back entrance, the mom sheepishly carrying a happy meal and asking whether or not they could leave it somewhere. I told her she was welcome to bring it in, and she smiled gratefully. A few minutes later, the mother had gone out to the car to get her library card, and the little girl, dressed in a pink t-shirt, denim skirt with red belt and brown cowgirl boots, squeezed herself in between a pillar and the desk where I sat. She immediately started a conversation about whether or not I liked my job. We talked about that, and, yes, with a five year old, I had the presence of mind to say I liked my job. I asked her if she'd been to feed the ducks, and she launched into this story:

"When I was a little girl, we came to the library to feed the ducks. I was SOOOOO scared of them. They ARE BIG. And so, my mom and me had to run away like this (proceeds to mime running really, really fast, in a way only a five year old can), and then we got away, and it was okay again."

"Wow," I said. And then, "I like your boots."

Real World Wednesday

Is it Wednesday already? How did that even happen?

Other than being caught up in the Heath Ledger news coverage, I am mildly aware that there is more going on in the world.

I know that the Republicans are in chaos, that Hillary and Obama are running around insulting each other and that library customers are angry that they can't register for the primary anymore (like it's my fault your voter registration had to be postmarked by 5 p.m. yesterday, Mrs. You're 45, why haven't you registered to vote yet?).

I now that the football world is all in flurry about Tom Brady maybe faking an injury.

I was thrilled to learn that Juno got nominated for four Oscars (and I seriously wanted to write my RWW post about Hollywood and it's happy turn towards indie films).

And I now know that a five-legged cat must have surgery first before she can be adopted.

So, yeah, I'm glad I've made an effort to keep updated on the news!

There is something to talk about, fear not my loyal reader(s).

The recession.

Oh yeah, the economy might be tanking. Did you know that?

Just as I decide to hop out into the world and see what jobs might be around, everything just...starts to slide. I'm glad I didn't do anything silly like quit my current job!

What does a recession mean? I recession means even more folks pouring into the library to figure out how to create a resume.

A recession means a possible hiring freeze at both the state and locallevels.

A recession means homeowners hoping just to break even on their home if they move in the next five years.

A recession means an odd presidential race as people try as hard as possible to hang on to their money.

I'm not going to get into the politics of a recession, though I am sorely tempted to talk about the fact that hiring freezes just shouldn't happen if things are handled right.

According to reports, though, part of this recession can be blamed on consumer spending. So, while retail stores were cheering, banks were running scared (I had a source for that, but seeing as how it's from an online news source, I can't retrace my steps, and all I can find now is how Britney Spears missed another court date).

In any case, I read that consumer spending was up at leas 4 times the average over the past 16 quarters. Apparently, like our government, we Americans have just spent, spent, spent, over the last four years.

But there's so much to buy. There are iPods and cell phones and Starbucks and Wii! How can I Americans not shop? Why isn't spending money good for the economy?

Ah, right, I get it. It's not my fault, it's those darn people who get credit cards, max them out and then don't pay them back.

So, who do we blame?

The Credit Card Companies. The evil of our nation.

That seems like a satisfactory answer.

So, the recession's coming, and it's all because of a little thing called "credit."

In other news, remember my famous post about fossil fuel? Well, Michael Pollen has a new book out! Go! Read In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto. Me? I'm waiting to get it from the library. Don't want to be tempted into using my credit card, after all.

Real World Wednesday/Thursday

That post about me being off-kilter, yeah, well that spiraled into a fever and my first sick day in a year and a half. So, Real World Wednesday is late but here just the same.

Gratitude

As happens from time to time, I'm stealing RWW to make a point about my own life that I hope will inspire/encourage others.

After reading the comments on the last few posts in which I've talked about my job, I realize that I may be giving the wrong impression. You're only getting the bad side of things, and even the bad is colored by my general sense of displeasure with my chosen profession. Reading the comments encouraging me to get out of my awful situation as, in stead, encouraged me to think about the good things.

Don't get me wrong. I am still on a slow and careful search for another position, but I must recognize the good in my life, as well.

Think for a moment. What are you grateful for? Have you told anyone lately? Or have you, like me, been swallowed up in your own complaining, forgetting for a time that there is good in your life?

I've complained about my job since about the second week, which is rather pathetic, and which means that I am to blame. I made the wrong choice. I can't blame my bosses for not suiting my tastes. I can't blame the moody customers (well, maybe I can).

So, I'm pausing. I'm taking a moment to breathe in and simply feel grateful.

I am grateful for the fact that I survived my own birth (and that was no easy task)

I am grateful for my education

I am grateful for parents who love me and show it

I am grateful for friends who make me be true to myself and call me out during my hypocritical moments

I am grateful for a man who loves me for myself and whom I love more and more with each passing day

I am grateful for faith

I am grateful for a steady job with benefits and the opportunity to help people each and every day

I am grateful to have choices and opportunities

Look around. What are you grateful for? What do you have in your life, in spite of not having something you might think you should have?

Real World Wednesday

Work rant deleted after the sage advice of a wise and reasonable friend...and after a re-read with a clearer head than when I wrote it!

Onto the subject at hand.

Real World Wednesday

I am not quite sure where to start this week. The primaries? Nah, others are covering this, well, better than I can. I'll wait till I actually vote and see if my opinion changes.

Oh, Britney. How much do I want to type out my opinions on the Britney Spears situation? I'll save those for a conversation with a co-worker who I've recently discovered is far more obsessed with celebrity gossip than I will ever and offers rather clever commentary.

I could say oh so much about Glowing Pigs.

Instead, I will stick with the tried and true, the steadiest of all conversation topics. The weather.

Out here in California, we call it weather when the temperature drops below 50 and we are faced with 80-150 mph winds. Yep, that seems like weather to me. It rained most of this past weekend. Over 1.2 million people lost power at some point, and there was debris all over the roadways.

I had candles at home and a few snacks to get me through the night, if need be, but I certainly am not prepared for a major emergency (I keep hoping I'll move to a place with more storage soon enough to stock up).

The American Red Cross has an excellent list of items to include in a kit (I sense people running out to Target as I type...).

The feds have put together another handy-dandy list.

Say what you may about FEMA, but they offer a nice resource for thinking about how to prepare yourself (and your family, friends, pets, neighbors, that cute guy across the hall, etc.) for an emergency.

Finally, something that these lists may not touch on is phone numbers. Granted, phones might go out, but in the event that it's merely power you've list, keep phone numbers handy (I'm now seeing myself writing down all the numbers and posting them with a magnet to my fridge). When the power was out, I realized, after several frustrating round-about phone calls to PG&E that I couldn't get any information since I pay my electric pill through my property management company. I'm in the process of getting the correct emergency contact number now.

If you're prepared already, how about making an effort to help others in your life or your community get prepapred. Put together a few kits and donate them to your local homeless shelter, food bank, church or school. Check out Volunteer Match for help locating places where you can make a donation.

Be safe, folks, 'cause I don't want you falling down a well or something and not being able to post on your spectacularly entertaining blogs.

Slow

What with power outages, thunder, lightning and rain, I had no choice but to stay inside my apartment all weekend, now did I?

Except for Friday night, of course. I stopped on my way home for gas and found it curious that the power was out at two of the three gas stations by my place, but I figured this was a fluke. Certainly, I would have power, right?

Wrong. I walked in to find WG trying to chop chives by candlelight, hoping against hope that the power would return at any moment and he could finish making his potato soup. No such luck. I had to console him with a bit of a nap and a trip to see the movie he's been dying to see, Juno (bonus Dwight sighting in the movie, for all of you Office fans out there)...we had NO. WARM. FOOD. TO. EAT., people. We had to get out of the house. I can't NOT eat hot food when it's pouring rain outside. So, we got our meal, entertained ourselves at Best Buy playing some odd animal version of tetris...and then went to our 10 o'clock show. I assumed that the power would have to be on by midnight when we returned.

It wasn't.

So, I showered by flashlight and crawled into bed (a bed heated by own personal heater -- sidenote, why are men like furnaces? they burn all their heat outward...there has to be some kind of scientific reason for this), hoping to find the power back on in the morning.

Hurrah! It was.

And so my weekend of gadgets and gizmos and games could commence! Yippee! I scurried down to the gym to workout to the sound of booming thunder, then scurried right on back into my cozy apartment for a day of Warcraft (I'm a geek and proud, gosh darn it), Wii and...uhm...I can't think of anything else that starts with a W. Mostly, it was Warcraft.

And that's when it hit me.

I always have this long list of things to do, and I try to to a little bit of everything each day. After spending five hours on the couch playing a video game, I realize it's all about quality time. Quality time, folks, means that I don't try to squeeze in half an hour of gaming, an hour of working out, an hour of cleaning...but that I spend signficant chunks of time on one sole activity. Maybe that's how I finally become an expert at something instead of mildly good at a lot of things. Now, that's not to say that I'd like that "expert" ability to be with Warcraft, but still, realization had. Moving on.

With the power back on, WG was able to make his longed for soup, and so, I left him in the kitchen for several hours. I didn't even once offer to help! Look at me not being all up in his space.

So, we have soup to last us to the apocolypse, and his craving was certainly satiated.

And then we nearly fell asleep playing Mario Galaxy 8 on the Wii (dang those stupid computer characters - Luigi is a moron and Toadette totally capatalized on that...). Ahh, living in the lap of luxury.

Sunday, more of the same, but this time, I made it a point to play Wii first, ah ha, so as to get in my quality time on the Harry Potter game. Then I cleaned the apartment...so, some kind of quality work got done.

We finally managed to find my dad in Warcraft, and the men came and rescued me, much to my chagrin, from a bit of a...situation...I'd gotten myself into, and it was great fun to play that little ole game online with both WG and my dad. And, from what I hear, my dad got quite the kick out of being able to be a virtual hero.

Evening came, along with my odd little meal of bratwurst and rice (and salad...we must keep ourselves in good health, people).

And then I was back online, perusing the job descriptions. I've found (and applied for! woot!) one job I like so far, and I continue to be picky...but we had a little conversation like this.

Me: Do you want to live in upstate New York?

Him: I don't know anyone there.

Me: And it's too cold. Do you want to live in Maryland?

Him:....

Me:Maryland?

Him: I could do that...

Me: Wait, the job's in Baltimore. I am not living in Baltimore.

Him: Good.

And so the quest continues.

And then it was time for bed and a new week.

And here I am, at work on a sunny day, oddly craving the rain and, understandably, craving the weekend.

Scared Silly

I woke up yesterday morning nearly paralyzed by fear.

What had I started? I had begun looking seriously for a new job, found at least one that I'm excited about and had started telling people that I was in the market.

I had told people.

I tend to be the type of person who mulls and fumes and sits and stews until coming to a conclusion that often catches those I love off-guard. They tease me about it in a gentle, loving manner (she said with the utmost sarcasm that typed words can convey), and I know that I can do something to change this.

So, before the first application has gone out of my hot little computer, I am officially telling the chosen few, "Hey, I'm looking for a new job, and that might mean I leave California." This means that in six weeks or six months if I pack up and move away, no one will stand there looking stressed and stunned.

Consider yourselves warned.

But telling people also means that I have to actually do something about my quest. I can't just tell people I'm looking for a new job and then sit here and do nothing. Telling people forces me to look, leap, apply.

The states with jobs I like (Tennessee, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Colorado, Oregon) float around in my head, and yesterday, I woke up thinking, "I know nothing about those places! How can I possibly leave?"

Though I've lived in a city, lived in Boston, lived in L.A., I never really left home for more than a few months. In sum? I've lived in the same town FOR. MY. ENTIRE. LIFE.

Knowing that, does it make more sense why this is all so simultaneously exciting and terrifying?

I work at the library I used as a child.

I work where I volunteered as a teenager.

My parents'and grandparents' former co-workers come in the library and recognize me. It's a small town as you can get in a city of 100,000.

I have to get out of here.

But there are moments when I don't see how I ever will.

I admitted my fears to my mom. She hugged me, with a glisten in her eye, and assured me it would all be alright.

Then I realized, if I wasn't scared, then I would be completely insane. And I'm not that far gone.

There is some comfort in being afraid.

Reflections and Resolutions...Revised

It's that time...

Eh, I've reflected plenty over the last few weeks, and now, it's time to think about what I intend to do with myself over the next year.

Well, alright, one little reflection.

My resolution last year was to "calm the hell down".

Let's see how that went.

Here's last year, with WG gone to Oklahoma: Whining.

Here's this year:...

That's right, not one single whining post about WG being away...and that's not just so I could say that here. It's because I haven't been whining about it. I've tremendously enjoyed the last week - time with my family, Wii playing with high school friends, movie watching and grand conversation with Renie, tea drinking with Jessica, art museum-ing with friends from work....ahhh...good stuff. Nothing to calm down about :).

So, based on that example alone, I think I can say that "calming the hell down" was a great success.

Now, onto 2008. I have a bit more than one resolution, and after a good night's sleep, I've got these worded just a bit better.

1) Do something or go somewhere new once a month.
2) Be creative.
3) Stop giving myself guilt trips.
4) Pursue a new job.
5) Don't try to hurry life along.

I'm most excited (and scared) about the job search...and I'll write more about each of these resolutions as I come to understand them better myself.

So, goodbye to 2007 (a good year, overall). Welcome 2008...just around the corner.