My five minutes are up

In recent months I have been struggling with a certain person in my life. One who seemed intent on pushing me down for the sake of their own reputation. I knew this someone would be a problem yet I climbed aboard anyway with a big heart and loving attitude in the name of a challenge and new experiences. It went alright for a while, but slowly deteriorated into what we all feared. And before I knew it, I had spent countless hours of my own time to help the cause yet was attacked at every fork in the road.

In every instance I chose to be the better person. I took the higher road. I fought the good fight. And one day, I decided it wasn't worth it. I walked away. But still the effects bog me down. I feel angry when I should feel accomplishment. I am cynical where I ought to be excited. And worst of all, I fear that my next challenge will be tainted with the bitter taste in my mouth.

And then as if on cue, I got a little message from D.H. Lawrence. I was watching G.I. Jane and that quote used by the Master Chief on day one of SEAL training struck a chord in me.

I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough Without ever having felt sorry for itself. ~ D.H. Lawrence

In reading a bit more about D.H. Lawrence on wiki, I am pleasantly surprised that his works were characterized by issues relating to emotional health and vitality, and the dehumanizing effects of modernity and industrialization. How fitting.

I've been one pitiful creature the last few months, and I have no one to blame but myself. All this, "poor me" and "it's so unfair" nonsense. I talked about how the situation sucked and it was a good learning experience. I tried to look at it as a lesson and think of how lucky I was to have learned it in a supportive and positive environment. But it kept haunting my like a bad scary movie. I had been struggling to find a way to shake all the negativity. Some things worked, but only temporarily. So perhaps this will be the straw that broke the camel's back. No more pity party, it's time for me to get over it.

It's like the crying rule. You get five minutes. Five long minutes to cry and moan, complain and whine, but after the five minutes are up. It's done. Over. No more pity party. Just deal with it and move on.

Because I need the reminder

One final paragraph of advice: do not burn yourselves out. Be as I am - a reluctant enthusiast....a part-time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourselves and your lives for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the land; it is even more important to enjoy it. While you can. While it’s still here. So get out there and hunt and fish and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, the lovely, mysterious, and awesome space. Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to the body, the body active and alive, and I promise you this much; I promise you this one sweet victory over our enemies, over those desk-bound men and women with their hearts in a safe deposit box, and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators. I promise you this; You will outlive the bastards.

~Edward Abbey

Right now less is more

I was thinking that maybe what I need right now is less. Less responsibility. Less stress. Less clutter. I keep applying for these jobs that would step me up the proverbial ladder a rung or two and I'm not entirely sure that's what I want. I kind of want to just chill out for a while. Get rid of this burned out feeling I can't seem to shake. I am already starting to feel the dread of more responsibility creaping into my heart and I haven't even quit my job yet!

I bought three books the other day. One on .Net, one on the ADO.net framework, and one on project management. So what is it I think I'm going to do work all day, study in the evening, and then what? Say I learn .Net and everything there is to know about project management. Do I want to be a .Net developer? Do I want to be a project manager? I'm growing increasingly
envious of my friends who leave work and play video games all evening while I go to the gym and train clients for four hours.

But there was a reason I got that second job. I needed the experience so I could get away from sitting at a desk all day and more into doing something fun like training. And I like training, but I don't know if I want to do it all day. But it would be a lot less responsibility and a lot less stress.

For the past few months I have been looking at the world through thick cynical glasses. It's like a bad dream and I can't seem to focus on anything good. May as well ditch the glasses and fumble around in the dark. It takes very little to push me over the edge. Short fuse, big bomb. I want to live on the other side of the spectrum. I want to be a ski bum. At the end of the day, nothing matters but the powder and soothing sore legs. No worries..

BASKET CASE

I wouldn't consider myself stingy. I'm usually a bit frivolous, actually. I remember feeling really embarrassed once because I hesitated to spring for a deck of cards. I was with a bunch of upperclassmen on a ski team trip in college and they all were all a bit miffed by my second thought about a $2 deck. Since then I've sort of made it a point to not let money really matter in situations like that. Now I'm like a kid who just got her allowance; money kind of burns a hole in my pocket. But with the move getting so close I've been singing a different tune.

Today I wouldn't go grocery shopping because I didn't have my shopper's club cardwith me. Normally I would have walked in anyway, but the prospect of spending approximately $7 more than I had to was too much. I'm so terrified about the move and anxious about not having enough money, it's really changed my whole outlook.

On one hand, this is good. At least my "urban survival" skills are kicking in. But on the other hand it's kind of stressful. I wish I just didn't have to worry about it. Soon enough I suppose.

Seriously, though, I'm stressed. I have dreams about crazy things happening. I'm terrified of anything and everything going wrong. I can reason with myself from now until the end of time but it really doesn't do much for my obsessive need to know what "the plan" is. And it's kind of hard to know the plan when I'm still not sure where I'm working.

I'll be so happy when I can just sit back in my couch, look out my window at Lake Tahoe, and finally know that I accomplished my goal. Until then, I'm strongly considering prozac. Or Vallium. Mmm.. Vallium!

So here's my theory.

I have this space in my head for thoughts. Sort of just a holding area where they go after I've thought them up. And when the space gets full, they all come rushing out in a flood as though the dam has just broken. Solid scientific theory, wouldn't you say?

It's weird. Sometimes I'll go for weeks without a single good thing to write. Other times I'll write five or six good things in a day. (Yes, I know good is relative.) I don't understand why it's not more consistent. I suppose like everything it cycles like a pendulum, back and forth between extremes.

But how am I supposed to have a career as a profitable writer if I can't have a decent thought for a week? That and the fact that my grammar, spelling, and punctuation are total shit. This is seriously cramping my style, you know? Ah well. I suppose I'll have to make the best of it.

Google-Fu

I was sitting on the floor of my room the other night making inappropriate comments in a birthday card about the shape of the squid on the cover, and it struck me that I didn't know how to spell phallic. I wasn't sure if it started with an 'f' or a 'ph' and are there two l's?

Since my computer has been slow and not wanting to load Internet Explorer lately, I was in a bit of a bind. I checked around for a dictionary but to no avail. WTF?!? I've become so dependent on the Internet that I can't even SPELL without it!!

What to do.. what to do...

After much persuasion and kind words to my cpu I was able to google it and find that it is indeed a 'ph' with two l's. Phew...

Don't you love how google is now a perfectly exceptable verb?

Update: Is it funny or sad that I wrote exceptable rather than acceptable? Lauren.. thank you for the correction. I baffle myself, but perhaps my error makes my point more clear. I am helpless without the Internet.