this blog will be disappearing

http://rubyshoeblues.wordpress.com/

please read the little disclaimer about my anonymity...it will be much appreciated!

SO...

as much as i love to write, and as much as i want to start a new blog, i have a few "life messes" i need to clean up first.

i don't want to pay for web hosting if i am in a position where writing is difficult for me. i don't want to take on more than i can handle.

i created another blogger page at myjuicylittlesecret

i would love for you to follow, but be warned that it may be graphic (body and health-wise, not XXX graphic!) and you may completely disagree with much that you read. i need to be me, and say what i feel, and not worry about pissy comments or lectures. oh, yeah...i love love LOVE comments, but don't need lectures. guess what? i have spent my 20's listening to lectures, and it has gotten me nowhere....well, somewhere worse than i ever have been. so i'm trying to keep this thing positive.
also, it may be boring to some of you...juice fasting? juice diaries? woo-hoo, FUN!!!

anyway...that is where i will be, for the next while at least. even if i get zero followers, i will be updating often, to keep myself accountable.

FIND ME ON THE INTERNET!!

I am working on designing/executing my new (and much improved) blog, but until then, find me at:

tumblr: www.danceswithchihuahuas.tumblr.com

(if you don't use tumblr yet, sign up. it is very addictive!)

grace in small things: http://graceinsmallthings.ning.com/profile/shannon3

twitter: http://twitter.com/danceswithchis

(i am trying to update more often)


and check back for more blog info soon!!!!

UPDATES

Hello out there in blog-land!
I am working on a TON of personal projects right now, so please bear with me and be patient. My new blog will come soon, I promise. I am most likely going to buy a domain of my own, and I know that will take time since if I have to be stuck with a domain name, I need it to be beyond perfect! It will probably have a few ad links (but only good stuff, I promise...no spam, no pop-ups, no random junk that has nothing to do with me or my readers!) and quite a few other fun things as well.
Again, the time-wasting part is going to be me making the final decisions on content/theme and domain name...I need to find something and STICK.

I'm excited to say that right now I am giving my characters some major identities for my novel. I am a firm believer that characters matter most...shallow, flat, or unrealistic characters make me put a book down faster even than bad grammar/editing. Faster than a slow story line, even! I have to at least KNOW, if not like or identify with, these people. The best novels are the ones that make me sad when I finish the last page, because suddenly, all my "new friends" are gone forever.

I have to go actually work now...you know, the stuff that pays the bills. Yikes!

YOU MAY HAVE NOTICED...

I really haven't been posting here very much. It's been very intermittent. I am not living up to my promises (my Crap Jobs Tuesday, my Sunday Confession) and I haven't said hello or left comments for...well, anybody, really.
I've been feeling pretty lost, and feeling like this has just turned into a place for me to bitch and whine about the stupid parts of my life (guess what? everyone else has a job, and a family...why would anyone want to read about mine?) so it is time (soon!) to move on. I am planning to start a new blog elsewhere, as soon as I get a central theme set in stone. I'll definitely post the address here, so my (few) readers can follow (if you want!)

In the meantime, I am finally (finally, as in, after more than 10 years) starting in on a novel. As silly as that sounds (doesn't everyone say they are going to write "a novel") it finally feels right. The other day, I was at work, bored and frustrated that I could not come up with an idea that really was original (I could have written a novel years ago with the same plot as that "17 Again" movie that is coming out...why didn't I? Um, laziness, I guess), that wasn't cheesy as all hell (then again, many authors of many cheesy books have enjoyed bestseller status and movie versions), or that didn't bore me after a few chapters (ADD, I guess). I started writing a list of words and the feelings that those things, or even just those words, evoked, and remembered something that happened a few years ago, and suddenly, the entire framework of a story appeared on my sparkly pink notebook.
I'm sure I will probably throw small pieces of it up on http://piecesofnote.blogspot.com (which I will keep up, and hopefully update sometimes...so if you like to read fiction at all, please follow or I will get discouraged and bored and stop posting there) but I will throw them in the mix, so nobody really realizes that they are tiny parts of the novel (for several reasons).
I realized a few things: one, I spent WAY too much time worrying about genre (if I go with psychological suspense/mystery, can I cross over to something else later?) and kind of overlooked the fact that I can combine a few "genres" and come up with something infinitely better than if I tried to stay within boundaries; two, I have to be somewhat organized but let myself write parts as they come to me without worrying about chronology until I get closer to finishing.
So there. Hopefully in the next few weeks, I will have something new up and running, and I will start posting on piecesofnote.blogspot.com again.

DREAMS

Nope, not the kind they tell you to follow when you are still young and hopeful.

The creepy kind you have at night. The haunting kind that stay with you all day, not because they were nightmares, but because they left some sort of weird impression on you.

I often have dreams that just won't let me wake up-the sort that continue on, even after you have half woken up and hit the snooze button.



I'm not sure why I had the dream I had last night, but it might have something to do with the
picture of Scott Pilgrim and Ramona Flowers doing the Charleston that I am currently using as my desktop. It wasn't even a particularly creepy or special dream, but it stuck in my head as important or significant in some way.



I was some kind of professional dancer, and my partner (who was also my teacher and quite possibly a lover) was some sort of modern-day Fred Astaire. Very, very famous. I was finally going to perform with him in a real show, one that people paid to come see. I was stuck in my old high school building for some reason, and I was running late. When I got there, I put on my costume and looked in the mirror--I looked just like Holly Golightly.

I'm still sitting here trying to figure out why I remembered this dream out of the thousands that I am sure I have, and why it is stuck in my mind. Anybody have any weird dreams they feel like sharing?

QUALIFIED?

I have the weirdest memory.
There are 1,834,283 thoughts running through my head at any given moment, so I like to write things down. I do this on random scraps of paper, Post-Its (more on my Post-It obsession some other time), or in a daily planner on the corresponding day. Then, I continue to write it over and over again on each day (or week) until I take care of it, or decide it really isn't Important anymore.
Usually, however, I think of things (Important Things!) at inopportune times, and have to devise ways to remember said Things until I can get somewhere and write them down. This sometimes entails chanting in my head, or making up a cute song or poem to sing/recite to myself until I get a pen and paper in hand. Sometimes, this involves sending myself an e-mail from my phone. (I am NOT texting and driving! I am e-mailing myself IMPORTANT THINGS! ...Like "go tanning." Er. Anyway.)
Today, I was in yoga. Class was going by pretty slowly, and we were on what is basically the first posture, and I looked down at my toes (I had to; I was preparing to press my face into my shins) and thought "UGH! Someone needs a pedicure!" I spent the rest of class saying "feet, feet, feet, feet, feet, feet" in my head, and falling out of postures because instead of thinking about the muscles I was supposed to use, I was thinking "feet, feet, feet."
I finally got home and wrote "pedicure" on my planner, but I doubt I'll actually do it anytime soon. I tend to ruin pedicures from my constant yoga/working out, and I have given up on trying to grow my toenails out for that elusive French pedicure. Not going to happen. At least not if I ever have to stand, walk, or wear shoes. *sigh*
One look at my planner and you will see that I am somewhat of a procrastinator. At least, on paper. See, I tend to expect waaaaaaaaaaay too much out of one day. Work 7 hours, work out 2.5 hours (plus the extra hour spent waiting for yoga to start and showering off the sweat afterwards), play with puppies, prepare meals, check e-mail, pick up some grapefruit, clean the kitchen, get gas...and this is before I do anything that isn't day-to-day, normal stuff. So really, the fact that little words like "pedicure" and "mend sweaters" and "return shoes" recur on the pages of my planner are not testament to my tendency to procrastinate, but more proof that I am busy and I expect too damn much out of myself (we won't go into the fact that a few short years ago, I was seemingly a cyborg or at the very least, a superhero, and could do all sorts of things on no sleep and never get tired. what happened?)
The word that is constantly written, and constantly bothering me, is "resumes." I have been collecting job ads like a crazy, hoarding, pack-rat bag lady, but I have applied to exactly ONE of those jobs. Lately, I am just not inspired to write cover letters and bug people for recommendations. Not inspired to find a creative way to explain an employment gap due to being so sick I could not even check the mail and not knowing what the hell was wrong. Not inspired to examine a past that is not nearly as impressive as it "should" have been, according to my grades and ACT scores and everyone's expectations. Not inspired to wonder whether that great job description is really just a good writer's exaggeration of a position as a coffee-fetching secretary.
But that has to change. Last night, I found the best job posting. Actually, two job postings. Both deal with publishing, but they are very different. One of them sounds better, but I am not sure if I am really, truly qualified. My saving grace is the fact that they ask for work samples, and you'd better believe they are getting the before-and-afters of my current work's newsletters. The job has been open for months, so maybe they will try something a little different.
Besides, what is the worst that can happen? They won't call me. It's not like someone will take the time to call and say "Ha-ha, loser, you thought you could stand a chance, but you are SO unqualified. YOU SUCK!!!"

Right??

Because that is something that I would definitely not have to write down to remember. I just would...forever.

CRAP JOBS TUESDAY--MAYBE YOU SHOULD HIRE A COPYEDITOR

Medicail Records

XXX is looking for a full time medicail records assistant. The applicaint must be comfortable with medicail terms. Degree in health information management would be preffered. The ideal canidate for the job would be a self-motivator, versatile, and flexable person. This job is detailed and fast paced. xxx has great benifits with health insurance, 401k, ESOP, tuition reimbursement and vacation time. Please contact lavern if you would like further information.

• Location: XXX
• Compensation: $16,640-$19,760
• Principals only. Recruiters, please don't contact this job poster.
• Phone calls about this job are ok.
• Please do not contact job poster about other services, products or commercial interests.

I put "XXX" in place of the identifying information, but trust me, this is a real ad that I found online.
First of all, a "degree in health information management" must be worth more than this. That isn't even $10 an hour...at the high end.
According to the pay that is being offered for Bachelor's Degrees these days, you would think that they were handing them out free on the street corner or something...no tuition, no work, no brain required. Right?

I am tempted, however, to send my resume and offer my services as a copy editor. Or, at the very least, become a contract Spell-Check Instructor.

WRONG DAY, SO WHAT???

Dear Mary Elizabeth Winstead,

I am not entirely sure who you are since I never really watch TV and have not seen any of the movies you are in, but you and I need to have a little talk.

See, IMDB says you are playing the part of Ramona Flowers in the Scott Pilgrim vs The World movie, and that must be a mistake.
I am supposed to be Ramona Flowers. If she were real, she would be me, so it only makes sense that I play her in the movie.

--shannon

p.s. I will totally enjoy starring opposite Michael Cera, too.

NO MORE SICK, NO MORE FAT, NO MORE, NO MORE

I know, I really can't be called "fat" by any so-called "normal person" standards, but when have I ever been normal?
I am tired of feeling sick, and sick of feeling gross and big and lumbering around instead of gracefully moving.
I've been back on the raw foods (really, nothing else works, my digestive system has repeatedly told me "HAY-ELL NO!" to anything else) and am trying to do a short course of smoothie-juice feasting until my stupid TMJ drama chills out (food and chewing makes it worse).

At the upper right of my blog is a little link to my "Daily Plate." I have a history of hating online diet diaries, because I don't eat anything that remotely resembles most of the stuff that most people eat, so it is never programmed in to the database. However, The Daily Plate makes it easy to make your own little foods, so I can put the exact amounts of everything I throw into the VitaMix on a regular basis and title it "Grapefruit Smoothie" or whatever. Hooray. Now, let's see if I keep up with the thing. I have written down everything I eat, weighed out no less, for, oh let's see, 10 years. On paper. I'm going to try the online thing now, but I know I won't be able to throw out my paper diary.

I know, this will bore half of you, but come on, I have to make myself do it somehow.

GOSSIP, DRAMA, MY MY MY!!!

I used to LOVE drama. I walked around in high school and college like I was in a big-budget movie. (Um, college in 1997, not my recent return to school. Well, maybe I did it then, too. Whatever.)
Everything was a BIG DEAL.
And it still is a big deal, except now, I hate drama. At least, I hate the kind that you would find in junior high, high school, the sorority house, etc, etc.
I remember thinking, when I was 12 years old, "wow I can't wait 'til high school when everyone grows up and won't act like this!"
And I remember thinking, when I was 17 years old, "one more month of this shit and I will be going away, moving away, and in college I am sure people have more important things to do than talk shit about my style or my boyfriend or whether or not they think he is cute and whether I do or don't eat."
And I remember, in college, thinking "okay, fuck these idiots...someday soon I will have a real job in the real world and then I won't have to worry about people like this."
Well. John Mayer had it right when he told us that there was no such thing as the "real world." It really is all just a lie you have to rise above. And man, oh man, it is still infuriating.
See, I have to question whether I can call my job a "real job," but for the purpose of this post, I will consider it so. (It helps me earn money while I work on bigger, better, more important things. My job is not the end-all, be-all, just a little help along the way, if you will.)
Now, I work with someone who makes me crazy for several reasons. One of them I really can't expose, as much as I would like to.
The other one, well, I really don't care even if she did ever find this and read it, which I doubt she will.
First of all: she is nearly 20 years older than me, and I'm not a kid. You would think that someone with years of experience would know how to act like an adult in the workplace. The thing is, I know she hates me, and I don't care. Yet, she trash-talks every other employee in the place to me, every single day. Does she think I don't know that she does the same thing to everyone else? Worse, is everyone else so stupid that they don't realize the game she is playing? I am starting to fear the worst, because why hasn't anyone else said anything? She can talk all the trash she wants to and I will continue to change the subject. She will not get any (true)thing to use against me.

Until I quit, and then the game changes immensely.

Anyway. I had to post this, because I loved my job for a short time, and now I hate it for one reason: dealing with this drama. It is just one gossip, condescending remark, insult after another here, and I am trying to find a way to move on gracefully. I can't even really write about it, because the internet is public and I am sure someone would find this and make ME look like the bad person.

Argh. I have to remind myself: It Could Be Worse

UNSUCCESSFUL GOOGLE SEARCH

Somewhere to the right of this post should be a link to Pieces of Note, which is my other blog. The one I rarely update. The one that is supposed to be my "literary" blog, my writing blog. I tend to not write when I am feeling crappy, and that has been 100% of the time lately, so forgive me for never updating it. I try. I really do.

Anyway, I posted a very, very, very rough beginning to a story that is 100% fictional, but inspired by a painting I saw in Chicago in 2006. I was on my last $40 at the time, had to wait 3 weeks for the rest of my student loan to kick in, and had nobody to ask for help, or else I would have bought this painting. I think it was $300, but it could have been more or less. I was sick (not terminally ill as the story would have you believe...remember, IT IS ALL FICTION) but was sick enough to not be 100% there, and I regret that to this day. For some reason, I cannot explain how much that damn painting meant to me. I am meant to have it. I am convinced that someday it will find me. Until then, I keep searching online for any reference to it at all. Usually all I get are porn sites and bathtub painting services.

If anyone has even the slightest idea about this painting that was for sale at the Bucktown Beanery in December 2006...let me know. Seriously. This painting and the fact that I passed it up still makes me cry.

Okay...back to cleaning now!!!

THE WEEKLY SQUEAK: APRIL 2, 2009

The Weekly Squeak is just a random fact about myself, expanded into a blog post for your reading enjoyment.



This week: WORDS
(er, well, last week. I got a little bit behind. oops)



I can't remember a time when I was not a writer. Even in second grade, one-page "short story" assignments thrilled me and always resulted in an "A" (or an "S+" as it was known in second grade.)

I can say the same about reading. I was the "nerd" in school for much of my life. Not the nerd who dressed funny, wore huge glasses, or never bathed. The nerd who wanted to read a book when it was assigned. No, scratch that. I was the one who had already read the books that were assigned. The one who carried around thick novels designed for kids (or adults) much older and wiser, and actually understood them. That nerd.

I have an English degree.



So yeah, it would be accurate to say that I am somewhat obsessed with words.
And today I feel like talking about words that I hate.
My husband makes fun of me because I often say "I hate that word" when listening to people talk. It has nothing to do with the meaning of the word, or with the person saying it (I'll go into pronunciation another time) but merely the sound of the word. The way the letters look next to each other. Some words just freak me out.

This is by no means an exhaustive list, but I have to mention a few of the top offenders:

lunch: probably my least favorite word of all

munch: just gross
(oddly, "crunch" does not bother me)

folks: I hate the "olk" sound, ugh

morning: just bothers me

moist: I think everyone hates this word

cell phone: I call it a mobile. Bonus "fuck you" points when people say "celly." Ugh.

relax: the sound of it literally makes me tense up

toggle: sounds like toddler-speak

corn: the food is gross, the word is grosser

feisty: just hate it

I am not sure why the list is so short right now...I will definitely hear many more words I hate later, and remember how much I hate them. That's the problem. I usually can't remember most of them until someone says one of them out loud.

Anybody else out there have any words they hate simply because of the way they sound??

A DAY LATE--CRAP JOBS TUESDAY

4/1/09: CREEP JOB TUESDAY (ER...WEDNESDAY)
PLEASE NOTE: THE BOLD IS MINE.


Company Owner looking for executive assistant.
(These days, a title like that is so vague, applicants have no idea what the hell they will be doing.)

The following requirements apply:
1. Intelligent - a broad knowledge base is preferred
Yet, be stupid enough to send all your personal info to an anonymous address for a vague job ad.
2. Not afraid of hard work - could be long hours sometimes
But spend your time sending me your resume before I even tell you what that means
3. Energetic - willing to get up out your seat when I need you
I will call you at 3a.m. so be ready
4. Good personality - I am looking for an upbeat person
SMILE!!! ALL THE TIME!!!
5. Great sense of humor - need to be able to laugh
I tell dirty jokes. Racist jokes. Sexist jokes. That's what I mean by "sense of humor."
6. Open minded - no demure or easily offended persons need apply
Like I said, dirty jokes. I might be kind of a pervert, so if me looking down your shirt will offend you, don't bother.
7. Efficient - multi tasking a necessity
There is no excuse for not being able to answer my email while picking up my Starbucks. Go buy a BlackBerry and a third arm.
8. Timely - when I ask for a task to be completed, I mean right now and not a week from now
Yes, I am the person who throws a fit when I show up 5 minutes after a store closes and they won't let me in. I'm...ME! (Wow. Either this guy has had some messed-up employees, or gives bad direction. A week late? Hm.)
9. Not overly emotional - I don't play word games and don't have time to be careful, so if you cry easily, please don't apply
I'd...like...a...robot.
10. Organized - I need someone to help organize me, so I really need an organized person around me
I'm a fucking ADD slob and don't want to do anything to try to remedy that, so I need YOU!!
11. Excellent memory - I need someone that can remember people, places, things, and tasks
because I won't.
12. Computer skills - MS Word, Excel, PowerPoint, Visio, Project, and Adobe Illustrator
13. Able to follow instructions exactly


For the chosen person, this can be a great opportunity. The salary will be commensurate with proven worth. Do not call, but send resume via e-mail.


"Proven worth?" Wow. The whole ad is full of aggressive wording and makes me think whoever works here will be given about 0% respect.

Maybe it really isn't that bad, but it sounds like hell to me.

I will find a better one next week, I promise.

LET ME SEE THAT THO-O-O-O-O-ONG!!

I am really, very, extremely confused and concerned.

I would like to know how (and WHY) women would wear underwear (I can't possibly call them p-----s, ugh, foul word) under their yoga shorts.

Because they like to feel not one, but two layers of sweaty cotton wedged between their, um, cheeks? (And why cotton? WHY???!?)

Because they think it will hide their cellulite? (It doesn't. It does add a nice layer of padding, though.)

Because they think it will hide the fact that they need to shave/nair/wax/laser? (Again, no. Take care of that. Or wear shorts that COVER IT.)

Because someone taught them that not wearing underwear might possibly be something...dirty? (On behalf of commando girls, I beg to differ.)

Maybe they just don't know better.

And I am here to set them straight.

I see you back there, in the back row, trying to discreetly pull the wedgie out while the teacher looks the other way. I see you, the uncomfortable look on your face, as the waistband from your underwear creeps out above the waistband of your shorts, right before the teacher gives the "no picking no wiping no scratching" lecture and looks right in your direction. I see you, and you can't concentrate on your asanas because you, my friends, are concentrating too much on what is creeping up your ass.

I particularly want to shake some sense into those of you who wear granny pants under your yoga shorts. They bunch up. They look bad. They can't be comfortable in any way, and when you get a wedgie, my dears, I can't imagine how incredibly disgusting sweat-soaked cotton feels in that position. Oh, no. Not to mention the fact that you aren't old enough to be my granny, or even my mother. Ugh, just ugh.

And the thong. What is the point? You are wearing what amounts to a boy-cut swimsuit bottom. Do you wear a thong to the pool, under your swimsuit? (Oh my god, do you???) Are you trying to revive the visible thong trend, in Bikram yoga class? Surely it might feel better to put on a nice clean pair of yoga shorts, sans underwear, than throw those lycra babies on over the pair you have been wearing all day.

Whatever your reasons, please reconsider. It is hard enough for me not to pull my yoga shorts wedgie; it is painful for me to have to watch you deal with you and your underwear.

...she had dumps like a truck, truck, truck...

(I confess, I have NO IDEA what the hell the "Thong Song" even means, and yes, I did have to google the lyrics. Stupid, stupid song.)

NEW THINGS COMING SOON

I can't promise it will be this week, and I can't promise I will do everything every week, but I am adding some regular features to give this blog a point:

Unsent Letter Thursdays: A letter to anybody or anything that I can't, won't, or just didn't send.

Sunday Confession: You know how you think everyone else is normal? They aren't. Read why I'm not right here, and be challenged to comment with your own confessions.

Crap Jobs Tuesday: Hooray! The worst of the worst help-wanted ads.

Random Recipes: Inserted on random days, some fun and tasty raw-food recipes. (You don't have to be a total raw-foodist like me to enjoy them.) Maybe when I get more time (and money) I will make some really fun things, like raw cupcakes!!!

IF NOT FOR NOVELISTS...

...I would feel like a complete loser (as opposed to, say, a nearly-complete loser.)

There is a bit of backstory due here. Very recently, I was coerced into joining Facebook. (I say coerced like someone pulled my hair and twisted my arm, but really, I found out my junior high friends were all on it, and I had missed a get-together, so I joined.)
And yes. There, in all their glory, was my eighth-grade class of 1993. Careers! Kids! Travel! Oh, my!
And then there is me. Somehow, "went to college, moved out-of-state, went back to college, got sick, worked some crap jobs, went back to college again and finally got a degree, got married, got really sick, and then got another crap job" does not sound like something I would want to tell my old friends. Neither does "I work in retail." Or, "I shopped away my savings, and now I am trying to figure out how to learn something that evil HR harridans consider important or else go to yoga teacher training...BUT I HAVE A GREAT WARDROBE DAMMIT!!!"
Yeah. None of that. So while my old classmates have families (I'm not jealous...I have decided to remain child-free...but still) real careers, full passports, and great homes, I have...well...a part-time job that allows me to sit and blog. (Not really. Interesting, though, how years ago, all anybody wanted was a job that allowed ample time to read, write, call your friends...hmm, I guess that is "growing up.")
I'm not discounting what I do have. It's just that, when you are a "class brain" and you are 13 years old, the world seems wide open. 15 years later, you realize that somehow, life happened, and you have been passed on the career/life highway by everyone else, no matter if they got straight A's or sat in the back and scribbled all day (I'm not saying anyone did this. I'm making a point.)
So. Facebook. Old friends. Feeling of complete and utter loser-dom, with no way out.
And then I realized, I never really feel like a loser when reading novels penned by 20- or 30-somethings...novels that tell stories about people just like me...too much education, not enough time or money, too much "stuff" that got in the way. How do these writers know exactly what I am going through?

Oh. Yeah. That explains it. They must have had somewhat similar experiences.

Which is why I am back to thinking that maybe I should just be a writer after all. (Supplemented, of course, by something else. At least until I can go to yoga teacher training. Then, I will stay away from stores and restaurants and offices.)

I WOULDN'T STAY WITH A MAN WHO TREATED ME LIKE CRAP...

...so why are we expected to take crap from people we work with?
I am not talking about clients or customers...I could deal with complaints all day. Because while there will always be people who will never be happy, usually I can at least resolve the problem.
I'm talking about dealing with people I actually have to work with, every day. Maybe I just can't stand it because I'm not doing what I really want to be doing. Which is another problem altogether. I said I would give myself until the beginning of next year to just decide what it is that I want to do. However, I am not going to sit around on my butt being unhappy until then. I have a few ideas so far, but my problem is actually making the decision, and being happy with it (says the girl with about 6 majors in college).
Even when I was finishing my degree, I considered paralegal work. Actually, I considered law school, but knew that with loans and other things, that would not happen, at least not immediately. So I thought about being a paralegal. When I worked insurance claims, I did a lot of the things that a paralegal does, even though that went way above and beyond my job description (what I was paid for, etc). I often wonder why I quit, but then I remember: I tend to be impatient. If after 18 months, I don't even get a real review (other than a review of my "team"), any kind of recognition for what I do (besides from one person), or even a simple "thank you" once in a while, I get discouraged. I know I jumped the gun, but something about saving someone else's ass every week while they got paid twice as much as me made me very angry. Oh well. It was good experience, and I actually liked the work itself...just maybe not the "team" (essentially led by me) that took credit for everything and did...very little. So yeah. Paralegal work. I know I could do it, would like doing it for the right firm, and would be proud to say "paralegal" if anyone asked what I did. It could even lead to bigger things...people go to law school in their 30's...right? However...it is desk work, a lot of indoor work, basic paper-pushing sometimes...and I always wanted to try to avoid that. Well. It's still in the mix for a possibility. I am preparing my resume to send to quite a few firms. It can't hurt to try.
And then there is teaching yoga. I know I should have spent all the damn money I spent this past year going to teacher training, but I never would have made it. I would still be scared, if I got a chance to go in the future, that I wouldn't make it. Autoimmune diseases are no joke. It might sound pretty harmless on webmd.com or whatever, but they really simplify everything. Really. Now, I know that many, many yoga teachers have other jobs. Which is fine. I have always wanted to bartend...maybe not in 20 years...and the smoking thing would make it harder to find a job (I quit smoking 2 years ago, and don't ever want to work where smoking is allowed). There is nothing wrong with waitressing(well, besides that I hate touching food). My grandma raised four of her daughters waitressing. That kicks ass. Back to yoga...I have seriously considered selling all the rest of my stuff (all those expensive purses and shoes I "needed") to try to go to teacher training. Like, next year. Because I would have to get a lot of other shit in order first. Teach some yoga, write a little, tend bar or check coats or whatever. First up: confidence. Need it for both. No way will I apply to work in a club feeling/looking like I do now. Same with yoga. Half naked, sweaty, and teaching? Yeah, gotta work on things first. .
Thus ends my ramble..just throwing some ideas out there...

THINGS I LIKE/LOVE...AND THINGS I DON'T LIKE

THINGS I LIKE/LOVE:

1. Yoga.
2. Fashion. (okay. I do "love fashion" especially in terms of self-expression. However, this is definitely an Alice-down-the-tunnel thing for me. I tend to shy away from self-expression if I see someone more successful, more happy, more fill-in-the-blank than myself. I immediately decide that I must imitate their style, in order to fill my emptiness. Fashion, then, is a dangerous area for me, and I should probably just stick to exploring it on my own time rather than using it as a way to explore careers and make contacts. )
3. Reading.
4. Writing.
5. Nutrition--specifically holistic nutrition and raw foods (again, though...the "fanatic factor" and recent market-ization of raw foods pisses me off, and if I think about it too much, I tend to feel like my head will explode.)
6. Fitness
7. Dogs
8. Natural grocery stores (I could spend hours in one. Every single day.)
9. School/college.
10. Oh, no. I am sure I will think of a lot more. My sort-of-bad mood could be contributing to this pathetically short list.

THINGS I DON'T LIKE...

1. Working FOR somebody. I never do well if I am not in charge, or at least working WITH somebody. If I have no real responsibility, don't expect me to perform as if I am doing something of utmost importance.
2. Touching people, for the most part. Many people are fine for touching, they pass the personal space test. But the reason I discontinued cosmetology/esthetician school, and nixed the idea of massage school, is that I will never be comfortable touching 100% of people, and in that line of work, you can't pass up even one person for that reason. There is no real criteria that decides whether someone is touch/don't touch. Maybe I am just weird.
3. Food. My husband is awesome at restaurant work. I can't/won't eat most things, and therefore can't/won't work around it. "Nope, sorry, can't tell you how the pasta is, I have Celiac disease..." Er. Won't. Fly.
4. Selling. Trust me, I know that businesses would die if nobody could sell, but if I am hired to be a personal trainer, I want to be a personal trainer. Not the person that has to pull out a script and a sales book and tell people that I can help them if they commit to $1500 (about a tenth of which I will ever personally see) all while wearing a fake smile and a stupid navy blue polo shirt that is stiff with starch and 11 sizes too large. No. Thanks.
5. Being judged all day. Reason number 2 that I would not be the best hairstylist. 19 clients could sing my praise, but the one that seemed unhappy would throw my day off track. I realize that I can't possibly make everyone happy and I just need to get over it, but that one negative judgment would make me mess up the rest of the day. This is a pattern in my life. I need to either get over this (which seems unlikely) or find a career that would minimize this kind of situation.
6. Being cold and/or doing things that cause physical harm. I understand the need to save money and energy, but if a place is cold enough to make my nose run all day long, there's a problem.
7. Having to dress up, yet dealing with things that ruin what you are wearing. Enough said.
8. Sitting. All. Day.
9. Making phone calls. You know how I suck at dealing with people who insult me or my work? It gets much worse if it is on the phone. I will never do telesales. I will become a topless dancer first.
10. The fact that this list basically says "I HATE WORKING!!!!" and really says nothing about general paths I should avoid. Damn. Does this mean I am destined to be a lazy loser who does nothing?
Eh. No. I know that I am not the only person out there who feels like I do...and I know that the ones who are ambitious and creative are successful. All it takes is a little time and creativity...right?


p.s. I know people out there will start ranting about how I need to "get my foot in the door" and "stop complaining and pay my dues." And to that I say this: I have worked at just about every job imaginable. I have tried to climb a corporate ladder, by basically doing monkey's work and following the "career path" outlined on their website for godsakes, going back to school under their direction and taking company sponsored classes that would make prison seem fun. Doing this, I have not made any great contacts, paid any "dues", gotten any great experience, or even made a move upwards. Sure, there is a lot to say about just "having a job and being able to pay your bills," but for anyone to say that that simple fact should make me content and complete is just facile and demeaning.

NEW DIRECTION

When I was younger, I thought that I whole-heartedly believed in that whole "No matter what you do, be it saving orphans or flipping burgers, be the best at it, and you will be happy."
Wait, you say. You thought you whole-heartedly believed that? Can you be any more flimsy?
Er, no. Probably not. And I have recently vocalized (to myself, at least) exactly why I have been such a jellyfish.
I can't really blame anyone else. I should have seen it coming. I was a precocious child, kicked everyone's ass when it came to grades, passed for 5 years younger until I opened my mouth. (My dad was always saying to me, "Keep your mouth shut and you can order off the children's menu.") However, I also trusted others' authority 100%. (Until later. Trust me, that is a disaster best saved for another story.) Sure, those of you who know me now know that I question "experts" all the time, especially those who like to tell me what is "best" for me. Growing up, though, I thought that my family was just like the perfect television family (until my parents split when I was nine years old, I was practically the only kid I knew with two biological parents, still married, at home) and that what they told me was 100% accurate. It may have been. But if you know even basic facts about psychology, you know that kids often learn more from observing than direct instruction. And somehow, I learned that making people happy would ensure that they liked me and therefore make me happy, no matter what I had to do to earn that. So through years of high school, college, my early 20's...that is what I did. When I felt like just being me wasn't good enough, I tried very hard to be "different" (you know, that elusive "different" that is really just another misguided youth trying to one-up her friends to "win" for the week, or the night, or eventually, forever. So hooray, now I have an ugly tattoo on my back, among other things.) Not once did I stop to wonder if everything I was doing really made me happy. And this continued, for years and years, until a guy (I will be nice and not say "an asshole." Oops.) I was dating broke up with me and I spent about two weeks in bed. I finally realized that I was nothing but a dying fish, flopping aimlessly, trying to hold on and let go at the same time, able to see the much-needed ocean but just unable to reach it. So I moved on. I did a lot of things that got me the eye-rolls, the lectures (still from my mother, and in trying to figure out why, I am sure it has to do with her own mental state, but forgive me if I have more to do now than analyze her actions), the sighs. I went back to school, supposedly to teach, but changed my mind in the end. Did I really, honestly think I would get a great job with my degree? Probably not. I should have gone back for Nutrition and Dietetics, but someone talked me out of that (see? jellyfish) and I ended up studying literature and writing for those 2 years. I figured I would be able to do that elusive "something" with my degree, but the truth was, I just really like going to school. I wish I could have a penny from each person who complained about it. I could be a student for life with that money.
Back to the point. Here I am, nearly 30 years old, and lost. I know only a few things for sure: one, I am unhappy and two, I am not meant to be where I am. So I am trying to make three lists: things I like/love, things I can do well, and things I want to learn more about.
I know many people out there advocate specialization (you know, don't spread yourself too thin...to which I usually stick out my tongue) and that's all well and good. Maybe I resist the idea of sticking to one thing because so far, I feel like the only thing I have been able to specialize in, is being a jellyfish (spineless, yet stinging). And that is just about the last thing I want to specialize in, above only a few things, such as flipping burgers (no offense, but I'm vegetarian) and allopathic medicine. Yikes.