When my boss leaves town I ache with boredom. I sit in my office with nothing to do (literally) and imagine all the things I'd like to do when I got home. Of course, once I'm home there are only about four hours to scurry around before it's time to just sleep. Factor in any time spent doing the simple tasks of laundry, eating, emptying the dishwasher and cleaning the litter box and I'm without a moment to spare.
The rehearsals for the play feel fun, and productive. I'm very happy to be a part of this production. In January I will begin pottery classes on Saturday mornings.
But for 40 a week I'm throwing my self away to be paid, and solidly so. I like the insurance, and the time off, and the retirement plan.
Typical, I suppose. Typical of the un-inspired American employee with a pension who won't take a risk to do something they love. I'm tired of not understanding the goings on of this office, trying to figure it out as I go, trying to invent jobs for myself, and then trying to run ahead of my boss when he dumps a weeks-worth of word-processing in my lap to do in a day. I'm tired of not being me. ME?
So, what do I do? What really ought to be my job?
I really love Charleston, and for the next 18 months that I live here I want to love it more. I live downtown, you know, so it would be so nice to have a down-town job. Something clever.
Something that doesn't make my husband afraid to visit because of how irritated I might be.
I don't know where to look. I've only ever worked in universities and restaurants.
I'm purely frustrated. I feel like the time I have left in Charleston is too short to be worried about switching jobs now. I believe I can endure this as long as I have my outlets and my weekends. But the other side of me (my other half, to be exact) doesn't agree. It is precisely BECAUSE my time here is so short that I need to love living it here.
What do I do?
The rehearsals for the play feel fun, and productive. I'm very happy to be a part of this production. In January I will begin pottery classes on Saturday mornings.
But for 40 a week I'm throwing my self away to be paid, and solidly so. I like the insurance, and the time off, and the retirement plan.
Typical, I suppose. Typical of the un-inspired American employee with a pension who won't take a risk to do something they love. I'm tired of not understanding the goings on of this office, trying to figure it out as I go, trying to invent jobs for myself, and then trying to run ahead of my boss when he dumps a weeks-worth of word-processing in my lap to do in a day. I'm tired of not being me. ME?
So, what do I do? What really ought to be my job?
I really love Charleston, and for the next 18 months that I live here I want to love it more. I live downtown, you know, so it would be so nice to have a down-town job. Something clever.
Something that doesn't make my husband afraid to visit because of how irritated I might be.
I don't know where to look. I've only ever worked in universities and restaurants.
I'm purely frustrated. I feel like the time I have left in Charleston is too short to be worried about switching jobs now. I believe I can endure this as long as I have my outlets and my weekends. But the other side of me (my other half, to be exact) doesn't agree. It is precisely BECAUSE my time here is so short that I need to love living it here.
What do I do?
1 comment:
Hey Michaela! I saw your comment on David's page, but haven't a clue how to do the things on Blogspot that I can do on myspace. Our page is www.myspace.com/onebighappy. I couldn't find you on myspace, so maybe you can get ahold of me. Would love to hear how you've been!
Carolee Edwards (Gable)
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