Eight Hours a Day, Five Days a Week

Last month marked the anniversary of my employment at the place where I work. Before I worked full-time, I had no concept of exactly how much of a person's life is spent at the work place. I held several jobs throughout college, but random days off in the middle of the week made the 30-35 hours I spent there seem less dense. Before working here I had never heard of paid time off. I had no idea that this shit is like GOLD out here in the real world. In the real world you have to plan your sickness and vacations around how much time you get off each year. If you surpass your time off allotment per year, you may be able to take some unpaid time off, but you also may not get a raise that year. It's a complicated system of give and take that I've grown to vaguely understand.

My biggest problem with working is not the exorbitant amount of time it drains from my week because, frankly I don't have anything better to do that earns money. My problem is the attitude in my workplace.

I try to be a fairly positive person and look on the bright side of things. Scratch that, I try to be a fairly present person and stay in the moment. Since the moment is neither positive or negative I am usually neutral which, for me, equals happy. Unfortunately my mojo gets all sorts of fucked up when I come into an office where 3-4/5 of us hate our lives. Now, if I directly asked any of my co-workers if they hated their lives, I'm sure their answer would be a resounding no, however their constant negativity proves otherwise. There are only so many stories about someone's husband/child/parent/friend/neighbor/countryman being a shithead that I can take. I have an uncanny ability due to growing up with three younger brothers to "block out" conversation. I can consciously stop listening to people talking. I typically use this power for good and not evil, but it came in handy during some particularly painful undergrad classes (Medieval Lit- I'm lookin' at you). I spend most of my day in a purposeful haze playing the chorus to random pop music in my head over and over.

Before working full-time, I never understood why people would have problems with anything work related. I thought they could leave the drama at work when they come home, but now I realize that, most of the time, work is home. And you never get to leave.

Hallowhy?

I was big on Halloween as a kid. I loved dressing up and running through my neighborhood with my brothers in tow, begging candy off everyone who had a house bigger than ours. We were always in search of the ever elusive full-size candy bar givers. They were the coveted houses on the block and always ran out of candy early in the evening. Most of the Halloweens of my childhood were cold, rainy, and pitch black. There were no Trick or Treating "hours" in my youth. Trick or Treating ran from nightfall until the neighbors turned off their porch lights, a sure sign that they had ran out of candy. As a pre-teen, I remember Trick or Treating until 9:00 pm. Now, there are stipulations and daylight hours so that everything remains as safe and convenient as possible.

As a teenager I went to my friend's Halloween party every year. I dressed up a Disco Diva one year complete with an afro of curls and tight gold spandex. Another year my stoner boyfriend and I were an angel and the devil. Him being the creature of Heaven- that arrangement got a laugh. Another year, another boyfriend and I went as each other. He used the opportunity to mock me openly and dress in drag. Halloween used to be exciting, costumes were planned weeks in advance.

This year, I decided that I didn't want to celebrate. I couldn't see the rationale in wasting money on costumes for both Michael and I to wear for only a few hours. I also dreaded being in the company of fifteen drunk people for an entire evening. I don't enjoy drinking, but as a recovering addict (18 months sober), Michael cannot drink, ever. I had no problem making this concession when we started dating. I wanted to show my solidarity to his progress by joining in an sober life. I joked that I was waiting for, what my friends would consider, a valid excuse to refrain from their parties.

I don't look down on people who drink and I don't mind being around people who are casually drinking, but there's a huge difference between an event that involves drinking and an event that's centered around it. In my smallish town, Halloween is a booze fest if you are over the age of 21 (and in some cases, over the age of 16). Michael and I are used to being in mixed company (some drinkers, some not), but no one is very sympathetic or respectful of our choice. No matter how funny, quiet, or reasonable someone thinks they are when they are drunk, they are usually annoying to the sober people in the room. Unfortunately my friends cannot have a social event without getting wasted. Michael's friends are not as reliant on alcohol, but we have to travel farther and spend more money to see them. That leaves us at home on Halloween, baking a cake and watching Away We Go. To each his own.

Our House is a Very, Very, Very Fine House

Thursday we put a bid in on a house that we really loved. We asked for all of the seller's appliances and for them to pay closing costs. On Friday we received a counter offer which excluded the washer, dryer and water softener and also refused to pay our closing costs. We put in a slightly higher offer, but remained firm on closing costs and the rest of the appliances (fridge, stove and dishwasher). Our offer was accepted a few hours later!

We close on November 23rd. The lease for our apartment ends on January 1st, we will be able to move in at our leisure.

Since good news comes in threes- Mike was offered a seasonal job at a retail store which he started on Saturday, another interview with the bank he wants to work for, and my dad told me that we could have his washer and dryer.

We are very excited!

Home is Where The Tax Credit is

I have always hesitated to admit that I live in my hometown. I took it as a personal failure that I hadn't escaped this small patch of suburban land in twenty five years. Sure, I left for five years to pursue a degree in a town much smaller than the one I'm from, but I came back. I know why I came back- security, and I know why I'll stay- security, but I had a hard time accepting that this is the best course for me at this point in my life. A decision needed to be made, I knew that I was going to spend the next several years here because: this is where I am stably employed, this is where my mother is and I need to be here for her during this time of her life (moving, getting divorced, finding herself) and this is where it is easier. I hesitated to stay somewhere because I was scared to go somewhere else, but the economy is not making a cross country move feasible in the next few years unless a job is waiting on the other end. In lieu of all these things...

Michael and I have been looking for a house. We are trying to beat the clock and get the $8,000 first time homeowners credit. I came to terms with the fact that we would be living in this area for the next few years and we ought to plan around that instead of planning around dreams that I have no way of making into reality. So now the plan is buying a house, living in it for the next three to five years, and then moving where ever his PHD program takes us (or staying here if it's more logical for him to commute).

Being an adult is a frightening thing and I don't think that titles (husband/wife) make it any easier to make huge decisions. I know that I am with the person that is my forever, but this place is not my forever. Buying a home, building equity and having something to show for ourselves in the future is the most important thing for us to do right now. I am happy, but I am stressed because we have less than a month to make this happen. But I find comfort in the knowledge that home is where the heart is and my heart is right here.

Organization Sensation

I need to get organized.

At 25 I'm both ahead of, and behind, people my age. I am unmarried, childless, and a renter. My job pays a piddling amount and I have basically no savings. Michael is in the same boat except that he isn't finished with school and is currently unemployed. I'm trying to appreciate this stage of life, but I feel as though being complacent would not be in my best interest. I need to get motivated; I need to light a fire under my own ass. Except I can't find the matches.

I want so badly to be in another place, but I know that it is a way to sure unhappiness. I cannot be content if I wish I were somewhere else. So much of my life has been spent waiting for the next stage, planning and hoping that the next stage will be different. When something decent happens then I become complacent and apathetic, I settle. In both my personal relationships and work life I have settled more often than not. At this point, I am exactly where I want to be in my personal life, but I still need to organize my working life.

I have been working at the same job for exactly one year now and although I am very grateful for the corporate experience and the income, albeit small, it is not where I need to be. I have come to the realization that I will have to commute from my somewhat small town in order to work in the writing or editing field. I have begun applying for jobs up to forty minutes away in hopes that I can find something that suits me better. I will be the primary breadwinner for our unit until Michael is finished with grad school (in May) and then I will be again when he embarks on getting his PHD in a few years.

My first blog entry was titled Time for a New Dream, but I haven't had a new dream in months. I keep hitting the snooze button on my life. It's time to start the goal list, it's time to wake up.

Let The Little Children... Sleep in on Sundays

There was a time in my life where my mother went all Holy Roller and dragged us to church kicking and screaming and begging and pleading not to go every single Sunday. Our prayers fell on deaf ears as my mother cracked the Jesus whip for a good ten years. Even after my father stopped going to the 8:00 am service, the kids were still forced to go. My mother told us, "If your father wants to burn in Hell, that's his business. You guys are going to get saved."

I have a lot of fond memories of my church years (age 5-15). I learned many a joyous song and shouted to the Lord often. I prayed almost every night for a variety of material goods and boobs. I really wanted boobs.

In my teens I rebelled against my forced exaltation by smoking cigarettes on the side of the church during service and making out in the church nursery. Everything I learned about the Christian God bored or angered me with the exception of the Old Testament (Old God was bad-ass) and Revelation (Plagues! Horsemen! This book is the Biblical equivalent of a summer blockbuster). I questioned my elders; I posed hypothetical situations- "So if I lie to my parents and never ask for forgiveness I could go to Hell, but if I kill someone and then ask for forgiveness I go to Heaven?"

I was never a big fan of asking for anything, let alone forgiveness. I didn't want to play a game of Mother May I with God where the winner gets my soul. What's God putting up for collateral? His everlasting love? No thanks, I've got enough love over here.

But there were two things I liked about my church years- the musical, Joseph and The Amazing Color Dreamcoat (starring Donny Osmond) and the silence of prayer. Joseph needs no explanation, it's totally awesome. I know every word to every song so please don't challenge me or I will GO GO JOE you out of the park. The other thing- the silence of everyone bowing their heads and focusing their energy on healing one another, helping one another, or helping themselves- there's no need to explain that either. That's the best part.

THE Dreamcoat (Las Vegas)

Thank you, Lily

I was having a really bad morning- a morning where I felt ugly and overwhelmed. I left the house in a huff, shut the door almost on Michael as he tried to offer encouraging words, and fought tears on my drive to work. When I got to work I found a sweet post by the talented Lily of Tapdancing in the Dark that was all about me. Lily's blog is hilarious and awesome and I often read funny bits of her entries to my boyfriend when I get home from work.

Even though it took me two days to acknowledge it (on my blog), it would be bad form and bad karma not to say thank you.

So thank you, Lily.