Going out of style

I'm all for public access to information. Everybody should be able to read books for free, which is why I’m so disappointed in the DC Public Library system.

Today, in an effort to renew some interest in my job, I decided I should read some books related to my field. I have a list of recommendations from numerous conferences and seminars and some of them even sounded interesting. So, I went to the public library’s website. I was thrilled to find they had an online search option. This would save me from hauling it all the way over there if they didn’t have what I was looking for…brilliant!

One of the books I wanted was an interesting twist on how to change public attitude with simple marketing schemes: The United States of Arugula. I searched for “Arugula.” Sorry, term not found. I tried “United States.” Nope, never heard of that either. I search for some other books with no luck. Already irritated, I call. The man who answers is able to look up the books effortlessly and promises to hold them for me. I give my name with a sigh of relief. Things are looking up.

I head over after work to pick up my books. I stop at the information desk and ask if my books are there. With an annoyed pencil tap, an evil librarian, the likes of which stereotypes about cranky librarians were created, snapped that NO, my books obviously weren’t there and that I should try another identical information desk.

I get there, hand over my library card, only to be told that I haven’t returned the Amy Sedaris cookbook I had loaned over the summer. I am instructed to find the missing book on the shelf or be turned over the to the authorities for book theft. I frantically find cookbook and return to desk. Strange…turns out the book was returned after all. Woman shrugs.

May I please have the books saved for me? Certainly not! They are no where to be found. But, I can have another ignorant shrug. Perfect!

Dismayed, I walk back to the original desk, the one with the smug librarian. There are the books with my name in bright purple marker rubber banded around them, right next to Evil’s mouse pad.

If it wasn’t for my pre-existing soft spot for librarians (thanks to three years living with an actual smart one), I may have strangled someone. I grab the books, check out, and vow never to set foot in that shame hole ever again. No wonder there are only homeless people sleeping on all the tables instead of real patrons. Where are the days of helpful librarians, cheerful book displays encouraging reading, and book drops that don’t have electric fence around them? Shame that even information, it seems, is going out of style.

Basic Information

For the first time EVER, i took a deep breath, gulped, and updated my status on Facebook to “In a relationship.” I’m now having a glass of wine and some ice cream to calm myself.

I’ve always been shy about posting that kind of thing on a public website where my every move is sent presumptuously to all my friends on a mini-feed. My life really isn’t interesting enough to require urgent press releases and anyone who needs to know about my day to day already does because we talk.

Also, the problem has never been changing to IN. It has always been having to change it back to OUT that scared me. If I go in and then have to go back out, it hurts a lot more than the little broken heart icon next to my name suggests. I don’t feel the need to have my painful life events broadcast to my friends from elementary school.

Finally, I’ve never been “In a relationship” that I felt comfortable enough declaring to the world. In fact, I’ve been in relationships that lasted years and I only got as far “It’s complicated.” You have to be confident in your relationship to want to blast it out to the world and frankly, most relationships I’ve had included a fair bit of anxiety, mistrust, or lackluster.

I felt compelled to brave the relationship status dropdown menu for a variety of reasons. For one, I’m in a relationship…a happy, real, exciting, grown-up one. I’m totally smitten with this big shot from Texas and I’m gonna keep him, if I can. He has elevated my life to a whole new altitude (and attitude). He is simply fabulous. Also, he changed his and it seemed weird for him to be in a relationship and me to not be.

It is not that I don’t still worry about having to change it back to “Single.” I do. And it isn’t that Facebook is suddenly a replacement for having actual conversations. It is not.

I guess, for once, I kinda want people to know. I want my closest friends all the way down to random strangers on the internet to know that I’m taken and I like it. It is scary and presumptuous. But it is also genuine. (Not to mention that it is about effing time! *wink*)

Sorry to all my Facebook friends for the unsolicited mini-feed update. But, hey, I don’t send you annoying application invites or even poke you very much. Hopefully the shock of seeing that update come through from the previously accused Spiny Fish at least made you choke on your morning coffee (and then smile afterwards).

Halo by Beyonce

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Mix equal parts gin, walnut cream sauce, and good friends. Garnish with sleep deprivation. Shake well. Serve over Dean Martin Christmas music.

This delightful little concoction will knock you on your ass and make you wish you had a sugardaddy instead of a job at work the next day. Trust me.

Fascinating conversation though. The trials and errors of finding one's soul mate are one of my favorite topics, one that often pops up if you hang out with lots of 28-year-old single women, which i do. Last night's convo had a twist though.

There we were...three slightly toasted souls just trying to make sense of it all. The one thing we had in common was that we all came from long legacies of hereditary soulmating. What i mean is that all of our parents, grandparents, and for all we know Neanderthal ancestors, had found a life partner to love wholeheartedly and depend on really, truly forever. We had all seen it. We would all recognize it if it happened to us. Because we had been witness to it in our own families, we would accept nothing less than the genuine, the certified, the absolute real thing.

My grandparents ages ago.

This is cause for some concern. What if the kind of love and commitment we've seen doesn't even exist anymore? What if it just went away like dinosaurs or Vanilla Ice? What if expectations, roles, and responsibilities are just different now? What if the whole thing was a sham set up by our relatives to confuse us? Perhaps they thought it would be funny to watch us constantly search for love like a mouse in a mirror maze. Yeah, hilarious.

My grandparents after 50 years of marriage.

I'm clearly blessed to have had such amazing relationship role models. But, have they ruined me for the reality of modern dating? It is entirely possible that the ideal has become an impossibility and that pickiness will be my downfall. But, i'm not entirely convinced that pickiness is my problem. Hand in hand with my mid-week drinking partners, settling is simply not an option. My friend made a very valid point..."I'm not even able to BE picky. There aren't even any losers around to turn down."

Fair enough.

My two lovely companions, let's hope that our genetic pre-disposition for successful relationships doesn't end up being some kind of auto-immune deficiency. Let's not give up on history quite yet. It can be done after all. We've seen it.

Optimism

After a big, nice glass of Spanish red and some yogic breathing, i came up with some reasons why this job isn't so bad:

1. They promise to move me to an office next summer that isn't 900 degrees and doesn't smell like a stale, old piece of toast.

2. I can work independently (sometimes from my home). If i do come to the office, i can wear my headphones the whole time. There are hardly any meetings.

3. My boss seems really nice.

4. They have lots of free food in the office (including popsicles and string cheese).

5. My commute is 6 minutes on foot.

Bigggggg Deeeeeeep Breeaaaaath.

Billable Hours

I’m feeling a bit nostalgic. I miss my old job. Not the situation that I left, but the day to day, the challenge, the way it was. I miss my friends and my boss. I miss feeling busy with work I liked and I miss feeling that my job was cool and did good for the world.

A few weeks ago, I was at an online marketing conference, this time as a vendor instead of a client. I sat in several sessions that used screenshots of my former projects as examples of kick-ass online marketing. On the one hand, it made me proud of the work we did at my last job. On the other hand, I felt a deep sadness that those days ended before I wanted them to. Next slide please. My days of making an impact and saving the world…of awards, magazine covers, and speaking invitations are over.

This weekend, I went with my beau to his holiday party. Everyone was happy and I could tell that not only did they enjoy each other but also enjoy the work they do. I went in the bathroom, my usual spot to go when I’ve had too much to drink and am feeling sorry for myself, to do some deep breathing and get organized. In those situations, I look in the mirror and talk to myself, usually in a stern, no bull-shit tone of voice. This time I said, “You are not your job.”

The person in the mirror nodded in agreement.

But, I’m feeling sorry for myself again today. Although I feel lucky to have any job at all, this one just isn’t doing it for me. I can’t seem to get over the lingering feeling that actually “I am my job. I am what I do for most of my time.” For me, my career is part of my identity. And, I’m having one hell of a time line-iteming my identity on a billable hours worksheet.

I used to think I could live on the age-old principle of getting the paycheck so that you can have fun with it after work. But if you don’t feel like having fun after work or if there isn’t any time left in the day to have fun, what’s the point of it all?!

I really do want this job to work out, but that terrifying feeling of boredom is creeping up and making me want to cry. And I always promised myself that when I start crying at my desk, it is time to move on.

Short of botoxing my tear ducts, what have I got?

I’ve got a brain that works.
I’ve got friends and family and a dog who love me.
I’ve got a sewing machine.
I’ve got some sweet potato gnocchi.
I’ve got choices and opportunity.
I’ve got courage and creativity.

Looks like all that is missing is patience. Not terrible, right? With all those things, surely I’ll pull this job thing together. Patience aside, let’s hope it is soon. I don’t know if this new job stocks Kleenex.

Shih Tzus for Obama

I was afraid to be so bold as to say that i just helped make history, but, really, didn't i?

Today might not go down as the most important day in the history of the universe...perhaps the Big Bang and that day when the first fish to haul herself from one puddle to another lived supersedes today by just a hair. But today may very well turn out to be the most monumental event in contemporary history. I'm simply thrilled to be 1. old enough to participate, 2. legally protected to do so, and 3. in DC to celebrate with a bunch of crazed political junkies afterward.

I just voted, got my free coffee from Starbucks, and am reveling in the excitement of my second election in DC. No one is doing any work at my office and it is only a matter of time until we all just surrender the fantasy and start streaming CNN.

Though it hardly needs to be said, i hope that all of my fellow Americans who still have voting rights get their tails to the elementary school or church or police station or VFW and cast their vote. If you're still undecided or haven't been paying attention, just vote for Obama. Actually, if you have any sense at all, vote for Obama. And, as if you still needed reasons, i just heard that Nebraska, my mega-Republican home state, is predicted to award Obama 1 of their 5 electoral votes. If that isn't monumental, i don't know what is.

Tentative

I usually rationalize my personality traits and gut reactions to things based on my astrological sign, Libra. (Happy birthday to all you Libras out there.) However, before leaving my last job, I received a personality profile that has given me a more fine-tuned explanation for my sometimes eccentric behaviour.

The profile was fascinating. Not because it illuminated intimate traits i didn't know i had, but rather because it had charts, graphs, color coding, and sophisticated language for things i have always known about myself. It had predictions, warnings, and advice the likes of which my financial advisor couldn't even imagine! I'm not one for statistics, columns, and rows. But, there is something kinda magical about your deepest, most cellular being mapped out on an x and y axis.

Basically, it told me this:

I am a manically social person who abhors structure, rules, and oversight. I will rebel at the slightest oppression, but genuinely cultivate peace and fairness. I like to think about things for a bit and cannot be rushed. Diplomacy comes naturally, as does calmly reacting to change. I will become grumpy and unsocial when i feel overwhelmed though.

One word for the last month: overwhelmed.

In a good way. In a not so good way. In a scary, exciting, anxious, exhilarating, exhausting, sad, lovely way.

Leaving a job. Starting a job. Starting a relationship. Maintaining relationships. Planning a party. Planning a vacation. Planning another party. Traveling. Interviewing. It is enough to make a girl want to take her Shih Tzu and go into hiding. Which is pretty much what i've done tonight and may continue to do for a while.

Calmly reacting to change is all great and wonderful until you find that you haven't done laundry in weeks, the library has turned you into collections, and your dog (not to mention your friends) has been assigned to another "calm" and "diplomatic" person. You know that scene in Ab Fab...the one where Edina gets an electronic planner and it keeps beeping at her until she gets so overwhelmed she throws the damn thing out the window. Like Edina, I am going to, in a totally calm and non-aggressive way, scream "Give me back my life!" to the universe and hope that it works. The universe is just going to have to cancel some meetings. You can’t live your life under that sort of pressure, darling.

So, I no longer have time for petals in my life. I want stems. At least for now…at least until I pay a bill and take a yoga class and feel a little bored. I am diplomatically and calmly tentative until further notice.