I hate being either predictable or typical. Unfortunately, when it comes to work, I am both. I've got the January "blahs" and am in the middle of a painfully typical 30-something career crisis. I'm bored even writing that.
Right now, I am covered in pine needle resin because I just finished the yearly honor of undecorating the 15 ft. tree at work. My eyes burn, my fingers are sticky, and I nearly had a violent moment with a giant tangle of Christmas lights. Many curse words and 2 hours later, I just realized that undecorating a Christmas tree was the most exciting thing I've done this week. The cussing and stinging eyes (allergic to trees, of course) actually broke up the long stretches of despair and struggle for motivation that seems to be my job.
I have a master's degree. From an ivy league school. I trained for this and it is my career and my passion. From a distance, this is my dream job- a great place to work, wonderful people, and something in which I actually believe. At least, I think I believe in this stuff. I probably believe in it. Sometimes?
This week, my stomach turns at the thought of planning another year. Damn you, January. I find myself damning every new season.
Now we've reached today's contradiction. I love my job and I want another job. Maybe a more accurate description is that I love my job and I am scared to death that this is it. Not an "it" as in "it is my job," but an "it" as in "this really is all that I am going to be? to do? oh, fuck."
It sucks to feel restless at 31. I am now too old to believe that a new job will actually solve my crisis of feeling trapped and insignificant. A new job just means that I have six months of learning and then I will feel this way in a different office doing different things that I don't really care about doing.
Now, I tell myself, Jenny, you are a woman. Your work empowers you, but it does not define you. It is okay to use work as a means to pay your bills and build a real life. That inside voice doesn't fix the fact that I spent 3 hours yesterday looking for something interesting on the web when I should have been writing an article or planning my 2010 calendar.
That makes things worse. People actually think that I work hard. I don't work hard. Okay, sometimes I do, but I also spend a lot of time trying to fill the void left by my lost, confused 30-something soul.
Someone once told me that the opposite of love is not hate. It is apathy. That is true. I love my job. I don't care about my job. Oh well.
This was a very boring post.....apologies to my readers. Here is something interesting to make up for 9 depressing paragraphs: My right boob is bigger than my left boob. I like the left boob better.
No. This is not my chest. Mine actually look hot in comparison, which is quite a feat. I'm not even sure that this is a woman. I can't stop looking at it. You are welcome!Right now, I am covered in pine needle resin because I just finished the yearly honor of undecorating the 15 ft. tree at work. My eyes burn, my fingers are sticky, and I nearly had a violent moment with a giant tangle of Christmas lights. Many curse words and 2 hours later, I just realized that undecorating a Christmas tree was the most exciting thing I've done this week. The cussing and stinging eyes (allergic to trees, of course) actually broke up the long stretches of despair and struggle for motivation that seems to be my job.
I have a master's degree. From an ivy league school. I trained for this and it is my career and my passion. From a distance, this is my dream job- a great place to work, wonderful people, and something in which I actually believe. At least, I think I believe in this stuff. I probably believe in it. Sometimes?
This week, my stomach turns at the thought of planning another year. Damn you, January. I find myself damning every new season.
Now we've reached today's contradiction. I love my job and I want another job. Maybe a more accurate description is that I love my job and I am scared to death that this is it. Not an "it" as in "it is my job," but an "it" as in "this really is all that I am going to be? to do? oh, fuck."
It sucks to feel restless at 31. I am now too old to believe that a new job will actually solve my crisis of feeling trapped and insignificant. A new job just means that I have six months of learning and then I will feel this way in a different office doing different things that I don't really care about doing.
Now, I tell myself, Jenny, you are a woman. Your work empowers you, but it does not define you. It is okay to use work as a means to pay your bills and build a real life. That inside voice doesn't fix the fact that I spent 3 hours yesterday looking for something interesting on the web when I should have been writing an article or planning my 2010 calendar.
That makes things worse. People actually think that I work hard. I don't work hard. Okay, sometimes I do, but I also spend a lot of time trying to fill the void left by my lost, confused 30-something soul.
Someone once told me that the opposite of love is not hate. It is apathy. That is true. I love my job. I don't care about my job. Oh well.
This was a very boring post.....apologies to my readers. Here is something interesting to make up for 9 depressing paragraphs: My right boob is bigger than my left boob. I like the left boob better.
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