Just Move That Drop Cloth And Lay Down On The Sofa

Time to split myself in two again.

Me #1 needs to pull out the tweed jacket and the pipe and sit next to the sofa while Me #2 reclines uncomfortably on the sofa, fidgets with an unused kleenex and stares down at my shoes.

Schizophrenia can be fun when you role play!

At least, that's what the voices in my head tell me.

I notice stress as a problem when I start losing my shit with the pets. When I start telling Thing One that he is one classified ad away from finding a far more forgiving home, I know it's time to do a little mental house cleaning.

Which led me to the realization this morning that the overwhelming stress of the last year stemmed directly from my inability to put a single finger on anything in my life, except for my job, and say "I am in charge of this. I am responsible for what happens here. I am guiding this ship."

When you allow life to "just happen", bad things happen. That's what I've learned as a grown up. The one constant thing over the past few months that kind of held my glue together was getting up in the morning and going to a job that I at least felt mildy competent at.

Now I'm rebooting. Now I'm trying to learn how a new place does things while trying not to feel totally incompetent. It doesn't help when you have someone look you earnestly in the eye and ask "Is this a little above your skill level?"

I really had to bite my tongue from saying "I sure as fuck hope not."

I'm trying to figure it all out and sometimes I succeed and sometimes I get those earnest looks. I then come home to mass chaos as the painting has stopped during the week since it's already dark when I get home.

I'm just taping and planning out my next strategy...

I'm grateful that I'll have a little painting time this weekend as I find it to be meditative and therapeutic.

Meditative while I'm doing it and therapeutic when it's done.

Hopefully, it's not too far above my skill level.

Talking The Talk

I made it through Monday. We'll see about today. I like to believe that anything can happen, which includes being kidnapped by aliens.

Oy vey. I've been up since 2 a.m. Synapses are misfiring...

New job has nice people but bad coffee. Hmmmm. Perhaps when I get into the swing of things, I'll bring my own thermos.

I'm going to check in with the college folks today and figure out the classes to take. It will be another three weeks or so before I can sign up since I'm a new person and new people get the lowest priority on choosing classes. Underwater basketweaving, here I come!

I've actually sat down and mapped out all the classes I need/want to take before moving on to a university setting. I guess the only reason I'm going in today is to confirm my choices and get a few questions answered.

Now, my puzzlement begins when it comes to talking to someone at the fine institution that I want to continue at. I have called them four times and dropped three emails. No response.

My next tactic is to send them an email and say that I have 8.9 million dollars to donate to their institution and see how many minutes it takes for them to get back with me. Then I'll get to say "Well, ACTUALLY, I just want to TALK TO SOMEONE."

I had a couple of occasions yesterday at work to tell my quick bio. Talked about kids. Talked about pets. Talked about school. When people responded to my story with "Well, I'm divorced..." I just smiled and shook my head yes. Interesting...very interesting...

I am the Virgin Mary and my children were products of immaculate conception and we live in a barn on the outskirts of Duluth. You know, the one with the perpetual star over head?

I also kept pretty mum when it came to "So, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?" Everyone is going to the relatives and cooking a five ton bird.

"I'm going to eat too much and fall asleep in front of the television," was my reply. In other words, nothing out of the ordinary at all.

When the IT guy checked in with me as to what my email address should be (officially, I'm using that damn hyphenated name for legal reasons), I gave him my bestest brightest shiney eyed psycho smile and said "Never use the S-name. I don't like the S-name."

Yup. I think I'm fitting in just fine!

New Jobs and Zombies

I will be spending an hour or so each day this week at my old job. This is either called "leaving my old job with grace" or "ha ha, we suckered you into doing exactly what we wanted."

Haven't quite figured that one out yet.

But today starts the new job. Today is the "bring two forms of identification-where is the bathroom-oh my god you only have Sanka coffee!-how do I work the copier and do you have a microwave"-day.

I was a little concerned because I wasn't even having the slightest bit of anxiety. Anxiety can be a good thing in a situation like this. It makes you double check to see if your neon colored paisley underwear is showing through your new slacks. It makes you check your nose for any low hanging detritus. It makes you say your new name out loud in front of the mirror twenty-three times so there will be no wobbles in your voice when you introduce yourself.

But I have the nerves of steel thing going right now. Granted I did change my clothes three times this morning and I made sure my super soaker make-up gun was not set to "whore", but aside from that I'm feeling pretty good.

I've come to the conclusion that my anxiety neurons have fried out over the last few months. Unless there is an actual building on fire that contains three puppies, two kittens, and a baby, my likely biological response will be "Hmm, I wonder if there are still cookies in the kitchen."

I have also concluded that, should the inevitable zombie apocalypse actually happen, I will make a kick ass leader.

When the undead start knocking at your door, meet me at my house with a cricket bat and a sawed off shotgun.

We are gonna save the world.

Once Again, I Consider A Career In Pharmaceuticals

I think I will start this conversation out by discussing my new job which I start October 26th. Not a change in pay but a change in scenery, people, hopes, dreams, and potentially, job satisfaction.

Yeah, smart people would probably hang onto a job in today's market and only settle for something that pays more. Well, I've been trying for awhile and I am, unfortunately, not finding much else. So I'm hoping I can cash in on my job satisfaction and tell the bank that a change in my workplace attitude has to be worth SOMETHING.

I look at it as my own little mini-reboot. They are also in a field that I might be headed into in the future so, if job satisfaction doesn't pan out, perhaps resume building will.

How's that for rationalization?

It is rather weird to walk among people that don't know my story. Right now, my name is hyphenated for pay purposes but after I was introduced to some of the staff with the hyphenated name, I've decided to tell them that the hyphenate exists just for my paycheck. I want a fresh start.

What will really be weird is that I won't be working downtown anymore. I have worked in downtown Duluth for nearly a decade and I love it. As much as I enjoy the quiet countryside and hanging out in my one room shack with my rifle loaded and my still bubbling away, there is something to be said for the vitality of a downtown area.

For those of you who are rolling their eyes and saying "Yeah, but it's Duluth...dear oh dear, you're so cosmopolitan" (I'm picturing you wearing a monocle and using a long cigarette holder. Am I right?) I really must protest. I have seen big and I have seen small and for me, Duluth is a nice "Goldilocks" kind of a town, just right.

As I've been investigating places I might want to live, I use Duluth as a population scale. I am interested in moving to a town that is two Duluth's big. There is also another town which is seven Duluth's big. It would be a fabulous place to go but I'm afraid I would need to sell drugs to support myself as the cost of living is a little high. Funnily enough, I think I'd like to keep 'drug dealer' off my resume.

Hey, speaking of resumes, drug dealers, and new jobs, I learned that prisoners are put through classes in prison before they are released that teach them how to write a resume and fill out a job application while tactfully avoiding, or at least downplaying, their prison record.

I also learned that prisoners are garnished a $400 gate fee when they first enter prison which is the money they get when they leave. Since they can only garnish 50% of their wages, the gate fee comes off first. Then and only then do they begin to pay their court ordered restitution.

And when you're making .50 an hour, you get to pay yourself for quite some time before you even begin to think about your pesky victim.

All I can say is JUSTICE ROCKS!