Miles To Go Before I Sleep

Yes, I know how ironic the title of this latest blog is considering I promised to get back to writing on a more regular basis- buuut, a sister has to sleep sometime you know!  The Great Work-i.e. my job, has been going well lately and keeping me on my toes. I'm  feeling really productive which has always been a factor in happiness for me- you know I've said it before ( a lot), but having a purpose is so important to getting through the day, let alone life.  That being said, the getting through life thing started to poke at me a little recently.  When I work I'm kind of like a terrier- I dig my head in and get to work, and it can take a hard pull to get me to back off and look at the bigger picture. Recently a lot of really great things have been happening ...just to other people. My family and friends have gotten married, had children, moved houses, moved towns. I thought about it, and thought about it, and started feeling a little like I might be a little..late, developmentally speaking.  While everyone else seems to be hitting the milestones society tells us are so important, I haven't been able to get anywhere near them with the hopping I've been doing.  Looking back on my life has been a little bit of a disturbing realization- from high school to college, to a job, to..another job, across the world and back.  On paper I'm not sure I've accomplished that much. Sure I've traveled, but having to start at the bottom again at each new job, having to find a whole new community every time I left the last, living in places that while cute  didn't quite feel like home, (but not being ready to settle anywhere  permanent yet, just because... nothing has felt quite perfect enough). Ehh, it's not the kind of life you can bring to the table when you start to think a future with someone, with a community, with anything that demands a long term relationship. Heck, even my cats aren't so sure I won't desert them to world hop again. Every time you leave it's another chapter and sometime the people left behind don't care about your new story. They've got their own lives and sometimes they revolve around smaller, but no less powerful poles. It's probably just me not being quite perfect enough for anywhere I've been,  or where I'm at ( or where some of the people I've met are) in life.  All I really want is to be settled- in myself, in my place in the world. And I don't feel quite there yet, don't feel like I'm measuring up to some invisible but powerfully felt standard.  And then I realized that just because everyone else is walking that path, doesn't mean I have to.  I'm happy to be a part of their lives, to have those true friends who share those milestones with me, because I'm a part of their lives. To realize that even if I haven't decided where to settle and nest for myself, I have a spiritual home with them that allows me the luxury of roaming. So I'll kiss the babies, and celebrate the anniversaries, and send housewarming presents from around the world if that's where my path takes me, knowing that any  milestone I reach is an achievement, not a millstone around my neck or a measure of my failure if I don't. Maybe life will slow down for me, or new adventures will come, one by one as I walk the path I've chosen... either way, it's my journey and my choice and that makes all the difference.

My path has not been determined. I shall have more experiences and pass many more milestones. 

Agnetha Faltskog

THIS..IS..SPARTAAAA! or DIY: Stoicism- Bend Over And Take It Like A Man

Okay, so first let me say mea culpa, mea culpa- which for you Phillistines means "I suck"- it can also be translated as "My bad, yo!" I promised to write after we reached 2,000 visitors to the site (Yeaah boyy!)...but then I didn't. So, mea culpa.  I have, I am bemused to say, been busy- beyond my wildest dreams.  First I needed a job, then I got the job, now I am the job's b****.  My hours have been crazy, the people surreal (not my staff- they're cool... and remind to tell you in a bit how I got a staff.) And I've been loving all of it when I haven't been feeling like I need to go howl on the mountain.  ( Yeah, I know- no mountains here-sigh.) I am really feeling challenged here for the first time in a while- there are constantly programs to plan, schedules to do, staff to oversee (Yessuh, Boss!) and what I love and have missed the most- kids to interact with.  My job is to help people read (and use the internet, copy, do research, volunteer, and occasionally teach parents how to be better parents-an awesome gift and responsibility.) And I'm loving it, except when I'm so tired I can't breathe, have anxiety attacks, and feel the need to drink. (But more than  half the bottle of vodka remains in the fridge-go me! okay, maybe a little less than half.)  Playing the role of adult, consultant, expert is really, really hard. And I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to realize that I don't know what the hell I'm doing, and boot me out the door- kind of like when I first started teaching.  Everyday I waited for someone to realize I had no experience and ask why the heck they had hired me? I endured long hours, and training, and seminars trying to make myself a better teacher- trying to be what the job needed me to be.  And I'm still doing it- training and all, seminars, trying to be a leader to a staff I wasn't supposed to have (my manager got promoted, y'all- yay for her!  Oh sh*t! for me)- Suddenly I have a staff, a department and I'm interviewing another employee this week. I hate that kind of stuff.  I'm used to being in the background and I'm okay with that. All I jwanted was  to do puppet shows for kids!  And tell them to read Susan Cooper books-(great books about wizards before Harry Potter was a brain storm in Rowling's head. Before the death threats come, I love Harry too, but the series is over! Live with it!) 
Suddenly, I'm responsible, again, for something bigger than myself- to people other than myself- not my bosses-- but my kids. I get to be a teacher, without a lot of the limitations teachers have.  But with freedom comes responsibility.  If I want to create great programs for tweens, teenagers and kids and infuse them with a passion for reading, I have to make schedules.  I have to plan, and program, and beg for funds. I have to act like a clown for little kids, and figure out how to make books cool for older kids  and do it all on a budget of hundreds of dollars-like 200 dollars, folks. That's just enough to pay for program materials and bookmarks and suckers for after.  I have to be a politician again, and position myself on committees, when I'd rather just talk to kids about books.  Having a purpose again is so hard..but meaningful.  I don't want to be in the limelight, be a boss, be the Man...I really don't- but if it lets me inspire one more kid to read, I guess I'll learn if not to like it, at least to hack it with the best of them.

Put your heart, mind, intellect and soul even to your smallest acts.  

This is the secret of success.  ~Swami Sivananda

*Again, sorry for the late posts. I'll do better, but don't try to guilt trip me- you're still not the boss of me!
okay-maybe a little  :)

The Onion Girl or DIY: Mix and Match-Doll Parts

I find it interesting that Catherine Zeta-Jones is in the news this week for going to a mental health facility for Bipolar 2, the same day I decide to write about my own recent bout with some highs and lows.  Why is it that celebrities can make mental illnesses the newest trend- along the lines of Loboutin  shoes, purse chihuahas (or little pigs)? How do I get the commiseration of a nation for the mental blow outs we all have every once in a while? I'm not saying I'm mentally ill (though I have my  days and there are people who would disagree), but I don't think it would be wrong to say that we're all getting sicker as a nation mentally, or maybe just showing it more. It doesn't seem right to have days when I'd rather hide in a closet than face the world, and even if I am a girl, and I fully believe that every now and again every girl needs a good nose honking cry, I can't seem to escape the notion that the world is simply too much today. Not that there's too much wrong,--it's just too much all together.  I've spent the week feeling like I could tear my nails to shreds trying to pull off all the layers and masks I wear just to get through an ordinary day and at the same time feeling like I could break my own heart, slamming it against a wall, adding layer after layer of scars, and feeling like it's all right if my heart gets harder every time, because you just can't make it in this world with a tender heart anymore.  I'm tired of feeling tired, and broken inside. If I could replace whatever it is that's missing in me- just replace my parts, like we used to do when we were kids- remember? When you could just switch heads (and even genders- how 'bout  mutant Barbie G.I. Joe, huh?) If I'm a doll with broken parts, I wish I could just switch out all the stuff that makes me insecure, and mean, and most of all, most of the time, just...sad.  I don't want every day to be a burden or a duty. I want to be happy for more than a few minutes at a time.  I don't have the time to check into a mental facility (and I'm pretty sure my salary wouldn't cover it anyway- don't those people know how much better I could do my job if I only had the right drugs?!), so I guess I'll just have to keep doing the best I can, and posting the struggle here for all the world to see.  Guess Catherine and I have something in common after all, huh?

“The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they're okay, then it's you.”

Rita Mae Brown quotes

3-2-1- Cognition or DIY: It's My World, Everyone Else Just Lives In It

Do you know the feeling you get when you have deja vu? You know, when you feel, all of a sudden, like you done this, been here before? (whatever or wherever this or here is.) It's the feeling that everyone is wearing a mask that you can't quite see behind...or that you are, and your wish that someone would see behind your mask almost overcomes your terror that they will.  It's the realization as you cross the street for just a moment, that the street doesn't exist, that you're moving through something else, be it time or space, where nothing is quite solid or real..until the car beside you hits its brakes.  Reality has always been an illusion to me- often times an unpleasant one. I hate feeling like everyone one else got all the directions to the game of life but me.  Cognitive dissonance is defined (by Wikipedia no less, the blueprints to the universe) as  an uncomfortable feeling caused by holding conflicting ideas simultaneously.   In other words, when what you believe should be happening contradicts what you perceive to be happening, you could have cognitive dissonance.  Good examples include the Wikipedia example of buyers remorse- you buy something expecting to feel good about it- a new dress, a car ... and instead you feel dread or anger. "The I can't believe I spent so much" syndrome.. It could also be when you expected to feel happy about something- like a birthday, but instead feel depressed. Maybe you're like me and you eat an entire pizza expecting to feel satisfied, and instead just feel sick and disgusted.  (If you're whispering out there that of course you expect to feel disgusted when you eat a whole pizza, then you're not suffering from dissonance--you're just a  smug prick. Pizza is supposed to make you happy, dammit!)   
Dissonance is a feeling I am too used to lately- and I think it's contagious.  I feel like too many people in the world are the same as me- wondering what's wrong with them that they can't join with the consensus, the reality that other people seem to have no problem sharing- it's like being Picard when he joined the Borg (If you don't know what I'm talking about, non scifi geek, just press on to the next paragraph.)  You want to be part of the group, but some vague sense of dissatisfaction, of not belonging, of discontent keeps you from fully joining in.  You know you should be happy, but you aren't. And nothing makes it worse than people telling you how lucky you are or how happy you should be.  Screw that.  The realization that I'm unhappy about my situation does not automatically equal that I'm selfish, or unpleasable-it simply means I'm smart enough to realize that where I am is not where I want to be.  The corollary to that equation- not being happy, I mean= I should do something about it. That's all. Just do it. (swoosh).  It's not that I can't be happy where I am, but no one should have to settle for less than their perfect reality. If finding my happiness means checking out of the communal reality and creating a new one just for me , then that's okay. If this world is not enough for me, that doesn't mean I'm an awful person- maybe it just means  (to quote John Mayer, and not the racist stuff, I mean come on John!)  that "I'm bigger than my body."  If the world is not enough for you either, then make your own- reality after all isn't really reality at all---it's the stuff of dreams. Make yours come true.

Question reality, especially if it contradicts the evidence of your hopes and dreams. 

 ~Robert Brault

My (Al)Chemical Romance or All That Glitters Is Not Gold (Yet)

For those of you are are not as educated in the esoteric arts, alchemy was the study of elements- dedicated to trying to perfect things to their purest state.  A common example would be (for you Harry Potter fans), the Philosopher's stone-believed to to able to purify poisons, turn lead to gold, etc, etc. It was, to be succinct, some some powerful mojo.  Now, why should any of that be important to you? Well, recently while reading Eat, Pray, Love (another story from a traveler afar-amazing how travel turns everyone into a philosopher isn't it?), I started reflecting on the idea of a soul mate, the one person who is our soul's other half- who know us like no other, so "they" say- (and you know we hate the ubiquitous "they"-damned autocrats). Anyway, "they" say this soul is out there, waiting for every one of us.  And I believe it's true..but I also believe thanks in part to EPL that they are to be avoided at all costs. Okay, maybe not really, but Elizabeth Gilbert, author of EPL put forth an idea that I'd not really considered before- that soul mates are not people we're supposed to be with forever-they are not the  person you marry who makes you whole (you're already whole and if you marry someone who is your "other half" that means they're really you and God knows you don't need to marry yourself-though some people try.) Your soul mate is not a prize to be won, but more like a phase to go through. They're a scourge, a whip which forces you to be a better person.  I believe I have met my soul mate many times, in many bodies and will again, because I am far from being the completed person I want to be.  My two halves haven't met so far- my alchemical "wedding" hasn't happened yet or maybe it has and is still happening even now, again and again. I certainly have felt somewhat "challenged" lately.  But my journey from the mud into perfect form, my transmutation, if you will, has been informed by so many people in my life-all of whom held a mirror to my better side, while scourging my baser nature- my selfishness, and fears.  The touch me briefly, but powerful-siblings, parents, friends and lovers.  Dear reader, you have all of them  to blame for who I am today and who I'm still becoming...and I love them and you, for it. That's right, you wonderful mofo b******s, thank you for making me better every day (and yes, I's aware that perfected human beings probably don't call their loved ones mofos- you're still working on me, remember? >=)  
The idea of changing lead to gold, of purifying the human soul, is an age old one-prefaced by the idea that change is possible and necessary, to bring about closeness between human beings, to help us create or recreate a unity of spirit, a place of belonging for which we all long.  Like the image of the lotus flower rising from the mud, the symbolism of turning lead into gold is understandable to all- we all want to overcome our frailties, our impurities, and weaknesses and be transmuted into something valued and love.  We none of us are there yet, me most of all-but still and all,  the evolution continues.

Through love the devil becomes an angel. Through love stones become soft as butter. Through love grief is like delight. Through love demons become the servants of God. (Quote by - Mevlana Rumi) 

You Got The Love -Aishiteru Wa Nippon 愛してるわ にっぽん

Okay, so I don't mean to be inappropriate but this morning the ongoing FUBAR situation that is the news from Japan finally just made me...pop. (too soon? yeah, probably still too soon.) But really, although I no longer live there, really only lived there for a short while, Japan was a place where I learned a lot of things about myself and the thought of what is going on there is really gut clenching.  As far as I know MY friends are safe, but so many others are not, and I've begun to feel what I think a lot people who care about the world feel- completely useless, helpless to help except by donations by text. (Which by the way, I DO encourage if you can.) I feel guilty somehow that I'm not in the trenches, that I'm not in Japan in the wind and the rain. And because I'm selfish, some part of me wonders how they're feeling- almost wishing I could feel it, like a parasite- because those people are living life, and feeling pain, but because they're people (not just Japanese with their reputations for endurance but people) they will rebuild, because this is what we do. So, yes, selfishly I would like to feel, personally, a little of their resolve. Yesterday, I got to take a hot  shower, and eat and go to work- telling stories to little kids...and I'll do it again today.  While I was reminded in emails from my Japanese co-workers that the students I left behind are supposed to graduate in April, (and while I sent  my congratulations) I have no idea if they really will. The Japanese are a stoic people but how do you get the rhythms of a normal life going again in the literal wake of a tsunami, an earthquake, and our worst nightmare, a nuclear scare? Will there be cherry blossoms this spring, and a Closing ceremony? If there is, more important, where will my kids go? I lived on an island which fortunately appears to have been unaffected (by the weather at least), but an entire generation of students will be traumatized by these events- will change their life paths because of them. Many of them dreamed of leaving the island at graduation, some going to college, some going to Tokyo to work where they would have conversations with gai-jin and maybe use some of the English I taught them.  If they ever get to Tokyo now, it will be nothing like their dreams. I feel very much a foreigner now, so far apart from a place that was for a while my home, where I had moments of peace, and which, if I ever visit again in memory or reality, will never be the same.  The cherry blossom season should be starting soon for this year, but  all I can see are images of snow in Akita, falling over  bent over oba-chans (grandmothers) already inspecting their damaged homes and lives to see where the rebuilding will begin.  I can't be there because my life is here.  I can't be everywhere in the world where there is hurt and hunger right now. All I can give is money, and time in thought. All I can send is love and prayers.  I hope it will be enough. It will have to be enough.


I am only one, but I am one.  I cannot do everything, but I can do something.  And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do.  ~Edward Everett Hale



to donate money to the American Red Cross for victims of the Japan tsunami and earthquake, visit www.midfloridaredcross.org. 


Or, text REDCROSS to 90999 to make a $10 donation.

Karma chameleon or DIY: The Mouse That Roared

“A little rudeness and disrespect can elevate a meaningless interaction to a battle of wills and add drama to an otherwise dull day.”

 Bill Watterson

You can’t go through life without acknowledging yourself.   Brave words, wise words from the gurus at TLC’s What Not To Wear.  But why is it that when you acknowledge yourself,  it’s like a signal for everyone  else to get in your grill for not  acknowledging them?!! Case in point- I was raised to not interrupt adults when they’re speaking, and to always greet people as they come in the door. But in the past few weeks, I have had people (usually older women) walk away from me while I was speaking to them – who then complained that I didn’t greet them the next time  I saw them.  And when I decided not to put in the extra effort for no return, all of a sudden the eye rolls and the skin teeth came out. ( If you don’t know what that means, ask a black friend- carefully. If you are black and don’t know, find a little old black lady- they know everything.)  While being polite gets you a fair distance, it appears that telling the rules to f*** off gets you only disdain from the other people who also don’t follow the rules.  How is it that the rudest people  get to appoint themselves the masters of ceremony and etiquette? Who decided that they get to put themselves at the top of the ladder?   Aaargh! When do I get to tell the world to take a hike,  like  say, every celebrity or rockstar –and be applauded for my initiative, my nonchalance to the slights, the slings and arrows that life seems intent on throwing at me.    I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. My affability has gotten me in trouble in the past- probably because it's  more like passive aggressiveness.    When people demand respect from you it’s usually because they don’t respect themselves.  How often have you had to apologize for what someone else called your thoughtlessness  and later thought, was I really that insensitive? And  sometimes, we really are. But sometimes, the sharks in the water simply smell blood and they come a running –(yes, I know sharks don’t run- mixed metaphor, people!) I have seriously gotten to the point when I have to ask if this is karma- if maybe this is this how I seem to others and I’m simply looking in the mirror. If so, I need a makeover stat. But maybe, it’s not me- and maybe I simply need to prepare myself for the offensive and being considered offensive when I don’t respond with the alacrity others seem to feel they deserve.   How often do you feel attacked because of what someone else felt, which in reality had nothing really to do with you?  One of my pet peeves is people who demand respect without giving it – not in return, but first. Showing respect is not a you show me yours and maybe I’ll show you mine proposition. It’s a statement about who you are and who you want others to see you as.  I’ve determined that I no longer want to see myself as a doormat- and that I owe no acclamations or explanations to anyone. I know who I am, how I was brought up and where I’m taking myself in the future.  If you have issues or you step in my road, don’t be surprised if I politely, but firmly, brush you aside. 

Respect commands itself and it can neither be given nor withheld when it is due.

What Is Love? Baby, Don't Hurt Me No More

So once again folks, it's time for my annual Valentine's rant- no, not quite the right word. Discussion? No. Lecture? Umm, no. How about verbal eruption? That's it! That's perfect. Now that we've got that straight,  let me preface by saying that I have no problem with the underlying idea of the holiday of St. Valentine- expressing your love and admiration for someone  with the purchase of cheap gimmickry, gew gaws and surf and turf. I quite happen to like gas station velvet roses.  But really, what I want to talk about is the kind of love celebrated on this day- romantic love, the perfect love Disney taught us to expect when walking through a forest surrounded by birds,  which some how leads one to, oh pick one: (eat food from strangers causing you to fall into a magical sleep;  pick roses from stranger's gardens resulting in your parents having to sell you into slavery; or my personal favorite, making  a wish that transforms you and leaves you feeling like you're walking on knives) whereupon a handsome stranger alike to a Ken doll arrives to rescue you  from the terrible fate your own decisions brought you to. (And yes, I know that second one was the father's fault, but really, Beauty couldn't have developed some Thatchers and run away? Really?)   And also -wait for it- is it possible that Mattel and Disney are plotting together in some massive conspiracy to control the romantic lives of American women? Huh? Um- you all already knew about that?  (Sigh, always behind the curve.) 
Well, anyway, sometimes I feel like we should celebrate all loves- not just the "pure" ideal of love, but the weird loves- like the recent guy who Facebooked me and wanted to be my friend- who happens to have a foot fetish.  (I think I need to re-do my privacy settings- there were some pretty good feet pictures in one of my albums- I could develop a cult following!) Or how about my own weird love of corsets- and yes, I know there will be two camps telling me; one, corsets are beautiful and sexy ( and I ain't talking about those pieces of Victoria's secret crap); or two, how terrible it is to want to distort my body that way- to which I respond, how long have you been a woman? ( and/or reading this blog!? All I talk about is wanting to change myself.) Or how about that new show on TLC which celebrates weird addictions like- eating soap, or the insides of sofa cushions? There's weird love for you.
Or weird love  classics- like Nabakov's Lolita- a book I read in college which steal squicks  me out to this day- how can you sympathize with a guy who's in the end, a fairly pathetic pedophile? You sympathize because the kid's a b***h who leaves him, if I recall correctly, in a roadside hotel for another man. So, he's morally disgusting- at some point haven't we all been? (And if you start that "at least I never" thing- you will be banned forthwith from the conversation- morally speaking, all sins are equal- it's just that some are worth killing for as punishment and others, your punishment is that you have to live with yourself after. The verdict is still out on who should be the judge. [ I think it should be me!])
In the end, love is just a weird thing.  A combination of chemicals in the brain? Maybe. An eternal soul connection with another? Maybe. An intense appreciation of  a personal standard of beauty-e.g. my feet? Could be. In the end, whether you're chemically imbalanced, or shot by the golden arrow of love, you've got to dance with the one who brung ya and love the one you're with- even if it is inanimate, leather, or cushiony. (Hey, some of my best dates have been with inanimate wooden blocks- nice guys, all :)


We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.  ~Author Unknown


*Join the weirdvolution!  And, Happy V-day everyone

The Color Purple or DIY: Surving the Animal Farm

Stop me  if you think that you've heard these words before...(Oh, right.  Already did that post?Well, alright then. Moving on.)  Don't know where exactly these thoughts are coming from tonight, except for the fact that the drive to work gives me lots of time to think, although what I think isn't always very rational.  Actually, I do know where tonight's thoughts came from- a discussion about tweeting..er, twitting.  Whatever the appropriate verbiage, tonight I had a conversation with friends about changing technology, and realized that I while I have always talked about "when I was a kid", that my era really is changing and I wondered whether I had the capability of keeping up.  I won't say I'm old, (unless it gives me an advantage in an argument) , but neither have I really thought about my future much because I've never seen myself as aging- not from the vanity of youth, but from just not being able to picture myself that far in the future. I don't want to sound despairing, but I don't know that I've ever been sure I would make it that far.  The arrogance of youth is to believe that we are unchanging, or failing that, that everyone else is changing for the worse, growing old and senile, no longer capable of innovation in spirit or thought.  But doesn't anyone remember that growing old is a luxury?  That once upon a time, old was living to be my age (if you know don't tell!) and not much beyond. In animal terms, I would be the stringy, cantankerous tusked female boar of the herd ( do female boars have tusks? Nevermind- just go with the analogy.)- wily, cunning, (okay- just plain too stubborn) enough not to die.  I don't know what continuing lessons growing older will teach me- I'm imagine it will teach me patience as I can't move as fast as I once did even now- (who knew I would look back on my twenties with such nostalgia ?) both physically and often I feel, mentally- but then again, I was never really the sharpest knife in the drawer.    And life itself is cutting itself into my face- those crows feet are growing longer every year-( it's like those carrion birds are having a Dance-Dance Revolution party on my face while I'm asleep every night.) But every wrinkle and scar is mine, and every laugh line too (need more of those actually.) And I'll wear them honestly, and pray that they keep on coming because after all, the alternative is worse.  And besides, they make good accessories for that purple dress I'm saving to wear when I get old...just because.

Warning:When I Am An Old Woman, I Shall Wear Purple

                 When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick flowers in other people's gardens

And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickle for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Jenny Joseph

*I'm all for practicing now- any one want to join me? 

New Year, New Kid On The Block or DIY: Baby, Take All Of Me

Ok, so this wasn't exactly a New Years resolution, (because then I could have broken it, no harm , no foul- like everyone else), but I did say I was going to try to post more regularly once I got settled with the new job. And since I actually have some issues to take care of anyway, here goes. Do you ever get the feeling you're being...watched? (Good old Bugs Bunny chestnut-if you haven't heard that saying, you didn't watch enough cartoons as a child.)     So, yeah. I'm being watched- evaluated- for the first time in a while, and I find it highly disconcerting.  It's almost like being in high school again- people are trying to figure out where I fit in (which is something I never knew before and don't know now)- where I belong in the hierarchy. It's unnerving and annoying, and makes me feel a little resentful that I once again have to prove myself.  The problem is this- after a long time of working jobs where I didn't have to prove myself (not because I didn't care, but because dammit I was good at my job- though unacknowledged), I find that I want to succeed this year where I am, but I don't want to have to go through the gauntlet to do it.  Why can't we all just get along? I have spent most of my life feeling slightly autistic-never really knowing how relationships work, or being able to spot the clues that other people subconsciously can read without effort ( and for those who are feeling all butt hurt about my autistic analogy- I have taught special ed kids, and can honestly say in this day and age, were I to be tested I probably would be one, so take your offendedness elsewhere. BTW, new favorite phrase- butt hurt.)  I am tired of having to play king of the mountain or office politics when all I want to do is my job. Let me rephrase- all I want to do is live my life- if that includes doing the job well when allowed to- great, if not maybe I'll fit in if I do what everyone else does and do my job half-assedly, and just love my life outside of work.  'Cause in the end it's only money, and honey, I've always been broke.  This year all I wanted for Christmas was a job- or really, I meant a purpose. And now I've got the job, and the purpose is the same as it ever was. I want to do something meaningful- I want to find beauty in my life, I want to create a me that feels confident that if I don't know all the "rules" I don't have to- because they don't apply to me anyway.  Rules are for herd animals. Maybe this year, I will just have to be okay with being "She Who Hunts Alone." Because what I'm searching for can't be found at the office, in a clique, or a gaggle (more animal references, anyone? No? Okay, I'll stop now).  This year, I firmly resolve to look at the world and spit in it's eye. I'm not trying to get on board with everyone else- they better get on board with me. Because this year, I'm going places. Catch me if you can.

Always bear in mind that your own resolution to succeed is more important than any other.
Abraham Lincoln