So, Monday I have an orientation for my new part time job. I'm taking 18 credits of classes, so I'd like to only work maybe 20-25 hours a week, and I'd like it to be only mon-friday. And I'd like to get paid the equivalent of working full time at a nice paying job. But none of that is in the cards! Well, the 20-25 hours is but I think that's about it. I'm going to work in a nursery. Plants not babies. They probably don't call it nursery, maybe gardening center? It's its own business, not like a section of Lowe's or something. I love gardening, although truthfully, i'm not great at remembering to water (drip sprinkler systems rule!) I think it'll be a lot of fun, so long as I don't sneeze like crazy. What a journey in these past few years. In some ways, i feel like a total failure. Let's see, good career-type job, great benefits, great coworkers. Then I stayed at home for awhile and remodeled bathrooms. Great fun! Then I got a job where i could see the inside of people's heads and chests. Yumm-O! Not. My goodness, that very first autopsy repair is still branded inside my brain. It may not ever go away. I've not eaten a chicken nugget since. Then I got a job where i didn't have to look inside folks too much, whew! Just got to work with their grieving (or not so much) families. That was awesome and hard and rewarding and frustrating. Then I got to be invited not to come back. Geez, cremate one person when you're told not to and no one ever let's you forget it. It's a long story, but the short version is that morally, ethically and legally I did what I judged was right for the family, not that i did the actual cremation, there are checks and balances, and everything checked correctly so the cremation was done by the appropriate personnel. But my immediate supervisor asked me to hold off and get one more signature (again, not required legally). I chose to act superior and judge that i knew better than he did, plus I figured he was just embarrassed that I'd overheard a coworker telling him what an idiot he is, so I presented my paperwork to the crematory anyway, and the cremation took place. I know all this probably doesn't make a lot of sense and i'm not explaining well and i don't even know why i'm writing it at all. Maybe i'm still feeling smug and somewhat superior and still rationalizing my actions, when the point is I did not follow directions. In the end, it didn't matter if i was "right" because i lost. And it threw me into a tailspin like i'd not experienced before. so that's been a pretty black part of life.
But now, in some ways I feel like a new soul. (I've run twice this week, woo-hoo!) I'm learning and learning and learning. I now know how to tile a shower and a tub surround and a floor; I know how to texture walls and ceilings (well, in my own opinion I know how and it's my house, so that's all that matters!); I know how to sew curtains (but I can not make a Roman shade to save my life); I know how to make up and style a dead person; I know how to pull off one heck of a funeral service, with tears and laughter; I look super hot driving a hearse (ok, maybe not, but it sure is one of the best parts of the job, well, when it's empty not full); I know how to communicate in a small group (don't ask my classmates, just look at my "A" grade); I'm leading an anger management class, so obviously I know a little something about anger :), ok that one doesn't really count as I haven't just learned it in the last few years; and, finally, I know what Aristotle thinks about happiness. Hmm... semi-conductors, bathroom tiler, office manager, funeral director, student, nursery worker... some would say I'm going backwards, and financially they'd be right, but maybe, just maybe, all of this doesn't make me the failure I was beginning to think i'd become.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
I need to borrow a bb gun. The crows are making me a little crazy. There are two kinds of birds who I love to hear, they have great songs. But they're usually drowned out by the gang of crows who've claimed my back yard as their turf. I read that I only need to kill one of them and then hang it in a tree. The rest of the crows will get the message and go away. I've not yet succeeded. But then I've only tried throwing pinecones and I think the success rate of killing crows 40 feet up in a tree with a pinecone is fairly low. I also read you should beat an empty cereal box with a wooden spoon. The crows will be so annoyed, they'll fly away. This is so not true! My family and neighbors, however, get pretty dang hostile. Well, i've not actually used a cereal box, but I do keep a pair of flip-flops (thong sandals) by the backdoor. They make an excellent echo and it did work at first, but then I realized Steve gets pretty testy when I'm smacking them together at 6 in the morning. (I want to say, "my husband Steve" because i constantly say to myself, "my wife Kara", but I'll keep from doing it. See http://justhumorme.blogspot.com/ , i don't know how to make cool links...) Anyway, I don't know why I get so mad at those birds, but I sure wish I could kill just one...
Friday, April 03, 2009
Today I am exhausted. The last two nights have left me tossing and turning. I hear every creak and groan of the house. Even though each noise is easily identifiable, it doesn't matter. My heart pounds, I can literally hear it in my ears. I am certain it's the boogey man finally coming to collect his due. He walks down the hall. He peers through my bedroom door. His is silhouetted by the light from my laptop in the other room. Last night, I remembered to close my laptop, so i couldn't see him standing there. It didn't matter, I still saw his shadow. I still heard his footsteps. I hear them in the refrigerator. I hear him in the wind. I hear him in the settling of old attic boards. I feel his breath as he leans over my bed. I feel his touch in the stirring of my hair as the overhead fan turns gently. I brush him away as though swatting at flys. Sleep visits me briefly before being ripped away by the drumming in my ears. Adrenaline flows through me like I've just run a marathon. All my senses are alive and at peak perception. The boogey man waits. He laughs quietly from the corner of my room. My bladder is full, the rain pours outside my window, taunting me, knowing I won't cross the floor to the bathroom. He will come out from the corner if I dare to walk past him. One o'clock, two o'clock, oh please let me fall asleep before the witching hour. You can wake me back up when it's past. Irrational thoughts. Irrational beating of my heart. Will he never allow me rest?