I haven't written anything personal in a while. Mom's in town visiting and I've been busy every day working in the garden. We rototilled the property on the side of the house where nothing but weeds grow and reseeded the lawn with watersaving grass. I'm also going to be planting a xeriscape garden in the front triangle with ornamental flowers and grasses. The whole thing is incredibly intimidating to me, because I have never been the sole responsible party for a yard. I'm still thinking about a vegetable and herb garden.
It's good to be playing in the dirt. I've been an emotional wreck since last Thursday, and lately have felt incredibly isolated, like I can't depend on people to be the friends I thought they once were. Thankfully, when we needed to borrow someone's truck to help us transport the rototiller (try fitting something that size in the Time Machine!) Chris & Vi came to the rescue. It made me feel so much better that someone was willing to help. It also doesn't hurt that I am absolutely aching from all the yard work. Physical labor definitely helps distract me from the other things going on.
Easter was okay. Xtian Easter was weird. The service was packed, but there were very few people I knew in attendance. Pagan Easter was smaller than expected. It was nice, but also strange because I've never participated in a full out ritual before. It was a little like being a Protestant at a Catholic service. I was always a beat behind the rest of the celebrants, and wondering whether or not they knew it wasn't my thing. There is an assumption with these people that I am much more involved in this sort of thing than I really am, due for the most part to my mother, who seems to be telling everyone I'm a witch, and who so badly wants me to join her in this spiritual venture.
The coming-of-age ceremony was equally weird for the same reasons, but I could tell it meant a great deal to my young friend. I later chauffered her and a young friend across town. They thought the Time Machine was cool. I had another one of those experiences when I realized I am an adult and no longer judged by the same standards as I was as a teen. They don't see me as one of them. It's freeing to be able to relate to young people in a different way. I really like teens, although I still do not feel I am in a position where I can commit my life to them as a teacher.
This weekend is the CO Teen Lit Conference. I'm to be carpooling with my friend Janet and a bunch of other librarians. I'm surprised to discover I'm anxious about it. A whole day as a part of a large crowd of people makes me feel more than a little anxious. What if I want to go home early? What if I want to stay and they want to leave? Suddenly autonomy seems like a wonderful thing. sdn
will be there. I really don't know what to expect; but I'm hoping for something that helps direct my next steps as far as my passion for YA lit and a career for myself. I'm also hoping to meet some new people who share that passion.
The temp agency called and I get to interview for a customer service position at a brokerage firm next week. It's temp-to-hire. I set up the appointment and chatted politely to the agent; but then I hung up and cried. This is so not what I want to be doing; but I need work, and the odds of them giving it to me are slim anyway. They are interviewing people for three days for one temp-to-hire customer service position. I know I should consider myself lucky to be getting interviews; but I am so cranky that it is so hard to find a job, and that every job has such specific levels of experience required. For example, I had no idea when I took my first position in publishing as an editorial assistant at an academic press, that it would make it virtually impossible to ever get a job in publishing outside of the academic niche.
I've especially come to hate the temp-to-hire thing. It means you are held to a higher standard of behavior than you permanant counterparts. That every little thing you do is judged and held against your possible full-time position. And that full-time position is held in front of you like a carrot in front of a donkey, even when they have no intentin of actually hiring the temp. Still, I need a job, so I have to go out there and do it. I'm trying to think positively, "You never know until you try." "Maybe this will be the beginning of a previously undreamed of career as a manager of other peoples' money." "This job cannnot help but throw you into the paths of other rich men." But the other part of me just wants to scream "NO! THIS IS NOT WHAT I WANT! QUIT TRYING TO MAKE ME SOMETHING I'M NOT! IT'S A WASTE OF EVERYONE'S TIME, INCLUDING MINE!"
Oh well, I'm just cranky and uncomfortable in my own skin. I went shopping with mom yesterday. She found lots of great deals on things she loved and that fit her beautifully. I couldn't even find anything I liked. Nothing feels right. Everything feels wrong. And I can't seem to make peace with myself. I guess it's part of being on my way to healing, like when a break or a wound heals and suddenly it becomes wildly itchy. That's me this spring. Wildly itchy and wickedly uncomfortable, and more of an irregularly shaped peg than ever.