A Year
This weekend we took Jonah to the kids Christmas party put on by my office. He had a fantastic time even though he has no idea why the guy in the red suit was sitting around passing out wrapped parcels. In fact, since he could *see* the swimming pool from where santa passed out his gifts, Jonah had no interest in anything but staring down at the water.
A couple of weeks ago we went to a tree trimming party. (The same one we went to last year where Jonah broke the glass ball in his mouth…) This time there were no medical emergencies, unless you want to count Alisha’s drunkenness, but I’m pretty sure the only medical attention she received that night was from her very qualified EMT husband.
A year ago I left my last job. I didn’t write about it very much at the time but looking back now I wish I had. I remember hating that place so much. I remember driving to work in tears, so upset that I had to endure another day of the Worst Workplace Ever. And then to top it all off I was asked to do unreasonable things. And when the camel’s back was finally broken and I made the decision to walk, I was ASKED TO LEAVE QUIETLY.
Quiet is the opposite of what I am, so when I was forced to walk out of that building without saying goodbye to my friends, my co-workers, the people who threw me the only baby shower my kid had because I knew NO ONE when I moved to this country, I was shocked.
There are so many things I would have done differently if I were to do it over again. I would have chosen a different department to work in. I suspect the entire company is not run the way that specific department is run. I would have gone to HR to resign, and not to my (former) manager, who has forever lost my respect, not that she gives a damn. I would have looked Really Hard for a different place to work when I came back from mat leave. There were indicators that this place wasn’t the happy home I was looking for but I chose to ignore them.
Why do we do that? Try to convince ourselves that things are really better than they are? If we buy into our circumstances does that just make bad ones more tolerable or is there scientific evidence that lemonade can be had?
A year ago I listened to my instinct and walked away from an awful situation. With no plan in place I quietly left.
Today things are good.
Balance.
Everyone has their own level of writing honesty. I used write about everything under the sun. I don’t do that anymore. But since I’m no longer telling you everytime I change my socks, I’m having trouble writing at all. There’s some sort of balance that I’m not achieving. (Achieving? Finding? Aspiring to? I like to think I aim for it and miss so perfectly that I’ve taken to giving up.)
Erin Shea used to write about her socks too. And then she had that divorce. And somewhere in there she realized that she didn’t have to tell EVERYTHING to entertain her readers.
Heather Armstrong spends a lot of time writing about the dogs and her gorgeous “stuff”. Have we all noticed how she writes less about Jon?
Pamie is the funniest girl on earth and she has totally figured out the secret to telling just enough. That’s why they pay her. I wasn’t an early reader so I don’t know how her writing has changed since hitting the A list.
Dr. Scott, who is not A list at all, still tells way more than I know how to. Imagine coming across the personal journal of the guy who is looking after your sick parent in the hospital. Is it creepy to know that he’s ogling the goodies of asian women all day long? Step back for a moment and note today’s entry: How can you not love that his kids are playing chess. With Star Wars pieces. Everyone has their personal definition of balance.
Maybe the goal of this month of forced writing should be to find that balance? I think the conflict is between that inner voice that tells you that no one cares what color your socks are, and the fact that I read, with bated breath, EVERY DAY, each of the above authors to find out what color their socks are.
Filed under holidailies | Comments (5)Day 1.
I went back and looked at some of the archives. Funny how time passes huh? And how people use words like “funny” to describe situations that they don’t have better words for. I didn’t mean funny, ha-ha. I meant how the heck has six years passed since the first time I sat down and tried to write DAILY in December? Back then it was my way of saving face after having failed MISERABLY at NaNoWriMo. (For the record I haven’t made an attempt at NaNoWriMo since 2005.) Now it’s become a time-honoured tradition.
So here we are: back at Day 1 of holidailies. And here I am, 10:19 at night trying to get this entry in before it becomes midnight. Really, this is ahead of schedule for me – I usually post at the very end of the night before I go to bed, which becomes the very beginning of the next day… Do that enough days and skip a few here and there, and you have me *begging* jette yet again to let me stay in the portal. I wonder if she remembers repeat offenders like me.
I have eight years of entries. They aren’t complete. When I moved to using my actual name in the domain I deleted a lot. If you look at the frequency of entries you’ll notice that I don’t write as much as I used to. It turns out I’m rather obsessive.
I used to obsess about writing. Now I obsess about knitting and photos. Sometimes I obsess about Roller Derby. I’m hoping this year to obsess more about active things than about sitting on my ass things.
I am going to end this now with a final thought because overhearing a simple phone call has gotten me so riled up that my mood to share publicly on the internet has turned quickly into a strong desire to use bad words: Before you go intruding on other people’s personal lives why not take a second and think about whether it’s any of your damn business. (If it’s posted on the internet you’re safe, I’m totally not talking about you :).)
ps – how does one end a parenthetical statement with a smiley and have it NOT look confusing.
pps – WHY oh why do Canadians call them brackets? Square brackets? PARENTHESIS.
