third firm's a charm

Today is the second day of the rest of my life. Or at least the next phase of my life. I've left my job at HBB for somewhere more human. Somewhere I can be myself, work like myself and just go ahead and tell my boss when they are being unreasonable. Somewhere I can progress as a designer in an environment of positivity and trust.

HBB isn't a totally terrible place. I bet it's better than prison or work camps or the offices of an evil dictator of an impoverished nation. It's not good though. Policies. Protocol. Inflexibility. Verbal abuse. Unpredictable leadership. Most of all there is a tone of adversarial negativity. I was never inspired to find solutions for the good of a project. I was inspired to not get yelled at or be made to do everything over in a different style. All things there, including the length of dash you use in a document or using the color of green that they like to represent sod, are life or death. Grounds for criticism and a stern talking to in the conference room are in order for any breech of protocol. You'd think we were doing heart surgery.

I had made up my mind to leave HBB in the spring sometime before Christmas. With my headaches at a fever pitch, my soul nearly beaten into submission and my mind showing the first signs of depression, I decided that for my health I needed to be done. I've been waiting to quit for a couple years actually, hoping that some sort of round the world sailing trip or opportunity to save the world by spending 6 months in a surfing town would present itself. Nothing was really coming to me though except fleeting ideas. I decided that I would quit anyway, and then figure out the opportunity after. I also, through Mike who works there, had begun talking to Susan Black and Associates about maybe heading that direction some day to join their work.

 


Tuesday two weeks ago, I was summoned to the offices of Susan Black and Associates. They made me an offer to come work there now. Not this summer or in the fall. Now, this winter. They offered me a $3 an hour raise. They want me to stick around for a while, perhaps even after they retire in the future. I don't know what Mike has been telling them about me, but they for whatever reason believe that I will be a great addition to their firm. I waited until Thursday to tell HBB that I was leaving. I broke the news in the most polite way possible, expressing gratitude and appreciation. I have tried to help them before, explaining why not one of their employees likes working there, but the time for that has passed. I have been dreaming up speeches and punches and all forms of dramatically expressing my true feelings on my way out the door. But this industry is small and I would rather be known as a stable person and a good designer. They were cold and unfeeling to the bitter end.

So away I go! I have two weeks off in between, one of which is to be spent in Sayulita. I am a little sad that there will be no sailing trip or post as a groundskeeper at the hospital my friend Lisa works at in Gabon. If I am totally honest with myself though, I am kinda excited about getting started. I have really grown to like my profession. And if I am the boss someday, maybe I can get that month in at the hospital any time I want to.

new experiences

It has been a week with a few interesting firsts for me:

1. I wore a dress over jeans
2. I said the f-word, quite loud, at my office with my bosses within earshot, during a tirade to my coworker about the latest way the management is ruining my life
3. I agreed to a free trial session of Cranial Manipulation Therapy, not knowing really what that is, out of desperation to help my headaches
4. I bought a 3 1/2" high pair of high heels
5. I opted out of baking something delicious for the office mandatory snack sharing schedule and instead brought some inexpensive cheese and crackers from the Grocery Outlet (an appropriate pro-rating of my snack to match the recent pro-rating of my benefits and lack of raise for the 2nd year)

part-time

A song by Flight of the Conchords called Part-Time Model keeps running through my head. It goes like this:

Looking 'round the room

I can tell that you

Are the most beautiful girl

In the room

And when you're on the street

Depending on the street

I bet that you are definitely

In the top three

Good looking girls on the street

You're so beautiful

You could be a part-time model

But you'd probably still have
to keep your normal job

I keep thinking of this because my hours at work have been reduced to 20 hours a week. Or so. Projects have just dried up, ended or been reduced in scope. This schedule may go for one month, maybe longer. No one knows what will happen. Everyone at work and most people I tell say, "Oh no! Sorry! Are you going to be okay?" I say, "I'll be more than okay, I'll be living a dream come true..." There are three of us so far who are supposed to reduce our hours. The deal is that we are supposed to reduce our time, but should come in anyway if some more work comes in. We need to be flexible. It sounded like we would know the week before or so if we needed to come in, instead of be out.

This morning at 8:00, right about when I was thinking in my sleep that I may get up and start to work on the many plans and commitments that I had made for this most glorious unpaid day off, the phone rang and it was my boss. I needed to come in. I fear that part-time may end up being unpaid on-call shifts. Like I should just go ahead, get up, and put my work clothes on in the mornings. Maybe sit by the back door with my bag, and just read a magazine for 9 hours, in case something comes up. Maybe next week I will actually be able to reduce my hours.

Here were/are my initial plans for this epic opportunity to rest, catch up, complete, mend, wash and prepare:

1. Alter one skirt and one swimsuit top, sew on two buttons
2. Clean out my belongings, really, really thoroughly
3. Windsurf at the sailing club
4. Visit parents and nephews
5. Disassemble old box spring for recycling
6. Weed garden
7. Back-up computer
8. Be nicer and more helpful to friends and family
9. Read my entire giant sailing text book
10. Sand and oil all the rest of the wood trim on The Boat

The Boat, I should explain, only belongs to me in spirit. But I like to do a little work on it and sail it. It actually belongs to a man named Mike that I have been dating for nearly 6 months. He's a dream. He is tall, kind, obscenely generous, hilarious, smart, bearded and many people's favorite person. And he recently acquired a boat. How can you top that?

crows

It's been an eventful two weeks on the sidewalk outside of 215 Westlake. The crows are nesting. Every five minutes or so, I am distracted by a familiar dark shadow moving quickly across the window. Women, children, the elderly - no one is spared. The shadows strike fear and panic into all those that encounter it.

The nest is in a tree just over my left shoulder. The sidewalk is just below the nest. The older crows are not smart enough to realize the pattern with which the humans seem to be transporting themselves along the corridor. Instead, they mistake the movements as attacks on their young. To respond the birds have engaged in a complex defense campaign. Squawking, dive bombing, buzzing and chasing. It's difficult for me to work, when nearly constantly during the day people are running, screaming, holding folders over their heads, staring aggressively into the sky, swatting, gesturing and ducking. I'm sorry that I laugh every time. It's just too silly. You may recall my own incidents with dive bombing crows. I know how it feels. Therefore I feel like I can laugh without malice.

My coworkers also find this funny and we like to talk about it. One guy parks his bike under the tree and lets us watch him go out to get his bike so we can all laugh. People that sit away from the window like updates from those of us with front row seats. Its been a real point of bonding for all of us. Spring is a time of renewal in so many ways.

night skating

I'm working late. I'm always working late these days. A lot of the time I am here alone. South Lake Union, in addition to having an attitude problem, is also very quiet at night. No one lives around here, so it feels rather like a ghost town after 7pm.

One evening last week, on a particularly dark evening, I had company. It was around 10pm, and the XXX video store across the street was not even getting much traffic. Out of my peripheral vision though, I kept seeing movement on the other side of the street. Fast moving shapes, going out of my view before I could get a good look. I sat up and stared out until I saw what was going on. There were two guys, in white t-shirts and skinny jeans, taking turns skateboarding. They would walk about 75 yards up the street. No cars were parked in the parking lane, which allowed them to take off sprinting as fast as they could, skateboard in hand, in the street. They would drop their boards onto the road, jump onto them with one foot and continue to build speed with long pushes using their other foot. Taking advantage of the smooth asphalt, they would gather tremendous speed and hop up the curb onto the sidewalk. At the end of the sidewalk, they had discovered a little spot where the pavement was sloped up to meet a high curb, which made a slight ramp. Each of them would go shooting off the ramp and catch about 4' of air under their boards and land with a crash into the cross street.

A third friend, which I could only see at first because of the little light on his video camera, was taking footage of his buddies as they jumped, from a low angle that probably made them look higher. One after the other, they repeated this for almost an hour. I had a hard time focusing on my work. Each time they landed in the street and fell to a stop, I cringed and readied myself to call 911 when I saw white bones reflecting in the light of the camera. It was incredible. I think these are the same dudes that I have seen eating lunch outside of an old RV in a nearby parking lot, which they presumably live in. They also have been seen riding little BMX bikes around in a pack.

After they wore themselves out, they sat on a wheelstop next to their ramp and had a smoke. It was all I could do to not run out, congratulate them on living epic lives and ask for the YouTube address so I could see their videos. I didn't want to ruin their moment though, so I stayed inside and adjusted some hatch patterns. I hope they come back again soon.

no more tests

No correction has been issued. The website still says that I passed all of the exams. I called the state and they said that they get the results from the people that are telling me I passed. I guess that's it then. I just had to copy sections of the Endangered Species and Growth Management Acts onto a signed form and will write one more check. Then they send me a piece of paper to hang on the wall and instructions on how to get a rubber stamp with my name on it. I am now minimally competent to practice landscape architecture.

It feels different. I didn't think it would. It's not that I feel smarter or better at what I do. I just feel justified in the eyes of others. It's like getting a varsity letter on your jacket. It doesn't show that you are necessarily good, just that you are good enough to make the team. Now the engineers and architects, who have no idea what is on the exams, will know that I jumped the hoops. They can't see my young face and ask me how college was last year. Even though landscape architecture is no longer a man's world, engineering, architecture and building still are and I need all the tricks and tools I can get to demand a little respect working with these guys.

I don't know what this means as far as my own job. I don't know if I get a raise. I think I'm getting new business cards. All I know for sure is that I just wrapped up a 12 hour day and things aren't getting less busy any time soon. I'm not sure why I didn't take the advice of the career counseling program at my high school that said I should find a job in the outdoors where I can work independently. It was so right! Alas, I am thankful for now that I have a job. Someday, maybe the National Park Service will find me knocking at their large, wooden, lodge door.

why not be inspired?

This morning I walked over to the office radio to switch over to coverage of the inauguration of our 44th President. My boss was sitting right by the radio and firmly told me, “No”. I paused, and with the tone of - did I hear what I just thought I heard - I asked, “No?” She said that not everyone is a fan and that we would have to listen to it tonight when we got home.

I went back to my chair and tuned in over the internet. What I heard was deeply inspiring. I didn’t hear politics, I didn’t hear rhetoric. It actually sounded like a sermon. A call to work instead of apathy. To repair instead of waste. To innovate instead of giving in. Obama actually told the Muslim world that we wanted to reach out, if they were willing to reach back. He said that we would work alongside poor nations to feed their hungry bodies and minds. Is this politics as usual? I don’t really think so. Why be against these things? I am going to let myself be inspired. I am going to let myself work harder and try to honor the innovative spirit that my great country is founded on.

Another coworker said that she didn’t listen to it and wasn’t interested because it is just the same old stuff that every administration says. I think those who dismiss this thing, this spirit that the entire world seems to be catching, as politics as usual, are exactly the problem. To dismiss an opportunity for a new start and to remain negative, divided and stubborn is the real failure of our nation. It is what will make these ideals really politics as usual. I’m not going to let pessimism and political grudges hold me back from moving forward with hope. Faith, hope and love.

how much is that designer?

No matter what is happening or not happening at my job, I always have my window. I have a more premium desk location than most middle managers, right next to floor to ceiling windows, on the street level. It sort of resembles the gorilla exhibit at Woodland Park. The place where the gorillas sit right next to the glass, doing their thing, acting oblivious to the humans staring in. I however, am not so oblivious. I work with a lot of large digital files, so there is quite a bit of spinning hourglass time while things process. Even if I am working away, I keep one eye out on the sidewalk.

It's a lot of fun, actually. It's like a life outside of my life that I can write the script to and develop the characters in. Most people that I see regularly, have nicknames. ___ ___ Guy. Or ___ ___ Lady. A lot of them are blatant stereotypes or culturally insensitive as far as Political Correctness goes. But this is the nature of people watching. Cute Tattooed Intern Guy is what he is. Bleachy Haired Jessica Simpson Girl looks made up and vaguely beautiful every day at 9:50 on her way to work in the salon supply store.

It is my tendency and my responsibility, really, to observe and appreciate my fellow man. And by fellow man, I mean men. My brothers in Christ. As a single girl, it is a veritable parade of lovely, hardworking, potential suitors all day long. Pleasant looking construction workers, cute graphic designers, dapper business men or intelligent looking scientists inhabit my workahood. A lot of them are young too, as a result of the sorts of companies this part of town attracts. I have considered many times, printing and posting a sort of personal ad on my window, telling men what I am looking for and how to apply. But whenever I get serious about it, some slummy, scary guy will walk by and gesture or stare. There would be no way to filter, and that seems like a lot to deal with.

So I continue to watch, like the neighborhood busybody, everything that goes on. Firetrucks, police, drug deals, deliveries, the trolley going by, bike wrecks on the trolley tracks, the trolley getting blocked by a parked delivery truck once a day... You never know whats going to happen next on Westlake. It's a wonder that I get as much done as I do.

tension

It's back on again at work. The deadlines, the working twice as fast as is comfortable, the headaches, the bad news that we keep winning new contracts. This time around, I am not as stressed. I am somehow able to limit the feelings to the work itself, and keep it all in perspective - this is only a parking lot, no one is going to die if I don't finish. In contrast to whats happening in Kenya or the Middle East what I do is like a day at the spa. They say that being busy at work helps the day go by faster. But when the day is done, then the next one goes fast, and then the next one. Well, then we're just doing nothing but getting older.

While I try my best to not let my blood pressure rise unless I'm exercising, I still feel some of the stress and how it collects in my shoulders and neck. Instead of exercising, which would be the all-around best solution, I have chosen other coping mechanisms more suited for winter. Mostly, I feel like eating or spending money. When I have to work overtime, I get time off for later. When I can't use my time off because there is too much work, the next best option is to spend the money that I made during regular hours. Clothing, furniture, DVDs, shoes or cocktails all seem to be a fair trade for being couped up in front of the computer. However, these pleasures are short lived and leave me riddled with guilt. To me, spending money is like spending your self respect. Every time I purchase something that isn't directly related to my survival, I see images of children living in poverty alongside the railroad tracks in India. I can't help it.

The other alternative is eating. Last night I stopped at Whole Foods and bought steak to make for dinner. I ate a half pound of steak, a small salad and then made a batch of cookie dough to follow. I probably ate 8 cookies worth of dough and then baked the rest. Today I feel sick.

I arrive back at exercise as the only good option for stress relief. Exercise will actually make me feel good instead of guilty or sick. Now if I only liked gyms or didn't mind running in the rain. Maybe I'll go take a quick walk right now for starters.

nine to five

I love this song by Dolly Parton. It's my recent life in a nutshell.

Tumble outta bed
And stumble to the kitchen
Pour myself a cup of ambition
Yawnin, stretchin, try to come to life
Jump in the shower
And the blood starts pumpin
Out on the streets
The traffic starts jumpin
And folks like me on the job from 9 to 5

Workin 9 to 5
What a way to make a livin
Barely gettin by
Its all takin
And no givin
They just use your mind
And they never give you credit
Its enough to drive you
Crazy if you let it

9 to 5, for service and devotion
You would think that i
Would deserve a fair promotion
Want to move ahead
But the boss wont seem to let me in
I swear sometimes that man is out to get me
Mmmmm...

They let your dream
Just a watch em shatter
Youre just a step
On the boss mans a ladder
But you got dream he'll never take away

On the same boat
With a lot of your friends
Waitin for the day
Your ship'll come in
And the tides gonna turn
An its all gonna roll you away

Workin 9 to 5
What a way to make a livin
Barely gettin by
Its all takin
And no givin
They just use your mind
And you never get the credit
Its enough to drive you
Crazy if you let it

going in on the weekends

I have blogger's block. This is a symptom of my life being really quite dull lately. I had to work Saturday and spent most of Sunday feeling guilty for not being at work more. My well-groomed work flow was suddenly upended Friday and now I have more things to do than I like. I haven't traveled anywhere since last November and I haven't been to the mountains since early September. Surfing is out of the question when the temperature drops below 60. I'm trying to turn my cabin fever into positive cabin relaxation time. At least I have a good book to read (Three Cups of Tea) and some fun sewing projects wrapping up.

I also just saw the play 'To Kill a Mockingbird,' which made me cry. I was thinking afterwards that I have never experienced racial injustice like what happens in the story. The closest thing might be some unfairness because I am a woman. Even that has been very subtle, which is something to be thankful for. There is a hip, young church here in the city which preaches the most infuriatingly false ideas about a woman's role in this world and her proper relationship to men and her children. I first heard a sermon from this place online and just about ran through the wall I was so mad. The others I have listened to since were just as awful. The feeling I get when I hear this man proclaim my inferiority must be similar to what one feels when being put down for their race. It's a beastly world sometimes, but To Kill a Mockingbird is a great story about 'getting inside someone else's skin and walking around in it for a while.' If only I would stop and do that before I open my big mouth everyday. Maybe I can work on that over the long winter since little else is going on.

can't believe my eyes

During the last half of August and most of September I didn't listen to music on the bus. Or read novels. Or look out the window feeling happy to see the seasons. I studied. I read textbooks that I should have read in college, but didn't because I refused to buy textbooks after my first two years. I was trying to make my way through a book list provided by the Council of Landscape Architectural Registration Boards, which is a useless society of folks that charge unfit sums of money to administer (rather poorly) exams to license people who have already graduated with degrees from accredited university programs. I had to sit for my first of five sections of the L.A.R.E. exam on September the 18th.

The test was really difficult to study for, the subject matter as broad as my entire education. I studied on the bus, but not much more than that since I was busy hiking and surfing and playing tennis. I took the test, and felt horrible about it. I looked up some of the questions which I had trouble with and determined that I had for sure missed 8 of 90 questions. How many more did I miss that I wasn't sure about? I knew I had failed. It seemed that they were actually trying to trick us instead of find out what we knew. I was so upset and annoyed that I had wasted $222 dollars at a time that I owe doctors a lot more than that. I had to wait four weeks to find out that I had failed for sure.

Thursday morning I got the email telling me that the scores were available online. I went to the website nervous and filled with dread. I tried to log on, but the server was busy. I tried for 7 hours more until I finally logged in without timing out (thank you CLARB for the stellar $222 service). The last click which would bring my results up took 5.5 minutes to load. The suspense was terrible and I had to leave and go to the restroom. I got back, waited one more minute, and then POW. There it was. PASS. I rubbed my eyes, sat stunned and then started jumping up and down in the office. I had passed, through some stroke of luck. I am now 1/5 of the way to calling myself a 'Landscape Architect', which you can't do in the state of Washington without passing all 5, beastly, expensive sections. One down, four to go.

I celebrated yesterday by going to the ocean to surf. The sun was warm, and the sky blue. Somehow the surf report which predicted a 6 foot swell was about half way correct. There were actually 12 foot, perfect waves similar to what you might see in Hawaii on a surfing movie. Biggest waves I have ever seen in Washington. Throw in an offshore wind and you have a surfer's dream. These of course were way too big for me, so I spent the day floundering about in the whitewater and trying to see if Eric, my 6'3" surfing partner du jour, who can actually catch waves like that, was having the best day of his life. It felt like June out there and even if the surf was terrible for me, a day in the water is better than most any other kind of day.

yuppie rail vs. monorail

I still love the monorail. I walk along 5th Ave as often as possible just to be near it and experience the thrilling whoosh as it glides overhead, free from traffic and stoplights, carrying joyful tourists singing in unison. Or at least taking photos and smiling because it's so fun to ride. It actually sells enough tickets to pay for itself, it's that cool.

The whole new, failed monorail situation a couple years ago really tarnished its fun-loving image. It is quieter than a bus, faster than light rail, and safer for all forms of transportation sharing the roadway. How many accidents will there be between Sound Transit's light rail and unsuspecting cyclists, drivers and pedestrians pushing strollers and leaning on walkers? I fear there may be many.

Outside my office on Westlake Ave, the workers have progressed to the final smoothing and cleaning of the new South Lake Union Trolley (S.L.U.T.). It's about to open! What a thrill. I know people will just line up to wait 15 minutes to take a trolley that goes 9 mph, stops at lights and will take them the distance of a 30 minute walk to really interesting places like the Fred Hutch cancer research center and Hooters.

I know what you are thinking. She is just bitter that the S.L.U.T. knocked her teeth out and really it's going to be a great thing for the city. It is true that I am bitter, but not that it's going to be a great thing. I predict that no one is going to ride it. And if they do, it will be with a transfer slip or bus pass that they already paid for. How will we ever make up the $51 million that it took to build it? Luckily we only had to pay for half of it as taxpayers. And at least it will be cute, which I believe is the real reason it was built in the first place. To dress up the neighborhood formerly known for its prostitution, light industry and free parking. At least from my future desk by the window at work, I will be able to see it slide by - just before it stops for the light at Denny Way - looking stylish as she goes!

a potpourri of good tidings

A tunnel, with some light at the end of it, has appeared. My appointment last Thursday was good. Good because he didn't tighten my wires. And good because I get to be opened up 2 days early! Less than 9 full days from now, I will be free. Free of the wires anyway. The row of daggers has to stay for another week. But! I can talk, eat, brush, sing, lick and yawn once again. I finally feel like this portion of my tragedy is coming to an end. Surely, getting new teeth could never be this oppressive.

I also had a review at work last week. My managers all wrote nice things about me and said I was good. I got a raise and a promise that I am now on the fast track for project management. There is room, apparently, for project management because everyone at the top is moving on up. I told my boss I wanted to do it, and she said she thought I could handle it. This, if it pans out of course, would put me a couple years farther down my 'career path' right now. Control is something I like, so bring it. And my sweet little one dollar an hour raise.

The last piece of pleasant news was that I was invited at the last minute to go to Vashon Island with Melissa to her boyfriend's parent's vacation house. It was my first time on the Island and I couldn't believe how island-like it was, so close to the city! We went, I napped and we returned. Well, we also watched a movie, had rootbeer floats, walked the beach and sat in many different comfortable chairs.

My energy levels are that of an 80 year old security guard and have been since I stopped eating. This weekend made me feel like I was doing something active, despite what it really was. I know that when I can eat again, I will jump though the very roof with energy. I will run and swim and pull weeds like I haven't in years. I am a few pounds lighter and 100,000x more excited to be an active person again. You won't be able to sit me down, shut me up, or feed me enough for some time.

overtime

When I tell people that I am a landscape architect, most of the time they ask me if I get to spend a lot of time outside. They are surprised (as I still often am) that I get out of the office about half-yearly. The landscape that I see most looks like this picture.

During these dark times of working 9 to 9, I realize how much I would rather be outside. For now, I have to keep my head down and focus on the comp time that I am earning and that fine day when I cash in and go to the ocean instead of the office.

1/2 the fun is getting there

My journey to work is a colorful experience each day. You never know who is going to sit next to you on the Number 2 or how they might smell. Sometimes I wonder if I can hold my breath for the last 18 minutes of the journey. I am usually the first or second person on the bus. At 33rd we pick up 4 nice ladies that all sit in the front and say hello and smile to the rest of the ladies who sit up there. By 20th, the bus is full and and people always make room for the guy with the little 2 year old in his arms.

The bus goes by the Department of Immigration where at least 50 people are waiting outside in a long line every morning. After the full 35 minutes, I arrive at Bell and 2nd. I make my way on foot down Bell Street past the Dog Town Lounge. Here the dogs do not wait in line, but head right in for doggie play time and certified massage therapy. I try to keep from growling at the chihuahuas wearing sweaters in the window pen. The walk is the best part of my trip and I try to take a few extra deep breaths of outside air before arriving at 215 Westlake. I am never ready to turn off my music and get to work, but so it goes.

opening day

I woke at 6:15 and got in the shower. I dug deep into the bottom of my shoe bin for my sensible career woman shoes and cut the tags off of my new clothes. I packed myself up and went out for the bus.

Upon arrival at work, Ryan showed me around and got me logged on. I read some manuals and set up my CAD workspace. Then I started some billable work on Photoshop, relieved to find that I still had skills. The day was fine! Not horrible. Not great. I think it's going to be a good job as far as jobs go. I haven't even thought about the other firms (except for when I thought I was only going to get 5 days of vacation, which would be the death of me. luckily, I asked, and we worked it out for 10).

Day three of working has come and gone. The office has been devoid of surprises and I feel totally comfortable there already. There are 9 of us in total and everyone is pleasant. Plus 2 people who work the marketing and books. My computer is nice, there are supplies and someone else answers the phone. There are lots of projects coming in and I should be nice and busy. What more does a person need?

This past weekend, my sister and I visited the new Olympic Sculpture Park, which is also starting out new. I was skeptical of the park after seeing some drawings and a little bitter that a New York firm got to design it. I am not the biggest sculpture fan and the design seemed so plain and angled. Even so, I couldn't deny the fact that the design is good. The materials, the variety of spaces and how it all flows. It's good. The red Eagle sculpture has never looked better in its new home. And with the Olympic mountains stealing the show on such a sunny day, how could it be bad?

I also really enjoyed the company of my sister and asked her why we don't hang out more often. There is no reason. Time to change that.

i cry freedom

The sun has set on my life as I have known it for the last 13 months. I must say goodbye to the fulfilled woman I have become. I began this past year of retirement as a shell of sorts. My dreams and passion had waned with each passing day at the office until I couldn't take it anymore. I had to save myself. Since I have been away, I have refilled. My soul feels alert and free and my interests in life renewed. I have rediscovered the novel, seen new places, learned to sew better, to cook better and found that I never get bored when in charge of myself. I have lived the dream; retirement in your 20's. Everyday since I quit my last job has been the best day of my life. That means today is the best day of my life.

Tomorrow, I am not so sure about. I will be catching the 7:34 bus and transferring for the 8:07 bus. I will meet my co-workers, my desk, my W-4 form, my printers, my kitchenette and my computer. This could all be very exciting, if it wasn't for this mournful feeling I have lingering in my stomach. The culmination of so many hopes and dreams has gloriously passed, and now I must start again. New hopes and dreams. New ways of living. People telling me what to do and when to be somewhere.

Perhaps it won't be so bad. Maybe the discipline and productivity will be thrilling. I will get to use and develop my skills. I could love it! Let's hope so.

So tonight we celebrate with a toast. Then to bed on time to prepare for life as a worker, the way it's intended to be on this earth. No tears. No tears.

Me on one of our last nights in Thailand, which coincidentally feels a lot like tonight.

this is the end, my only friend, the end

They tell you not to take your first job offer, but I have done it anyway for the second time. I am no longer a free-flying, dreaming, blissful, drifter on funemployment. Well, not after the 26th of January anyway. I am the newest support staff member of Hough Beck and Baird. I negotiated, deliberated and ended up not being able to think of a reason not to take this offer. HBB is a 10 person firm doing a big variety of public and commercial work. I think it will be a good place. I think I will be busy, valued and learn a lot.

I had a difficult time picking up that phone and making the acceptance call. Commitment is more difficult the less you already have of it. It came down to me remembering something my brother said about marriage. That you could go on asking 'what if', forever. At some point you just make a decision to love a person, and do it. I wonder about those other firms. If their offers in January would have been better. No matter now, I am moving forward with the best I have. I have made a decision to be at HBB and will be there. At least for a few years. This is less serious than marriage. Thankfully.














Things will never be as easy as they were, right then, in Vietnam.