FML

Well, I still have a job. I'm conflicted about it -- it's stressing me right the hell out, and it's not meeting my needs anymore (and that's totally my fault), but. It pays well, and the bennies are fabulous. I guess I need to figure out how to meet my work needs elsewhere? I mean, lots of people work jobs that don't inspire them just for the money. And the work I need to do to feel purpose doesn't pay (and I work for a not for profit -- think about what i'm saying here and weep), so unless I hit the lottery, I need to learn to suck it up, do my job, and just deal.

It's also the height of yarn crawl season. But I have a job and it pays money, so...yay?

AND WE'RE ONLY HALFWAY THROUGH.

I'm going to be so poor, aren't I? But...yarn makes me happy. Yarn and Rex and Olaf and home and tea.

Which leads me around to the topic I need to write out. Life, living it, what I want out of living it, and where I want my focus to fall. I follow lots of dogs on Instagram, and lately two of them have become sick with cancer and are either still keepin' on keepin' on, or have been let go for their comfort and happiness, and it's ridiculous how much I'm grieving over dogs I've never met, never will meet, and how this grief is distracting me from the dog I have sleeping right next to me.

In order to preserve my mental health (stop laughing), I'm going to have to stop with the Instagram, like I stopped with Facebook. I can't handle it; the immediacy and false intimacy of seeing into people's lives that way.

I mean, I'm sorry for those dog's humans. But it just reminds me that I need to focus on Rex, and enjoy Rex today, because tomorrow is no guarantee.

Even though he just let out a fart like you would not believe, he is my sweet baboo. I want to enjoy him -- and my life, such as it is -- while I have him (and it), and I don't think modern social media is conducive to that. She writes in her blog, but let's be honest, I'm my only audience. No one reads blogs anymore. So it's more like a journal, a place to organize my thoughts, and therefore is a safe space in which to write them, air them out, feel the shape of them on my fingers and understand if they fit me or not.

Humans are visual beings, and I think it's that window into the other people's lives, the photographs, the videos...they give you an immediacy and a feeling like you know them. But you don't. You can't, not at the level of interaction Insta or FB give you, you have to reach out and communicate in other, deeper ways, but that illusion is still there. And I think it is that illusion that is what is distracting me from the joys in my own life.

Even if that joy just farted AGAIN. Ugh. What are we feeding him?!?!?

Celebrate with me!

I apologize for that truly awful picture, but hey! That glass you can barely see behind the cupcake (which is the pertinent item in this photo) has some lovely, lovely blackberry wine in it. A little less now than was there ten minutes ago, but still. It's going to affect a body's ability to work a camera, you know?

I got promoted! With all attendant banners and extra money and stuff. I'll get more deets later, but the gist of the whole thing is this: They created a new position at my current workplace that actually relates to one of my degrees, sounds like a blast and is (and this is important) still at the same place where I work now and love.

I applied, interviewed that afternoon and got hired same afternoon. Then I had to wait until this morning to fill out the papers, but still. That's the fastest I've gotten anywhere ever.

This morning I did have a brief moment of Oh, my Dog, what did I just do?!?!? It took me a while to come to the realization that, like the guy in Ikea, I got this. I'm terrified and it will take a long time to get accustomed to the new shape of my life, but...I got this.

Now, if you'll pardon me, there is a cupcake on my desk, and I most desperately want to get that.

Dear Blog, I love you.

Truly, madly, deeply.

I was updating my resume tonight, and I needed the dates of when I got which jobs. I would be totally hosed trying to remember that on my own.But Bloggie was there for me! Bloggie had the information!

I love you Bloggie. I will try to visit more often.

But now -- after the taxing effort of updating my resume and emailing it to myself at work -- my mortal form has grown weak. I need sustenance.

I'm thinkin'....sunflower seed butter and jelly sandwich, chips and then a slice of apple pie to finish?

I lost a Twizzle!

I lost one of my twizzles! I went to The Nieceling's band concert (she had a piccolo solo! W00t!), and dropped it in the auditorium.

Oh, well. Not my favorite color, and I'll consider it an offering to the knitting gods. Or something.

And I did not take knitting to The Phew's concert, two days later. He did not have a solo, but he was one of two in the percussion section who played every piece -- the others got rotated out as the music demanded. I'm so proud of them both for their musical achievements.

In other news, less than a full week before The Hobbit is in theaters. I can go at midnight, if I want. That was in doubt, you see.

I interviewed a few weeks ago for a FT job. At the place I've been temping? The one that lets me knit at the desk and read and stuff like that when I'm not busy with my duties? They were talking about hiring someone to be there a few weeks before the calendar change (when the woman who has the job now is retiring) so the new hire would have time to sit with her and learn the ropes. So I didn't want to buy a ticket to a midnight showing of The Hobbit because what if they hired me? I'd maybe be working by then, and a midnight showing of a 2 1/2 hour movie and an 8 o'clock start time at work don't mix. Not even a little bit.

So I waited two weeks to hear back, thinking this place would be one that would call me if I didn't get the job -- they're good like that, very respectful of others, and letting someone know they can stop waiting for a call is only polite, yes? They didn't call and they didn't call, so I called, and lo and behold they had been going to call me that same day to offer me the job. Then they sent me an offer letter, a thing with which I am unfamiliar. I signed and sent it back, though, as I'm told is the custom. It's more common in educational circles than in the ones I've been swirling around in, and sort of cool. Don't worry, I'm smart enough about USPS to have made a copy for just in case.

But I don't start until January. I guess they think I know what I'm doing well enough to let me start after herself moves on to sleeping in. Or whatever she has plans to do, I'm not sure.

So, I've got a new job, I still get to see The Hobbit at midnight, and I lost a Twizzle. Life is weird, but sorta ok right now, you know?

Wooohoooo! Take that, angry Dream Nieceling!

I did some actual work today!

Granted, I wasn't writing the story itself, per se, but I was filling in some chunks in the plotting part. I'm at a point plot-wise, that's about...mmm, three quarters of the way through? Give or take a smidge? Hey, it's moving the story forward, and that's got to be worth something.

I am so pleased I could spit. Which would be rude, so I will refrain. I'm just going to hop off this computer, take up my for-fun reading and have an hour of peace and quiet to myself.

Ah, lovely.

And today's gratuitous picture of peace and harmony:

This is a picture of the inner courtyard

at The Cloisters, NYC.

Beautiful museum, worth the trip.

I'd have posted sooner...

but it's been so long since I've worked more than, say, 15 hours a week that I feel like I have no time to do anything.

Of course, that might also be because I spent all day yesterday out of the house (work for my pseudosister, work for the temp job -- which I'm really enjoying, by the way, -- then went to the movies with a friend). I hate that, you know. Not going home. Waking up, running out and staying out until bedtime. It makes me feel...crowded.

Anyway, here's what I wanted to work on yesterday, but didn't have the time for:

I finished the knitting part Monday at coven. I'm getting ready for the 'complicated' part now. I just have to pick my colors and go.

I think I'll get off the computer, throw my laundry in the dryer (it's in the washing machine now) and then sit to my knitting. I go to bed early again -- since my new wake-up time is 6 in the freakin' am (and what the hell sort of time-of-day do you call that?!?!) I go to bed early every night nowadays.

I'm not sure how I feel about it. I'm really not.

But tomorrow is my easy day -- volunteer obligations are more fun than strenuous -- so I'm hoping it's actually a pretty good day. I'll be napping when I get home, anyway. No laundry, nowhere to go after I get home at 3:30, nothin' on the calendar.

Ahhh. It's like a cool, clean pool on a nasty hot summer's day!

I hate it when the weather changes.

 

 It's the start of orange tree season! I loves me some orange trees.

 

Not that I don't like new weather. I do, I love new weather -- particularly when we arrive at the beginning of  Supposed To Be Cold season (we have two seasons in these parts, Supposed To Be Cold and Supposed To Be Warm, which is why I always laugh when someone says they won't move south when they retire because they "like having seasons." What seasons, for the love of qiviut?!?!?) I love the first half of Supposed To Be Cold. But the change, the actual process of going from STBW to STBC, gives me headaches. I've been battling a rather nasty one today, as a matter of fact. As I was trying to function and write despite the feeling that my head was being slammed repeatedly in a metal drawer, I realized my tolerance for pain has radically dropped since I had my wisdom teeth pulled. The magic of the little brownish pink pills has made me weak, I suppose. So I began  to frantically toss my desk drawer like a robber on the clock, looking for my bottle of magic beans. No love. I start moving things on the shelf of my desk complex where my drive sits, trying to find the bottle. Again, no love. I knew there were some pills in my purse (insurance against facial swelling from days of old), so I got one out, swallowed it and came back to my desk to await the magic.

And then I just about slapped myself silly. Here's my desk as it was this afternoon (taken only moments ago; I swear I haven't touched anything but the sticky note pads):

Oh, my. What could that ever be sitting right in front of my monitor?

Maybe I should have slapped myself. Not that it would help, the Advil is helping (my headache is no longer pounding, it just feels like my sinuses have been filled with lead shot), but slapping myself around would not help. I will blame the loopiness on the pain. Yeah, that's it, the pain. Because I'm totally not blonde or anything like that. *facepalm*

In other news, the work situation may be looking marginally more hopeful today. I just have to not screw up an interview I've got on Friday and hope for the best possible outcomes. Which is, really, all anyone can do -- hope for the best possible outcomes. Control is a seductive illusion, and giving it up is hard, hard, so very, very hard to do. But I understand that, while I can control myself and my reactions, I cannot control others or their reactions, either to me or other events.

I hate that aspect of life.

I also got some work done on one of my fiction projects. Precious little else to do today, really. I've got that and a non-fiction project in process, and a second fiction project that's on hold until I get my first one done. It's a trope that your first fully-realized piece of fiction sucks, and I want to get that out of the way before I work on the one that I really, truly love. In the hopes that it won't suck, if you see. I figure I can use any help I can get when it comes to writer juju and rituals.

Writers are very superstitious, you see. I suppose all artists are. Because we know, deep down in our heart of hearts, the art isn't coming from us. We're just transcriptionists of something that floats out in the ether. So we do all we can to raise the best antennae we can muster and hope we get the best signals to transcribe.

Despite the fact that I've been worrying myself sick and cross-eyed the past three or four days, I managed to get some work done on Little Loki. I'd show you, but seriously, do you need to see three more inches of left-leaning mesh? If you do, might I recommend therapy, because, dang, that's strange. I mean, it's my scarf and even I'm having trouble working up enthusiasm for looking at any more left leaning mesh.

But I'm thisclose to getting to the end of the left leaning mesh (and, oh, the parties we'll have then, my friends) and finally, finally!, gaining the tail section, which is chocka-block full of beady, stockinette goodness. And then the cast off. And then the blocking and the wearing. *shudder*

Is it wrong of me to feel more enthused about wearing my Little Loki scarf than I ever have at the thought of an actual man? I know I'm a yarn pervert, but I hadn't realized how much of a yarn pervert I was. Then again, I can honestly say that Little Loki is absolutely perfect for me -- seeing as how I designed him (well, took the transcription on the coolest scarf inspired by a movie villain ever) and then made him my very own self -- which is more than I can say for the poor guys who had to endure my presence in the years I was pretending to be Little Miss Business Suit.

I wonder if I can send them apology cards after all this time, that had to have been a trial....

I did something I rarely do today....

I cleaned my desk.

I got a new file box and new pencil holder and just went ballistic on the dust and (shaming to admit, but it's true) cobwebs and cleaned it all up. Now I've got more space again. Well, it helps that I actually did my filing today instead of just piling it up and waiting for the filing fairy to visit. Little tramp, she never comes to my house.

So now I have a tidy workspace and all kinds of room to work. Let's see if I actually use it, shall we?

In other news, I'm doing another something I rarely do: Charity Knitting. I don't like to knit for others, I always feel I'm imposing on them to accept my work. Leftover emotional baggage from childhood. Whatever. But this month one of my Ravelry groups is doing a charity knit along. Since I'm a mod, I felt beholden to join in the festivities. Sheesh.

Here's the yarn I bought:

 Royal blue and

soft blue in my favorite acrylic.

Now I just have to get down to, you know, knitting my blanket squares. I've decided to knit squares for the Afghans for Pine Ridge Reservation project. It seemed a good fit: I'm crap at hats, baby blankets are just too long and dull for me to get into at present, but 6" or 1' squares...I can do those all day. That's basically a glorified swatch, and the product gets used to keep people who really got the short end of many, many sticks (which were generally stuck into their eyes, but that's an argument for another day) warm in winter.

Which, as a chill-prone person myself, is an excellent goal. People should be kept warm. I can help do that!

Like a boss.

Here's what I did today:

Those recently submitted items? All today.

So like a boss.

And now I'm off to bed as I have to be up at unnatural-thirty tomorrow to help my friend with her garage sale. At least I've got the tables stashed in my car already, all I have to do is get myself in order, get some caffeine for both of us and breakfast and get there in one piece.

I cannot wait for Sunday. I have nothing at all to do on Sunday except...read. Knit. Enjoy my time freely. Sigh. Loverly.

Prodding buttock.

I actually had a good working day today. I got five articles written in good time and with little strain, which is my proposed daily target. Now, if only I can do the same over and over and over again, ad nauseam!

In more cheerful news, I've made progress on the cheap and cheerful Turkish Flaw:

The wad of yarn on the right there isn't as big as you think it is. It's the innermost bit of yarn, probably no more than an eighth of the skein, that's gotten loose as I've unwound it. The scarf itself is maybe about three feet long, so it's a good thing I decided to get that second skein. I like my scarves long.

Long scarves with long tassels. For some reason, the combination makes me giddy stupid happy.

The title of the post? It's a Terry Pratchett reference. At some point in one of the Night Watch books, Sam Vimes says something along the line of, "We're not kicking arse, but we are at least prodding buttock." A saying which in and of itself makes me giddy cheerful.

Anyway, it's been a quiet week for me thus far. I've written seven of a proposed 15 articles so far (I even worked on a Monday; I must be getting stronger), I knitted outside of knitting coven and otherwise have just been keeping my head down. That'll probably be the entire course of my week, if I can keep it up.

I'm not sure about the working or the knitting, I'm really just hoping I can keep out of trouble. I seem to have a disturbing talent for finding it.