Skip to main content

How things work out.

Interesting day; mundane post. Apologies up front.

Today: I worked, I met up with Parker & Kial for lunch and had a lovely time, I worked out, I napped, I led a meeting, I came home, and I blogged. Er, am blogging. Whatever. Epiphanies were also had, and choices may be in motion.

Read on:


I've realized in the last few days that it may really be time I start moving on from the store I've been working at and maybe from retail in general. (NO WAY!!! REALLY!?! what a twist.)

I've discovered while working at Macy's how much happier I am with a set, stable schedule. I feel like I can rely on my day to day energy level and effort and motivation and productivity better. I feel less freaked out about getting to or from work because it's the same things at the same times--habits, even--that get me there day after day. My life just feels so much more anchored and orderly and unflustering than it is when my schedule is all kindsa erratic. Maybe it's just me, maybe it's people generally, but, speaking for myself at least, this really seems to be a more comfortable, manageable way to live.

I don't know what this will mean, specifically, except that I will probably start looking for jobs with more defined, established schedule-type-things.

I doubt I will, at this time anyway, entirely give up on my store--there're still lessons to be learned and fun to be had--I just don't want to be as dependent on it as I have been. Right now, my life more or less revolves around it. It is (excepting these few weeks I will have worked at Macy's) my sole source of income; whether I take on extra shifts or don't get called in can vastly alter the size of my paycheck. Right now, it stakes out my whole week; I do not know from week to week if I will be able to go do that particular thing I like doing with my friends or whether I will be indentured at work for the evening. Right now, it owns my soul; I've handed over my self-esteem, my time, my purpose in life, and in so doing have erased boundaries and objectivity in my decision-making process at work.

Knowing this--or feeling as strongly as I've come to feel about this stuff for the time being--I don't necessarily feel any maddening rush. Naturally, the sooner the fucking better, but frankly it's given me a sense of ease, one could even say "stillness". I feel like what will come to be will come to be, and I don't need to go rushing rashly into anything as an escape from this horrible present.

Things seem clearer--that's it, I think. If only slightly, there seems to be less of that terrible murkiness clouding my perspective. I think that's why I feel relieved. I may not know exactly what I want to do next, but I have an idea what I'm looking for and that has helped me see the sorts of things that can help me find it. So no more of this rabbit-on-the-run feeling.

This took form in the last day or so as I talked to my friends and family about it. Imagine that; talking. To other people. About what's in my head. And, to a greater than lesser extent, listening to their advice, their impressions,--heaven forbid--their suggestions.

And you know something? I think it's kinda helped :)

Comments

Other things that might interest you...

This moment: A tattoo.

So I read Mrs. Dalloway in high school, and it was perhaps the most beautiful thing I'd ever read. One passage in particular, very early in the book, hit me hard with my first experience of the sublime, and stayed with me—and led at last to my first tattoo.
In people’s eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June.  (Emphasis added; full paragraph included below. From the full text of the novel as made available by the University of Adelaide.)

The paragraph this is from, the 4th paragraph of the novel, is the 1st passage with the stream of consciousness the book is famous for; although self-limited here, the flow is no less gorgeous. In the passage, Clarissa is walking on a street to get those famous flowers herse…

Losing Doolittle.

I recently got to spend a few days at the lake house my family used to visit through most of my childhood; we no longer own it, and it turns out I missed it more deeply than I realized.

Anthony and I both got the week before NYC Pride off this year, so I contrived to get us a little time there. The cousins who own Greenshore gave Anthony and me permission to relax there for several days rather than just the 1 or 2 I had expected. Good god, I'm grateful for that.

I missed this place. Standing on the balcony, the porch, or the dock and looking out over the lake, I was reminded of the beauty and tranquility this lake represents for me. The meaning and memories, too.

This was always a place of solace and stability for me. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but we always came back to this place. It had been in our family for generations before I was even born—if we'd been able to keep it, it would have been a solid 4 generations including mine. This was where I figured out I w…

Gardenzia carnivorus.

I recently got back into horticulture after a bad moment of burnout, and wouldn't ya know it, I'm back at it with carnivorous plants! Despite tweeting about it endlessly, I haven't actually explained how or why this started.

Back in middle school, I helped my science teacher set up a carnivorous plant display. Nothing elaborate, mind you; a terrarium with a bunch of sphagnum moss and some pitcher plants, a sundew or two, maybe a Venus flytrap? Didn't leave much of an impression, except maybe that they died and that sucked. shrug.
A couple years later, I was in a bog near my grandmother's lake house, when things changed forever. I was in the back end of the canoe, and as my dad pulled the front end out of the water, I glanced to my right and spied, on a stump with some moss, sundews (Drosera rotundifolia, to be precise).
Of course I recognized therm instantly—they're hard to mistake, with those the sparkling tentacles and all. I gathered 3 or so of them (I know