I've been contemplating changing jobs recently, for a few reasons.
First, I have been at the same job for about six years now, and it has become a little monotonous, to say the least. I feel challenged in all the wrong ways--as in, it's a challenge to put my best foot forward. It's a challenge to not tell a particular co-worker how big of a d-bag he is on an hourly basis. It's a challenge to not bring home all my stress and frustration and take it out on the people I like.
Second, I have the advantage of not having a lot of daily stress in my personal life (i.e. kids). Bob has said that if I want to change jobs, now's the time to do it, and I suppose I agree. Obviously I would secure a job first before quitting my current one, but the idea of such a big change makes me anxious regardless. The older I get, the more resistant I am to change in my routine and change in my life. But I need to make a change, or I will become a miserable settler. No one wins with that.
Third, I'm not positive that mental health is my life's calling. And even if it turns out it actually is, I'm not sure that working with adults is where I want to stay. I've never really had a "serious" job that dealt much with children or adolescents...what would that be like? I would love to have a job where I didn't have to really think all that much or use any of my vocational skills whatsoever for maybe just a few months. But I would eventually rejoin a level of job that matches my educational resume a little better. But I think that few months' break would be awesome. Kind of like a vacation away from real responsibility.
I've been contemplating a change of jobs for a little while now, maybe a few weeks, and funnily enough I have yet to even look on a job website. I think that would signal real movement towards something new taking place, and I'm still a little apprehensive. However, I do read the job classifieds in the newspaper every Wednesday, and let me just say: the pickings are slim.
Soapbox moment, brought to you in part by Bob:
No matter how insignificant you feel the work you're doing is, you're still an active, contributing member of society and therefore you are valuable in some way.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
What the hell is a "pregnant pause??"
I had a dream last night that I was pregnant. I think it's my subconscious's way of making my life a little more difficult and unsure. Explanation: Being knee deep in both short- and long-term goals for house projects have recently caused me to rethink my longtime, predetermined timeline of parenthood.
I always said I wanted to try for kids after my 30th birthday, which happens to be next year. To me, turning 30 is a big deal and has always seemed as such; I'm even taking a trip to Key West to celebrate this tremendous milestone! For one thing, I will usher in a brand new decade in my life in which I get to face a whole boatload of possibilities while drawing experience and wisdom (hopefully!) from all the good and bad of my twenties. And, as mentioned above, turning 30 has always been my cue to grow up, get more serious about my life's goals and punch out some kids if I choose to do so.
Naturally, getting older means my time has come to face such things as home improvement projects, budgeting, a mortgage, maintaining a nice yard, landscaping design, and other major expenses. Just the other day, I perused the Home Depot ad looking for a good deal on an edger. I also priced out a leafblower. In general, I've replaced malls and bar-hopping with Lowes and leaf-mulching.
With all the items on our to-do list and with all the financial weight that having kids carries, I'm not so sure anymore about my foolproof plan of getting knocked up at age 30. I've always wanted kids...three, to be exact, but I compromised with Bob and will settle for two. But just the other day, while I was in my fifth hour of working in the yard, and Bob was in his fifth hour of working on his car, I realized that if we had kids, I wouldn't have been able to do 5 hours of yard work; I might not have been able to do 5 minutes of yard work. This wasn't the first time the thought's crossed my mind.
I used to look at a couples without kids with some confusion...why wouldn't they want children? Doesn't life seem empty and meaningless without kids to raise? Isn't procreation inherently in everyone's blood? Clearly all families are different. Now that I'm older and I have to make my money reach farther, the idea of living my own life childless isn't so far-fetched of a concept.
And, to add even more so to the burden of making a decision, there is an expiration date for women to pop out the babies; I've declared age 34 as my "sell by" date. I am a very firm believer in a woman taking responsibility and deciding she does or does not want kids by a certain age so as to decrease the incidence of birth defects as much as possible. [If I ever met Geena Davis or Mariah Carey, I would have a few choice words for them and remind them of how lucky they are to have millions of dollars to use toward fertility aides, since they selfishly decided to wait until their forties to get knocked up.] You men have it so good, you have no idea. You can be fathers at age 65...not that I know anyone besides Larry King who would want that, but it's still true.
I know I still have plenty of time to make a firm decision about whether or not to have children. But I sure wish I felt more decisive about it; at least I could know whether or not I should start putting away money now for braces and daycare.
[my soap box moment]
I always said I wanted to try for kids after my 30th birthday, which happens to be next year. To me, turning 30 is a big deal and has always seemed as such; I'm even taking a trip to Key West to celebrate this tremendous milestone! For one thing, I will usher in a brand new decade in my life in which I get to face a whole boatload of possibilities while drawing experience and wisdom (hopefully!) from all the good and bad of my twenties. And, as mentioned above, turning 30 has always been my cue to grow up, get more serious about my life's goals and punch out some kids if I choose to do so.
Naturally, getting older means my time has come to face such things as home improvement projects, budgeting, a mortgage, maintaining a nice yard, landscaping design, and other major expenses. Just the other day, I perused the Home Depot ad looking for a good deal on an edger. I also priced out a leafblower. In general, I've replaced malls and bar-hopping with Lowes and leaf-mulching.
With all the items on our to-do list and with all the financial weight that having kids carries, I'm not so sure anymore about my foolproof plan of getting knocked up at age 30. I've always wanted kids...three, to be exact, but I compromised with Bob and will settle for two. But just the other day, while I was in my fifth hour of working in the yard, and Bob was in his fifth hour of working on his car, I realized that if we had kids, I wouldn't have been able to do 5 hours of yard work; I might not have been able to do 5 minutes of yard work. This wasn't the first time the thought's crossed my mind.
I used to look at a couples without kids with some confusion...why wouldn't they want children? Doesn't life seem empty and meaningless without kids to raise? Isn't procreation inherently in everyone's blood? Clearly all families are different. Now that I'm older and I have to make my money reach farther, the idea of living my own life childless isn't so far-fetched of a concept.
And, to add even more so to the burden of making a decision, there is an expiration date for women to pop out the babies; I've declared age 34 as my "sell by" date. I am a very firm believer in a woman taking responsibility and deciding she does or does not want kids by a certain age so as to decrease the incidence of birth defects as much as possible. [If I ever met Geena Davis or Mariah Carey, I would have a few choice words for them and remind them of how lucky they are to have millions of dollars to use toward fertility aides, since they selfishly decided to wait until their forties to get knocked up.] You men have it so good, you have no idea. You can be fathers at age 65...not that I know anyone besides Larry King who would want that, but it's still true.
I know I still have plenty of time to make a firm decision about whether or not to have children. But I sure wish I felt more decisive about it; at least I could know whether or not I should start putting away money now for braces and daycare.
[my soap box moment]
Saturday, April 2, 2011
A life or death situation
Since we get the newspaper at work, I usually read it every day. My go-to section used to be the "Extra" section with the comics, advice columns, 'Let It Out' and crossword. Now my go-to section is the "Metro," which contains the local news.
Day after day, I read about some dead body being found in an alley or someone who was shot on the street. After that, I go to the obituaries and glance through them to see if there are any familiar names. I also tend to observe the ages of the deceased. Obviously, most of the departed are above age 60 or 70, but sometimes I'll see a 25 year-old or a 16 year-old or an infant. This past week, I read about a 29 year-old graduate from Lawrence North High School who died in a car accident on his way to Spring Break.
With the recent passing of Officer David Moore, a guy who had been in my high school class, it really hit me how a person could exist one day and then be gone the next. It wasn't that I was even close to him or friends with him in high school. It was the fact that he was my age and I had interacted with him at a point in my life. It was the fact that he was a police officer, an occupation that I admire and highly respect, though I would never choose that job for myself, my children, or my spouse. The thin line between life and death is probably more evident in a job such as his, but even your "innocent bystander" can be here one day and gone in an instant, as we saw in the shooting of Gabrielle Giffords & company in Arizona.
Thursday morning of the past week, I found out a co-worker had passed away the night before. She had been at about the 1-year mark of being diagnosed with lung cancer, and only a couple weeks prior to her passing, she had left work to go on disability because breathing had become too difficult. Ever since she was diagnosed with cancer, her condition never appeared to improve; it only went downhill. I suppose it was to be expected; the cancer was diagnosed in the late stages and she was in her early fifties.
Still, I don't think you ever really expect it when someone you had just seen two weeks prior passes away one night and that's it, and that's all. A similar thing happened with my grandma; she was in the hospital for testing, and I visited her, along with some of my friends, the night before she passed away. We were out walking around the neighborhood and stopped in at the hospital to say hello.
That was one of the greatest losses in my life, but I recall how grateful I felt in the aftermath of her passing that I had gotten to see her and talk to her once more before she died. I know there are people who don't get that chance; they live far away from loved ones, they are estranged, or the death is a tragic, unforeseen one.
Death is nothing new to me and you, I'm sure. But it's interesting to be a witness to the different contexts in which it occurs. Some are just a sigh of exasperation because someone shot someone else in a gang-related fight. Some are really troublesome, because an adult killed a baby. Some are very painful, because it was a person you loved. Eventually, one day, it will be me. Eventually one day it will be you.
Here's my soapbox moment (which I have just decided will be present in every post): remember that the decisions you make today might come back to bite you in 20 years. Remember that life is a fragile thing. Death is not worth taking stupid risks over. Make sure you put forth the effort to show the ones you love that you care; you will not have the chance to do so when they're gone.
Day after day, I read about some dead body being found in an alley or someone who was shot on the street. After that, I go to the obituaries and glance through them to see if there are any familiar names. I also tend to observe the ages of the deceased. Obviously, most of the departed are above age 60 or 70, but sometimes I'll see a 25 year-old or a 16 year-old or an infant. This past week, I read about a 29 year-old graduate from Lawrence North High School who died in a car accident on his way to Spring Break.
With the recent passing of Officer David Moore, a guy who had been in my high school class, it really hit me how a person could exist one day and then be gone the next. It wasn't that I was even close to him or friends with him in high school. It was the fact that he was my age and I had interacted with him at a point in my life. It was the fact that he was a police officer, an occupation that I admire and highly respect, though I would never choose that job for myself, my children, or my spouse. The thin line between life and death is probably more evident in a job such as his, but even your "innocent bystander" can be here one day and gone in an instant, as we saw in the shooting of Gabrielle Giffords & company in Arizona.
Thursday morning of the past week, I found out a co-worker had passed away the night before. She had been at about the 1-year mark of being diagnosed with lung cancer, and only a couple weeks prior to her passing, she had left work to go on disability because breathing had become too difficult. Ever since she was diagnosed with cancer, her condition never appeared to improve; it only went downhill. I suppose it was to be expected; the cancer was diagnosed in the late stages and she was in her early fifties.
Still, I don't think you ever really expect it when someone you had just seen two weeks prior passes away one night and that's it, and that's all. A similar thing happened with my grandma; she was in the hospital for testing, and I visited her, along with some of my friends, the night before she passed away. We were out walking around the neighborhood and stopped in at the hospital to say hello.
That was one of the greatest losses in my life, but I recall how grateful I felt in the aftermath of her passing that I had gotten to see her and talk to her once more before she died. I know there are people who don't get that chance; they live far away from loved ones, they are estranged, or the death is a tragic, unforeseen one.
Death is nothing new to me and you, I'm sure. But it's interesting to be a witness to the different contexts in which it occurs. Some are just a sigh of exasperation because someone shot someone else in a gang-related fight. Some are really troublesome, because an adult killed a baby. Some are very painful, because it was a person you loved. Eventually, one day, it will be me. Eventually one day it will be you.
Here's my soapbox moment (which I have just decided will be present in every post): remember that the decisions you make today might come back to bite you in 20 years. Remember that life is a fragile thing. Death is not worth taking stupid risks over. Make sure you put forth the effort to show the ones you love that you care; you will not have the chance to do so when they're gone.
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