That slip of the tongue I had several months back, about getting on a full-time schedule at work, with benefits? My boss, bless her heart, finally got management to make me an offer, which included an almost 23% pay cut. This seemed kinda extreme to me, especially when I'd only be accruing vacation and sick days at 80% of the usual rate, and have to go down to 10 vacation days a year. Even Yvonne, who handles benefits there, thought this was not a good deal. It looks like I can get decent, fairly inexpensive insurance from the Freelancers Union, and Marcella's already filled out her part of the paperwork, so I'm going to do that instead.
I feel strangely relieved, like I've escaped being Borged by the skin of my teeth.
From now on, I'm going to tell my provincial, conformist, chicken superego to shut the @#$% up when it gets these notions. Never trust your superego. It's only out to make you a good cog in the wheel. Not that I would ever make one. I know this for a fact, having tried for several years. I'm too contrarian, too intolerant of stupidity, and too suspicious of large organizations, in which the Peter Principle is inevitable.
This is not to say I don't like my bill-paying job, or the people I work with, but it's reached corporate critical mass now, in terms of number of employees, and it's not the mom & pop shop of eccentrics it was, which is what I really liked about it. I've also, ridiculously, felt increasingly dissatisfied with the level of grunt work I've been asked to take on. It's ceased to become interesting or challenging. On the other hand, I get to leave it at the office.
There are other things I'm taking less pleasure in and doing less of than I used to, too: cooking, for one thing, and blogging for another. I'm not sure whether this is a function of lack of time, having the life sucked out of me at work, or grief, but I've been doing a lot of sitting around and just letting my mind drift lately. Enjoying my books in my new bookcases, like old friends I haven't seen in a year, and just enjoying my handiwork in general in the apartment. There's still a fair amount to do, but it's all manageable weekend projects now, and I'm finally completely unpacked, if not yet completely organized. My creative energy has been going into nesting: making a new home. I guess it's not that I'm taking less pleasure in stuff I used to do, like cooking and blogging, it's just that I have less interest in them than I did. I'm enjoying different things.
I think a lot of this dissatisfaction with work comes from not having significant projects of my own on the boil right now. Lots of things are hovering in the wings, but I'm not actively working hard on anything at the moment, and this is messing with my self-identity. If I'm not writing or making books, I'm just a drone with a hobby—even the IRS says so. I was envying Jen her absorption in her newest book the other night, and that's what I need. Life, in the shape of moving, fixing up the apartment, Mom's death, taking care of Dad and the house, and other things, has temporarily derailed me, and I need to get back on track. Marcia's in kind of the same place right now, and will be for a while with her own move, so our projects together have been derailed as well. Since Mom died, I've also sort of plunged myself into "taking care of" my friends, the ones who are having a hard time, as a way of distracting myself from my own problems and feelings.
And my friendships are shifting around: old ones resurfacing and coming to the fore, others falling away. The landscape of my emotional ties looks like a lava lamp: amorphous, transmogrifying, and kinda gloppy. Dr. John, whom I really have heard from in about five years, dropped me a line when I changed my email address, and I really want to keep in touch with him. Corinda actually called me from London the other day and pointedly said she had an extra bed in Dulwich. Paul has been a complete and utter brick since Mom died, and so has Sally, whom I love but don't know as well as Mom did. We're planning a trip to New Orleans for the Jazzfest next year, and she's coming out in November. I've been in touch with Cathy & Betsy more, too, and Leslie Beres wrote me out of the blue a while back, too, having seen my website. When Kath and I were on better terms, I didn't realize how much of my time she absorbed until she pulled away and I suddenly had time for all my neglected friends again, like Roz and Eva. Meanwhile, Laurie and I haven't seen much of each other lately, for some reason. I think our lives are heading in very different directions, and she's got a new place now, too.
Maybe part of what I need, too, is just to recharge. I've written here earlier that I need to get out Dodge on my own with no obligations, and that's definitely the case. But I also need to do some creative stuff that I haven't been slogging at for a long time.
So I'm starting work on Paul's parents' book today.
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