"The thing is, Bob, it's not that I'm lazy, it's that I just don't care."

I have a nasty case of work depression. Outside of work, I'm perfectly happy. For the most part. On the weekends I'm freaking manic. I love everything about my weekends (except going to the grocery store). But during the week, I am crabby and morose and unmotivated. I have plenty to do but am not challenged. So I have these fantasies about going back to school, which I know is total craziness, as I cannot even manage to keep groceries in the house (see above) or keep the laundry clean; how do I think I'm going to have time to take classes, write papers and -- eek! -- possibly even a dissertation?  But my brain is craving some kind of intellectual stimulation, 'cause I ain't gettin' it at work.

Basically, I am here for the paycheck and the time off. I get very little out of my actual work. I suppose that's how it is for most people, but I really wanted to be someone who loved her work, who was excited by it, who did something with her talents and interests. Yes, I get to write, and that's good. But it's not about anything I'm interested in. And then there's the added "bonus" of secretarial work, which I'm sure I've bitched about in this space before.

It feels a little late to make a career change, with or without going back to school. Plus, I'm not even positive about what I'd change to. I have thought that maybe I need a life coach. But I don't think one would be able to tell me anything I don't already know (set goals! make time lines!). Or maybe I need to get serious about yoga again. To have something to look forward to, to ease my agitation, to become better at being in the moment.  I have tried, really I have, but have only been able to make it to one class and that was a month ago. There always seems to be something else going on in the evenings (no, not just TV) that prevents me from getting to class. And yoga alone in your bedroom is just not the same.

Anyway, I really, really wanted to pull a Peter Gibbons today ("I'm not gonna go."). But it's only Wednesday, and I would have to come in tomorrow because I'm training someone, and Friday nearly everyone will be out so it will be a good day to be here. So, I got up and got ready for work, put on some extra jewelry and my favorite shoes and perfume (hey, sometimes it helps), stopped at Starbucks and blasted Madonna and U2 in the car, all in an effort to motivate myself to be a good little worker today. I know I should be grateful to have a job; I know plenty of people who are still unemployed after two or three years. And I am grateful. I'm just bored.

Now that my kitchen has been painted and I have a new roof, I need something else to get excited about. The return of Mad Men on Sunday will do nicely.

Summertime

Remember when you were a kid and summer just dragged on forever? That's how it felt to me at the time (by the end of July I'd be so looking forward to school starting; I know -- big nerd). Now I look back and think how blissfully slow the time went and wishing that were still the case. Waking up in the morning with the windows open (we didn't have air conditioning), deciding what to do for the day while eating a bowl of cereal in front of the TV... I took tennis lessons and played softball and went to camp for two weeks, but the biggest chunk of my time in the summer was totally unscheduled -- and usually spent either on my bike or in my grandparents' pool.  Mostly in the pool.  I only had to be home for dinner at 5:00 and then could go back out again until the street lights came on.

Ah, small town life in the '70s.

Now, summer goes by faster than any other time of the year. During July and part of August we are either out of town or have guests nearly every weekend.  I am off work next week to work on some home improvement projects and that will likely not be enough time to get everything finished that I want to. Before I know it, it'll be football season.

I am doing a better job of enjoying the summer as an adult, now that we have a bigger garden to tend to, and a pool membership, and a three-year-old who loves to be outside. But it still goes by way too fast.

What Fresh Hell Is This?

Blogging two days in a row, wow, look at me! Anywhoo, I stumbled across yet another quote that I can totally relate with:

"I hate writing; I love having written." -- Dorothy Parker

Ah, yes, Dot, I agree completely.  And speaking of Ms. Parker, I was remembering that I read all of her short stories a few years back.  Could not get enough of her writing.  While she is best known for her witty quotes, her stories are more bittersweet than witty, as one writer smarter than I put it.  So true. I am really not a fan of short stories in general, but enjoyed hers quite a bit.

Although Dorothy suffered from what, by now, are your typical writerly afflictions (miserable childhood, multiple marriages, alcoholism, suicide attempts), I still admire her and her work. I do love her quotes. Here are a few of my favorites:

I like to have a martini,
two at the very most;
three, I'm under the table,
four I'm under my host.

If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to.

You can lead a horticulture, but you can't make her think.

That would be a good thing for them to cut on my tombstone: Wherever she went, including here, it was against her better judgment.

This wasn't just plain terrible, this was fancy terrible. This was terrible with raisins in it.

If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they’re happy.

Normal Day

From the blog of Tara Whitney, genius photographer and the kind of mom/artist/person I'd love to be, is this quote:

"Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return." -- Mary Jean Iron

It's good for me to remember that one day, disaster will strike. Not to dwell on it or even try to prepare for it, but because I should treasure the "normal day" -- the endless days which I generally slog through with a bad attitude, hatred for my commute and certain aspects of my job, too much sugar and caffeine, and not enough items crossed off my to-do list.

It's hard for me to always feel good about these normal days and all they entail. But I will try.

No, I said "TIPS!"

After a long hiatus, I'm back to share this nugget of wisdom: do not schedule your mammogram during PMS week. You're welcome.

I Type, Therefore I Am...A Secretary

My boss bought me chocolates for Administrative Professionals Day (because clearly, writer = secretary). Who knew that being undervalued could be so yummy?