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The Toybox

people for the conservation of limited amounts of indignation

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boring post on jenn-work, move on
children of dune - leto 1
IE goes into production, or active, possibly as early as January, or at the latest according to The People Who Know This Shit, in April. IE is integrated eligibility. No, I really don't know what that means, and my mom's working on this project. It's weird. It's also code for "Layoffs, layoffs, layoffs".

I guess I should be panicked, at least a little--I'm under a year tenure, so my head will be amongst the first on the chopping block. I'm estimating my changes of surviving the first purge at ninety-five or better, the second at about sixty, depending on how deeply they plan to bleed employees out and if we go private--in which case, everyone's screwed--or stay public employees. Mom's under contract not to say a word, and I wouldn't ask her anyway--but I did ask her, if she heard something, to subtly do something like leave a copy of my resumee on the table with the words UPDATE ME in red marker on it.

I bought cocoa and made coffee, bought gerkin pickles and those sliced red apples in jars and thought, hmm. What *could* do with my life now? You know, being without my degree, and having absolutely no practical skills. I mean, I was thinking, I don't even think I'd qualify as a decent sex worker--I'm *really* out of practice. Which argues some really creepy things I should be doing with my free time.

I'm also having a really disturbing numbers of dreams involving orgies or really long, kind of time-warping make-out sessions, and apparently, my subconscious doesn't care *where* it gets nookie. People are starring in this that I haven't seen in years, or you know, hours. *facepalms* And I don't think I'll be looking too many friends in the eye--or the AIM box--for a while without some flinching. I'm just saying.

I have *no* idea what this means, and frankly, I'm kind of scared to find out.

I'm blaming the Nyquil. It looks like there's a slight chance I have a sinus infection, and I have no time to actually, you know, see a doctor, so me, Nyquil, and Tylenol Sinus and Allergy are basically becoming up close and way too personal. Frankly, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm getting a slight dependence on them for functionality. This wouldn't be the first time--me and ephedrine have a long and complex relationship wiht a lot of ups and downs. A lot of them.

I'm not depressed, precisely. It's not that. It's just I feel like things may be changing.

Okay, like this. It's this stupid feeling. Before anyone asks, I am the psychic equivalent of a rock, okay? A ham sandwich. So we're not talking like I'm feeling premonitious or anything. It's just--this niggling feeling, like I've been doing the same thing too long, or that it's time my contentment rut was removed. I don't *like* that. I mean, I usually end up resigned to the results, and even enjoying them immensely, but the transition phase from jenn-now to jenn-later is never pretty for anyone involved.

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel. I mean, I'm not scared, though I'm sure that's coming up--regular paychecks are addictive things, and so is being able to buy Child pretty much, in limits, whatever he wants. I'm worried, because change implies risk, and believe it or not, I'm all for *other people* risking things, not me, because frankly? I'm not competent as a person. I'm just not. I don't see my inner self suddenly deciding I'm capable of, well, anything that's not told to me. I forget things. I don't notice things like laundry and unpaid bills--there's a reason that everything I pay per month is deducted automatically from my account and I have auto-deposit on my check. I don't even clean my room until I can't find something I need right now. I rarely remember when to eat unless it's in smell or sight. I lose my *shoes*. Occasionally, I may have been known to dramatize things.

I need a plan. I have this really sick feeling that I could concievably, if I don't lose my job, just bop along just like this for the rest of my life. And that's a tempting thought. Which brings me to the really scary thought. What I want here. Becuase I'm not going to quit this job, I know that. I have to get fired if I want something to change. I am a creature of habit and comfort.

So. Hmm. I'm not sure what worries me more. That I won't be cut, or I will be.

Christ, angsting is so bad for crows-feet. I need my moisturizer. Maybe redo my nails or something. Go shopping for eye cream tomorrow. You know, something useful.

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I'd be quite happy to stay in my current job for the rest of my life. I love the people and the work's pretty good, but I have always wondered if it was supposed to be what I was doing. I've NEVER known what I want to do as a career, I've just stumbled into my job.

This job's heading into it's eighth year, and they're closing down the office. We're all losing our jobs next year.

I have no idea what I'm going to do. I have no idea what I want to do.

You remind me of the line from Fight Club (the book, not the movie -- though I saw the movie again last week, which is why it's at the top of my mind) about how getting fired from our various shitty, boring, dead-end, lifeless jobs would be the best thing to happen to any one of us. And I wouldn't call it psychic or a premonition -- just the cumulative effect of stress and boredom and your friends bailing on the workplace. You're beginning to suspect it's time to move on.

For what it's worth paycheck-wise, I'm really in favor of jobhunting while you still have the job you're not staying in, to minimize the chances of having a long painful gap between the last paycheck from the current/former job and the first check from the new one. Or at least making plans for what you want to do upon either quitting or being laid off. You have a bit more flexibility while you're still working in terms of being able to afford to do things that might help you find a new job afterwards -- at a certain point in unemployment, desperation sets in.

Awww. :hugs: I understand. I hate change too. I'm not going to offer any cliches, just sympathy.

And by the way, I've been obsessively reading Logan/Rogue fan fiction this week, and you are amazing. "Happy Little Sounds" and "Overheard"? To die for. Those are the funniest stories I've ever read. I love your Rogue and Logan.



Sorry, it's just that, lahk whoa I no longer feel alone in the world because I could've written a lot of that, especially the part about needing to get fired to leave the rut and being scared I could go on like this forever if something didn't happen, and so on.

For the sickness, try Zicam. It actually gets rid of illness. I like it.

Oh boy, it's the waiting that's the worst. I'll be thinking of you and hoping for the best. *hugs*

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