![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thejunipertreeI have a very large quantity of fancy chocolate residing in my cupboard. One type, dark chocolate with sour cherries and chili peppers, I am eating at the moment (along with some not-very-fine organic beef jerky).
It has been a weekend of sparkling raspberry wine, trash-talking to the limits of common human decency, staying up all hours, walking in the sun with a parasol, and smoking until my voice grows raspy. Last night, I stood barefoot on a dear friend's front porch and watched the second of the coming summer's storms. Rain like the fist of God and the sky lighting up blue all around me from downed transformers. The first storm was the night before. Me, trapped in my elderly Eldorado with two friends, laughing our fool heads off and attempting to navigate log-floooom-like streets. I felt young, alive, and very loved.
I spent today alone with the Engineer, doing things that I reckon long-term couples do: washing my car, spending far too much money on frivolous purchases (to play my iPod in my car, I wound up having to buy an entirely new car stereo, it is a very long story), giggling while eating Mexican food, and watching bad zombie movies. Do all long-term couples do this? Maybe not all of it. At one point today, we stood at the side of a very busy road without any sign of a crosswalk and waited for a break in traffic so we could dart across the road. He, being incredibly serious as he always is, feared my standing too close to the curb (and my apparently inevitable falling off of my shoes) and therefore held onto the strap of my messenger bag to keep me from going any further. I find this strangly and terribly endearing.
We also discussed the pros and cons of me possibly cutting my hair, which currently reaches my waist. I have been having the strongest urge to cut it all off, but at the same time, I take great pleasure in wearing it down and loose and feeling it brushing against my forearms when I walk. The numerous silver hairs I have begun to sprout at a rather alarming rate seem to all be congregating in the middle front, around the area of where my bangs/fringe used to be, instead of at my temples or scattered throughout the entire head. This pleases me for a variety of reasons. One being that it is the exact same way that my mother and grandmother (paternal) first started to go grey. Two, if I am patient enough, I shall soon be able to rock the hell out of a pure white fringe without bleach or dying. Three, I'd rather not go salt-and-pepper grey because it's just not dramatic enough. hee.
I don't want to go into work tomorrow, moreso than usual. It has been an enormously pleasant weekend and I don't want the peace I'm feeling to be jarred away by the mindless bullshit and inane complications of the office. Tomorrow will not be fun because I have a important and difficult project to accomplish with a very close and serious deadline of Wednesday. I was unable to get it done last week because of payroll and our acquisition of another doctor's practice (and thusly, all of his employees are now ours). I don't want to do this, I really don't want to deal with it at all, but it is imperative that I do. And I know that I will still somehow catch hell from my boss for not having it done last week. And I don't want to deal with that either. Thinking about it as I write this has caused a small pit to form in my stomach, despite successfully pushing it out of my mind all weekend.
I don't talk about work very much in my journal because of the issue of non-disclosure agreements and HIPAA regulations. Working in the medical field gives one an entire host of minefields to dance around. So, I am always careful to coach my words and to only discuss personal frustrations with the place. One particular frustration is my direct supervisor, who is the very picture of a Human Resources professional. I respect her experience very highly and am actually glad that she's there, but it is sometimes very difficult to deal with her, personality-wise. We are two very different people in two very different areas of life. I am struggling with being a better employee, with being an employee that she is satisfied with. But, my own short-comings and the idiosyncracies of the office itself can sometimes make this a trial. I've become very good at not making excuses for myself and claiming my mistakes as my own. I only wish that everyone else in the building did the same thing because I am quite tired of being thrown under the bus by various and sundry people when we're all under the gun. It is quite tiresome.
Joanna leaves employment there at the end of July because she won a substantial amount of money in the dead-relative-lottery and now has enough to comfortably see her through getting her registered nurse degree. When she leaves, I'm going to be incredibly upset, probably even more upset than I was when Angel (my former boss) left, even though she is very rarely in the office anymore. I sometimes think about leaving, as a lot of my friends can attest to, but I'm just not sure. I love what I do (human resources, working for an abortion provider, fighting for reproductive rights) and I am afforded a lot of flexibility with my hours (which is especially helpful with school), but the stress of the place is beginning to get to me. It completely kills my morale and my drive to do a good job; it makes me crazy. I don't know. I suppose I just have to do more thinking on the matter and/or start sending out feelers for jobs that would be suitable for me.
I think I'll go to bed early tonight, go into the office early, and get a headstart on this nonsense.
It has been a weekend of sparkling raspberry wine, trash-talking to the limits of common human decency, staying up all hours, walking in the sun with a parasol, and smoking until my voice grows raspy. Last night, I stood barefoot on a dear friend's front porch and watched the second of the coming summer's storms. Rain like the fist of God and the sky lighting up blue all around me from downed transformers. The first storm was the night before. Me, trapped in my elderly Eldorado with two friends, laughing our fool heads off and attempting to navigate log-floooom-like streets. I felt young, alive, and very loved.
I spent today alone with the Engineer, doing things that I reckon long-term couples do: washing my car, spending far too much money on frivolous purchases (to play my iPod in my car, I wound up having to buy an entirely new car stereo, it is a very long story), giggling while eating Mexican food, and watching bad zombie movies. Do all long-term couples do this? Maybe not all of it. At one point today, we stood at the side of a very busy road without any sign of a crosswalk and waited for a break in traffic so we could dart across the road. He, being incredibly serious as he always is, feared my standing too close to the curb (and my apparently inevitable falling off of my shoes) and therefore held onto the strap of my messenger bag to keep me from going any further. I find this strangly and terribly endearing.
We also discussed the pros and cons of me possibly cutting my hair, which currently reaches my waist. I have been having the strongest urge to cut it all off, but at the same time, I take great pleasure in wearing it down and loose and feeling it brushing against my forearms when I walk. The numerous silver hairs I have begun to sprout at a rather alarming rate seem to all be congregating in the middle front, around the area of where my bangs/fringe used to be, instead of at my temples or scattered throughout the entire head. This pleases me for a variety of reasons. One being that it is the exact same way that my mother and grandmother (paternal) first started to go grey. Two, if I am patient enough, I shall soon be able to rock the hell out of a pure white fringe without bleach or dying. Three, I'd rather not go salt-and-pepper grey because it's just not dramatic enough. hee.
I don't want to go into work tomorrow, moreso than usual. It has been an enormously pleasant weekend and I don't want the peace I'm feeling to be jarred away by the mindless bullshit and inane complications of the office. Tomorrow will not be fun because I have a important and difficult project to accomplish with a very close and serious deadline of Wednesday. I was unable to get it done last week because of payroll and our acquisition of another doctor's practice (and thusly, all of his employees are now ours). I don't want to do this, I really don't want to deal with it at all, but it is imperative that I do. And I know that I will still somehow catch hell from my boss for not having it done last week. And I don't want to deal with that either. Thinking about it as I write this has caused a small pit to form in my stomach, despite successfully pushing it out of my mind all weekend.
I don't talk about work very much in my journal because of the issue of non-disclosure agreements and HIPAA regulations. Working in the medical field gives one an entire host of minefields to dance around. So, I am always careful to coach my words and to only discuss personal frustrations with the place. One particular frustration is my direct supervisor, who is the very picture of a Human Resources professional. I respect her experience very highly and am actually glad that she's there, but it is sometimes very difficult to deal with her, personality-wise. We are two very different people in two very different areas of life. I am struggling with being a better employee, with being an employee that she is satisfied with. But, my own short-comings and the idiosyncracies of the office itself can sometimes make this a trial. I've become very good at not making excuses for myself and claiming my mistakes as my own. I only wish that everyone else in the building did the same thing because I am quite tired of being thrown under the bus by various and sundry people when we're all under the gun. It is quite tiresome.
Joanna leaves employment there at the end of July because she won a substantial amount of money in the dead-relative-lottery and now has enough to comfortably see her through getting her registered nurse degree. When she leaves, I'm going to be incredibly upset, probably even more upset than I was when Angel (my former boss) left, even though she is very rarely in the office anymore. I sometimes think about leaving, as a lot of my friends can attest to, but I'm just not sure. I love what I do (human resources, working for an abortion provider, fighting for reproductive rights) and I am afforded a lot of flexibility with my hours (which is especially helpful with school), but the stress of the place is beginning to get to me. It completely kills my morale and my drive to do a good job; it makes me crazy. I don't know. I suppose I just have to do more thinking on the matter and/or start sending out feelers for jobs that would be suitable for me.
I think I'll go to bed early tonight, go into the office early, and get a headstart on this nonsense.
