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Kinda sorta, any way. :)
Yes, I'm about to make a post longer than a few lines - cryptic or otherwise - so hold onto your hats. *grins*
It's really unfair to get depressed on weekends. Especially long weekends. Those are for relaxing and having fun and, at a pinch, doing your laundry, but not for feeling really, really crappy. But, as I've said, Murphy is my patron saint and guardian angel rolled into one and he really likes a good joke. Well-developed sense of irony, that Murphy.
Anyway, that's all behind me and you don't need to know the 'orrible details, other than the mid-life crisis is over. Suffice to say that I no longer feel like tossing my life in the figurative rubbish and I'm taking interest in things other than the pile of soggy tissues on my desk and the fact my nose was looking like Rudolph's at one stage. I've got much better things to think about.
Like my future. Although at one stage that was what was making me so depressed: ie, the fact I didn't seem to have one of any interest. But I've been thinking and pondering and discussing and considering and researching, and I've sorta come up with, well, not the Five Year Plan, but at least a general idea of what I want to do in the next few years.
See, this was scaring the beejeebus out of me, not knowing where I was going, what I wanted to do. I'm a planner - sometimes more than a doer, but let's not talk about that, shall we? It's my journal. ;) - and if I don't have at least a rough idea of what I'm doing and where I'm headed, I find myself undone in some fundamental way. Which is odd, with the unsettled life I've led since, well, since I was born, really. Or maybe not. At least if I have an idea of where the moves are taking me, of where I'm going, then the moving house, job and everything else isn't so bad. My life is the only constant - I'm going to be alive, and mostly myself, no matter what or where or when - when everything else changes on a yearly basis. It used to be that BRM was the other constant, but, well, you don't need to be told again. And I honestly couldn't see what I would be doing with myself come the end of 2002. Not the court job - after five years, I've reached my limits on that one. I'm bored and frustrated and sick to death of public service politics and crappy conditions - getting abused on a regular basis is not very healthy, I can tell you.
But, as much as I'm starting to get tired of the job, I really couldn't see what else I could do, not without going back to uni (not an option, financially or time-wise), or ending up in something similar that would pall as well. And those late night conversations you have with yourself weren't helping - I put myself through the Imaginary Job Interview, and came to the conclusion that yes, I'm a clerk. A good one, but a clerk nonetheless. A clerk with a BA (Honours) is an over-qualified clerk, but still, at the end of the day, a clerk nonetheless. Workplaces insist on that Experience thing, y'know, and everyone knows a BA stands for Bugger All.
Then, on the suggestion of KJ, I checked out the websites of some organisations like Amnesty International and the Red Cross. And they had jobs on offer, jobs I could do. Jobs in England and the US and lots of other places. It seems that being a clerk isn't so useless after all - and if I'm going to be pushing paper, then at least it would be useful paper. The worst thing about working for the courts is the sense of futility you get - the same people, week after week, on the same charges or variations of the theme. Bloody depressing, I can tell you. Another five years and I'll be as pessimistic and whingy as my boss.
I'm still going to stick it out here until June, mainly because I've set my heart on that six months of travel, and this is the best way to achieve that. But I'll also be sounding out the situation in organisations like the two I mentioned, especially during the last half of the Big Geographical (which comes from a Mick Thomas song, BTW, he of Weddings Parties Anything fame), and you can bet I'll be talking my resume and references with me. I feel better about staying because I know it's finite - I'm not going to be stuck here, or even stuck in the Magistrates' Court, for the rest of my working life. I have other options, which may not pay better, but at least will give me a feeling of doing something meaningful.
Even if it is still shuffling paper. *grins*
Besides, if I'm living and working overseas, it means I'll be able to see people more often. And travelling is my passion, it really is.
***
I got an offer of another part-time job today. Seems a mate of Peter's (my boss) has secured the cleaning contract for the Bank of Melbourne, and was wondering if Pete knew anyone who would be willing. It's five nights a week, between an hour and an hour and a half, at $12 an hour. $60 a week, at the least, for a spot of polishing, vacuming and emptying bins. Depending on whether it will attempt to interfere with AussieCon (notice I say 'attempt', since nothing will stand between me and the Con!), I'm tempted to take it. It's enough money per month to cover BRM's share of the rent, which means if I had to I could cope financially if he moves out before I go full time (Pete wrote to the three Movers and Shakers of the department this afternoon, asking about that, BTW), or extra money towards travel plans. And an hour a night isn't so much. Besides, I'm a neat freak, I love cleaning. Just ask Mel or Raph or Yasmin or 'Draste about the Neat House From Hell. ;)
Lessee, other stuff. Mum and Dad had west in a fortnight, leaving me to housesit for around six weeks. Which means Me space - and cable! Whoo! Actually, the timing couldn't be better, as BRM will be on holidays by then, and we'll drive each other insane on my days off if he's hanging around. So being able to live at Mum and Dad's will be a good escape, for both of us.
And did I mention they have a spa? *grins evilly*
Three weeks til AussieCon, around about. I seriously can't wait for this. I am such a Con junkie. The car's booked, and I've sorted things out with Pete: I just need to email the Road Trippers with my work phone number and my folks' address (since I'll be there).
And, some belated, present and future wishes for various events, since I was having one of my self-absorbed spells when everything went down:
Happy Birthday to Hex, Mel, and Acey, Spirits of Birthday past, Birthday Present and Birthday yet To Come (well, not until tomorrow, any way!).
Well-wishes and much happiness to Kielle and Laersyn, who I'm hoping got the large box I mailed a couple of weeks ago - never write "Diabetes in a Box" on a package during anthrax scares, post office workers have no sense of humour. I'll leave it to people to guess what I sent. ;)
And that's it. Catch you later. :)
Yes, I'm about to make a post longer than a few lines - cryptic or otherwise - so hold onto your hats. *grins*
It's really unfair to get depressed on weekends. Especially long weekends. Those are for relaxing and having fun and, at a pinch, doing your laundry, but not for feeling really, really crappy. But, as I've said, Murphy is my patron saint and guardian angel rolled into one and he really likes a good joke. Well-developed sense of irony, that Murphy.
Anyway, that's all behind me and you don't need to know the 'orrible details, other than the mid-life crisis is over. Suffice to say that I no longer feel like tossing my life in the figurative rubbish and I'm taking interest in things other than the pile of soggy tissues on my desk and the fact my nose was looking like Rudolph's at one stage. I've got much better things to think about.
Like my future. Although at one stage that was what was making me so depressed: ie, the fact I didn't seem to have one of any interest. But I've been thinking and pondering and discussing and considering and researching, and I've sorta come up with, well, not the Five Year Plan, but at least a general idea of what I want to do in the next few years.
See, this was scaring the beejeebus out of me, not knowing where I was going, what I wanted to do. I'm a planner - sometimes more than a doer, but let's not talk about that, shall we? It's my journal. ;) - and if I don't have at least a rough idea of what I'm doing and where I'm headed, I find myself undone in some fundamental way. Which is odd, with the unsettled life I've led since, well, since I was born, really. Or maybe not. At least if I have an idea of where the moves are taking me, of where I'm going, then the moving house, job and everything else isn't so bad. My life is the only constant - I'm going to be alive, and mostly myself, no matter what or where or when - when everything else changes on a yearly basis. It used to be that BRM was the other constant, but, well, you don't need to be told again. And I honestly couldn't see what I would be doing with myself come the end of 2002. Not the court job - after five years, I've reached my limits on that one. I'm bored and frustrated and sick to death of public service politics and crappy conditions - getting abused on a regular basis is not very healthy, I can tell you.
But, as much as I'm starting to get tired of the job, I really couldn't see what else I could do, not without going back to uni (not an option, financially or time-wise), or ending up in something similar that would pall as well. And those late night conversations you have with yourself weren't helping - I put myself through the Imaginary Job Interview, and came to the conclusion that yes, I'm a clerk. A good one, but a clerk nonetheless. A clerk with a BA (Honours) is an over-qualified clerk, but still, at the end of the day, a clerk nonetheless. Workplaces insist on that Experience thing, y'know, and everyone knows a BA stands for Bugger All.
Then, on the suggestion of KJ, I checked out the websites of some organisations like Amnesty International and the Red Cross. And they had jobs on offer, jobs I could do. Jobs in England and the US and lots of other places. It seems that being a clerk isn't so useless after all - and if I'm going to be pushing paper, then at least it would be useful paper. The worst thing about working for the courts is the sense of futility you get - the same people, week after week, on the same charges or variations of the theme. Bloody depressing, I can tell you. Another five years and I'll be as pessimistic and whingy as my boss.
I'm still going to stick it out here until June, mainly because I've set my heart on that six months of travel, and this is the best way to achieve that. But I'll also be sounding out the situation in organisations like the two I mentioned, especially during the last half of the Big Geographical (which comes from a Mick Thomas song, BTW, he of Weddings Parties Anything fame), and you can bet I'll be talking my resume and references with me. I feel better about staying because I know it's finite - I'm not going to be stuck here, or even stuck in the Magistrates' Court, for the rest of my working life. I have other options, which may not pay better, but at least will give me a feeling of doing something meaningful.
Even if it is still shuffling paper. *grins*
Besides, if I'm living and working overseas, it means I'll be able to see people more often. And travelling is my passion, it really is.
***
I got an offer of another part-time job today. Seems a mate of Peter's (my boss) has secured the cleaning contract for the Bank of Melbourne, and was wondering if Pete knew anyone who would be willing. It's five nights a week, between an hour and an hour and a half, at $12 an hour. $60 a week, at the least, for a spot of polishing, vacuming and emptying bins. Depending on whether it will attempt to interfere with AussieCon (notice I say 'attempt', since nothing will stand between me and the Con!), I'm tempted to take it. It's enough money per month to cover BRM's share of the rent, which means if I had to I could cope financially if he moves out before I go full time (Pete wrote to the three Movers and Shakers of the department this afternoon, asking about that, BTW), or extra money towards travel plans. And an hour a night isn't so much. Besides, I'm a neat freak, I love cleaning. Just ask Mel or Raph or Yasmin or 'Draste about the Neat House From Hell. ;)
Lessee, other stuff. Mum and Dad had west in a fortnight, leaving me to housesit for around six weeks. Which means Me space - and cable! Whoo! Actually, the timing couldn't be better, as BRM will be on holidays by then, and we'll drive each other insane on my days off if he's hanging around. So being able to live at Mum and Dad's will be a good escape, for both of us.
And did I mention they have a spa? *grins evilly*
Three weeks til AussieCon, around about. I seriously can't wait for this. I am such a Con junkie. The car's booked, and I've sorted things out with Pete: I just need to email the Road Trippers with my work phone number and my folks' address (since I'll be there).
And, some belated, present and future wishes for various events, since I was having one of my self-absorbed spells when everything went down:
Happy Birthday to Hex, Mel, and Acey, Spirits of Birthday past, Birthday Present and Birthday yet To Come (well, not until tomorrow, any way!).
Well-wishes and much happiness to Kielle and Laersyn, who I'm hoping got the large box I mailed a couple of weeks ago - never write "Diabetes in a Box" on a package during anthrax scares, post office workers have no sense of humour. I'll leave it to people to guess what I sent. ;)
And that's it. Catch you later. :)
