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Jan. 12th, 2012
a murder of metaphors
Jan. 12th, 2012 06:33 pmI realized something today about my job.
As jobs go, it's a nice one. I'm in the amazing position of not having to work full time. And the ways in which I beat myself up about that aside, it gives me enormous freedom. It's at Harvard, and in a couple weeks I'll be taking an extension school class about the apocalypse at a deep, deep discount because of it. It's a single bus ride, which even if it's a little longer than I like, is still pretty awesome and I get to ride in with Light in the mornings. My hours are flexible, the nominal mission of the Center is something I firmly believe in, my boss is kind and mostly supportive.
But, since I returned in October, I have been in a state where I have to pick something to let slide so I can do all the other things. There are things from September that I still haven't finished. I'm an entire quarter behind. And none of these are hyper-critical, the bills are getting paid and the foundations are getting thanked, and I still know where all the money is. So, there's always a low level of panic. And I still screw around at work, chat with people and battled with my g-reader, but most of the time, I'm working.
And my job might be going away. Not because of anything I've done, but because the Center as a whole might be getting shut down by the CFO of Harvard Medical School. We've been bumbling along for quite some time, and now there's a new microscopic focus on our finances and we really can't stand that kind of scrutiny.
I tend to talk a pretty good game about not procrastinating, but I still let things slide. I didn't write an application essay for a work thing until the day it was due. I haven't polished my resume, I haven't started combing the internal system for new things to apply to. I've been firmly planted in the idea that I really can't cope with anymore change right now, and that I'm going to ride this beastie until it drops dead.
I cried for a year when we moved to Somerville. I'd been slowly building up layers of functionality, painting my crazy into a corner, excreting some less-glamorous version of mother-of-pearl, in Northampton. Sure, it had memories and people I did not want to run into at the movie theater, but I'd made a life and moving stripped me down. Not to the bone, but close.
And I think this next change won't be so bad. I've got the husband and the house and the pets, people to talk to and a functional library card. But I'm still kind of dreading upsetting the applecart.
As jobs go, it's a nice one. I'm in the amazing position of not having to work full time. And the ways in which I beat myself up about that aside, it gives me enormous freedom. It's at Harvard, and in a couple weeks I'll be taking an extension school class about the apocalypse at a deep, deep discount because of it. It's a single bus ride, which even if it's a little longer than I like, is still pretty awesome and I get to ride in with Light in the mornings. My hours are flexible, the nominal mission of the Center is something I firmly believe in, my boss is kind and mostly supportive.
But, since I returned in October, I have been in a state where I have to pick something to let slide so I can do all the other things. There are things from September that I still haven't finished. I'm an entire quarter behind. And none of these are hyper-critical, the bills are getting paid and the foundations are getting thanked, and I still know where all the money is. So, there's always a low level of panic. And I still screw around at work, chat with people and battled with my g-reader, but most of the time, I'm working.
And my job might be going away. Not because of anything I've done, but because the Center as a whole might be getting shut down by the CFO of Harvard Medical School. We've been bumbling along for quite some time, and now there's a new microscopic focus on our finances and we really can't stand that kind of scrutiny.
I tend to talk a pretty good game about not procrastinating, but I still let things slide. I didn't write an application essay for a work thing until the day it was due. I haven't polished my resume, I haven't started combing the internal system for new things to apply to. I've been firmly planted in the idea that I really can't cope with anymore change right now, and that I'm going to ride this beastie until it drops dead.
I cried for a year when we moved to Somerville. I'd been slowly building up layers of functionality, painting my crazy into a corner, excreting some less-glamorous version of mother-of-pearl, in Northampton. Sure, it had memories and people I did not want to run into at the movie theater, but I'd made a life and moving stripped me down. Not to the bone, but close.
And I think this next change won't be so bad. I've got the husband and the house and the pets, people to talk to and a functional library card. But I'm still kind of dreading upsetting the applecart.
a murder of metaphors
Jan. 12th, 2012 06:33 pmI realized something today about my job.
As jobs go, it's a nice one. I'm in the amazing position of not having to work full time. And the ways in which I beat myself up about that aside, it gives me enormous freedom. It's at Harvard, and in a couple weeks I'll be taking an extension school class about the apocalypse at a deep, deep discount because of it. It's a single bus ride, which even if it's a little longer than I like, is still pretty awesome and I get to ride in with Light in the mornings. My hours are flexible, the nominal mission of the Center is something I firmly believe in, my boss is kind and mostly supportive.
But, since I returned in October, I have been in a state where I have to pick something to let slide so I can do all the other things. There are things from September that I still haven't finished. I'm an entire quarter behind. And none of these are hyper-critical, the bills are getting paid and the foundations are getting thanked, and I still know where all the money is. So, there's always a low level of panic. And I still screw around at work, chat with people and battled with my g-reader, but most of the time, I'm working.
And my job might be going away. Not because of anything I've done, but because the Center as a whole might be getting shut down by the CFO of Harvard Medical School. We've been bumbling along for quite some time, and now there's a new microscopic focus on our finances and we really can't stand that kind of scrutiny.
I tend to talk a pretty good game about not procrastinating, but I still let things slide. I didn't write an application essay for a work thing until the day it was due. I haven't polished my resume, I haven't started combing the internal system for new things to apply to. I've been firmly planted in the idea that I really can't cope with anymore change right now, and that I'm going to ride this beastie until it drops dead.
I cried for a year when we moved to Somerville. I'd been slowly building up layers of functionality, painting my crazy into a corner, excreting some less-glamorous version of mother-of-pearl, in Northampton. Sure, it had memories and people I did not want to run into at the movie theater, but I'd made a life and moving stripped me down. Not to the bone, but close.
And I think this next change won't be so bad. I've got the husband and the house and the pets, people to talk to and a functional library card. But I'm still kind of dreading upsetting the applecart.
As jobs go, it's a nice one. I'm in the amazing position of not having to work full time. And the ways in which I beat myself up about that aside, it gives me enormous freedom. It's at Harvard, and in a couple weeks I'll be taking an extension school class about the apocalypse at a deep, deep discount because of it. It's a single bus ride, which even if it's a little longer than I like, is still pretty awesome and I get to ride in with Light in the mornings. My hours are flexible, the nominal mission of the Center is something I firmly believe in, my boss is kind and mostly supportive.
But, since I returned in October, I have been in a state where I have to pick something to let slide so I can do all the other things. There are things from September that I still haven't finished. I'm an entire quarter behind. And none of these are hyper-critical, the bills are getting paid and the foundations are getting thanked, and I still know where all the money is. So, there's always a low level of panic. And I still screw around at work, chat with people and battled with my g-reader, but most of the time, I'm working.
And my job might be going away. Not because of anything I've done, but because the Center as a whole might be getting shut down by the CFO of Harvard Medical School. We've been bumbling along for quite some time, and now there's a new microscopic focus on our finances and we really can't stand that kind of scrutiny.
I tend to talk a pretty good game about not procrastinating, but I still let things slide. I didn't write an application essay for a work thing until the day it was due. I haven't polished my resume, I haven't started combing the internal system for new things to apply to. I've been firmly planted in the idea that I really can't cope with anymore change right now, and that I'm going to ride this beastie until it drops dead.
I cried for a year when we moved to Somerville. I'd been slowly building up layers of functionality, painting my crazy into a corner, excreting some less-glamorous version of mother-of-pearl, in Northampton. Sure, it had memories and people I did not want to run into at the movie theater, but I'd made a life and moving stripped me down. Not to the bone, but close.
And I think this next change won't be so bad. I've got the husband and the house and the pets, people to talk to and a functional library card. But I'm still kind of dreading upsetting the applecart.