I don’t have much vacation time since I’m in a new job, so I take a day here or there when I can. Over Father’s Day weekend we took our first family vacation from our new home base. We went on a seven-hour road trip through Pennsylvania.
Today was my 17th wedding anniversary.
Since we are heathens, we were married in a civil ceremony at the Durham County Jail in 2001. The magistrate worked at the jail instead of the courthouse on weekends, so we packed up our witnesses and trekked to the jailhouse to get married.
Before that, we lived together for almost a year. But how it all happened is the story I want to tell now.
Dan and I are both dumb as bricks when it comes to love.
We were friends for years before we started dating. We met in karate class when I was 14 and he was 17. We didn’t always get along so well, particularly since I was the teacher’s pet and Dan thought that was unfair. We also had some pretty severe rivalry going on when it came to video games (he called me button masher) and Magic: The Gathering (I called him you cheatin’ bastard).
I went away to college for two years and then transferred back to the community college in our hometown. We were both seeing other people by then, but not really liking them all that much. I saw him at karate and on campus, and we ran around with the same gang of nerds.
By the summer of 1997, we ended up hanging out together more and more often. We liked a lot of the same things: hobbies, music, movies…often we complained to each other about what we didn’t have in common with the people we were dating.
I knew by then that I was attracted to Dan, but I didn’t want to screw up our friendship by acting on it. It took one if my girlfriends stabbing me in the back to get me and Dan together.
She had the same birthday as him, so on their birthday I took them out drinking. Now one thing everyone knows about Dan is that he’s a cheap date. A few beers and he is in lala-land.
On the way home I stopped to go into a store for snacks, and Dan was asleep…er maybe passed out… in the back seat. When I came out this hooker was trying to put the moves on him. She knew I was interested and tried to poach my future husband, the bitch.
I drove home in a fury, and the next day I had to explain to him what happened and why I sent my ex-friend home early and was not speaking to her. So that was how we ended up dating.
Fast forward three years later: Dan graduated in December and I was set to graduate in May. Both of us were looking for jobs. I was interviewing with just about anywhere for practice, but by the end, I had job offers in three different cities.
Dan accepted an offer in North Carolina. When he was weeks away from moving, we had a long-overdue talk about our plans. I thought that because he hadn’t asked me if I wanted to join him in NC, it meant that we were either going to try the long distance thing or split up. He thought that since I was interviewing all over, I was going off to do my own thing.
In this talk it became known that of course he wanted me to come to NC with him and of course I was perfectly willing to turn down three job offers. Like I said, dumb as a brick.
I moved my stuff down that May into his apartment where he had one chair and a cardboard box for a TV stand. We got married the next March and here we are, 17 years later.
I don’t believe in love at first sight or soul mates or any of that nonsense. But I do believe I ended up with the one person I want to spend the rest of my life with. We make each other laugh and get each other through the hard times. We’re comfortable together, like that favorite chair with your butt imprint, the one that makes you give the side-eye to any guest who tries to sit in it.
I’m not great at being romantic, obviously, but somehow I ended up with an amazing husband, partner, and best friend anyway.
Happy 17th Mr. F! With all my crazy-ass love.
My heel hurts like a bastard today, and I’ll tell you why.
Continue reading “Irish Fat-ass”
I did something crazy this week. I met with an extended education advisor and registered to take classes as a non-degree seeking student. I plan on starting with one class in the fall.
I’ve been in scholarly publishing for almost 18 years (nearly all of them in production or management), and one reason I enjoy it is that there is always something new to learn. This article has a nifty list!
Right now I’m still learning about my new job and doing a lot of hands-on production work, management, and user support for our publishing systems. In the past, I did a little of everything involving management, production work, author and editor education/support, training everybody and their brother, enforcing standards or trying to real hard, rights and permissions work, art processing, and various other odds and ends.
Even though I’ve never felt like publishing or management are my “calling,” it doesn’t get boring, and if it does, it doesn’t stay boring for long. The other bonus about the job is that when you have downtime, you’re surrounded by stuff to read.
Since my last post, thankfully, things worked themselves out. Our landlord is turning out to be a super guy. He offered the would-be tenants and their dog another place he manages; it doesn’t have a fence so he is going to build them one. So it’s great news for us; we can stay indefinitely. He told us he would not rent to a family with pets as long as we’re living there.
When it comes to allergies, everyone is different, but people seem to fall into two camps: those who get better due to exposure, and those who get worse. The ones who get better are the ones who might get used to their own pet, or can handle a certain breed. Or maybe they grow out of their allergies in adulthood. This doesn’t happen for the ones who get worse. They just…well, get worse. Exposure makes them miserable and can eventually damage their lungs, or set off other allergies.
Between vacation and work being a bit slow, I’ve had too much time to think lately. Aside from reading novels and half the internet, I’ve been considering my next educational move. One of the bonuses that came with my new job is the possibility of going back to school.
I can’t do this immediately, which is part of the problem, because now it is hanging over my head like a big juicy orange carrot. I can practically taste the crunchy sweetness. I daydream about the wonderful stress of struggling to complete readings and assignments on time while I balance a full time job and being a mom to two kids.
I turned 40 last year and started to feel the urgency (even more) of the question “What do I want to do with my life?” Like so many of the good people in publishing, I never set out to make it a career. Which is pretty silly, considering the fact that I started out with two related undergraduate degrees and I’ve been working in publishing for going on 18 years. It reminds me of something my dad said once: “Find a good job you hate, and stick with it the rest of your life.”
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not dissatisfied with my new job, and I fully intend to stick with it for the foreseeable future. But I also intend to take advantage of that educational benefit at some point. I had planned to wait until Rory was old enough for preschool, but then the obsessing started, and I keep feeling the need to do something.
What the “something” needs to be is figuring out where to go from here. I tried that book What Color Is Your Parachute? before and I kind of hated it. All that introspection just drove me batty. I can see the value of it. But I didn’t have time to sit down and churn through the book in a week or a month. I was taking my time poking along, as one does when one is constantly distracted by “get me a glass of milk” and “play with me” and “put me to bed,” and I started to realize that the answers I diligently wrote out a month ago for exercise A no longer applied, and now it was time to build on that for exercise B, which was screwed because now it was inauthentic and outdated.
I’m in a weird place of my own making, and while I wouldn’t have it any other way, it does complicate things. I waited until I was older to have kids for a very good reason: I wasn’t ready to have kids in my 20s. I did go back to school in my 20s and I very much enjoyed getting my master’s in liberal studies, but it was for my own enrichment, and didn’t go very far toward answering that million-dollar “What do I want to do with my life?” question.
Does anyone actually answer that question, or is everyone just bumbling along like me? After feeling stuck for so long at my old job, now I feel a bit like an indoor cat who has finally dashed out the door and doesn’t know which direction to run toward first. Hopefully not straight into a passing car.
I do have some leads, and I think I need to focus my energy into taking some baby steps toward exploring those leads. But the “hurry up and wait” part is hard, and sometimes I feel like there are so many obstacles: taking more time away from my kids when I feel like I’m missing all the good stuff, taking financial risk when I’m the only one working, and of course, committing to something only to realize it was yet another passing obsession.
I think my 2018 mantra needs to be “I’m good for now.”
The past year was a big one for me and my family.
Things had been going downhill steadily at my old job for a while. When I was out on maternity leave in late 2016, the situation got even worse. I didn’t really want to go back when my leave was over. So at the beginning of 2017 I was stressed, dreading each work day, and really down that none of the applications I’d submitted while on leave had amounted to anything.
I made it to the second interview round at one college I really wanted to work for, but no further, and that left me in a funk for a few months. Then I dusted myself off, revised my resume again, and got back at it.
My friends and family kept me going during that time. My friends listened, gave me advice, met up for lunch or drinks, encouraged me not to give up, and discouraged me from lighting anyone’s office on fire (I jest!). My kids have always brought me joy cloaked in their delightful insanity. My husband and my mom were there to listen to me rant for the billionth time and to support me in my job search.
At work I was being micromanaged nonstop, and on top of that, the people who worked for me were being treated like crap by the organization at large. There was this ugly cultural shift over a span of years where people were just devalued, treated like replaceable parts, and disrespected. When we complained, the response was always some variation of the theme “You’re lucky to have this job.”
I tried to do what I could to help, but there was only so much I could do without backlash. Many of my close colleagues were in a similar state of paranoia to mine, and some of us spent nearly as much time documenting the dysfunction (to cover our asses— it didn’t actually improve anything) as we did getting work done.
All my passwords at the office were things like 9thRing0fh3ll and Pl@n0f3gr3ss and Justfuck@lly@ll.
I was willing to take any job that would pay living expenses, but I had to have benefits. When a family member has life-threatening allergies, access to an emergency room is a must-have.
When I finally did get a job offer, though, it wasn’t just any job. It was a great job. I felt like I’d won the lottery. I don’t think I will ever forget the feeling I had when I realized I was being offered the job on the phone. I felt so much lighter I thought I would float up off the floor, and I was grinning so hard my face nearly cracked. Dan saw me through the doorway and he knew before I got off the phone.
Suddenly we had a couple months to fix up our house and sell it, find a place to rent, hire movers, pack up over a decade’s worth of accumulated stuff, and move three states away.
I had a week to unpack, settle in, and find my way around a new giant city and campus before I started work.
It was stressful. But it was nowhere near as stressful as staying put. Running like hell from a bad situation was motivating enough, but I am so grateful I found a better situation to run toward.
I didn’t believe it was real for a long time, either. I was a ball of nerves until I got my offer letter. Then again until my references went through, my background check was complete, the lease was signed, the movers arranged…all the way up until my first day at my new job.
I miss all the friends and coworkers I had to leave behind, but I am so much happier in my new situation. Work stays at work. I can relax a lot more. I’m learning a lot, and I will even have the opportunity to go back to school eventually, but that’s crazy-talk until my baby is older and more independent.
It was a good year to shake the ant farm. I’m looking forward to learning my new job and settling into my new city in 2018.
I should go ahead and confess that originally, I wanted to start this blog because I am learning WordPress. I don’t consider myself a particularly interesting person. I don’t consider myself a desperately boring person either; I’d probably be much more interesting if I weren’t so busy all the time.
Here’s some starter information about me. I’m not great at this but let’s get it out of the way so I can write about other things:
I’m a mother of two kids, one almost seven (Isa) and the other 15 months (Rory). I’m a working mom, which I think may be one of the dumbest labels ever, because the word “mom” implies work, doesn’t it? But since my wonderful partner and the father of my kids stays home with them, he is the one who does the most work. When I’m home we both contribute equally. Which pretty much means all the time.
I work in publishing, and I just left a job I’d been at for seventeen years to move from a position in commercial publishing to open-access. I also moved my family from three states away in the south to the midwest.
I’m a voracious reader and a huge fan of the public library system. I’ve also been writing since I was very young: poetry and journals, for the most part. I may share some of that here eventually.
I also love to make things. For the most part I knit, tie-dye, bake, and sew. There are always bits of unfinished projects squirreled away all over my house. I prefer making small things since I have a better chance of finishing those. I have a sweater I started two years ago that still needs half a sleeve; maybe I will get it done in time to be buried in it when I die of old age, but it still has to be blocked and sewn, so we’ll see.
Finally, as mentioned on the about page, I’ve lived with OCD for most of my life. I wasn’t diagnosed until my teen years, but I exhibited signs as a child that were chalked up to misbehavior or me just being a “weird kid.” I’ve managed it over the years through therapy, medication, or both. Sometimes I go for years without either, but I always have to be aware of whether it is negatively affecting my day to day life and act accordingly. I am currently on medication since I needed extra help to shake up my whole life and move to a new job and new city.
The title of my blog was inspired by the unwanted, recurring thoughts or images that are a hallmark of OCD. Most of the time they’re manageable, but the disorder is always there in the background, like a pair of sunglasses I can’t take off that make me see the world just a little differently.
I’ll try to explain that better in a later post, but for now, this is me in an internet nutshell.