I am working the most boring job in the world for the next couple of weeks. My job is simple, and can be summed up in one word: filing. I am in a 20x20 room, most of which is filled with a mobile filing system. Apparently the A/R department decided to stop filing, and just hire a temp once or twice a year to get things caught up. I'm not kidding when I say I'm filing reports as old as from 7-8 months ago. Absolutely pathetic. There were three desks completely covered in stacks of papers, the smallest stack measuring in at about 18 inches high.
Don't get me wrong; I'm glad to have an assignment/work/pending paycheck. I just think it's wrong that there's a need for me to be there, you know? I kept thinking of George from "Dead Like Me" all morning long.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Family time is not always a good thing
The last week or so has been consumed by family. I have had more quality family time in the last 10 days than I have in the last 10 months, as one of my male cousins got married on Saturday. It was a lovely affair, but I'm really glad it's all over. Between meet-and-greet dinners between our family and the bride's family, rehearsal dinner, Easter, etc., I am family-ied out for a while. It's always weird for me to be around my family. I have such mixed emotions that no matter how pleasant a time I have, there is always some tension underneath that leaves me wrung out.
I have scars from my family, emotional wounds that go back to childhood. Yeah, I know, who doesn't, right? From the fairly mild childhood teasing about my lighter skin and "proper" speaking, to the harsher adolescent jeers about my weight. Constant verbal pokes about my taste in music and my rainbow coalition of friends. Being molested repeatedly by an older male cousin, which not only left me sexually confused for a long time, but also left me with a lasting subconscious impression that my family, the ones who are supposed to protect and cherish me, cannot be trusted. I'm known as the outspoken one in the family, the one who'll say anything to anyone; the one who will cry "bullshit" (altho not actually using profanity, mind) at the drop of a hat. I guess I was quiet for so long, that the moment I turned 18-- and thus invulnerable to childhood punishments-- I decided that I wasn't going to be quiet anymore. I refused to remain a victim.
My tongue is sometimes sharper than it has to be with my family, but at least I can say that its edge isn't being used to hurt someone. No, my whole deal is that I point out uncomfortable truths, those things that people don't really want to hear, but that need to be said. The snarky things that people try to slip in, I will openly call them on it. By now, my family knows that I will say anything to anyone, that I will discipline your kids if you don't (and don't even think of giving me any attitude for it), and that I will not tolerate any disrespect towards my mother.
Jeez, I have no idea where this gush of emotional vomit came from. I really just meant to say that there was a wedding and I had fun. I cuddled my 1 year old cousin Jalen, who fell asleep on my lap at the reception. I nuzzled his little head, felt those crisp little curls against my cheek, and thought about how wonderful it was to be holding the future of my family in my lap. And of course, there were the obligatory tears at the wedding; happy tears for the couple, melancholy tears for myself and my single state, sorrowful & selfish tears at their new beginning when my own new beginning was derailed.
I cried a lot this past weekend. A whole freakin' lot. Between issues with those certain family members who always piss me off, and happy/sad wedding tears, and loving on my baby cousin, and missing my own baby, and wondering if I'll ever have a "take home" baby, and dealing with the expressions of sympathy from family members I hadn't seen in a while (but who apparently had been told about my m/c) my tear ducts were kept busy.
It comes and goes, the sadness. I can go for days at a time, feeling fine and everything is okay. And then seemingly out of nowhere, my heart is this heavy lump in my chest and my eyes are watering. It's like some kind of unpredictable cycle: will I have 5 good days before I break down, or will I get 7 this time? Then I really mess with my own head, wondering: if a twelfth week m/c can eff me up this bad, how in the world will I stay sane when my mother passes away? Very macabre thoughts sometimes.
I have scars from my family, emotional wounds that go back to childhood. Yeah, I know, who doesn't, right? From the fairly mild childhood teasing about my lighter skin and "proper" speaking, to the harsher adolescent jeers about my weight. Constant verbal pokes about my taste in music and my rainbow coalition of friends. Being molested repeatedly by an older male cousin, which not only left me sexually confused for a long time, but also left me with a lasting subconscious impression that my family, the ones who are supposed to protect and cherish me, cannot be trusted. I'm known as the outspoken one in the family, the one who'll say anything to anyone; the one who will cry "bullshit" (altho not actually using profanity, mind) at the drop of a hat. I guess I was quiet for so long, that the moment I turned 18-- and thus invulnerable to childhood punishments-- I decided that I wasn't going to be quiet anymore. I refused to remain a victim.
My tongue is sometimes sharper than it has to be with my family, but at least I can say that its edge isn't being used to hurt someone. No, my whole deal is that I point out uncomfortable truths, those things that people don't really want to hear, but that need to be said. The snarky things that people try to slip in, I will openly call them on it. By now, my family knows that I will say anything to anyone, that I will discipline your kids if you don't (and don't even think of giving me any attitude for it), and that I will not tolerate any disrespect towards my mother.
Jeez, I have no idea where this gush of emotional vomit came from. I really just meant to say that there was a wedding and I had fun. I cuddled my 1 year old cousin Jalen, who fell asleep on my lap at the reception. I nuzzled his little head, felt those crisp little curls against my cheek, and thought about how wonderful it was to be holding the future of my family in my lap. And of course, there were the obligatory tears at the wedding; happy tears for the couple, melancholy tears for myself and my single state, sorrowful & selfish tears at their new beginning when my own new beginning was derailed.
I cried a lot this past weekend. A whole freakin' lot. Between issues with those certain family members who always piss me off, and happy/sad wedding tears, and loving on my baby cousin, and missing my own baby, and wondering if I'll ever have a "take home" baby, and dealing with the expressions of sympathy from family members I hadn't seen in a while (but who apparently had been told about my m/c) my tear ducts were kept busy.
It comes and goes, the sadness. I can go for days at a time, feeling fine and everything is okay. And then seemingly out of nowhere, my heart is this heavy lump in my chest and my eyes are watering. It's like some kind of unpredictable cycle: will I have 5 good days before I break down, or will I get 7 this time? Then I really mess with my own head, wondering: if a twelfth week m/c can eff me up this bad, how in the world will I stay sane when my mother passes away? Very macabre thoughts sometimes.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Sometimes I feel so stupid
Today found me helping with more nitpicky details for the summit meeting: I was double checking and confirming spa appointments. And let me tell you, there’s nothing like that kind of task to make my jaw drop to the floor. The cost of the treatments was in pesos, but even doing a rough mental conversion, my estimate is that the total is going to be somewhere in the region of $20,000 US. To be honest, that’s probably a bare minimum, really. And here I am in the bracket that worries about a $200 ultrasound.
So, I’m going down the list, double checking dates, times, and treatments: pages and pages and pages of details. I was completely fine—if perhaps bored—until I got to one lady’s entries. This woman was having a series of massages, one every day, for the length of the summit. Prenatal massages, to be precise. I read that little fact and actually murmured out loud, “Oh, isn’t that nice? J is pregnant.” Then I felt very foolish for having congratulatory thoughts towards a woman I don’t know.
About 10 seconds later, I was desperately trying not to cry. And feeling even more stupid. I felt like someone had walked up to me, slapped me in the face, called me fat, and insulted my mother. I think the only thing that kept me from completely losing it was the fact that I’m right out in front and highly visible.
I felt silly then, and still can barely believe it, that I got so emotional over a pregnancy on paper. All I could think about, though, is how much I wish I were having a prenatal massage, or rather, that I had a reason to have a prenatal massage. That I would have a nice extra thickness in my middle at 21w1d. And yes, don’t you think for a minute that I don’t still know how far along I’m supposed to be.
::
I’ve had very strange dreams over the last week or two. Not strange because of what happened in the dreams, but more because of the people in them. I’ve been dreaming about old friends and acquaintances, people I’ve lost contact with over the years and haven’t seen in ages.
Now I feel like I want to turn detective, and try to track a few of them down. Maybe my subconscious is trying to give me a new hobby; I don’t know. All I know is that with a couple of them, it actually feels urgent that I find them. Like, I can look or not for the others as I please, but for these two, I need to find them NOW.
So, I guess I’ll start trying to find my high school BFF, and the chef who used to hang out at the coffee shop. Yeah, it’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack. :P
So, I’m going down the list, double checking dates, times, and treatments: pages and pages and pages of details. I was completely fine—if perhaps bored—until I got to one lady’s entries. This woman was having a series of massages, one every day, for the length of the summit. Prenatal massages, to be precise. I read that little fact and actually murmured out loud, “Oh, isn’t that nice? J is pregnant.” Then I felt very foolish for having congratulatory thoughts towards a woman I don’t know.
About 10 seconds later, I was desperately trying not to cry. And feeling even more stupid. I felt like someone had walked up to me, slapped me in the face, called me fat, and insulted my mother. I think the only thing that kept me from completely losing it was the fact that I’m right out in front and highly visible.
I felt silly then, and still can barely believe it, that I got so emotional over a pregnancy on paper. All I could think about, though, is how much I wish I were having a prenatal massage, or rather, that I had a reason to have a prenatal massage. That I would have a nice extra thickness in my middle at 21w1d. And yes, don’t you think for a minute that I don’t still know how far along I’m supposed to be.
::
I’ve had very strange dreams over the last week or two. Not strange because of what happened in the dreams, but more because of the people in them. I’ve been dreaming about old friends and acquaintances, people I’ve lost contact with over the years and haven’t seen in ages.
Now I feel like I want to turn detective, and try to track a few of them down. Maybe my subconscious is trying to give me a new hobby; I don’t know. All I know is that with a couple of them, it actually feels urgent that I find them. Like, I can look or not for the others as I please, but for these two, I need to find them NOW.
So, I guess I’ll start trying to find my high school BFF, and the chef who used to hang out at the coffee shop. Yeah, it’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack. :P
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
I'm a-workin'. And a-bleedin'.
Boy oh boy, I'd forgotten how it felt to be tired after work! Every night for the last 3 days I've thought, "I really should write in my blog. Maybe after dinner." Then of course, I'd rather read or watch a movie. And then the next thing I know, another week has gone by without me writing. Bad me!
My job assignment isn't exactly exciting, seeing as I'm doing receptionist duty again, and in another rather nice office. But I have to say, being a receptionist in these top-lofty companies is giving me quite an education, even if I'll never have a chance to use any of it. I've spent hours reading up on these companies, and the notables therein. It feels very strange to actually be able to put a face and a voice to the names of these high-powered individuals. And even more strange to know things like, even though Mr. X is a grump in the mornings and doesn't seem capable of opening a door without assistance, he's a really nice guy. Especially to be the CEO of this business that does about $800 million annually. Yeahhhhhh.
Just as at the other posh office, everyone here has been very complimentary of my performance. The last 2 days I've been helping the #2 executive assistant with grunt work for an upcoming summit meeting, and she's been grateful to an extent that I really wouldn't expect. It makes me wonder what kind/quality of help they're used to having around the office, if I'm being seen as so exceptional. Oh, and #1 executive assistant (to CEO) came by today to tell me how great I've been as a receptionist, and how much they've appreciated my willingness to "do a little extra" to help with the summit arrangements. #3 executive assistant told me that I'm nicer and better spoken than the lady for whom I'm filling in, and that she really wishes I wasn't leaving at the end of the week. #4 assistant told me that people in the office are talking about how great they think I am, and that there was an impromptu discussion in the ladies room (!) about me and that they think I'm a better office worker than the lady I'm temporarily replacing.
Thanks are nice. Compliments are nice. Really. I'm very proud that I've been praised by my temporary employers, especially at such high profile places. That I'm seen as being friendly yet professional, well dressed (yeah, my friends won't believe that I've gotten used to wearing a suit everyday), skilled, and willing to go beyond the scope of my duties. But you know what? I'd be much happier with a permanent job. The nice words make my heart warm, but I'd prefer a steady paycheck to keep my belly filled.
::
St. Paddy's day a couple of days ago brought me a very special present: my first period since the miscarriage. After an agonizing nine weeks, my body is finally starting to get back to normal. Yay me! Of course, now I face the inevitable dilemma: do I do the financially responsible thing and wait a couple more months to start trying to conceive again when my $$$ will be in a better state? OR do I start right away because of my advanced age, and the fact that I need as much time as possible to try to get pregnant since it took me several years this time?!?
My job assignment isn't exactly exciting, seeing as I'm doing receptionist duty again, and in another rather nice office. But I have to say, being a receptionist in these top-lofty companies is giving me quite an education, even if I'll never have a chance to use any of it. I've spent hours reading up on these companies, and the notables therein. It feels very strange to actually be able to put a face and a voice to the names of these high-powered individuals. And even more strange to know things like, even though Mr. X is a grump in the mornings and doesn't seem capable of opening a door without assistance, he's a really nice guy. Especially to be the CEO of this business that does about $800 million annually. Yeahhhhhh.
Just as at the other posh office, everyone here has been very complimentary of my performance. The last 2 days I've been helping the #2 executive assistant with grunt work for an upcoming summit meeting, and she's been grateful to an extent that I really wouldn't expect. It makes me wonder what kind/quality of help they're used to having around the office, if I'm being seen as so exceptional. Oh, and #1 executive assistant (to CEO) came by today to tell me how great I've been as a receptionist, and how much they've appreciated my willingness to "do a little extra" to help with the summit arrangements. #3 executive assistant told me that I'm nicer and better spoken than the lady for whom I'm filling in, and that she really wishes I wasn't leaving at the end of the week. #4 assistant told me that people in the office are talking about how great they think I am, and that there was an impromptu discussion in the ladies room (!) about me and that they think I'm a better office worker than the lady I'm temporarily replacing.
Thanks are nice. Compliments are nice. Really. I'm very proud that I've been praised by my temporary employers, especially at such high profile places. That I'm seen as being friendly yet professional, well dressed (yeah, my friends won't believe that I've gotten used to wearing a suit everyday), skilled, and willing to go beyond the scope of my duties. But you know what? I'd be much happier with a permanent job. The nice words make my heart warm, but I'd prefer a steady paycheck to keep my belly filled.
::
St. Paddy's day a couple of days ago brought me a very special present: my first period since the miscarriage. After an agonizing nine weeks, my body is finally starting to get back to normal. Yay me! Of course, now I face the inevitable dilemma: do I do the financially responsible thing and wait a couple more months to start trying to conceive again when my $$$ will be in a better state? OR do I start right away because of my advanced age, and the fact that I need as much time as possible to try to get pregnant since it took me several years this time?!?
Thursday, March 13, 2008
What a thrilling video!
Dude. Dude, man, dude. Inmates at a prison in the Philippines getting some very special exercise.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
I went to the ball!
I can’t believe it’s been two weeks since I wrote. I mean, I’ve looked at my blog, I’ve thought about writing, but for one reason or another I just couldn’t do it. I was either too tired, or couldn’t find the right words. I still can’t find the right words, but the web silence is making me feel guilty.
I decided to sign up with temp. agencies; I figured even a little $$$ coming in was better than nothing. And of course, there’s always the possibility, that 1/100 chance, that a temp. position could become a permanent situation. It doesn’t happen as often in real life as it does in movies, believe you me, but one can hope.
I went out on my very first temp. assignment, as a receptionist, last Friday to a business located in one of the most prestigious buildings in the city. And this is the part where words fail me, and I can’t be witty and cute; all I can do is list stupid-sounding details like a country cousin, and hope it all comes across: the word “swank” is the best I can do, and it seems inadequate. I have never in my life seen an office like this one, and I only saw MAYBE a tenth of the place. I have been in 5 star luxury hotels that look like roach motels compared to this place. Rich, dark woods everywhere; gorgeous furnishings; lovely crown molding; wall tapestries here and there to break the “monotony” (hah!) of the paintings; marble floors. Wall sconces. Yes, freaking wall sconces.
The restrooms. Good grief, the restrooms. Even the stall walls were of the same dark woods throughout the rest of the office, rather than the usual metal or laminate. Pewter fixtures, full-length mirrors. Marble countertops. Crystal and pewter counter accoutrements filled with amenities, everything from specialty soaps (in case you didn’t want to use the common liquid soap) to breath mints. Towels embossed with the company’s logo. I could go on for another four paragraphs, but I think I’ve gushed enough about how gorgeous it is.
So I worked there last Friday, and was deeply disappointed that they didn’t need help for longer. I fell for this place hard. Even though I initially felt a little out of place, seeing as I’m more used to a business-casual environment rather than a 1st class, wear a suit everyday, Number 1 and Number 3 of this international giant company work in this location kind of environment. But for some strange reason, my usually carefree nature began to thrive over the course of the day. I fell a little in love, only to get dumped when five o’clock rolled around. (sigh)
I feel really bad saying this, but I got lucky again. The receptionist got ill yesterday morning—like, go to the hospital ill—and I was specifically requested to come out to work for a couple of days, as they really liked me last week. I happily accepted the assignment and worked Wednesday and today (Thursday). As the day went on, it turned out that they needed me Friday as well, but I have an interview scheduled in the middle of the day, on the extreme other side of town, and just can’t work at Fabulous Office. You cannot imagine how disappointed I am that I can’t go back tomorrow.
It isn’t just the posh office, it’s the people. Everyone with whom I’ve spoken has been extremely friendly and helpful. It turns out that the office manager and I have a mutual friend/business acquaintance, and that broke the ice like crazy. She ended up deliberately introducing me to the property manager whose assistant will be leaving in a few months, and really talked me up, pointing out my property management experience and praising me like she’s known me for years. She also said she’d keep me in mind if they have any suitable positions become available in Fabulous Office, even to the point of maybe seeing if she can manufacture a position for me. I know there’s only a 1% chance of it happening, but I feel really proud that I obviously made a good impression on this woman who is the backbone of this classy office. And of course, I’d jump if a position came my way. Heck, the maintenance workers there make more than I did as a property assistant. Yeah, I really said it: this place pays the cleaning ladies more than I made as a college graduate with a professional license.
As I mentioned, this company which shall not be named, is an international giant. There are several offices in the US, as well as in Zurich, St. Croix, London, South America, and I can’t remember where else. Amongst the employees, there is a senator and another politician of some sort (I can’t remember what he is); there could be other notables, but frankly I don’t know enough to spot Who’s Who in local society. In just the three days I was there, I saw a mayor, a semi-famous clothier to celebrities, and four of the top men of yet another fabu company that shall not be named. As stupid as it sounds, I have been feeling like Cinderella at the ball, getting a glimpse of a world that I knew existed, but is so far “above” me that I never thought I’d see it up close. But it really is over now, unless a miracle happens.
::
As I’m sure is obvious, I did NOT get the job I interviewed for two weeks ago. It sucks, because I thought it would be really neat to work for a company that did clinical trials. But I’m over it and moving on, and looking towards my next possibility. I have another interview tomorrow after lunch for an admin. position at a law firm. I’m honestly not very excited about it, but right now, I have to be excited about ANY job.
::
Last and actually least, it’s been nearly 8 weeks and I’m still waiting for a post m/c period. For the last two days, I’ve had some hellacious stabbing pains around my right ovary. Either my body is trying to ovulate, or I have a cyst; those are my guesses. I’m doing basal temping again, hoping that I’ll see a temp rise if/when I ever ovulate again. I’m not actually TTC yet; I just want to know what the hell is happening with my body, and when is it ever going to get back to “normal”.
I decided to sign up with temp. agencies; I figured even a little $$$ coming in was better than nothing. And of course, there’s always the possibility, that 1/100 chance, that a temp. position could become a permanent situation. It doesn’t happen as often in real life as it does in movies, believe you me, but one can hope.
I went out on my very first temp. assignment, as a receptionist, last Friday to a business located in one of the most prestigious buildings in the city. And this is the part where words fail me, and I can’t be witty and cute; all I can do is list stupid-sounding details like a country cousin, and hope it all comes across: the word “swank” is the best I can do, and it seems inadequate. I have never in my life seen an office like this one, and I only saw MAYBE a tenth of the place. I have been in 5 star luxury hotels that look like roach motels compared to this place. Rich, dark woods everywhere; gorgeous furnishings; lovely crown molding; wall tapestries here and there to break the “monotony” (hah!) of the paintings; marble floors. Wall sconces. Yes, freaking wall sconces.
The restrooms. Good grief, the restrooms. Even the stall walls were of the same dark woods throughout the rest of the office, rather than the usual metal or laminate. Pewter fixtures, full-length mirrors. Marble countertops. Crystal and pewter counter accoutrements filled with amenities, everything from specialty soaps (in case you didn’t want to use the common liquid soap) to breath mints. Towels embossed with the company’s logo. I could go on for another four paragraphs, but I think I’ve gushed enough about how gorgeous it is.
So I worked there last Friday, and was deeply disappointed that they didn’t need help for longer. I fell for this place hard. Even though I initially felt a little out of place, seeing as I’m more used to a business-casual environment rather than a 1st class, wear a suit everyday, Number 1 and Number 3 of this international giant company work in this location kind of environment. But for some strange reason, my usually carefree nature began to thrive over the course of the day. I fell a little in love, only to get dumped when five o’clock rolled around. (sigh)
I feel really bad saying this, but I got lucky again. The receptionist got ill yesterday morning—like, go to the hospital ill—and I was specifically requested to come out to work for a couple of days, as they really liked me last week. I happily accepted the assignment and worked Wednesday and today (Thursday). As the day went on, it turned out that they needed me Friday as well, but I have an interview scheduled in the middle of the day, on the extreme other side of town, and just can’t work at Fabulous Office. You cannot imagine how disappointed I am that I can’t go back tomorrow.
It isn’t just the posh office, it’s the people. Everyone with whom I’ve spoken has been extremely friendly and helpful. It turns out that the office manager and I have a mutual friend/business acquaintance, and that broke the ice like crazy. She ended up deliberately introducing me to the property manager whose assistant will be leaving in a few months, and really talked me up, pointing out my property management experience and praising me like she’s known me for years. She also said she’d keep me in mind if they have any suitable positions become available in Fabulous Office, even to the point of maybe seeing if she can manufacture a position for me. I know there’s only a 1% chance of it happening, but I feel really proud that I obviously made a good impression on this woman who is the backbone of this classy office. And of course, I’d jump if a position came my way. Heck, the maintenance workers there make more than I did as a property assistant. Yeah, I really said it: this place pays the cleaning ladies more than I made as a college graduate with a professional license.
As I mentioned, this company which shall not be named, is an international giant. There are several offices in the US, as well as in Zurich, St. Croix, London, South America, and I can’t remember where else. Amongst the employees, there is a senator and another politician of some sort (I can’t remember what he is); there could be other notables, but frankly I don’t know enough to spot Who’s Who in local society. In just the three days I was there, I saw a mayor, a semi-famous clothier to celebrities, and four of the top men of yet another fabu company that shall not be named. As stupid as it sounds, I have been feeling like Cinderella at the ball, getting a glimpse of a world that I knew existed, but is so far “above” me that I never thought I’d see it up close. But it really is over now, unless a miracle happens.
::
As I’m sure is obvious, I did NOT get the job I interviewed for two weeks ago. It sucks, because I thought it would be really neat to work for a company that did clinical trials. But I’m over it and moving on, and looking towards my next possibility. I have another interview tomorrow after lunch for an admin. position at a law firm. I’m honestly not very excited about it, but right now, I have to be excited about ANY job.
::
Last and actually least, it’s been nearly 8 weeks and I’m still waiting for a post m/c period. For the last two days, I’ve had some hellacious stabbing pains around my right ovary. Either my body is trying to ovulate, or I have a cyst; those are my guesses. I’m doing basal temping again, hoping that I’ll see a temp rise if/when I ever ovulate again. I’m not actually TTC yet; I just want to know what the hell is happening with my body, and when is it ever going to get back to “normal”.
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