| April 25, 2000 Scatterbrain |
 Gee, has Carrie been working with Photoshop all day again? |
Cycle 7, Day 5 Temp: 97.3 Cervical Mucus: Spotting Cervix: Low, closed, firm |
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Egads, I'm sick of working on this silly Summer Reading program. I've been working non-stop since nine this morning, and I finally decided that, darn it, I deserve a break! It has to be in the printer's hands by Friday, but that's a goal that's definitely reachable at this point; I'm so close, I can taste it. Of course, I'll probably dream about aliens and laughing planets tonight, but that has to be better than last night's dream; I told Eric that you know you're either a children's librarian or a sick, sick person when you dream that Arthur the Aardvark and his friend Francine are trying to have a baby... Naturally, any contributions to my therapy bill will be greatly appreciated. I suppose it's only natural that I have the sillies; I've been trapped down here for hours, my only human contact being the occasional phone call from the reference desk saying that the printer failed again to print my test runs of the program. Frankly, that's been my biggest headache all day: my computer and the printer are refusing to play nicely together. I request from the printer a schedule of events, and it gives me a blurry picture of a few cartoon birds. What's up with that? When I asked Tech Lady, she said that her own printer is possessed as well, occasionally spitting out drawings of hearts for her. The printer troubles, combined with the fact that PageMaker and PhotoShop insist on taking turns crashing my machine every hour or so, have me going absolutely bonkers. As a coping mechanism, I've been telling myself strange jokes and singing tunes from Roman de Fauvel since about eleven this morning. You're familiar with those oh-so-hilarious office posters with a picture of a bull's-eye, labeled "Stress Remedy: Hit Head Here"? I've actually been tempted a few times to put my office mate's to use. If I can just make it to five-thirty, all will be well... |
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I think there's a ghost who lives on the stairs down to my office. Every time I walk down those steps, I hit the same point - four steps from the bottom - and WHAM, my knee feels like somebody kicked me in the middle of the kneecap. I have to grab at the banister to keep from falling down the rest of the stairs. When I reach the bottom, the pain disappears. I'm not really a believer in earth-bound spirits, but this is one of those things that really strike up my curiosity. Each and every time, and at exactly the same place, it happens. Odd, that. |
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I've decided that all those years of schooling have really destroyed my attention span. Think about it: as a student, you become accustomed to life changing on a fairly rapid, fairly regular basis. Each semester, classes change. Faces change. Each summer, an extended break from school routine; perhaps there's a different summer job each year. Every couple of years, there's a switch to an entirely new learning environment. Add in the fact that for each of the past seven years, I've lived in a different apartment, and you begin to see my problem. Summer is coming. I'll be working at the library. Then winter, during which I'll...be at the library. After that? The library. No changes of any magnitude; excepting the potential arrival of any offspring, I'll be staying exactly where I am. For the first time since I was four years old, I have reached long-term stability. That's a scary, scary thing. This realization hit me as I was driving to work yesterday morning. Of course! This is why I've been driving Eric crazy with my search for a new apartment. This is why I've been feeling insanely bored in the evenings. This is the cause for the feelings of restlessness that have been driving me up the wall I understand now! I had an answer, if not a solution. Eric, listening to my explanation, nodded. "Yep. I know exactly what you mean. Do you know what my old supervisor told my new one when I was hired?" When I shook my head, he said, "'Don't let him get bored.' When I get bored, I get disgruntled, and that's a big reason why I took the new job." And when I thought about it, I realized that the interval between jobs was just about right; he worked at the former for two years before taking the latter - just as long as he spent on his last degree. When the time ran out, his attention span drifted. So now I worry. Will I regain my attention span? Am I doomed to get bored every year or so for the rest of my life, constantly searching for some new venture on which to embark? Will I ever be content with anything for more than a couple of years? Well, there's Eric. I've been with him for almost seven years now, and I'm not feeling any sort of wanderlust. I'd say I have my music, but I've been on a hiatus, so I'm not counting that. Oh, there's got to be something else! I can't be this schizoid! |
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For lunch, I had a Nutella, almond butter, and wheat germ sandwich on wheat bread, with soy nuts for a snack. The sad part is, I enjoyed it. Again, my therapy bills are mounting. Comments? |
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