Adventures in Humiliation

Turns out I didn't have to worry or prepare for work nearly as much as I did. I suppose that should be a lesson to me. It would be if I hadn't been blindsided by an unforeseen (redundant, I know, but I'm shocked) demotion.

That's right. After four years of reinventing a system that was inherently broken, the very few but loud voices of the insecure win out over the many who offer logic and praise. 

It's the kind of thing that could send a girl to a mental hospital.

So here's the damage control mantra of the moment: They're paying me the same hourly wage. They're paying me peanuts, but still, I'm getting the same money for less demanding (I hope) work. I'm basically working the front desk, which seems eerily similar to working for the Bux. You can imagine, my master's degree keeps me up at night with its baleful sighs.

Or was that me keeping myself up with self-indulgent pity parties? Enh, six o' one, half dozen of the other...

Stepping forward, back up the down escalator for eternity, or to open doors, shining with light and possibility. We shall see.

Reechersall, In which our heroine tries on excuses to use at work whence she returns thither

I imagine it will go something like this:

Typical Colleague (to be referred to as TC from here on out.): Hey Jo, it's been forever! How have you been?
JoBiv: Oh, hi Typical Colleague, how are you?
TC: Good, but how are you?
JoBiv: Oh, you know.
TC: No, I've been worried about you. Where were you? You were gone for three months.
JoBiv: Ummm...

And this is where I should say something, don't you agree?

Here are some contenders, with some possible mind-read follow ups.

JoBiv: I had a sex change and I didn't like it, so I had it reversed. Kinda messy.
TC: No ya didn't.

JoBiv: I had not cancer.
TC: That's not funny.

JoBiv: I won the lottery and I took a trip around the world, and then a pageboy in Turkmenistan stole the rest of the money, so no, you can't have any.
TC: Bullshit.

JoBiv: If I tell you, I'll have to kill you.
TC: Do you own a gun?
JoBiv: I'll kill you with my mind.
TC: Doubt it.

JoBiv: I went crazy and wanted to kill myself and wound up at McLean.
TC: Tee emm aye.
JoBiv: You asked.

JoBiv: I've been ill but I'm getting good care now.
TC: Sooo you went crazy and wound up at McLean?
JoBiv: AGHH!!
TC: You know that's selfish and we were screwed and everyone hates you now.
JoBiv: Sigh. I know.
TC: Whelp, I have to get back to hating you with every fiber of my being! So long!

 Possibly that last one will go better than I've imagined, but it's nice to have a few backups. Suggestions welcome, of course...

We're Marchin' on

And yes, that was a pun.

I decided it was high time to buy a calendar, it bein' March n' all. I'm going back to paper. Why? Because I frankly don't care for the many ways my iPhone and Google calendars require maintenance and nudging.

Or, it could be that I'm getting lazy.

At any rate, there is something comforting in seeing the pages flip, looking at an entire month laid out in front of you without any nasty surprise linky things. Aha, I can say, on this day I have promised to eat waffles with Spen (International Waffle Day is March 25th, dontcha know). On this other day here I will get a haircut, providing I can afford the tip. Yes, everything's looking quite nice on paper.

Lookit, all of this is to say that I bought a calendar, which means I suppose I have decided to be alive. I decided again, today, consciously. Buy a calendar, fill it with appointments and concerts and birthdays. Be here on Earth with People for 2013. And so I shall try.

Where, oh where has my poetry gone?

I have poetry in me yet, don't I? I have committed myself, yet again, to the writing life. I have been unfaithful, or purely negligent. It's time to start paying attention again.

I'm making art, however. That's the easy stuff. And happily messy.