I'm feeling pretty stupid at work lately. Like right now. And the only thing I can do to combat this stupidity is to stare blankly at the document I'm supposed to be writing -- or blog.
I'm going to grad school online to get a masters degree in instructional design. What's that you ask? I didn't know until I came into this training department. Basically, an instructional designer develops training (courses) that are optimized for learning.
Why am I doing this? Well, I was hired in the training department to do administrative stuff. Pretty boring. I quickly branched out to teach myself how to use Flash and other tools that were used for developing training courses. I also watched what the instructional designers were doing and thought "Hey, I can do that". And in a moment of spontaneity, I enrolled in an online program to get my masters. It was a good thing, too because the workload had slowed and my manager needed to cut some staff. I stayed because I was able to expand my skill set.
So now I'm doing project management work for the development of a course for the SOX-404 Compliance Process. There has been a huge turnover in the people assigned to my project, so when I lost one of the instructional designers, I volunteered to write one of the sections of the course.
At the time I thought it was a brilliant idea. I would be applying exactly what I was learning in my grad school courses. But the real world rarely mirrors what is taught in school.
The content of the course I'm writing is dull. Financial information always is. I've lost the initial excitement and now I feel stuck. A new instructional designer joined the team last week and she is young, pretty and really knows her stuff. She is grasping the content and knows the route she wants to take to develop interesting and successful material.
I sit staring at the computer going back and forth over using "but" or "however".
I hate my job. I need a new career. Maybe a face-painter at traveling circuses.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
l'optomist éternel
I took a much needed road trip to Montreal this weekend. I went with Josee, my now unemployed ex-coworker. She used to live there and was craving a get away. I had been there last year and wanted to go back and see it as a local.
I took off work on Friday and we did the 8 hour drive straight North in the pouring rain.
As I drove through the Adirondacks, the leaves were at their color peak. Even against a gray, dreary sky they popped.
"Wow! Look how beautiful the trees are!"
Josee never even looked up from her Marie Clare magazine. "Ugh. I've seen enough foilage in my lifetime."
Talk about being cynical.
I took off work on Friday and we did the 8 hour drive straight North in the pouring rain.
As I drove through the Adirondacks, the leaves were at their color peak. Even against a gray, dreary sky they popped.
"Wow! Look how beautiful the trees are!"
Josee never even looked up from her Marie Clare magazine. "Ugh. I've seen enough foilage in my lifetime."
Talk about being cynical.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
a plea for inspiration
It’s been months since I’ve written anything. Even my journal has been feeling neglected lately. I don’t know why I’ve stopped writing, but I feel guilty about it every time I see my journal sitting on the dining room table while I lay sloth-like on the couch watching tv.
I write to let out mixed emotions. I think that putting them on a page helps me to sort them out. I write so I can remember moments. I write so I can leave a history of my life to future generations. I write so my brain doesn’t rot.
But I keep finding excuses to not write. I have nothing important to say. I left my journal downstairs. I’d rather read another chapter of my book. Barry needs to be walked. House is on TV.
I write when I feel like my life is in some sort of emotional deluge; when I am romantically confused, financially troubled, spiritually empty. But right now I feel neither of these, and the moments where I should have written my thoughts down are gone. To try an recreate those moments just to put pen to paper would come out fake and impersonal.
I hope to find the inspiration to write again. My soul depends on it.
I write to let out mixed emotions. I think that putting them on a page helps me to sort them out. I write so I can remember moments. I write so I can leave a history of my life to future generations. I write so my brain doesn’t rot.
But I keep finding excuses to not write. I have nothing important to say. I left my journal downstairs. I’d rather read another chapter of my book. Barry needs to be walked. House is on TV.
I write when I feel like my life is in some sort of emotional deluge; when I am romantically confused, financially troubled, spiritually empty. But right now I feel neither of these, and the moments where I should have written my thoughts down are gone. To try an recreate those moments just to put pen to paper would come out fake and impersonal.
I hope to find the inspiration to write again. My soul depends on it.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Friday, May 26, 2006
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Friday, April 21, 2006
Friday, April 14, 2006
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Boyrfriend shopping
Why is it that the freaks find me?
Here is an actual email from someone off of Match.com. I have editied NOTHING:
I am micheal from kansas , i am a machine electrical engineer i have something in come on,...Honest, caring, loyal, and respectfull., i dont like to hurt someone's feeling and i will not like to be hurted also. i love to make one happy and cool. i think you are nice and good to know more of you maybe someday we can meet and know our self in person , i really need a nice one to spend the rest of my life time and be happy with somene that will be honest and real with me and no game playing . i will be very glad to hear from you.......
i love to meet u ,i love ur photo so much,When I look into your eyes, it seems all the problems in the world go away and I'm floating in mid-air,When I see you, the world stops as if the only purpose in life was for me to please you.I may not get to see you as often as I like. I may not get to hold you in my arms all through the night. But deep in my heart I truly know, you're the one that I love, and I can't let you go. really want to meet u, and you really look sweet to me like a river that flows through the windows of a barchelor.
U CAN ADD ME TO UR YAHOO MASSAGER LIST SO WE CAN TALK PLS or OR U MAIL ME TO THIS I D
[freakshow@insane.com]
--
Um, yeah. I'm thinking the prison he's in allows for internet time.
Here is an actual email from someone off of Match.com. I have editied NOTHING:
I am micheal from kansas , i am a machine electrical engineer i have something in come on,...Honest, caring, loyal, and respectfull., i dont like to hurt someone's feeling and i will not like to be hurted also. i love to make one happy and cool. i think you are nice and good to know more of you maybe someday we can meet and know our self in person , i really need a nice one to spend the rest of my life time and be happy with somene that will be honest and real with me and no game playing . i will be very glad to hear from you.......
i love to meet u ,i love ur photo so much,When I look into your eyes, it seems all the problems in the world go away and I'm floating in mid-air,When I see you, the world stops as if the only purpose in life was for me to please you.I may not get to see you as often as I like. I may not get to hold you in my arms all through the night. But deep in my heart I truly know, you're the one that I love, and I can't let you go. really want to meet u, and you really look sweet to me like a river that flows through the windows of a barchelor.
U CAN ADD ME TO UR YAHOO MASSAGER LIST SO WE CAN TALK PLS or OR U MAIL ME TO THIS I D
[freakshow@insane.com]
--
Um, yeah. I'm thinking the prison he's in allows for internet time.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
SWF...available
I don't know if I'm ready or not, but I'm doing this online dating thing again. Or at least I subscribed to Match.com. I haven't done any actual dating yet.
So many of my coworkers use Match.com and from what I hear they have received countless contacts and one person in particular had gone out on a bunch of dates - all in one day. What I can't figure out is: where are all my winks and emails? Not only on Match.com, but on eHarmony, Chemistry.com, Yahoo personals... why aren't I bombarded by the freaks and weirdos, with the occasional good-looking sweetheart thrown in. I'm not hideous and I think I'm a pretty cool chick. I think my profile comes across that way, too.
Maybe the cosmic forces are doing a hell of a screening job for me. Maybe they're looking for the person that I wished for.
But then, I wished for Pete...
So many of my coworkers use Match.com and from what I hear they have received countless contacts and one person in particular had gone out on a bunch of dates - all in one day. What I can't figure out is: where are all my winks and emails? Not only on Match.com, but on eHarmony, Chemistry.com, Yahoo personals... why aren't I bombarded by the freaks and weirdos, with the occasional good-looking sweetheart thrown in. I'm not hideous and I think I'm a pretty cool chick. I think my profile comes across that way, too.
Maybe the cosmic forces are doing a hell of a screening job for me. Maybe they're looking for the person that I wished for.
But then, I wished for Pete...
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
daily mantra
As much as I want to ask all my questions, I have to remind myself that it just doesn't matter. He didn't choose me.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
dorothy vs. the cowardly lion
Today's horoscope:
So Pete's answer to that three month old question "What's going on?" is still "I don't really know." No surprise. The whole drive to his place I kept repeating to myself "He's staying with Sarah," so that when he actually said it, it woudn't be that much of a shock. I don't understand. I asked him if he was happy and he hesitated before answering. That shouldn't be a question that you have to hesitate before answering, should you?
So I'm sad, but more for him. He lacks the courage to step up and do what's right for him.
Where does that leave me? Deflated. Short-changed. But a little smarter because now I know even more what I'm capable of in an (almost) perfect relationship and more aware of what I really need from someone else.
In other news, within one hour I was contacted by two recuriters to see what I'm up to. One of them is from a company that I was dying to belong to last year. They are very close to me, have a great reputation and from what I've seen, a great working environment. I'm not sure if I want to stay as an internet project manager. I think I want to see this instructional designer career change out some more. (I am enrollen in my masters for it.) But it won't hurt to update my resume and see what they have to offer.
Here's to making my actions count.
It's time to plot your own course instead of feeling like you're a victim of circumstance. You need to realize you have much more influence on events than you previously thought. Make your actions count.
So Pete's answer to that three month old question "What's going on?" is still "I don't really know." No surprise. The whole drive to his place I kept repeating to myself "He's staying with Sarah," so that when he actually said it, it woudn't be that much of a shock. I don't understand. I asked him if he was happy and he hesitated before answering. That shouldn't be a question that you have to hesitate before answering, should you?
So I'm sad, but more for him. He lacks the courage to step up and do what's right for him.
Where does that leave me? Deflated. Short-changed. But a little smarter because now I know even more what I'm capable of in an (almost) perfect relationship and more aware of what I really need from someone else.
In other news, within one hour I was contacted by two recuriters to see what I'm up to. One of them is from a company that I was dying to belong to last year. They are very close to me, have a great reputation and from what I've seen, a great working environment. I'm not sure if I want to stay as an internet project manager. I think I want to see this instructional designer career change out some more. (I am enrollen in my masters for it.) But it won't hurt to update my resume and see what they have to offer.
Here's to making my actions count.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
A Pooping Story
I am a public pooper.
However, I will try not to expose any innocent bystanders with offensive sounds and smells. I'm considerate like that. I normally try camoflauge techniques -- my favorite one is waiting for a neighbor to flush the toilet and I release all my contents at the same time. The flushing hides the sounds of splashing.
Today, luck was not on my side.
I felt that familiar urge sitting at my desk and casually walked quickly to the bathroom. Both end stalls were occupied leaving the center one for me. I sat and waited for my cue, but one of those little buggers pulled a fast one and made a run for the border. Damn! It was sneaky and evasive, making hardly a sound, but it left a trail of vapors. I, being so close to the finish line, was treated to the smell and I wondered if it penetrated the stall walls yet.
Before I could send silent prayers of condolense to my neighbors, I heard the shuffle of feet to my left. The warning bell indicated that the flush was soon to follow. I was in position -- feet firmly planted, suit jacket hoisted high up my back to avoid any backsplash. When the FOOSH of the toilet started, I relaxed my body and let gravity take over. But to my horror, a fart escaped! I was made!
My eyes widened and I was thankful that no one knew that it was me crouched in my semi-private world. Then the silent giggles started. My shoulders started to shake and I had to hold my mardi gras beads to keep them from tinkeling and giving me away. By this time the flushing had finished and I lost my opportunity to mask my offense.
I took a quick look under the stall to my right and recognized the shoes as those belonging to my co-worker. I decided I couldn't take the chance of another escaping noise or smell, so I waited it out.
Finally, as the bathroom door slowly closed on her exit I was alone to do what was required of me. Five pounds lighter, I washed my hands, fluffed my hair and re-entered the work floor carrying the secret of the Phantom Fart.
However, I will try not to expose any innocent bystanders with offensive sounds and smells. I'm considerate like that. I normally try camoflauge techniques -- my favorite one is waiting for a neighbor to flush the toilet and I release all my contents at the same time. The flushing hides the sounds of splashing.
Today, luck was not on my side.
I felt that familiar urge sitting at my desk and casually walked quickly to the bathroom. Both end stalls were occupied leaving the center one for me. I sat and waited for my cue, but one of those little buggers pulled a fast one and made a run for the border. Damn! It was sneaky and evasive, making hardly a sound, but it left a trail of vapors. I, being so close to the finish line, was treated to the smell and I wondered if it penetrated the stall walls yet.
Before I could send silent prayers of condolense to my neighbors, I heard the shuffle of feet to my left. The warning bell indicated that the flush was soon to follow. I was in position -- feet firmly planted, suit jacket hoisted high up my back to avoid any backsplash. When the FOOSH of the toilet started, I relaxed my body and let gravity take over. But to my horror, a fart escaped! I was made!
My eyes widened and I was thankful that no one knew that it was me crouched in my semi-private world. Then the silent giggles started. My shoulders started to shake and I had to hold my mardi gras beads to keep them from tinkeling and giving me away. By this time the flushing had finished and I lost my opportunity to mask my offense.
I took a quick look under the stall to my right and recognized the shoes as those belonging to my co-worker. I decided I couldn't take the chance of another escaping noise or smell, so I waited it out.
Finally, as the bathroom door slowly closed on her exit I was alone to do what was required of me. Five pounds lighter, I washed my hands, fluffed my hair and re-entered the work floor carrying the secret of the Phantom Fart.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
thinking out loud
One of the perils of waking up early, especially when you live alone, is figuring out how to spend your waking hours.
Barry woke me up at 5:30 to pee, then again at 6:30 to eat and again at 7:30 to poop. There was no way to fall back asleep after that. We laid in bed together for a little while. I read my book and Barry stretched out on top of me, his little fuzz head resting on my chest with his expressive eyes looking brightly at me. "Are we going for a walk?", he seemed to say. Barry has these wonderful brown eyes that look as if they're rimmed with black eyeliner. I read a few chapters, I grew tired of laying in bed. The outside thermometer said 20 degrees. There would be no walk today.
For the next 20 minutes I entertained myself, and Barry, by playing hide and seek. He'srun downstairs and when I'd hear the click-clck-click of his toenals on the wood floor, I'd run and hide behind a door or a bed and wait for Barry to huff and puff around looking for me. I made such a fuss when he found me.
Now it's almost 9:00 and I'm making a mental list of the things I want to accomplish today. Get shelf brackets and hang shelves, check out the new library, dust. Sounds exciting. Maybe I'll go out to Starbucks just to sit among strangers and write in my journal while drinking hot chocolate. Maybe I'm becoming a recluse. I'm lonely, but don't want to be bothered trying to entertain friends.
My scuba classes are over until the first weekend of June where I take my open water dive for my final certification. My master's classes don't start until next week. It's cold outside and my psyche desperately needs the warmth of spring. Peter comes back tomorrow after a week in Cuba. I miss him less than I noticed him not being around. I wonder if that means that my optimism is fading. Or I'm getting used to him not being around.
I've been thinking about Peter a lot this week. More like I've across things that reminded me of him. I finished a book where the main character lives in Toronto, I went to see a movie that he had seen recently, I drove through Princeton, and he did send me an email from vacation where he said he missed me.
Oh, I feel so stale. I'm not doing nothing, but I don't feel as if I'm doing enough - with my life, that is. I'm just holding my breath for the next big adventure.
Barry woke me up at 5:30 to pee, then again at 6:30 to eat and again at 7:30 to poop. There was no way to fall back asleep after that. We laid in bed together for a little while. I read my book and Barry stretched out on top of me, his little fuzz head resting on my chest with his expressive eyes looking brightly at me. "Are we going for a walk?", he seemed to say. Barry has these wonderful brown eyes that look as if they're rimmed with black eyeliner. I read a few chapters, I grew tired of laying in bed. The outside thermometer said 20 degrees. There would be no walk today.
For the next 20 minutes I entertained myself, and Barry, by playing hide and seek. He'srun downstairs and when I'd hear the click-clck-click of his toenals on the wood floor, I'd run and hide behind a door or a bed and wait for Barry to huff and puff around looking for me. I made such a fuss when he found me.
Now it's almost 9:00 and I'm making a mental list of the things I want to accomplish today. Get shelf brackets and hang shelves, check out the new library, dust. Sounds exciting. Maybe I'll go out to Starbucks just to sit among strangers and write in my journal while drinking hot chocolate. Maybe I'm becoming a recluse. I'm lonely, but don't want to be bothered trying to entertain friends.
My scuba classes are over until the first weekend of June where I take my open water dive for my final certification. My master's classes don't start until next week. It's cold outside and my psyche desperately needs the warmth of spring. Peter comes back tomorrow after a week in Cuba. I miss him less than I noticed him not being around. I wonder if that means that my optimism is fading. Or I'm getting used to him not being around.
I've been thinking about Peter a lot this week. More like I've across things that reminded me of him. I finished a book where the main character lives in Toronto, I went to see a movie that he had seen recently, I drove through Princeton, and he did send me an email from vacation where he said he missed me.
Oh, I feel so stale. I'm not doing nothing, but I don't feel as if I'm doing enough - with my life, that is. I'm just holding my breath for the next big adventure.
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