I want to quit my job

I want to quit my job. I am dissatisfied with my work. I thought maybe if I have something outside of work that fulfills me, having a "pay the bills" job is fine. For about a year, it was. However, things for me have changed. I'm starting to feel irritated with/intolerant of things that never really bothered me before: my pay, my work hours, the way one or two people treat me, the trainings and meetings I'm  expected to attend, my new responsibilities, etc. In fact, sometimes I don't want to do anything and get annoyed when people ask me to complete various tasks. However, I keep my emotions in check and do what I need to do. I know it's not my work - it's me.

The truth is, I don't feel fulfilled with my work. I don't feel like I'm growing in the direction I want. When you are working toward a goal and you're on the path you want to be on, you can put up with all kinds of crap: people taking advantage of you, lousy hours, little to no benefits, and low pay. You deal with it, because in the end it will pay off. On the other hand, if you have everything - good pay, good benefits, flexible hours, great coworkers - but don't feel fulfilled, all these things get on your nerves...probably irrationally. That's where I am right now.

The problem is, I don't know where to go or what would make me feel fulfilled. I've been reading a lot of articles on fulfilling careers and career changes, but nothing has sparked an idea. Or a plausible idea. I just know I want to create things. I've thought about photography, writing, websites, and marketing/advertisement. I've also thought about become a dance teacher...but the pay for that quite low unless you're well-known or have serious business skills (aka not a great teacher, but you can sell).

I don't know what I'm going to do, but I want to figure it out soon. I'm increasingly dreading the days I have to go to work and I'm getting cranky. I need to figure things out before I explode.

Turning 30

Fair warning: a short reflection on my twenties turned into an essay - so if you read it, you might want to grab a coffee ;).

 ~~~~

 My twenties were something else. They held some of the best moments of my life, including my college graduation; dancing on the Badger Ballroom Dance Team; traveling to Turkey by myself; getting my writing published; vacations with family; and meeting brilliant, bold, hilarious, creative, and crazy people who changed my life.

 However, among the bright moments, my twenties also had a running theme of survival. The early years were spent figuring out how to "adult": live with roommates, survive college, cook decent food, not burn my house down, navigate the professional world, pay bills, avoid Madison city parking police, and find that ever-elusive Life Direction. Life definitely challenged me. But at the age of 24, I kicked up the intensity. I moved across the country to Tucson - a place I’d never been, where I didn’t have a job or home lined up, and where I only kind of knew one person. I packed two suitcases and bought a one-way plane ticket. When I tell people this, many say, “That took guts,” or “That was brave." I usually respond, "Yeah...or dumb." There's a fine line, really. At the time, I was intoxicated with two things: leaving Wisconsin and ballroom dancing. I felt suffocated by familiarity and needed a change of pace, and I was pursuing something specific: Tucson had a teacher from whom I wanted to learn. So I left. The downside was that I didn't have a good plan. Our country was still climbing out of the recession and I barely had an employment history. Some people do this and hit the ground running. My landing wasn't bad, but it turned into a quicksand situation. After several months of trying to make it, things weren’t working out and I went through some tough shit. I became too broke to move anywhere else and had too much pride to return home or ask for help. I was fortunate to find good people to provide a roof over my head. One household even "adopted" me as a family member, which was wonderful and made holidays easier. However, I rarely talked about the reality of my life to anyone: how I was surviving on food stamps, how I nearly ended up at the Salvation Army (and instead lived across the street from it), and how my days were mostly just working to exist. Frankly, I was ashamed of what I had become and of what I was going through. More than this, though, I was ashamed of my naiveté. I tried to follow a passion/dream/fantasy and I failed horribly.

 As I struggled to rebuild my life, I went through some dark periods of depression and/or fear, as well. Some are still too sensitive to share the details and with one in particular, I didn’t know if I would make it out the other side. At one point, I found myself in a situation I never thought I'd face, and - feeling the most distressed and hopeless I’d ever felt in my life - I admit I contemplated all the options. More than once it seemed my life was saved by an act of God/the Universe/whatever you want to call it, and I am grateful. I moved through these periods with the amazing help of others (particularly Kristen Mae), became a stronger person, and today I am fierce about protecting the healthcare, safety, and mental well-being of women.

 During the healing process of these times, I also severed pieces of my former identity and sense of self. Emotionally, I felt like I was cutting off limbs of my body, pieces that once made me who I was. However, I recognized those limbs no longer served me; I had changed. But as the wounds healed, new limbs began to grow and I felt a new sense of personal empowerment and authenticity. I had a habit of yielding to others and giving them more control than I should have. But now I was taking a firmer grip on the reigns of my life and directing it in a way true to me.

 Meanwhile, dancing was completely out of the question and I resented it for a while. I believed this childish dream and self-indulgent passion ruined my life, so I tried to suffocate it. It kind of worked. I spent most of my Tucson years working to pay bills and buy groceries, keeping myself occupied with inexpensive/free activities here and there, and hoping to live better one day…which was happening slowly. Even though I found wonderful company – people whom I love for bringing me joy and showing me kindness - I still felt an internal emptiness. Deep down, I spent four years feeling like a failure and wondering if my move was nothing but a detrimental mistake; years of my life wasted. I had wanted to be something…and I was nothing.

But things changed last year. I received a promotion at work and nearly cried when they told me my salary - I could afford a real life. Several people encouraged me to try dancing again and while it took some convincing, I decided to give it a shot. I emailed the only international style dancer I knew, someone I met years ago. I asked if he could recommend a few local teachers. By the next day, he had given me a thorough reply and – by the way – his partner had just moved to California, so he was looking for a one. My first day back on the floor was a try out - GAH. I was so nervous and my dancing was rusty and awkward. But it didn't matter in the end. When I left the studio, I felt that internal emptiness fill with light. I experienced a deep sense of happiness that I hadn’t felt for a long time.

Since then, every part of my life seems to have opened and grown: my dance knowledge and opportunities, my circle of friends, creative projects, my health, travel, and I found a funny and wonderful partner for life (and all the science experiments and lectures that come with him). I finally feel what it is like to flourish and not just survive. Tomorrow I turn 30, and I’m looking forward to it. I made it, everyone, and I’m glad to leave those intense coming-of-age years behind. I sincerely thank all of you - my family and friends - who have been with me along the way.

I don’t expect the next decade to be void of pain and setbacks, but my hope is that it will be one of living more fully than before – with more laughter, confidence, creativity, drive, community, and, of course, dancing.

Photo credit: While I only train in ballroom these days, I've danced other styles in the past and I simply love to move. Many, many thanks to Ed Flores for catching my dancing soul on film. 

Flying 

Painting

Dreaming

Engagement

Fourth of July is hot in Arizona. Every year I think it would be great to go out and see fireworks and every year I remember how unappealing it is to sit in 95-100 degree temperatures at 9:30pm. Not only that, but if you go down town, you have to bring chairs and walk a quarter mile from the car to where you want to sit. Ibrahim and I decided to stay home and try to watch fireworks from the roof. We could see a couple shows happening around the city, though all were far away and partially concealed by trees. But we had a comfortable camping pad to sit/lounge on and we could still see some cool explosions. Around 9:45, I started to get tired and said, “Ok, it’s time for bed.” Ibrahim said, “Wait, before we go to bed, you still need to do something.” I was confused…I did laundry, packed my lunch, didn’t leave any of my usual messes around… “Brush my teeth? Take a shower?” I asked. “Put on your slippers,” he said. “Go look at that skylight.” I got up and walked toward it. Now remember, there are some lights from the streets and people’s homes, but it’s still pretty dark. I went to the skylight and saw a black something. It looked like a mouse, but it wasn’t moving. I had no idea what Ibrahim was trying to pull, but I wasn’t getting any closer to it. Ibrahim finally came over, picked it up, and handed it to me. It was a velvet pouch. The next few minutes were a whirlwind. As I opened it and pulled out a heart-shaped ring box, he said, “Even though it is independence day,” Ibrahim asked, “Amy, would you give up your independence and marry me?” Of course I said yes. I couldn’t quite believe it, though. My head was spinning. I felt completely overwhelmed. I wasn’t expecting this. I knew Ibrahim would propose someday, but I thought that would be next year, honestly, in 2018 sometime. I also thought the proposal would be different…maybe more public…or in a different location…like we would take a drive somewhere, have dinner. But proposing here and now…I wasn’t expecting it. I felt unprepared. For the rest of the evening, my mind was in a state of bewilderment, disappointment, and shock. I wasn’t the “happiest person in the world.” Actually, aside from the details of the proposal itself, being engaged suddenly scared me. I had to wear this ring now that would declare my status to everyone. That’s the point, right? To show off? I didn’t want to show off. I didn’t want to wear anything. The fact that my life was changing right now became real to me. Don’t misunderstand…soon after we started dating I figured I would marry Ibrahim. He is a wonderful boyfriend. He does all my dishes and lets me eat his pasta, even after I told him I didn’t want any when he was making it. I love our life together and couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. I saw myself growing old with him. But holding a ring in my hand was kind of daunting. I just became engaged and I was not loving it. What was wrong with me? Back inside, I felt awkward. I didn’t know what to say or feel. I was just confused.  

Nevertheless, I carried my ring to work with me in its heart-shaped box and little pouch. I couldn’t wear it yet because it was too big. But I would pull it out when no one else was around and look at it. He bought this for me. Even if I could wear it, I wasn't ready. I just wasn't ready.

We took my ring in to get resized and you could see other couples around picking rings. I felt weird. My ring size, by the way, is 3.5. Ibrahim couldn’t believe it was that small.

 Over the next several days, I felt all sorts of things: happy, scared, anxious, excited, worried, bewildered, denial. I even cried once. Ibrahim later told friends that he could see I was in shock: I sort of walked around the house in a daze.

Aside from being engaged, the idea of planning a wedding was WAY more than I could handle. I’d get panic moments at work: What do I do? How much will this cost? Where will it be? Don’t these things have color schemes? Do I have to have bridesmaids? I don’t think I have any good enough friends to be bridesmaids. Wedding became the "W" word and I would freeze up anytime Ibrahim or I mentioned it.  

Finally, the following Saturday night, I needed to talk about what was going on and what we were getting ourselves into. Ibrahim and I have talked about things here and since we started dating, but I wanted to nail things down. We had a long conversation about what marriage meant to each of us, our fundamental beliefs, children, and dancing. I wanted to know that we were on the same page, and for anything where we weren’t, how we anticipated dealing with those differences. We also talked about how we could potentially change in the future. In the end, we aligned well on a lot of things. We both wanted a permanent life partner, and we wanted to marry each other because we worked well as a team and we enjoyed being with each other. Personally, I love that Ibrahim allows me to be me, accepts it, and wants to be a part of my life. He has demonstrated that from the beginning – going out of his way just so he can be present in my day-to-day happenings. I also love how he keeps me calm. I tend to worry a lot and he’s always saying, “It’s going to be ok! Don’t worry!”

 I felt a lot better after our conversation and was ready to announce our engagement. I wasn't sure whether or not I wanted to tell anyone besides my family. You’re throwing a big chunk of your personal life out into the open, into the wild. Who knows how things will go over? 

I think my family was as shocked as I was when I texted them. Maybe a little more. None of them have met Ibrahim. Heather and Christine congratulated me. My dad was brief. My mom couldn't get the message. Eventually I was able to call my mom a few hours later and talk to her. She sounded cautious and skeptical, but was also supportive and positive at the same time. She probably figured there wasn't much for her to say or do. When I called my dad a little later, he admitted he was shocked. Both my mom, my dad, and Brenda (Evan even made a vocal appearance) chatted with Ibrahim for a little while. I think this was everyone’s first real conversation with him. Neither my dad nor Brenda had ever spoken to him before. It seemed to go over alright.

 I wasn't going to post any photos of my ring, because I hate it when women do that: show off their hand in any way possible. Of course, though, my mom asked for one, so I made Ibrahim take one with me. We fumbled around for a good shot and finally settled on one that looked Arizona-ish and was in focus. Then I posted it on Facebook. I debated doing this. I wasn't feeling particularly joyful. However, I rationalized that everyone has his/her moment to announce an engagement, and this was mine. Instead of people finding out piecemeal and watering down the experience, I might as well open the floodgates, have my moment, and hope it turned out ok. The response was overwhelming. People were "liking," reacting, and commenting every few seconds. People I haven't talked to in years were congratulating me.

 In contrast to my parents, people from our Tucson dance community were excited right away. These people see us on a weekly (sometimes daily) basis and would exclaim, “Congratulations! You guys are so great together!! This is really great news!” It was encouraging. I'm glad it seemed like a good idea to some people besides us.

I told a few coworkers the next day, but let everyone else discover my ring for themselves. I was still getting used to the idea. Now – a few weeks in – I’ve started to forget I have it on. I was pointing out some edits on a letter for a doctor and he said, “Did you get engaged?” I said yes and he responded, “Well, congratulations. I just kept seeing something flashing in my eyes!” Oh…heh.

 I feel much more comfortable with the idea of getting married now. I think my family and other people have had time to let the idea settle in, and now everyone is looking forward to a wedding, which still stresses me out. Sometimes I want to say, “Forget it! We’re going to get married by ourselves, plus a couple of witnesses.” But I think I would feel like I missed out if I didn’t have a wedding celebration with my family and friends. I just don’t know what I’m going to do. Everyone says, “You have time, don’t worry.” But you don’t…you need to book a year in advance sometimes. That means decisions need to be made MORE than a year in advance. I also have to figure out how much we can afford to spend. I don’t care about the details of party favors or invitations. I don’t think I’ll even have them. Maybe I’ll get one made for a scrapbook, one made for my mom, and one made for my dad. Done. Everything else is electronic. Facebook invitations. I care mostly about the dance party and having a bunch of people there.

 Back to marriage, though…I used to think it was risky marrying someone you knew for a year or less. You needed at least two-three years to know. However, I dated someone for three years and I was skeptical about a future with him for a lot of the time. I wanted us to work, but that was different from having evidence that it would. With Ibrahim, I could see early on that we would work well together. I think a large part of that was because he wanted a future together, and he showed that he wanted it every day. I now believe that when you find the right person – regardless of how long you’ve known each other - you will know he/she is the right person. Then, if you’re at a point in life when marriage makes sense (or if you just want it!), you should go for it. That’s where I am – I’ve finally found my person, my other half – and I’m excited for our adventures to come.

It's a sad wonder

It's a sad wonder to realize that you and people whom you respected, laughed with, and even loved can now cause you such pain and anger. Some of my once-friends have gone down paths so strikingly different from me that we are on the verge of hate for each other (in a non-confrontational way). People I once cared about and admired spread political messages that strike the very core of my being. I become so angry. They are so ignorant, I think. They have no idea...none...of what they say and who they hurt. They are so self-righteous about it that it's disgusting. Sometimes I post something, but more often I don't. Who is to say they are incorrect? Who is to say I am correct? I don't have an answer for that. It's very possible that I misunderstand and that I am doing great damage to others...somehow. Furthermore, so much hate plagues the world that I don't want to pass that torch. I prefer to put it out when it gets to me. There are times when fighting is necessary, but I'm not a fighter. Not a fighter against other people, anyway. I prefer to promote discussion rather than violence (in action or words).

Still...it is quite sad how far and away we are from each other and how animosity courses through us...

Restless for Wheels

I've had a growing restlessness for the last few weeks. I'm not exactly sure what is causing it, but I've been channeling it through exercise and I'm slowly (unintentionally) building a home gym in order to tame this energy. It may have something to do with my growing desperation for a car...

Example 1: I've been wanting to expand my exercising into different fitness programs or sports (swim team, tennis, pilates, climbing). However, if I want to do anything during the week, I need a car to get there and then get home. 

Example 2: I signed up to usher at a ballet so I could watch someone dance, only to discover she was performing in the evening and I was going to the afternoon show. I tried to work it out in my head if I could switch it, but without a bus (which stop running around 9pm on Saturdays) there was no way I could bike an hour there and back. 

Example 3: Yesterday, one of the younger doctors invited me to go out with her and some other ladies at the hospital - they have periodic "girls nights." I feel so lonely and desperate for friends these days (the boyfriend is great and all, but I would like to go out and bond with other women) that I wanted to say "Yes!! Let me know when the next one is and I'll be there!!!"...but I feel terribly awkward admitting that I don't have a car and that I need someone to give me a ride. I want to hang out with people without feeling like a charity case. 

I'm hoping so much that when I get a raise, I can put money toward a car...and buy one soon! 

Speaking of the job, the manager position has filled so now it's my turn. The residency director talked to my supervisor about posting the position for which I'm applying and the subsequent opening for whoever takes my place. They discussed salary as well and the director iterated what had been said during our conversation: she told my supervisor that I needed more money and that if I wasn't going to get this, I would start looking somewhere else. We need to take care of her, she said. (The director told me about their conversation afterward.) It was really nice to have someone in my corner pushing my interests. I feel very fortunate in this regard. I'm guessing the upgrade will happen in January, but we will see. 

I'm not going insane

I'm just walking around my room, talking to myself...trying to get inspired about my boring life and figure out how to make myself more interesting to the world...and me. 

There is supposed to be a catastrophic storm coming through Tucson any minute now, but like other potentially interesting things in my Tucson life, it's not here and I doubt it's even going to come. 

Maybe I'll go ride my bicycle. My squeaking-even-though-I-greased-everything-last-weekend bicycle.

I can't even write. Anymore. Not one. more. word. 

That's totally a lie.

I'm so glad the weekend is two days away, so I can stare at my wall for 48 hours.

I'm done with today, with feeling useless, with being boring, etc, etc, and etc. 

New Years Resolutions

1) Become a better listener. It will help my memory and keep people from repeating themselves.

2) Speak more directly, rather than try to spare people's feelings. I'm still going to choose my words carefully, but I'm also going to say what I need to say.

Ten Things About Amy - End of 2013 Edition

My cousin asked me to write 10 things about myself for a facebook thing going around. It took me months, but I finally wrote them and I want to share them here, as well.

1) With a few exceptions, I have an attention span of about three months for hobbies/interests. It's awesome and unfortunate at the same time.

2) I find joy in the little things. I just went out an bought a new tube of toothpaste and couldn't be more excited!

3) It's interesting how my ambitions have changed over the years. I used to dream big and hope to impact the world with some amazing idea or feat. However, now I just want to afford my own apartment and groceries. I'm not sure if that's failure or life.

4) I am into bodywork and oriental medicine. They have been instrumental in physical and psychological healing.

5) I live my life behind the trends. I'm completely ok with this, except that when I finally watch Breaking Bad, I won't have anyone to agonize with over the drama.

6) Laughing's my favorite! :-D

7) I can answer a phone like a boss.

8) There was a time when I lived by a rigid set of rules, where things were black and white, right and wrong. You could see that rigidness in my body, hear it in the way I spoke, and feel it when I walked into a room. Now, my life is much softer. I've broken "the rules." I laugh more. I don't paint things as black and white, but as blue, orange, yellow, etc. I'm open to more interpretations of the way life can be. I believe there is a time for rules and rigidness, especially when building a foundation. However, I've learned that there is also a time for expansion, and that one must grow out of the foundation in order to create, be, and live a life worthwhile. 

9) Once, I accidentally dropped a spoon down the garbage disposal while it was running and it now has an oddly-bent shape. It is my favorite dining utensil.

10) I value being healthy. I hope to figure out exactly what that means by the age of 75.

Releasing Anger

I believe people are inherently good...but sometimes I forget it when they hurt me.     It usually isn't until later that I see two were at fault in a falling out, and it's hard to realize that it takes a broken, unpatchable relationship to learn of our flaws. It sucks to think that we have to "go through" each other like boxes of kleenex. It's difficult to see it took a person's pain, discontinued contact, and time to understand that I was wrong...and how I was wrong. And that nothing can be done to heal the gash, except maybe time.

When I moved to Arizona, I was in pain mentally. I see now, too, that I held a lot of anger. I don't quite understand where either the pain or the anger came from, but I'm sure it was a combination of my own inner workings and outside influences. Either way, today I felt as though I had let go of some anger. It came out as sadness - because I saw my past differently - but either way, it's gone.

Switched-Race Alter Egos

My good friend Yvette is a black woman originally from D.C. She was telling me how she used to work at a call center and would adopt an alter ego in order to sell products. She imagined she was a little white blonde girl named Stevie and - after taking on this persona - she claimed to have had significantly more sales than she would have had otherwise. I thought this was hilarious, but admitted that I couldn't do the opposite - pretend to be a black woman on the phone.

"I don't know, Amy," she said. "Sometimes you get an attitude that reminds me of my aunts."
"Really..." I said. I thought this was cool. Part of me has secretly wished I was black...or anything other than white to be honest.
"What should my name be? Something like LaToya or LaKeisha..."
"LaKeisha!"

And so it was. Yvette and I now have alter egos that we enjoy pulling out at work every once in a while - Stevie and LaKeisha - and they are great friends. They bring much laughter into the office.

Gender Roles: Ruling the World vs. Baking Cookies

An observant friend of mine mentioned that the roles of women in American society can be confusing. For instance, you find driven women who run businesses or have high-powered jobs, and yet deep down they struggle with an inner conflict - sometimes all they want to do is bake cookies. Right now I agree with this theory, because I experience it on a less extreme level. On one hand, I want to write books, travel, and change the world. Yet at the same time - in the back of my mind - I still have the dream of marrying rich and being relieved of earning money...where my only responsibility is being a good wife and a "partner in crime." And you know what? I have no shame in admitting that.

Those Who Watch and Those Who Help

I just watched a girl tell her mom about a conflict she was having with a part-time job offer and an extracurricular activity. Taking the job would require her to quit a music group she's been a part of for the last two years. However, she needed to start earning an income and get work experience. The girl said, "I don't know what to do." Her mom told her that she was 17 and she wasn't going to tell her what to do - she needed to make her own decisions. 

Growing up is hard. Learning to make good choices and bushwhacking a life path for yourself often leaves you confused, frustrated, and defeated. I know some parents prefer to teach by telling their kids to "figure it out yourself" when they make mistakes and get into tough situations. However, I have watched relationships between parents and their children go down the drain because of this philosophy and I'm not surprised. I'm not talking about kids who habitually make bad decisions, don't learn, and then run to their parents to bail them out. They could use some tough love. I'm talking about the ones who are really trying their best to do well. When parents say, "You're on your own," the kids feel abandoned during a time of need. At the very least, when they ask for help like the teenage girl did, it would be great if the parents talked about options, gave some advice, helped them make a plan...you know, gave them tools and taught them how to use them...made them feel like you weren't walking away. Doing this, I think, would prevent a lot of resentment and broken ties in families. 

There's that saying about teaching a man to fish so he'll eat for a lifetime. Nowhere in there does it say, "Tell him to figure it out and walk away." 

Drive Makes Us "Do-er" Squirrels?

You may remember from my post on shape-shifters, diggers, and do-ers that I was complaining about being a shape-shifter. Well, I found a new drive (drawing) and it is motivating me to improve other areas of my life, too. So there you have it - the key to achieving your dreams and becoming a happy human being: find something that motivates you, preferably an activity you are terrible at. The worse the better.

It's Hot Again

If 100+ temperatures were a crime, Tucson would be a felon. It's averaging 104 this week with a 108 spike on Friday. I've realized that if I'm not out of my house by 5:15 AM, any chance of decent exercise is gone for 14 hours. Unless I go to the mall just to walk around...which I do.

My diet has also changed because my body is desperate for water. I add lemon to my water now to replace electrolytes and eat celery for salt. I also crave vegetables like crazy...and they are taking up 2/3 or my daily food intake.  This is great in terms of healthy eating, but my refrigerator empties more quickly now. Instead of going to the store twice a week, for instance, I now need to go 3-4 times a week (I can only carry so much in my backpack). Is it really worth the extra effort? My time/money accountants are still working on that one. 

I don't care much for the heat, to be honest. I envy people who head north into the mountains for the summer. The worst part is, it's June 4th and this is only the beginning :-P.

The Cursed Shape-shifters

I was envying a peer of mine recently. She is a do-er. She manages to fit travel, fluency in multiple languages, event-organizing, parties, work, dancing, and the ability to look stylish into her one, single life. In comparison to her, I have the same mph as a tortoise. I do everything one at a time... while she does everything at one time. I'm guessing my reflectiveness has something to do with it...because I tend to sit and think about things. And then I think about how I do that. And then I wonder why I think so much and plan ways to get out of my forever-thinking cycle. 

As I contemplated our differences on a walk one evening, I ended up organizing people into three categories: the diggers, the doers, and the shape-shifters. To best explain these concepts, I will compare them to squirrels. First, we have the diggers. These people find their single holes (read: niches) and are perfectly happy to stay in the same place for the rest of their lives. They dig further and further into their burrow and stockpile resources (money, knowledge, skills). Then we have the doers. These people have several holes. They spend their lives running around between all of them, collecting resources in several locations and having a blast doing it. They are usually at the front of every scene, making like a beam and displaying all their talents in everything they do. People go, "Wow! I want THAT extroverted, talented leader on MY team." Which is super for them. Really, way to go. 

But in the middle of this spectrum, we have the shape-shifters, one of which I consider myself. These souls find a spectacular O-shaped hole and build their pile of resources like the other squirrels. After a little while, though, they discover they no longer fit the O-shape and need an L-shape instead...so they go find or build a new hole. This takes time and resources. The not-so-great thing is that most of their resources are stuck inside the O-shaped hole. Consequently, they take what they can from it and begin the burrowing process again - squirrels very well can't live without a hole! After a short while, however, they cannot fit the L-shape anymore, and need a hole with a new shape. The poor squirrels end up continuously moving from hole to hole as they try to find a place where they can stay. They hope they can find fulfillment in SOME shape - ANY shape - so they can quit stopping and re-starting their lives and live in a nice comfortable hole. In the meantime, they usually have very few acorns stashed while the diggers and doers continue to build their nutty wealth. It's frustrating to be a shape-shifter, I tell you. Just. so. frustrating.

Fortune Cookies...Except In Tea Bags

Yogi Tea had the ingenius idea of spreading pearls of wisdom and inspiration through their tea bags. I drink this almost every day, and open the bag has become an event - I get a thrill opening the bag just to read the yogi wisdom inside. It's particularly encouraging when you feel like someone pressed the Pause button on your motivation and creativity. Some of my favorites include:

Your intuition is your best friend.

Chances multiply if you grab them.

I Decided That I Want Friends

And so I searched for ways to make instant friends that was friendly for my budget, time, and professional aspirations. After exhausting some possibilities throught MeetUp.com, I landed on toastmasters. I've been a part of toastmasters in the past and thought I would give it another shot. It's not entirely young-friend oriented, but I figured it would help me with my speaking skills and give me some kind of socialization, which I crave like a chain-smoker who wants a cigarette.

Cycles of Art

Some cultures believe history functions in cycles - we are bound to repeat what has been - while others believe we move in a linear fashion toward continual enlightenment. I believe it's both, in which aspects of our lives repeat but they still change. I envision a spiral-like pattern. 

The point of that thought is that I'm thinking about taking an art class. I went to the Tucson Festival of Books on Saturday and the only flyer I picked up was from a place called The Drawing Studio. I seem to be particularly interested in drawing and painting these days. Wanting to be artistic happens to me every year. Sometimes it's photography, sometimes it's videography, sometimes it's something else. Right now it's painting/drawing/calligraphy.

In the past, I would have thought, "This is a sign of my true passion and what I should be doing with my life!" (because that's how I am). Now I relate it to doing dishes or the laundry: it just needs to be done. The desire for art will last...maybe a month at the most...and then I will cycle on to another interest. Probably psychology. I think that's a late spring/early summer habit.

Arizona Anniversary

Today is my anniversary of moving to Arizona. Go me for surviving!

Without A Phone: One of THOSE People

Every so often, a careless person (read: friend) will write an annoying post on facebook that she dropped her phone in some body of water and now desperately needs numbers so that she can patch the pieces of her life back together. This time, my phone became the next victim to water (work + rain + biking home).

However. As we speak, my phone is sitting in a bowl of rice and I refuse to post a play-by-play of it's vital stats on facebook. Instead, I will post here that if you've sent me a "Happy New Years!" text, you probably won't receive a response. This is for you, Mom.