Nifty Map thing

create your own visited country map
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create your own personalized map of the USA
Should I inlude states I just drove through on a road trip? I don't think that counts.

Odissi

The last dance to be done in a performance ~ the dance of liberation ~ the dance of transcendence ~ the dance of peace and joy.

Weekend Wedding

He's edgy today ~ I think its his pain - it's making him hostile. He sarcastically barked at drivers all the way home. The unpredictability of it made me ill at ease and slightly fearful. I stayed quiet not wanting to fan the flames . But it will pass. Probably when the new patch that he just applied to his chest kicks in. As I type, he just demanded someone "BE QUIET" who was talking over him in his vent WOW guild chat. Sounded strange. I hope that patch kicks in soon. I feel so sorry for him. I can't imagine what it would be like to be in constant pain.

Every

single

day.

It's so terrible.

It's so unfair.

We went to his best friend's wedding over the weekend. (It was his bachelor party that left us in the hospital for 3 days last weekend.) We had a long drive and arrived at the groom's new house late. The old tiny brick home was a flurry of activity: cute little boy-men in various states of dress - scampering about looking for socks and hairspray and fighting over the tiny bathroom mirror. Being the only girl-woman present, I had the honor of hastily pinning corsages (is that what they're called for men?) on handsome chests and straightening little black ties.

"Is this right? Should it be higher?"

"Just a little higher, here, like this." As I reached out, hoping to assuage some nerves.

It was

just

so

cute.

They were all so,

so

cute.

Then suddenly it seemed all of the lapels had lined up, anxiously waiting for my help. I felt special and important and needed. Silly and true. I was working on the third when interrupted by the arrival of an outlandishisly long white Hummer outside.

"We'll do the rest in the limo!" The groom exclaimed - nervously rushing the gang.

I hopped in my car to follow them since I didn't know my way when I noticed that we'd just made a giant loop around the block. The limo door flung open and the groom sprinted back inside the house, retrieving the wedding ring-pillow. Again we departed only to loop back again. The groom made a second mad dash to retrieve another overlooked wedding accoutrement. My heart raced for him. And when finally our 2 vehichle caravan arrived at the strange purple carpeted revival church, he realized that in his haste and excitement he'd forgotten something else - a CD - The Wedding march!

"I'll get it!" I volunteered, excited to be involved. I scribbled driving directions from The Cutie on a florescent orange The Lord Is Our Savior flyer, quickly took the groom's keys and cell phone and drove as fast as I possibly could in hopes of saving the day. I was on a mission. And happy.

* * *

He was in the wedding party and was so handsome in his tux. But the tux was heavy and the church was sweltering ~ I'd say 88 degrees? It was 4:00pm and he hadn't eaten a thing all day. I worried he'd pass out from a combination of low sugar and the strain of standing for such an extended period of time. Not to mention the danger of heat prematurely releasing a larger dose of fentanyl in his chest patch, making him sick or high or both. People die from fentanyl overdoses.

Big black women fanned themselves with programs handed out at the door laced with pink ribbon bows, reminding me of an old black southern church. The white preacher man wore scuffed white patent leather shoes with his black suit and used a poor man's grammar, wandering off topic and self-indulgently drifting about. He startled me with words like "stinky" and talked at length about "how many people these days get divorced and how men use up all of women's good years and then when they hit their 40's and 50's, and their wife gains a little weight, they run off and find themselves a 20 year old." An occasional "AMEN" or knowing "mmm hmmmm" rang out from the rows behind me making me glad that at least someone was getting something out of his peculiar delivery. I wondered privately if a guilty conscious informed his lecture. Everyone knows marriages are doomed these days ~ but why rub it in your face on your wedding day! So gloomy. So gauche.

And then the vows.... Preacherman made the groom and bride repeat word for word a long series of what sounded again like impromptu phrases. They seemed to ramble strangely and precariously on. When finally the groom was prompted to say, "Precious" ~ a good part of us did all that we could to contain the giggling.

"Precious," he repeated, stiffling his own chuckle.

But when promted next to add "My precious" half of the church could no longer contain themselves, and exploded into overflowing laughter. Others sat silent ~ perhaps confused.

A bit later the groom was promted:

"Your lips," "your lips"

"Are like strawberry's" "Are like ::chuckle:: strawberries " And he threw back his head and released a laugh.

The bride looked much less amused.

Maybe she didn't get the allusion. Or maybe she did but didn't find it funny. But why didn't she? At some point it all just became simply too ridiculous to overlook. Even on your wedding day. Especially on your wedding day. Or, maybe she stood before those 150 people, sweat falling from her beautiful done-up face, bewildered and alone. Did the laughter make her feel alienated on the one day that was supposed to be strictly hers? I contemplated it as she not-so-coyly plucked a crumbled Kleenex from her bosom, swabbed her sweaty upper lip and with a bend of her wrist tucked it back from whence it came. I wondered if my sense of bewilderment and disbelief suggested that I was snotty.

On the other hand, the receiption was as lavish as the church was hokey ~ and everything about it felt glamorous and ornate. Oversized mirrored walls, and white sparkeling points of light in tremendous crystal light pieces overhead like Saks Fifth Avenue New York at Christmas. The food too was as immaculate as plentiful, the DJ as entertaining as the photographers professional. It was lovely. And the Cutie and I danced for the very first time! The first time in our first 2 years of life together. (Our anniversary was July 25.)

2 years!

We talked about marriage and if it was in our future. He said he thinks of it every week and yet is still ambivalent. Regardless, he says, he wouldn't be able to do it for at least another two years.

Sad.

Sad?

I felt rejected and relieved.

Frustrated and glad.

I want him to want me. But maybe I'm jaded now too. Is marriage realistic? Useful? Necessary? Why do it? For the family? For religion? For security? For ownership? Isn't that entrapment? Is that fair? This young couple spent 16,000 dollars on this ceremony. Sixteen thousand dollars on this single day. And today as I type the day is gone. What a way to start a new life. In debt and stressed out. As if being a new home owner is enough. As if completely altering your life isn't enough. I wonder how they'll feel post-Aruba. Will they still feel they're meant for each other? As reality and bills and dishes and open toilet seat covers set in, will they begin to crumble? Are my good years being used up like those young women that the white shoed preacher spoke of? And will I be left childless and alone?

A weekend to never repeat

"Somethings wrong! He's not doing so good!" 

The bubbly man-nurse observed me cautiously, "Why.  What's going on?"  

Give facts - be concise- sound credible, 'He's um.  He's writhing around and in allota pain."

Mannurse nodded and I rushed back to The Cutie's bedside.  Then, before my eyes he deteriorated from bad to worse.   When the whimpering began my heart died a thousand times and when the tears came my heart was eviscerated.  Frantic, I raced to the nurse station and pleaded,

"Please hurry!  He's getting really bad!"  

And Supermannurse transformed into a hero as he finally he rushed off, activated retrieving relief.

The moments before the shot came was clearly the most excruciating millenium that I've ever experienced.  By the time the kindly bespeccled doctor arrived we were bawling.  I can hardly type it.  I can't barely think of it.  The horror.  The pain of seeing The Cutie, my love, in agony.  The pain of his pain.   My god.   What could possibly be worse?   

He said he wasn't going to drink and I never doubted him.  He's levelheaded, and a man of his word.   Not to mention that 50% of his dozen daily medications have giant flaming red "DO NOT DRINK ALCOHOL" stickers wrapped around them, so it would behooooooove him not to.   Diabetes + alcohol is a recipe for disaster.  But as I'm sure you'd suspect from my lengthly preface, douchebag had 5 drinks at his best friend's bachelor party Saturday night leading to 10 hours of vomitting, leading to 3 days 2 nights of IV's & harried nurses, leading to my 5 days of sleepless bedside worry while trying to be his voice and protectorate.  Thank goodness the hospital is but a stone's throw away and little doggie is the best doggie in the world; adapting well to life in her box with the exception of my half time food visits and and quarterly bathroom/mini-walks in the 100+ degree NY sweltering air.  I missed two days of work.  And comically my first 2 days as an exempt college "Administrator" at that. (hahaha - is that as amusing to you as it is to me?)  Just riding the wave of life - unpredictable as it is. 

Off to the store to retrieve water.  His sugar is still high at 300.  Guess we're home but not yet fully recovered.  What jouney its been these past few days.

Another Day Another Dollar

Just arrived at work.  I'm determined to not let it get me down.  Today is going to be a good day!  I don't care what happens!  I will not let it get me down.  It's not worth it.  It's up to me how I feel.

A day of Peace

The phones are down which means no displaced angry accusations, no frustrated venters, no idiotic repetitious questioning, and no interruptions! 

 

Praise the Lord!   

 

As far as customer service, I always saw myself as gifted, until now, that is.  Things are getting to me.  Yesterday I almost had a meltdown after a call from HR informing me I'd be required to pay for Health Benefits for an entire month that I actually couldn't use them at all.  Didn't have an insurance card and couldn't make appointments.  Completely deflated and tired, I mumbled "Ok.  It doesn't matter.  I'm just tired of fighting."  The Director called me back immediately alarmed which made me start cracking up right in the middle of the room on the phone.  Kindness does that to me.  If only people could maintain a constant level of indifference towards me, it would be much easier to maintain composure.  But at that point I was so embarrassed that I couldn't formulate any decent sentences anyway and was thoroughly humiliated by my unintentional show of emotion.  I AM tired though.  I'm so so tired.  6 interviews and almost an entire year later I'm STILL being put on hold in regards to an actual position here.  ("The proposal needs to be signed by the VP and Pres)  Broken promises Broken Promises Broken Promises~ why is it so hard to simply honor what YOU'VE already proposed?  I mean, did I make this up?  No!   Last Tuesday when I finally received an official offer (after my SIXTH interview for the school -  the SECOND for the actual position I'm working in the same department with the same Bosslady. DUH!) , I quietly expressed disappointment as it didn't match what was formerly promised even in writing!  (I NEVER and i repeat NEVER would have returned had I not a guarantee, IN WRITING that I would not be screwed over again~ Burned once - Shame on you? Burned twice - shame on you? Burned thrice - SHAME ON ME!!!)   And $4 dollars less an houris allot in my life right now.  ALLOT)    The kindly looking old HR man looked downwards at his papers, and if I didn't know better, I might venture to was embarrassed for the organization.   At least I hope he was.  He needed to be.  Unscrupulous!  Unethical!  Simply wrong.   And this is a religious institution no less?   Bah!  You'd be a fool to not see this transparent incongruous empty "offer."   And this after returned AGAIN "to help" the extremely short-staffed, chaotic, over-stressed department in a desparte need AFTER the the thorough humiliaton of being kicked to the curb twice for position previously promised to me.  Again and again.    Anyway...

 

At least the CrazyBossLady is gone for the day along with her authoritarian 12 year old who's  "worked" with us each day for the past few weeks - issuing commands as translated from her manic overbearing mother.  The fruit doesn't fall far from the tree and we cringe as she approaches - stopping and staring intently inches away from our desks as she waits while we address student or faculty walk-ins.   In her 12 year old voice, she clumsily answers the phones and occasionally shouts  to Mommy for further directions.  It's so          embarrassing.             As if one of them isn't enough ~ now they've multiplied!   The Cutie threatens to call CPS and fulfill my secret evil dream.  HA!  But no, we suck it up and bear it.  Like so many other aspects of this nut-house office.  Day by day.  I keep my eyes on the paycheck and keep planning to job-search yet again.  When I have the strenght.  True its a paycheck, but still, I'm not totally dead yet.   Not yet.   I want more.  But I keep wondering what lessons I should take from this?  I'm 3 for 3 now for the jobs in New York.  Is there any meaning to that?  Is it a sign that it will be the same everywhere?  To live a life as an employee, will I be inevitably required to grin and bear impatience, unkindness,  arrogance,  dogmatic rigidity,  irrationality. 

 

I suspect I'm much to sensitive to survive in New York.

 

I think it's going to eat me alive.

It seems like everyday is a fight.  Why does everything require a fight?   Why don't people just honor their agreements.  Why don't people just do what's right.  I'm so tired of fighting.  Every day is seems to be yet another fight.  I'm tired.  Tired of it.  Tired.

Thank god

It's the weekend!  Yay!  Relief! 
Peace!

Bad Bosses and How to Handle Them

By BARBARA MOSES
Globe & Mail May 6, 2002

SHe goes from strength to strength, even though everyone knows he has the spine of a jellyfish. He won't lobby for the resources you need, or stand up for you on critical issues. As a result, you are doing work below your own standards, but he doesn't seem to care -- so long as it gets done within the budget.

At the first sign of a conflict, he runs. He tolerates toxic behaviour from your co-workers and perhaps even encourages petty rivalries. He is a classic example of the weak manager, and a very bad boss.

Bad bosses -- whether jerks, bullies, or micro-managers -- have always been with us. Today, however, we're seeing more bad bosses than ever before. As a result of institutionalized leanness, overextended managers are both short-tempered and too busy or ill-trained to provide staff with the support they need. No one has as much power as a bad boss to unnerve you and wreak havoc on your sense of self-esteem. This is why it is commonly said that people don't quit jobs, they quit bosses.

What makes for a bad boss? Some are just plain nasty, but often, a bad boss is all in the eye of the beholder. One person's boss from hell may be another person's pinup. If you need regular direction, for example, you will be miserable with a hands-off, absentee manager, but if you have strong needs for autonomy you will flourish under the same regime.

Then again, the problem could be simply bad chemistry. She's an introvert and you're an extrovert. You like direction, she thinks you're "needy." You like to go home at six, she's a workaholic. So before you assume your boss is a complete jerk, ask yourself: Does she get along with others? Does she pick on everyone, or just you?

The key to getting on with a boss is to manage him by understanding his underlying motivations, which may be different than you think. Here are some common types of bad bosses, their motivations, and strategies for dealing with them. If you're a manager, look for yourself in these descriptions:

The weak manager

She won't stand up for you. She aggressively avoids taking risks. She's vague and her commitments have the sticking power of water.

But the underlying causes of her behaviour can vary. Often, she simply wants to be liked by everyone, and can't stand conflict. It's also possible she's too busy to understand when there is a problem, or too burned out to care. Frequently, such managers are reluctant to be managers at all, and would much rather be getting on with their own work as individuals.

They may also be ill-trained, and lacking management skills.

If you are dealing with a weak manager, identify the problem. For example, if your manager needs to be liked by everyone, avoid communications that suggest contentious or highly charged emotional issues. Where you can, solve conflicts yourself. If her problem is that she is spineless and refuses to take on any leadership role, talk to your boss's boss.

If your boss is too burned out to care or is a reluctant manager, work around her. Take the initiative to set out the parameters of the work. Give yourself the feedback you need. Pin your boss down by e-mail to a suggested meeting time.

Make her life easy by only talking to her about critical issues. If your boss is lacking management skills, tell her what you need from her to do your job. Then cover yourself by sending an e-mail.

The political manager

He has an unerring ability to know what will make him look good. He will go to bat for you only on issues that serve his political agenda. He's sneaky and plays favourites. He won't think twice about using you as a sacrificial lamb to support his own career goals.

Support his high need for recognition by making him look good on strategic projects. Focus your own efforts on "high-value" work. Be prepared to share the limelight, even if it kills you. Don't trust him to have your own interests at heart. Pitch him on work you want to do by emphasizing its profile and importance to senior management.

The black-and-white manager

He just doesn't get it -- either because he has the IQ of an eraser or he is as concrete as they come. He doesn't understand context, nuance, or high-level ideas.

If his problem is intellectual deficiency, indulge him like a misguided child. Better yet, ignore him if you can. But if the problem is one of cognitive style, shape your communications to his needs. If he is fact-oriented, don't waste your time painting compelling arguments based on ideas. Simply state the facts and provide information unembellished.

The obsessive micro-manager

She trusts you the way you'd trust a five-year-old behind the wheel of the car. No matter how much detail you give her, or how many times you do redo a piece of work, it's still not right. You're completely demotivated and have lost your sense of competence.

Why is she so untrusting? Is she anxious about failing to please her boss, or is she simply a control freak? If the problem is her own insecurity, anticipate issues that will make her anxious by reassuring her that you have covered all the bases. Say, for example, "in completing this I spoke to Jane Doe and took the following issues into account . . ." Write it down as well, as she may be too anxious to fully process what you are saying.

The invisible manager

You have no one to go to for direction. She doesn't have a clue about the volume or pace of your work. You're killing yourself, but no one notices or gives you feedback.

This manager shares many of the underlying motivations of the weak manager. She may be invisible because she's too busy, or is a reluctant or unskilled manager.

If she is pressed for time, do your homework before you meet with her to make the meeting as efficient as possible. Be strategic on issues where you need support. Give yourself direction and feedback by setting milestones and regularly evaluating your effectiveness against them. Thank yourself for a job well done. Establish a mechanism for getting direction, whether it be weekly or monthly meetings at an agreed time. Hold her to her commitment

The task master

He doesn't have a life, and doesn't expect you to either. You're drowning in work but he keeps heaping on more. His time-lines are ridiculous. Sometimes an extremely task-focused manager is simply shy or preoccupied, or so focused on getting the work done that he's not aware of the impact of his behaviour on the people around him. Is he aware of your work load?

If you've talked to him and he still doesn't get it, create your own standards for evaluating what is realistic and doable. Don't be apologetic about wanting time for a personal life. Work-life balance is your right, not a privilege. If your organization wants to "be an employer of choice" remind your boss of the incongruity between policy and behaviour.

The nasty manager

She's ruthless. She seems to take pleasure in watching you squirm. She has pets and you are not one of them.

Sometimes an apparently nasty boss is simply so task-focused that she is oblivious to how her behaviour makes you feel. Underneath a gruff exterior, as the saying goes, may be the heart of a pussycat. When you confront her, does she apologize, or get mad?

Regardless of what type of boss you have, your first line of defense is to speak to him, as he may not be aware of his behaviour. Don't make sweeping generalizations about his personality. Rather, talk to the specific behaviour in question and tell him how it makes you feel. You can soften your comments and avoid defensiveness by allowing your boss to save face. Introduce your statements with "You may not be aware . . ." or "You may not realize . . ." or "You may not intend . . ."

If none of these strategies work, you have two choices. If you have good personal reasons for staying in your job -- you love your work, you're learning a lot, you like the people you're working with -- you can hold your nose and ignore your boss as best you can. Or, you can quit: life is too short too deal with this kind of abuse.

Dr. Barbara Moses is the best-selling author of What Next? The Complete Guide to Taking Control of Your Working Life, an international speaker and work issues expert.

P.S.

Thank you for your comments.   They bring me back to life.

FOUL

Disgust.  Utter overflowing disgust.  I can't begin to express the foulness of this feeling.  And it seems like I'll be pulled under the reprehensible blanket incompetence too if I continue here.  In the departement.  In this school?  I mean, this stuff is important!  In many cases crucial to people lives!  Their degrees their money.  $20,000 a year is no joke.  I'd want to know that the people billing me had a clue.   I'd want to know the people totalling up my credits could count.  Ok I'm exaggerating, or, am I?   I want someone who gives a shit!  I want someone who's intelligent enough to see there are problems even if they don't yet know how to fix them.  I WANT TRAINING!!!!   I'm a hard worker who gives a damm and will go to great lengths to see a job well done.  But it's irrelevant if I'm told to do things that require information that is not given.  If I ask basic questions, her face goes red, her voice rises and she angrily repeats again again things quite unrelated.  Why?  Why?!   Is she crazy?  Is she stupid?  Is she... defensive because she doesn't know either?  Does she just not know how to communicate?  Listen to and respond?  Interpret verbal dialogue?  What can it be?  Regardless, I am NOT the Registrar!  So how is it that she's demanding a sign important verficiation documents and use the college seal?  I don't even have a title for goodness sake!  I don't even have an offical job yet!  After all of these months, actually a year now I'm still in limbo.  Here but not here.  Employed but barely an employee.  Expected to know everything but virtually untaught.  These poor students.  Ultimately they're the ones who suffer.  And they're the ones we're supposed to be here for.  Where are they left?  Glossed over and considered inconveniences by overtaxed, frustrated workers.  Oh, I am tired.

In a Fog

Haven't been too aware of myself.  What's happening around me.  Where I ought to be or where I am.  Trying to protect myself I think.  From getting to overwhelmed.  Blogging would likely increase the consciousness which may be (unconsciously) why I've avoided it.  To erupting from the haze may be prickly.  Can I handle that?  I may be teetering with depression.  When I think about the amount of crying it seems like it.  Thank goodness I finally have health insurance and finally (finally!) I plan to make some appointments - with a therapist, dentist, doctor about what seemed like a sudden case of wicked carpel tunnel that developed without warning after precariously positioned at a counter and attemping to type all day with hands by my shoulders at work.  Damm her!  The current "boss" is just beyond words.  But if I DID have words, I might say, PASSIVE AGRESSIVE, INEPTITUDE, DUPLICITOUS, UNPROFESSIONAL and a strong resemblance to a circus clown.  Of course saying all of that would require negativty which I'm trying so hard to avoid.  But its hard.  So hard.  I'm being sued by two separate creditors making outrageous inflamed claims regarding debts TWELVE YEARS OLD.  Can they do that?  I don't know?  Can they win?  I don't know.  I'm overwhelmed by my lack of empowerment.  I need information, knowledge and help but lack the resources to get it.  I need a lawyer.  But the cutie says they're $400 an hour which is far beyond my reach.  And so I'm left to my own wavering devices.  Blindly negotiating a system I don't understand.  Clumsily filing court papers that I can't read. 

 

And back to work. 

 

The boss arrived.

 

 

Just Tired.

I haven't been posting because I don't like hearing my own negativity. It embarrases me. I'm supposed to be an optimist. The one the makes you feel better. That comforts. That makes you laugh. So who's words are these in my head?

It's not that bad.

Really.

 

I'm ok. 

 

I'm usually happy.

 

The work situation has been unreal though.  The past months frustrations are too big to want to retell.

 

I'm so happy to get your comments! 

 

I can't believe you're stickin around!

 

Now THAT makes me happy.

 

 

=)

Where to start?

I've been swept away - haven't read or blogged in countless weeks.  Absorbed in ~no not absorbed~ lost in ~ work then rushing home to escape it though my fantasy WOW world until finally falling into unconscious sleep.  Rewind. Begin again.  Day after day.  Just trying to get by.  Survive.  Flourishing is not even on the radar.   One day at a time.  Mindless and numb.  Trying my best to contain the rage.

I think I'm a sellout

And/or have no self-respect.  Obviously.  Otherwise why would I accept this treatment?  Because I "need" a job.  Even if it's barely a job.  A sympathy job, as it is.  Not good enough to be officially hired but not bad enough to be fired.  So instead hired and dehired hired and dehired and all-the-time hanging on by a thread.  Scrutinzed and judged.  Dancing and prancing and putting on a show.  Trying to be liked enough to stay.  Valued.  When will it end?  8 months and still in limbo.

zoinks

Just reread that post - so many typos!  I'll fix it when I get home....

(I'm in the college computer center posting from my email.)

My eyelids weigh a thousand pounds

and I'm only half way through the day.   This job can be taxing. Lines and lines of students out the door - mostly perplexed and frustrated and often ready aggressively launch into accusations and demands.  For the past week I've been virtually on my own to field the complaints, tuition payments, billing questions, transcript orders, and releasing holds for registration.  This feels like some kind of feat considering I've pretty much had to figure all of the mentioned by myself is stressful alone.  Also, I've had to work long hours - way past my official end time of 4:30 since certain functions - most especially reconciling and closing the day must be done every night.  Thus far, that has meant if the lines of student waiting 45 minutes + to see me happens to still be there at 4:30, I don't even BEGIN the reconciling process until the time I'm supposed to go home - meaning I don't get home for another several hours ~ unpaid.  And, technically, I'm still a temp!  When I remind myself of that - it blows my mind that a process as important as the Fall registration was virtually left to a temp!  

 

Yesterday, I had yet ANOTHER interview, (for the job that I'm already working.)  If you've been counting, that makes 3 now for this school.  One with the President for the Exec Assist job (which I got), 2 for the that same job (which I then didn't get), and 3 for this now replacement job (that I've been working at.)   Um.  Does that seem outrageous to you too?

 

::sigh::

 

The HR Director was sure to mention at the end that I do not have the job yet as he is considering all of the application, but he thanks me for my help during this busy time.

 

:::blank stare:::

 

I don't even want to CONSIDER them not offering this too me at this point.   I would sue.  I would scream.  I would file complaints.  I don't know what the hell I would do except be utterly sick.  

 

 

Some Progress! Finally!

The wonders of work.

I don't care what job it is, it just feels so much better to have a full-time job. If only "temp," (though it appears not for long) waking up every day, busting my butt, and getting a friggin paycheck is such a relief. I feel better about myself. I have more of a sense of security. And my god, actually am feeling some optimism.