Beware the Ides of March!

It’s the Ides of March today. That really doesn’t mean much in our society. The only reason I even remember it is because we studied Shakespeare’s “Julius Ceasar” in high school and it stuck with me.

When you study something in high school, you don’t just casually read it. You read it and then discuss it. Then you analyze it. Then you have to read it again because you’re taking a test on it. Then you have to write a paper on it.

The upside is that often, it stays with you as in the case of the literature we had to read that I enjoyed. I liked Shakespeare. I can still recite most of Hamlet’s soliloquy. I cannot, however, really tell you what happened in Moby Dick other than it’s about a man obsessed with a whale because, well, I never read Moby Dick. I tried really hard to read it but I could not get passed the first place. Each time I tried, it was like this curtain came down in my brain and everything in the world was more interesting. Still, somehow I managed to get an A on my paper in class. I’m still amazed at the fact that there is a way to construct sentences so you sound like you’re saying something really important but really, you’re saying nothing.

Anyway, long story short, I still have March 15 bookmarked in my brain as a day to ‘beware’. (“Beware the Ides of March"- Julius Caesar Act 1, scene 2,)

Fortunately, so far the only thing I’ve had to beware is trying to avoid a bird as it flew perilously close to my car this morning and, also, getting wet since it’s raining. Work was pretty quiet but nicely productive and no cause for beware-ing so that was a good thing.

It’s a pretty typical March day out there, Ides of March or no. It’s wet and soggy and even the daffodils that have bloomed early are hanging their heads to avoid the rain.

Yet, the nice thing about March in the Midwest is that while it’s chilly and damp today, tomorrow, it’s supposed to be warm and sunny. Thursday is supposed to be positively lovely with 70 degrees and sun.

It’s going to be hard to work on Thursday. It’s always hard to work when it’s nice outside but I find on the first truly nice days of the year, work is something that one must be talked into doing. I’m not the only one who feels this way. In my old job, it was a day when all of those with laptops (read: Everyone BUT me) got to go outside and “work” while I, chained to my large old desktop PC, got to see them laughing and chatting from the window. My boss used to go outside too without so much of a “hey, sorry you’re stuck inside” to me. This is one of the many reasons he’s my ex-boss.

My current boss is much nicer. On nice days, he doesn’t mind if we leave a little early. One of my coworkers is an avid golfer and on nice, balmy, dry days he leaves the office to go hit the golf course.

Once again, I have to say, I like my job. I’m thankful that I escaped from the old one and landed here. I actually was talking to a candidate yesterday who is stuck in a job that makes her miserable. She said that it’s hard to talk herself into getting up in the morning and not calling in sick. I know how she feels. Truth-be-told, at my last job, that’s where I was when I decided to solve the problem by finding another job. I’m glad she came to me. I’ve made her my #1 priority- no one should be stuck in a job that makes them miserable.

Yet, I try not to look back to much on my old job. It’s hard sometimes because I’m still friends with a couple of my old coworkers and it’s easy to get sucked back into the gossip and news in the office. It’s just simply nice to know I work now for a place who not only makes me feel appreciated but also makes me feel respected. That’s a huge thing that doesn’t seem important until you realize how much of a difference that makes.

Sometimes when I talk to my old coworkers, I wonder if things would be any different if I stayed. Yet when I hear the stories of backstabbing, passive-agressiveness and office-politics, once again that amazing flood of relief washes over me and I am eternally grateful I got out of there.

But, the beautiful thing is that most of the time, I don’t need those reminders to make me appreciate my new job. It’s the small things such as not having to pay 35 cents for a Diet Coke but having it provided for the small cost of occasionally having to stock the fridge. It’s the “thanks for your hard work” I get from my boss at least once a week. It’s the fact that my boss buys a 24 pack of beer and brings it into the office so we can all hang out in the break area for a while.

It’s the fact that a bad day at this job has yet to send me outside my building to place an emergency venting call to my mother or my friend because I’m on the verge of either throwing a heavy object at my boss or I’m going to do something worse- go cry in the bathroom because I’m so frustrated and angry.

Really, bad days at work are relative to how much you like your job. Mondays, rainy days and the Ides of March really don’t seem so bad after all when, in the grand scheme of things, you’re simply grateful to be where you are.

And, in my case, I truly am- in all aspects of my life.

Happy Wednesday!

Time Traveling...Again.

I time traveled again today and, as before, it happened without much warning.

I spent the weekend at my parent's house since I have two nieces who recently celebrated birthdays and I, the dutiful aunt, had gifts for them. Having discovered that the oldest of my two nieces is a reader, just as I'd been as a child, I thought back to what I would have liked at her age. As a result, I ordered three of my favourite books from childhood from a UK based used book store. The books were, "The Owl Who was Afraid of the Dark," "The Worst Witch," and, my all time favourite- "Dogger"- a book about a little boy who loses his cherished stuffed toy dog but through the kindness of his older sister is reunited with it.

Sadly, I think my niece wasn't very impressed with the books at all. I'm hoping when she gets a little older, she'll enjoy them just as I did. If not, well...I tried and next time a gift-giving occasion arises, I'll try again to find something I think she'd like.

Anyway, aside from the birthdays, I had lunch with a friend which was very nice since she, too, is a writer and it's always nice to talk writing for a while.

I also was asked by my parent's if I could clean out my old bedroom since my dad wants to start one of his slightly tumultuous renovation projects which involves remodeling my old room. Actually, from the sounds of it, it sounds a little like it's going to demolish my old room but he seems to know what he's doing so...we have to trust him. For now, at least.

So, I spent a good part of today going through my old things which is where the time traveling came in. I found remnants of many ages and stages of my life from the very first 'published' piece of writing I did- when I was about nine, we had to write a fable so I wrote, "How the Sheep Got his Fleece." My teacher liked it so much she typed it up and mounted it on the wall for everyone to see. She said, "I want you to know what it looks like to see your name in print." It was nice to find that old story again.

I found the giant card, decorated with hand-sketched and coloured pictures of Mickey Mouse that my old friend, Lee Hudson, had drawn. Inside were all kinds of notes and messages wishing me luck in America. It was signed by most of my teachers and all of the people in my house at school. It was a bittersweet find- one that makes me smile at the thoughtfulness of my peers but sad that it was another life and another time. Some of those signatures belong to friends I have on Facebook but others...I'll probably never know where they ended up.

I also found my slightly cringe-worthy high school box. It was an old cardboard box, every inch covered by Sharpie-drawn pictures, words and cartoons that my friend, Amy, had done for me. When I'd originally got the box, it had a stuffed monkey in it. I didn't want to throw the box away so it became my memento box. Inside, I found old yearbooks, nostalgic trinkets that reflected my crushes and crazes of my adolescent years. I found pictures, cards and all kinds of memorabilia that is a visual trail of how I used to be.

I found college papers, articles from when I was a journalism major. They were graded and had enthusiastic comments on them from one of my favourite professors- Dr. Caroline Dow. Unfortunately, I found out she passed away from cancer a few years ago so I couldn't bring myself to throw those papers away. She'd believed in me so much and I know I disappointed her when I changed from a journalism major to theatre. To this day, I wonder if I made the right choice but since I liked where I've ended up, I can't look back and regret the decision.

I also found boxes of theatre playbills that is a chronological history of my obsession with theatre, photos of my high school friends, photos of me in high school. I was a supremely shy girl, very lacking in self-esteem, thinking myself very unattractive. I still have traces of that but, for the most part, have accepted that I am what I am and that's not so hideous. It's amazing to see those pictures and realize that I was a bit stupid to think I was so unattractive and ugly back then. I don't look so bad. Some photos, I think I actually look quite pretty. I hate that I couldn't see that then but I suppose most people doubt themselves in high school.

I continued my sorting and unearthed a collection of trinkets and papers from when I was a theatre intern in Maine for a summer and an apprentice the next. I loved Maine. If I were ever to be wealthier, I'd get a summer cottage up there. There's nothing better than the feel of an evening by the fire on a cool, fresh Maine beach. We used to go to the beach after the shows were done and sit out, drink beer and just talk. It was a great couple of summers.

I found articles I'd had published in the Fort Wayne Journal Gazette when I'd been working there as a receptionist/library assistant. Short on staff, the features editor was looking for some articles and I volunteered. One of them made it to the front page of the Lifestyles section.

I kept all the mementos I mentioned above but I also threw away bags and bags of things that meant something at the time but didn't hold enough strong memories to justify keeping them. I am a pack rat of sorts but I also have the ability to know when to let things go which makes for a nice balance.

Essentially, I spent part of today looking back over my life through things that I've kept to remind me of it. It was a nice day, if a little sad. It's always bittersweet to look back at our lives and realize how far we've come even though some things were left behind. The things that are important to us change a little over time even though the really important things like friends, family and passions stay the same.

I kept the things that were most important to me. Now I just have to find somewhere to put them. That's the problem with memories; they always need a place to live. Yet I don't want to lose them so even if it means cluttering up a closet, I'll keep them with me as long as I can.

Because, sometimes, it's nice to travel back in time.

Happy Monday!

Facebook and Attempts at Normalcy

Wow, it's already Monday again. It feels like I was just here, blogging away about looking forward to the weekend. It's amazing how time flies by when you're actually doing things you want to be doing...like on weekends.

It's not that I don't enjoy my job and that coming to work is a torture. In truth, I quite enjoy my job. I have a lot of different projects, I'm usually busy and the days go by quickly. Also, I like my coworkers which is a huge part of any job. It's a very good thing to like your coworkers, I mean, spending 40+ hours a week with them is quite a percentage of one's life and if you hate them, well, it just makes work difficult.

Yet there's something about weekends that makes you feel like you wish you could hold onto them and not let them go. I tend to be a little different at work than I am in my personal life; I mean, I never break out into a private dance party at my office the way I do at home. Well, not yet, anyway. Though I will say at my old job in California, there were nights when I was the last one in the building and my iPod and I would have a good old dance/flail around the top balcony of my office building. Very therapeutic. Also, tons of fun although occasionally I would boogie on down to the bathroom on the first floor and realize that though the windows to the building were tinted, there was a chance that people could see me and, well, it probably wouldn't do to have the Systems Analyst dancing around the building after hours.

I haven't started doing that at this job. I'm never the last one here. Also, I'm still trying to maintain some attempt at professionalism and normalcy. I don't want these people realizing exactly how strange I am. Although since the URL to this blog is posted on my Facebook page and I am friends with some of them on Facebook. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before they realize that I am a wee bit quirky at times.

Yes, I am on Facebook. I used to be on Myspace but everyone slowly migrated over to Facebook and I decided that I, too, would give it a whirl. Wow, has that become a strange 'place' to be. I have a lot of friends. This is not to brag that I am popular because, I'm not. It's mostly to illustrate how much of a global monster Facebook has become. Through the wonder of facebook, I am now back in touch with my old friends from England, the ones I grew up with. My aunts and cousins are on Facebook and so I can keep tabs on what's going on with the British side of my family. The oddest thing is that a lot of people I went to high school with are on Facebook and they are my friends. They weren't really my friends in high school. Now I look back, I realize that when I was an insecure, shy little creature with low self-esteem in my high school days, I wasn't the only one. Back then, I truly thought that all the other kids in my class had their act together, that they really were as cocky and confident as they acted. Now, thanks to the wonders of television shows like "One Tree Hill" and "The O.C.", I see that all teenagers are neurotic messes and that most likely most of my high school peers were struggling as much as I was.

I'm just kidding about "One Tree Hill" and "The O.C." by the way. Any show that has twenty-something actors playing seventeen year olds can't be taken too seriously.

I'm not kidding about Facebook though. I actually do in enjoy it. It's a way of keeping in touch with friends, even when you don't have too much time. You can comment on their 'wall', a casual way of interacting, you can 'message' them which is to send them a real email message or you can 'poke' them which means you're letting them know you're still around and haven't forgotten them. There are a billion other things you can do via applications but most of the time I ignore these. There's only so many times you can have a stapler thrown at your head or be sent a virtual drink before you realize that you don't really want to install all the applications that you're invited to join. Still, I do enjoy reading the notes people put up there. Recently the "25 Randoms Things About Me" note was popular. Everyone posted 25 odd facts about themselves. I actually enjoy reading those; you get to know people that way and it's fun to realize that everyone's a weirdo.

I hear a lot about Twitter now, not quite so much about Facebook. I'm still not 100% sure what Twittering is or what it entails but I'm trying to resist it. I already have enough distractions with Facebook.

I'm rambling, yet again. However, being that it is a Monday morning, I hope you'll forgive me. My brain is always a little slow on Monday mornings. Actually...most mornings...but I'll try to do better tomorrow. As always, thanks for reading...

Happy Monday.

Mr. Obama, Please Save the World Market!

It's back to work today. I suppose I should write about the inauguration since that's definitely the topic on the radio and everywhere else. I know places that have closed for the day out of respect. Not us. Maybe we'll watch it on the internet at work since we no longer have a TV. It's hard to say. Yet, by the time I go home tonight, we'll officially have a new president.

The last inauguration I watched was that of Bill Clinton. I was still in high school then. Maya Angelou was reading an inaugural poem and our English teacher wanted us to see and hear history being made. She was a great English teacher, probably one of the reasons I'm a writer now. I'd like to tell stories of how she believed in me, how she made me believe I could become a published writer.

She didn't. Mostly she was just good at giving feedback and giving me lower grades on papers than I expected which, I suppose, made me work harder. I craved her praise because it meant something. When it came, it would make me happy. When I got a lower grade than my best friend, I would be miserable, wondering what I'd done wrong. I was much more competititive then and I wanted to be the best. I don't think I ever was. My other friend was also a writer and went on to major in it in college. Of the three of us, I'm the only one who ended up wanting to be a full time writer. Maybe there's something to being the average one in high school; who knows?

What I do know is that I remember that teacher more than any other. I remember everything about that Inauguration Day. My best friend and I were in the 'pub' room where we'd be pasting together the latest issue of our high school newspaper. Back then, we used to use a waxer to do layouts, sticky tool-lines to break up content, cropped clip-art to make it more graphic. We didn't yet have the technology to make a shiny, professional looking paper; instead, we thought it was great if the tool lines were straight.

That was the nice thing about being in journalism; we got to spend our lunch hour being silly in the pub room instead of having to sit in the bleachers at the gym, waiting for the bell to ring. When it came time for the Inauguration, our teacher gathered us around a TV set that had been purloined to a classroom. We got to hear Maya Angelou's "A Rock, A River, A Tree" poem live, to see Bill Clinton at his freshest, before the years in office wore him down and aged him.

It's funny. Today is one of the most historic inaugurations ever. Naturally, I think that it's a great thing that we now have a black president but I'm also sad because it's such a big deal; it's one of those things that should be unremarkable, the best man or woman should win the job regardless of their skin colour, race, sexual orientation or sex. Yet I suppose it's still a step forward to the day when none of that does matter and for that reason alone, it is historic.

I'm hoping Mr. Obama does a good job in office. I'm hoping that he lives up to the hopes and dreams that so many have pinned on him. I'm hoping he magically restores our economy so that I don't have to hear horrible things like the local Cost Plus World Markets are closing. I love the World Market. I love that you can buy British goods, German chocolate, wine glasses and Strongbow Cider all in one place at a very decent price. I love the way they give free coffee and tea samples. I love that they have an old-fashioned toy section where the toys don't beep or flash but rely on a child's imagination to make them come alive.

But I digress. I don't think Barack Obama can save the World Market though that would be very awesome. I do think he can start to lift us out of this scary economy where so many have lost their jobs and the threat of more victims looms. It will take time but today is a good start to hope. Sometimes it takes a fresh view to get things going again. Here's hoping President Obama can do that.

Happy inauguration day.