Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Don't Get Me Wrong

Well. I feel much better now. Two days off have done me immense good, bringing my energy level back up towards something like normal and wiping away a lot of the built-up retail resentment I've been feeling lately. Not that it won't come back, but I have some hope that the worst of it is behind me.

I went to bed on Monday night aching badly and with a persistent irritation in my sinuses that I hoped was just some minor allergy. I woke up at 2 AM feeling like I'd snorted a line of sand. Fortunately, I think it was more a case of a mildly over-stressed immune system, and my cold hasn't proven to be much more than a nuisance -- getting twelve hours of sleep two nights in a row didn't do any harm, either. Christmas day was mostly quiet for me -- some better food that I'd put away for the occasion, some decent rest for once, and a series of long soaks in a tub of hot water were all I really wanted from the holiday. And it snowed! Snow on Christmas! It didn't stick, of course -- I can't say I really consider that a drawback, though. And in the evening I went to do my volunteer shift at the Hollywood, and had a really nice time hanging out with John, the theater manager, and Dave the dreadlocked vegan projectionist. It was the first decent conversation I've had in weeks, and it left me happy. I really like that place.

Today I ventured up to Vancouver, WA to have a look around and get some non-emasculated cold medicine. I can't say I was terribly impressed, though it did kind of remind me of home. Then I went downtown to run some errands (bank, Trimet ticket office), and indulged in a matinee. Sweeney Todd is pretty damn good -- grim, bloody, well-done, and you can almost even get past the fact that it's a musical. Bleaker than Burton's older stuff. Good value for money, in any case. And now I'm home and feeling content, not even minding the fact that I have to go sell books again tomorrow.

I'm slightly anxious about how much longer this job will last, and what will come after. I still haven't been invited to stay on, though a number of my co-workers have said with certainty, as if it were obvious, that I will be. They've encouraged me not to judge the job by my experiences so far, telling me that most of the time it's a pretty easy, chill job, with a lot of hanging around and not nearly so much stress and physical strain. It would serve for a while, I think, as a flexible backbone upon which to build up other pursuits, giving me some kind of part-time financial foundation while I work on getting other things lined up. And I know that a few people are planning on leaving shortly now, so there will be spots open. But I'm not counting on it until management actually makes an offer.

I know I've been complaining a lot lately, but I don't want anyone to get the impression that I'm not happy. I am, in fact, genuinely happy right now -- often exhausted, frequently frustrated, almost always impatient to get to the next stage, but definitely happy. An old friend who recently popped up again asked me last week, what would I change about where I am and what I'm doing? And the honest-to-god answer is that I wouldn't change anything. Maybe, if I were really pressed to make a declaration, I'd wish that I was six or nine months further down the road, but that'll come anyway. I love Portland, I love her, and I consider all this dues paid for getting to be here. I don't enjoy going to work an hour before dawn and staying three or four past sunset, spending precious hours of my life complying with the wishes of overpaid suits looking for the latest Joel Osteen book. But if it's what I have to do to stay, I'll do it. And the grumbling shouldn't be taken to mean otherwise.

PS: Shit, Portland gets some bad-ass colds.
10:13 PM ::
Amy :: permalink
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