paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- wandering the plains Work has me in a complete panic. I�ve lost my sense of humor. My sense that I can get everything done that needs to be done. I don�t recognize myself. Who is this woman? Do I know her? Do I want to know her? Do I think I might even like her? Work is not worth it. I don�t earn that much money. I�m asked to do way too much. Here�s an example. My program has about 1000 students in the community each year. Other universities with a program the size of mine have 5 staff. I have only me. And that�s not all, I also run a large internship program. Most universities have a coordinator whose sole duty is to run a large internship program the size of this. So that is what is behind my panic. That and what it is like to work with people such as higher education administrators who are completely full of themselves. I shouldn�t complain. Plenty of people are waiting to snatch my job as soon as I vacate my post. I try to imagine where I would go. But my mental image looks something like this: me, with a bright green scarf and navy blue wool coat standing on frozen January ground, crunchy with ice-covered grass and white with old snow on the ground and new snow in the sky waiting to fall. I don�t know whether you have been to north-eastern Nebraska. My mental image comes from Arizona, Nebraska which is about 30 miles from the South Dakota border and disappeared into a large field of soy beans. In the winter, standing there, looking at the flat world reaching to the horizon is where my mind continually wanders when I try to imagine what else there is to do and be. I don�t live in Nebraska but I love Nebraska. When I am there, my heart feels at home. It is completely random and kind of strange. I could understand it if I loved Boston, for example. And I do love Boston. But my heart does not feel at home there. When I lived in Boston, I felt restless. Kind of like I feel restless now. Kind of like I predict I will feel restless for the rest of my life. The things that give me peace and a sense of flow don�t bring in any money. And I work such long hours I don�t get to do them. So I have a life in which I live to sit, exhausted, on the couch. And then I go to bed, but I can�t sleep because I have not actually done anything but work. The restlessness moves in like ants from some summer garden. Restlessness marches in long lines, like ants, right across my countertops. I�m going to fight back. I�m going to work fast and work smart but not spend all of the extra hours on work that I spend. Because when it comes right down to it, no one cares that I spend the hours. This is my chance to get really good at determining what needs to be done to sustain operations and what can be done half-assed. But I hate doing things half-assed. I don�t know if this is a skill I want in my life, this self-preservation skill. At the same time, if it lets me do my art full-assed, that would be a welcome change. Come here you, come meet your new best friend. Will you show me how to be a shrewd manager of time? 1:27 a.m. - 2003-11-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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