paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- i'm a traitor and proud of it I keep asking myself if I will ever return to being a faithful writer in my online journal... My answer is a hopeful yes because beginning August 2, I have a new job. Good-bye to the esquire and this weird office. I've made light of things around here over the past couple years. Although let me tell you, giving notice, even my considerate, lengthy notice, has created more tension than imaginable. I guess human situations do have built in circuit breakers ... and these days I'm sitting in the dark with glowing eyes watching the bright technacolor world out there flap by in summer shoes wearing tank tops. I got reamed for 2 hours that included a full range of emotions. Mostly because apparantly I am an indentured servant and was not free to entertain notions of employment elsewhere without first seeking permission from my current place of employ. Without first giving them the chance to make things right. Disagreeing on a bullet point in a strategic plan can take hours of upset and huge emotional upheaval; can have days of consequences.... Mostly I got reamed because I'm going to what administration views as the competition. They think that is an unprofessional move. They speculate that I will take all of my secrets over there and recreate the same program. All of my mysterious ways -- education is a form of alchemy, perhaps. I think what was even more horrific is that 2/3 of the staff all quit in the same week. That leaves two people and one graduate student. And I like a fool gave a ridiculous amount of notice, thinking of everyone but myself. Feeling guilty for taking another job and being so ungrateful and unprofessional. I was told that I was behaving like a child -- like the spoiled first child who upon learning that the parents want to make another child plots infanticide. As I type this, I'm fully aware of how strange that sounds. I think as I sit here in the dark, with my eyes glowing, I see that the image infront of me is not the way things really look. The administration is housed in a building that used to be an insurnace company. When I was a child I used to marvel at how the insurance company would paint their lawn green in the late fall. A really fake, bizarre green. Somehow that energy remains and has intensified there -- growing stronger and more bizarre. I have these dreams of painting strange portraits of them that expose the weaknesses I perceive... hiding things in the background that might be symbolic for the future... for viewers in the future to understand how strange the America has become. Even here in the middle of the country in the middle of a medium-sized, mostly suburbanish blah place. And now, to continue as benedict arnold. 8:43 a.m. - 2004-05-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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