We're always told that anger is an unhealthy emotion, and in a lot of ways it is, I'm sure. But there is something to be said for a controlled burn. An anger that motivates, that pushes you to the point of making changes, because fuck this, I'm not going to live this way. Anger can keep you on a diet, get you out of a bad marriage, or a bad job. Anger is good. Anger is underrated as a motivational tool.
I am one angry bitch this week, and it feels good.
I have a love-hate relationship with my job. I love working with Boss. We have interesting cases. Our clients are good people. But the money is mediocre at best, and I've been there almost a year and a half and we are still without even a part-time secretary, which means I spend a ridiculous amount of my time on purely clerical, non-billable tasks, while at the same time I am expected to meet x billable hours as part of my "goals." The priceless irony of corporatespeak - a dead end job with "goals!" If I do this another year my only goal will be not killing myself.
So I'd been toying with the idea of finding another job, hating the idea of a longer commute and no Boss, and hoping and waiting to see if things would get any better at review time, if permanent secretarial help is on the horizon, etc. Yesterday I found out, purely by accident, that they are considering hiring other staff on the mothership, rather than a secretary for us. And to add insult to that considerable injury, word came down from on high that, due to financial decisions in another realm entirely from the one in which I work, there most likely will be no bonus this year, or a pittance at best.
Okay fate, you don't need to slap me in the face anymore. It's time to update the resume. I'll take my time, weigh my options, no frying pan to fire moves, but obviously this is not a good long-term prospect and it's time to start shopping for a new life.
I directed yesterday's anger to cleaning my pitiful cube, so "I have room to work" - and packed up and brought home my personal photos and tchotchkes. To make more room to work, you know.
Meanwhile, there may be something going on astrologically with us Cancerians, because my Girlchild is also in a state of flux, but making plans and feeling good and ready for change. She's moving back in May to work her internship. This is not a drill this time, and I'm in no stress because thanks to the end of semester meltdown a few months ago (remember "I'm MOVING BACK RIGHT NOW! Fuck this place!") her room is painted and carpeted. I need to paint the closet doors and re-hang them, that's it.
Also meanwhile, I am in a major snit of "I am not going to do anything I don't actually WANT to do, and you can't fucking make me." A few months ago I signed up for a women's retreat, it's looming this weekend, and I am totally not in the mood. I didn't know what I was getting into when I signed up - it's very long, it will eat my entire weekend, and I don't think I could endure that many hours with a bunch of women being all nicey-nice without going postal. I lost last weekend to Duty, I am not sacrificing this one.
Besides, I have no pet sitter. I got the schedule for this event and screamed - I had no idea the days would be so freaking long at this thing, it's insane. I'm dropping out - I feel some guilt at dropping out "at the last minute" but not enough to force myself to do something that I know will only push my irritability to the breaking point. And now Catherine has a new rule: Never sign up for anything during happy hour.
Knitting - I'm on the cuff of sleeve one on the cardigan. I ripped the ugly socks. I'm itching to cast on something with Color, so maybe I'll start a sock on two circs. Or the second sock of the pair I've abandoned.
Time to shower and go off to cube world.