I wonder what is about Thursdays that invite such contemplation. I've been sifting through prompts for most of the evening to find lighter topics for this post, but I can't seem to push past the trouble on my mind.
I'm in the throes of another "life reassessment" deal -- you know the one I'm talking about. It's that cold rush of restlessness pocked with indecisiveness and a dull sense of irritation at the circumstances. I seem to circle back to this place without ever intending to. I was tipped off this morning after I discovered a woman at work is pushing to extend my contract for the third undecided stretch of time.
Did I mention I've been counting down the days -- nay, the hours left in this current contract extension?
I know, it takes a lot of nerve to complain about a job during a crippling global recession. Trust me, I've heard comments to that effect each time I open up to discuss this topic. Still, I am not satisfied.
I am an administrative assistant for a pool product manufacturer. Yeah. Not great. It was supposed to be a summer gig, ending before the Labour Day long weekend. Had there been school to return to, I would have been free.
The first extension came about because of their workload after acquiring another large pool manufacturer.
The second extension came after a rash decision made by our management to fire a customer service rep. after a minor misunderstanding.
Now, this third extension is being orchestrated by a woman who wants a personal assistant to take on the brunt of the administrative aspects of credits, payments, blah blah, boring office jargon.
I can't do it. I mean, I did make a pretty piece of change while working there for the past six months. But, serious -- I can't do it anymore. I know I've mentioned my issues when it comes to commitment, but I didn't even want this job to start with. It's a stop-gap job, not a career. *Dusts hand of the discussion*
So, the natural question: Then where DO you want to work, Miz Moffatt?
Well, I quite like this gig as a blogette. Heck, you know me -- I love to write about/for other ladies. If I could scheme a way to make this a full-time, paying practice then SIGN ME UP.
I admit, I've been thinking about writing quite heavily in the past month. I've had a rather love/hate relationship with the written word -- an array of teachers and friends have urged me on to take up writing in some aspect, full-time. And yes, I rebelled for long enough. I wonder if it's the instinct of middle children to do the exact opposite of what everyone is advising them to follow. (Guilty as charged). I fought against it and operated with this overwhelming disbelief when folks would compliment me on stories, poems, entries, essays -- you name it. I'm starting to see the error of my ways...
***
Ideal Image: I can picture myself sitting in a smart, clean cafe on a quiet street corner in France, or maybe a cozy pub somewhere in London. I'm there during their off hours, so the staff is bored, though friendlier than usual. I'm sitting there with a laptop, maybe a cup of tea or a light beer, tapping out some verse or some short story fragments in preparation for a creative writing class. I'm off in my own thoughts, but still a part of the action of real life.
***
I've been debating the whole Masters in Creative Writing again. I'm wary of it. I mean, if you're a writer, you shouldn't need to pay an institution to do so. But then, those Masters degrees can connect you with peers and with established writers. And heck, I'd welcome the chance to revisit those bizarre student hours again. I could even look into European schools and shake off the Canadian soil from my shoes for a while...
Ah, romantic notions. I feel as though some unknown spark has ignited a new desire in me, one based on travel and writing.
Let's see if we can't fan it a little, shall we?
