Memoirs are for shit

I have disappeared from the blog scene, particularly in the realm of my own blog.

There are no reasons for this, but there are precious few actions (comparatively) in human life for which there are no reasons. We have our reasons for breathing, going to work, flying planes into buildings - you name it, there's probably a reason why we're doing it. Or, in my case, not doing it. I just can't think of one at this moment.

However, if you press me, I'm sure I can think of a reason or twelve. But before you risk doing injury to my already pained noodle, allow me to offer you a slice of timespace. Specifically, the one I currently occupy, one no other soul can experience, and one no even yours truly can recapture once it has passed.

I am preoccupied with a nasty headache - a distressingly common one for me - a nagging pain surrounding my eyes, occasionally twisting around to the back of my neck. I called out sick today because the night before I had felt far worse: slight dizzyness, irritability, fatigue, depression, nausea, and an inability to see the joy or humor in anything.

Now the more foolish would respond, "Well, welcome to retail." This is true, but those who know me are fully aware I have enormous tolerance for such conditions, and if I finally throw in the towel and take a sick day, this means even my herculean tolerance has reached its limit, and I must rest. I worked six days last week juggling two major projects, both of which came to ruin due to lack of staff, time, and support. I'm switching jobs within the store, moving from merching to office work, which would be grand if I were going to be given immediate training, which I will not. Indeed, my boss looked at me like I shat on her desk when I discussed the possibility of a day or two training at another store, as my predecessors had done. Apparently the company frowns on this practice nowadays, for fear of competence.

I've been seeing a career counselor for a couple of months, but the ray of hope I had carried along with me the first few sessions has tapered off considerably. I've been reading book after book as requested by my counselor - Paulo Coehlo has dominated my recent reading, somewhat to my irritation - but I'm not getting much from them other than the occasional "Aha!" Nothing seems to come together into a unifying whole that screams, "THIS is where I should go!"

In other words, I've been distracted. And I will continue to be distracted in the art or writing about myself. Tell you what: *you* can write about me for the next couple of weeks. I need the rest.

Comments

[eighmie]

:(

Sorry to hear your head is a hurtin'

Feel better soon.

And yeah, I tried reading those career building books and doing the visualization exercises within, talk about a migraine. Maybe self-examination is painful. Perhaps "what color is your parachute" should come with a bottle of Excedrin taped to the label. Well anyhow, do take care.