Gimme a Sign

Oh god, this beer is good. It's like a blessing. Just got home from working second shift, I stayed late, talking to one of my favorite co-workers about the fact that I am officially going to start looking for a new job. I've been pushing the thought left, right, up, down, back... but it keeps pushing forward. Today, as I started to talk to my sister about it, it became hard. It became real. It crystallized, like a symmetrical snowflake. "I can't do it anymore."

And so, yup, the search is on, and I have to accept it may be really tangled and weird and may involve keeping a tether tied to this particular program, and will in all probability involve maintaining employment within the same agency, just something with less... accountability? No, that's not really it, because I'm a highly accountable person, and a prideful worker. No. Ok... it could be this simple: paperwork? I have never been a paperwork person. And I have soooooo frickin' much of it here, and every speck of it is intimately tied to a person. And this stresses me out. To hell.

So I may end up trying to find a position as a residential assistant, which is still very hands-on with clients but with about 90% less paperwork. And the same rate of pay. Another brainstorm I had two days ago was to look into starting my own cleaning business. Office and maybe residential. Just work for myself to start, get it all legal and insured etc., set my own hours (!) etc., be my own boss (!!!) etc. It's a definite maybe and something I plan to do a lot of research on in the coming days and weeks.

Last night two of my (male) buddies were over, and as we talked about this proposed plan, of course the talk quickly turned in the direction of offering "special services", and what sort of attire would be appropriate (mini-skirts etc.) At one point my friend suggests that my motto should be "We'll do what your wife won't." We all obviously erupted in loud cackling after that. But seriously, I'm serious. I feel stuck, trapped, and not very much in control of my time, and it's bugging me, to put it mildly. So often I come home from work totally drained, depleted, and feeling guilty that I couldn't /can't:
a. do more at work and/or
b. do more at home.

I just realized the appropriateness of this post, considering the holiday. I really do believe in the value of work, and of a certain amount of structured time. I obviously need money to live, but money does not, and has never, motivated me. I'm finding what I am craving is simplicity in vocation. I want a job that I can complete, in a set time, and see a result. I love physical work, but have felt cursed most of my adult life by having to dance around this muscular disorder that prevents me from pursuing many things I think I would really enjoy and excel at. It's so hard to explain without going into great detail, I mean, the many subtle ways the disorder affects me, but suffice to say I know my limitations, and they're not insignificant. I am willing to push myself, but not in the service of other people, people who are relying on me and paying me to perform.

This conflict is like a centerpiece, a keystone to not just my working life, but my life. It's a psychological and phsyiological puzzle, and not one that can be answered with platitudes or feel-good mantras. There's nothing obvious about it, not to me, and anyone else that thinks they know, well they simply don't. Where am I going with this? Just trying to sort some shit out, that's all.

On a completely unrelated note, I did take some naked upside down pics on the batgirl device. They're, um... interesting. But very naked. But not very, very naked. The device covers the pelvic region. I might post one. If anyone has a problem with boobs let me know. I just read that men who stare at them for 10 minutes a day live an average of 5 years longer than men who... I dunno, navel-gaze?

Happy Labor Day!