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( Monday, Jan. 12, 2004 11:20 am )

>I hear the tolling of the Crap Bell

Not too many months ago, one of my Big Chain Bookstore co-workers exclaimed "that's it, I'm done, I'm so over this place!" and since she was one of my favorite dryly funny girls, I laughed at her brilliant wit, as indeed I laughed at everything she said, even simple, unnuanced, declamatory statements. It was funny at the time. However, now I too find myself so over the whole bookstore thing. I'm over it, dude. That was so 2003. I'm done. Call suggests I temp, which indeed would make me more money, probably twice the money, and I've partially decided that 2004 is gonna be all about the benjamins. Did I tell you I'm canceling the whole writer ambition thing? True. Canceled. For a long time I knew I was going to have to stop kidding myself about that, but I wasn't quite ready to let go of one daydream without having another to fill in for it. But now I say the hell with it. Let's embrace the frightening realm of vague and directionless ambition and greed. That is my new address. I don't even like to write and it's no good anyway. So there.

Not that I'm getting all ruthless. I'm not wearing pointy shoes or moving to New York or anything. I'm still not qualified to do anything. I just enjoy being dissatisfied, perhaps. But seriously, do you think it's possible that an excellent job that I'd actually be good at and enjoy might just fall into my lap? Should I start networking with furcoat-wearing men at the bookstore?

Seriously, though, the money. I want to buy clothes, I want to change apartments, I want to go to Europe with Call all Fall (hehe), I want to get a dog. Instead of worrying that my account will be overdrawn if I buy groceries.

It worries me extremely that my skills seem to be perfect and ideal for the very job I already have. The crap job that monkeys can do. I am SO good at it!

So seriously, resume time for me. I guess. I also worry that Philly is not really my market, not for anything vaguely writey, publishy, etc. Maybe I should really be leaving. But maybe I wouldn't find work anywhere else anyway. Where would I want to go anyway, I ask you.

Should I be a personal assistant/secretary/etc.? I think I would hate that more than Big Chain Books though.

Anyway, this morning I am a cranky grandma because a combination of dead lifting piles of "Jack," a photo book about JFK, and helping Landlady Ellie move furniture has somehow crushed my spine, and it hurts to do everything now, especially if it involves bending at the waist even the slightest bit. I couldn't raise water to my mouth while brushing my teeth this morning. Rolling over in bed causes me to groan in a highly disturbing manner. Things are not good. Actually, you know what, here's what is good: 1. I am making myself gumbo tonight and I suspect it will be delicious, 2. Wednesday the Pill is officially kicked in and I can officially get it on if I wanna and I do, and 3. I have the day off and my incapacity will allow me to watch "A Wedding Story" and read books all day without guilt. So, those 3 are positive, all else is crap.

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