because I like the sound of my own voice, part II

You know, there are some people you can just ask for naked pictures, and they give them right to you. Those are the best kind of people.

~~~

So when I walked the dog vigorously in the freezing cold the other day, I wore these shoes that have been sitting in the back of my car for...a couple years, maybe? Expensive running shoes, made of space-age materials (i.e. plastic), that have this great springy sole. I couldn't remember why they had been relegated to the car (which I now interpret as a sort of emergency fallback position, though who knows what I was thinking when I left the shoes there in the first place) and they look cute and sporty, so I wore them for our crunchy ice run. Ooh, look at me! Sporty dog-walky pink-cheeked swell girl!

With huge fucking BLISTERS. Because space-age materials (i.e., plastic) don't ever break in.

~~~

I'm either jumping several steps ahead, or I'm missing all the cues entirely. I forget things, or sleep through them, or realize it's been months and not just minutes since an event took place that I should have reacted to in a timely fashion. It's seeming less likely that this is due to a medication mismatch, and it's probably just how I malfunction. It's very frustrating. I really do mean to be a nice person; it just doesn't always happen.

the things we do for love

seen on elethe's LJ: job meme

I have been…

• visual artist


• writer (both cursive and print, age 3)


• literary critic


• unqualified and ineffective literacy teacher (age 7)


• teacher's aide


• door-to-door cookie pusher


• inadvertent aider and abetter in parental drug activity


• field worker (strawberries, raspberries, blueberries--blueberries are the best, by far)


• pornographer-for-hire (age 13)


• babysitter


• large-scale event planner


• office manager for an insurance claims group (my after school job!)


• ineffective salesperson for high school yearbook ads (zero ads sold!)


• medical transcriptionist


• psychiatric office manager


• self-employed medical transcriptionist


• applications programmer/trainer


• temp worker (i.e., paid to read for 8 hours a day), which included: summarizing notes from a non-profit's weekend retreat, which were written with magic markers on giant post-its; running a Bureau of Indian Affairs legal office; yawning and waiting for phones to ring at innumerable locations.


• stunned and perpetually offended whipping girl for evil bitch lawyer


• office manager for a cancer research group


• financial services office manager


• trainee florist


• cancer clinical trials coordinator/medical writer

~~~this is where the money stops completely~~~

• nominal housewife (i.e., I'm a wife, and I'm in a house)


• graphic designer/color consultant/painter


• web designer


• still an artist


• still a writer and pornographer

I have never sold things (except cookies, I guess) or served food or beverages. No service. No retail. No food. No, no, no. Now that those seem to be the only jobs in the universe, the fact that I have never done these things makes it seem like I'm hiding something sinister.

But the fact that I started "working" at the same things I enjoy doing now (and get paid just as well) should tell me something about what I ought to do for money. A zillion issues and excuses aside, it's pretty plain to me that I've always known what I wanted to do. I don't know whether to be delighted or kill myself.