3

(Note, there won't be posts for 2 and 1, because I'll be on my way to Grinnell, and doing the whole what-not to get things ready for the wedding.)

Holy crap. That's pretty much the thought going through my mind the minute Jay-Z woke me up this morning. (Note: not in person, just a song.) We spent a good deal of last night preparing gift baskets and packing (I'm bringing 3 sets of cuff links, because I couldn't decide which pair to wear. When did I get old enough to own 3 sets of cuff links?). Everything is going well (I'm saying that enough now that I'm starting to believe it). I ran through a my mental list three or four hundred times. So.

Yeah. So, now I'm sitting at work, in my ill-sized cubicle staring at the clock every second or so.
And, well, it's not like there's anything really profound left for me to say about the whole thing. Nothing earth-shattering or world-beating. I'm getting married in 3 days. Which is good.
I'll be surrounded by my closest friends and most of my family. It should be a good time (though there's gonna be awkward moments and that's just fine too). If I can just keep myself from stressing about the little stuff (and at this point if we remember the marriage license, everything else is pretty much little stuff), then everything will be just dandy. Perhaps even fine and dandy. But let's not push things.

Speaking of not pushing things. We may be in luck and get a 52 degree partly cloudy spring day in Iowa. That's a lot better than I was hoping for a week or two ago.

When next I post, I will be a married man. (probably.)

Primetime Tonight...

Just another reminder that Primetime will be continuing the "What Would You Do?" series tonight.
They've run through some interesting scenarios so far, including one they set in Texas where an employee is refusing service to a Muslim-American woman blatantly telling her (paraphrasing, but not really exagerating) to get back on her camel and get her jihad out of here. It was interesting to see how many people walked out without a word or even applauded the employee. And while they had their reasons for setting it in Texas, I think this is a situation that plays out across America more than most of us are comfortable admitting.
And another segment dealt with the treatment of homeless. One of my favorite looks at how people think about the homeless.
Tonight's show, should be interesting as well. Take a peak. Well worth it.

4

Everything seems to be coming together well. Seems to be. It doesn't stop the nervousness from creeping into my stomach and making me check my itinerary and check lists to make sure I've put everything on each that needs to be there, but I'm pretty sure it's the reality. I've always been a bit of a worrier (more than a bit, really).
And you know I'm a little nervous when I'm dreaming about ex-girlfriends, which is what happened last night. I don't remember all the specifics of the dream, but it was basically a jury system, where they were deciding whether I was worthy to marry anyone. (It was a little too Beckett for my taste.) This is quite frightening if you're at all aware of my dating history and the way some (too many) of my relationships ended. The funny thing is that none of the relationships that ended so badly were really represented. My psyche saving me from all of it? Or saving it for later? Who knows.
But.
The dream does bring out one of my bigger worries about marriage: I have worried that I won't be a good husband (past tense for the most part). It's definitely something Dinah and I have talked about (communication is good, that's in my favor, right?). And not to lay this all at the feet of my father (because clearly I wasn't a good partner to everyone when he was around and setting a decent example), but my consciousness of being a good partner has really gone up since he's been gone. Which makes sense. You have someone pegged as one thing and then they show you they are something completely different. It shakes you. It's not just about what I learned about him, it's about (as with most things for me it seems) what I learned about myself. Or rather, what it was I could learn about myself.
I cheated on one girlfriend back in college. We were sort of on a break or broken-up, but that's just semantics and such. Clearly this isn't the equal of cheating on your wife of 30 years, but it was probably the thing I've done in my life that I'm least proud of. Partially that's because I really honestly liked the girl I cheated on. I felt most of the time that she was too good for me, and in the end I proved that to be true. But, I also was disappointed in myself because I didn't think I was that guy. Or I didn't want to be that guy. I wanted to be the guy who deserved her. (Note. Dad was still around. So, this is all on me. Not trying to blame him. Just making a comparison.)
And after that relationship, I put myself in stupid situations time and again, until I finally was forced to realize how poorly I was handling myself. And then I took almost 3 years off of dating. Truthfully, I didn't mean for it to last that long, but it did. And it really needed to.
I wish there was a moment of epiphany when I realized I'm a good person, living on this earth searching for love and acceptance just like every other creature on the earth. There wasn't, though. Which isn't to say the time wasn't worthwhile, because it was so worth it. During those 3 years, I thought about myself and why I had been doing the things I had been doing and how I could do things better.
And I made a lot of progress. And as Dinah could tell you, I'm not there yet. I'm not the good partner I want to be. I have my areas I need to look at and keep working on. But I am heading in the right direction, I think. And despite my darkest concerns about becoming my father, I have had plenty of time to think about how to be the guy I want to be.
Now if I could only say I knew anything about carpentry, I'd be in real good husband-shape.

Interesting Quotation...

Marriage is our last, best chance to grow up. - Joseph Barth.

Not sure I have a lot to say about it right now, but it's one of the few quotations I've seen that talks about marriage as a serious responsibility. There are plenty of people who talk about the joining of two people and the love and such, describing one of the betrothed as a perfumed garden or talking about how they don't talk to each other's ears, but to each other's souls or hearts. And it's not that I begrudge anyone their romantic hyperbole, it just seems to me that a lot of being married (I like speaking as an expert when I've been married negative 5 days) is done when you're not talking to the other persons personified body parts, but to another person, who you need to reason with. Not sweet talk. And I guess what I like about Mr. Barth's quotation is it acknowledges that talking to another person, being their partner, is a hard endeavor. (At least that's how I take it.) It's not a romantic thought, I guess. But when talking hearts and fair tales help me figure out the bigger problems in my life, when they coaxe me through hard times, then maybe I'll feel a little less scornful of them.

(Quick thought. What the hell am I going to blog about when the wedding is over? I mean, I won't be counting down to anything. I'll just be married. Eh. I mean, seriuosly, two posts today? It's not even my birthday.)

5

Everyone at work has told me how the wedding day is gonna go and how it's best to deal with the day. "It's gonna go by in the blink of an eye." "The day stretches out and you just enjoy every second of it." "You'll feel so nervous until the booze starts flowing." "Just gotta try to survive. It's not your day anyway." "Just don't drink anything. It's not worth it."
This all at the "congratulations" party they combined with the (somewhat) monthly celebration of work anniversaries and birthdays. (Such a thoughtful gesture, I had completely ruled it out of the realm of probability. They also cut me a check for the wedding. Small, but a nice gesture. Surprisingly nice.) I listened to everyone's advice and thoughts. I mean, I haven't been married before and they have (some 2 or 3 times). They meant well, and some of the advice is good, probably.
I think more than the advice, what they really wanted to do was tell me stories about their weddings. Whenever you tell someone you're getting married, if they are married, sometimes even if they've only been to a wedding, they want to tell you a story about it. They love to tell you how much simpler it was to get married when they got married (even if it was 5 years ago). They love to tell you about their uncles dancing, they're mother-in-law crying or saying inappropriate things. They love to tell you about the preacher (or pastor or officiant) and how they went wayyyy off-script. Or how hot it was in the unairconditioned church. Or how it rained the whole day before, but let up just for a couple hours when they had their ceremony. People love to talk about their wedding day. They don't like to hear about your plans for yours, but whatever.
****
An admission.
I have a metrosexual side that comes out every once in a while. (Hey, why is this buried at the end of a post instead of getting it's own post?) Saturday, I got a manicure and a pedicure. This is my first time getting either of these done, just for the record. Also for the record, it probably won't be my last. (I went, you know, "just so I'll look put together for the wedding", but well...you know.)
I don't know if I've talked too much about the gym in my building at work. It's a small room with three treadmills (one of which doesn't do well when running and another which doesn't have any good pre-set programs, leaving one "good" treadmill for what I want to do. Guess which one the 55 year old ladies choose to use when they need to walk at 4 mph with no incline?), three ellipticals (which one woman stakes out the one closest to the TV for what I think is the Bold and the Beautiful, but also might be General Hospital or Passions) a couple bikes and a stair master. Oh, wait, I just described the stuff I like to use. The gentlemen who are always getting dressed from their showers (when not talking about college basketball, or the security woman with the booming ass [I think that's meant as a positive, but I can't say I want my ass called "booming"]) call that part of the gym, "the lady side". There's also a "man" side with some nautilus machines and free weights.
Anyway, I'm excited to get to the gym today so I can show off my blue toenails. I think that's gonna be the thing that bonds me to the guys.

Short thoughts...

• Tomorrow's Dinah's birthday. Yeah, her birthday is a week before our wedding date (which happens to be my mother's birthday). This will be fun in the years to come as I have to figure out what two gifts to get her for the two events, so conveniently placed a week apart. Smart Joe. Very smart.
• It's snowing in Chicago. Not the light snow that I could laugh off, but whipping in your face snow. And it's gonna be around 4 to 5 inches worth by the time I get out of work today. This is not acceptable. Not at all. It looks like it'll melt off by Thursday when Dinah and I go to Grinnell for the wedding. That's the positive.
• The weather for the wedding weekend looks okay, so far. Mid-forties and mostly cloudy Friday and Saturday. A little rain or snow on Sunday This is according to weather.com. The Des Moines Register has only a 7 day, but their Thursday looks a bit warmer. I'm gonna believe the Register now, because they're telling me what I want to hear.
• Thank goodness for the NCAA. There was a couple hours last night where I didn't think about the wedding. (8 days away now.) It's not that I'm worried about things, I am a little, it's just that now it's all out there. It's like that moment when a pitcher has let the ball go...he went through his motion, hit his arm slot, good arm speed, released the ball where he needed to--it all went well. He knows about where the ball's going (unless he's Tim Wakefield), he knows how it should break, but that's it. He doesn't know how everyone else is gonna react. So, for a moment-a split second, really-he's just trying to get ready for anything. A come-backer, a drag bunt, a homer. Anything. I'm like that, but for a week or so.
• (I still believe there's a baseball analogy for every situation in life. My secret goal is to catalogue all the events of life and find the perfect baseball analogy.)
• It looks like I'm gonna make the target weight I set for the wedding. I'm sort of proud, but you know, I'm not done. I set the target as something I felt I could reach if I were trying hard enough, but not out of reach. So, it's probably not my ideal weight (which I'll probably never get), but it's better. And I feel better.
• We got dishes last night. Awesome.

Blowin' in the Wind...

The planning part of the wedding is winding down. There's still plenty to do (as poor Dinah could tell you), but a lot of the details (the suit, the napkins and linens, the flowers, the cake and such) have pretty much settled themselves out. And with only 9 days left, that's a good, good thing.
But that doesn't mean I'll find nothing to worry (and probably blog - I have been a little more talky these days, haven't I?) about. The things I'm gonna think about (and hope turn out well) are things I (and Dinah) have no control over.
Like the weather. Today was the first day I could look at the projected weather in Grinnell. Looks decent so far 48 and mostly sunny. (Same for Friday when a lot of people will be travelling in, so that's good too.) After growing up in Iowa, though, I know that the weather can be changed either for the better or worse 4 or 5 times in the next week. My mind knows this, but it won't stop me from checking everyday (and probably looking up other sources and seeing what they say about it). Which is fine, except we're not doing anything outside except taking pictures.
Oh well.
It's not all worry over here. The rings came in Tuesday. And they are awesome. The guy who did them is a really talented friend of ours. I'm hoping he has pictures on his website soon, but everyone will be able to see them soon. Dinah's compliments her engagement ring (which he also did) so perfectly. And mine. Well, I'm not sure I can describe it well enough to put across how awesome it is. (Won't stop me from trying, but you know...) It's got two shoulders on either side and the middle is sort of cut out to form alternating buttresses against the shoulders. And in the middle of the ring, going the full way around the band is some blue lapis that conforms perfectly to the betresses. It's pretty awesome. I can't wear it for a little while, which sort of sucks. But hey.
Anyhoo.

Gifts for men...

Getting married is hard. Besides all the thought you have to put into napkins, suits, family hoo-ha, seating charts, and (you know) the joining of lives, there's a whole host of problems you don't really think about until you have to.
Case in point: gifts for the bridal party.
For the most part, Dinah and I had little trouble deciding what would be a proper "thank you" for agreeing to be a part of our wedding. But, it was a little tough when thinking about what to get my brother, which is sort of odd because I generally find him the easiest Christmas gift I ever buy. I wanted to do something interesting and unique. (And my brother's not a suit guy so I was shying away from the traditional cufflinks.) Last week, I was in a bit of a panic trying to come up with something. So I did what I always do when I'm in a panic. I turned to the most helpful place I could to find help: the internet.
My first stop was a place called groomsmen.com. Seemed like a reasonable place to find something interesting and good. The first gift I looked at was a steel harmonica. Because I want my brother to play the blues at the reception and for the rest of his life as he remembers that his only brother thought getting him a harmonica was the best way to say, well, anything. I just don't get this gift. Possibly the worst gift possible...
Until you consider....steak branding irons. This is a useful gift, despite what common sense may tell you. Imagine a beautiful summer day. You're standing next to a hot pit of fire on a 90 degree day. That beer isn't keeping you cool and you know your friend Tina is gonna take the biggest cut, cause that's how Tina is. So, what do you do? You put your fucking initials on the steak.
Or maybe you take grilling seriously. You're an artist, and your canvas is meat. Now, you can sign your meat-canvas with flair.
Oof. Well. My brother might have appreciated this gift, but I didn't feel right paying *ahem* $30 for that. And I think it's a little insult-to-injury to brand a cow after it's dead.
So. It was time to change websites. I can't give money to people who shill branding irons (unless meant for consenting adults). So. On to mygroomsmengifts.com. My expectations were low and this new website didn't fail to disappoint.
Book ends. But wait, they're marble. The description says it's "A wonderful gift for a groomsman who’s a lawyer…or for the officiant of your wedding ceremony" to beat you with. Ugh.
That's not as lame as a pen holder. Wow. "Dave, you're my best man. You took care of me that time when I was drunk and I made out with your mom. You helped me get back on my feet when I got back from the war. You introduced me to Sherry. And I just wanted to thank you for so much. Here's a pen holder. It's made of leather." And pen holder is a step up from memo holder. Personalized or not, this is a shitty gift. ($44.95? For the love of Aunty Em!) I mean, often times during my day I find my memos wandering willy-nilly, just a-wanderin' all over my desk. Sometimes I find those buggers on the floor. They are wont to roam wherever they can, whenever they can. I see the need for a memo holder. But, seriously, does that little wuss holder look like it can stand up to the kind of memos I'm writing? I write a mean memo. A furious memo, really. And many of the ones I get in return are just as ferocious. That isn't gonna do it. I know the description says it's "equal parts John Wayne and Donald Trump", but it looks more John Denver to me. (Rocky Mountain Hiiiiiigh, Coloradooo).
So let's move on. To the duffle bag. Again, you can personalize it, but the description is so half hearted. An excerpt:

You'll become a fan. All things aren't equal. As good as it looks. It's exceptional in every way. Sets a higher standard. So raise your expectations. Our Logan Deluxe Duffle Bag doesn't cut corners on functionality. A classic duffel bag made better. Well worth your attention. Why not give the best to your groomsmen. They'll be inspired to take a journey. Go on an adventure of a lifetime...

Why bother writing complete sentences about this piece of shit. And it just left me with some questions. Maybe I'm naive, but did we need to set a higher standard for hauling around my sweaty socks? I appreciate that it's exceptional in everyway, but other than having a functional zipper how is that better than any other gym bag I've owned? Oh, it's worth my attention (way to bury the lead there) and will inspire them to take a journey? An adventure of a lifetime? I think if I gave that to my brother his journey would be to jail for killing me and stuffing me inside that oh-so-thoughtful gift.
I guess, I just don't understand the idea of "we'll take some everyday thing (or memo holder) and make it the best fucking thing (but not really) and charge way too much for it. And men will and should get these for their groomsmen to commemorate a very important moment in their life".
I finally figured out what to get my brother. It's probably more traditional than I thought it would be. I think he'll like it, but at this point, I can at least happily say I didn't get him a fucking duffle bag.

Office Survival No. 2 (being truthful)

It's hard, in an office setting, to tell someone they are an idiot. Mostly, this is because of strenuous rules imposed by Human Resources and the like. (I'm quite convinced people who work in HR-as they like to call it-are the lowest forms of life. Not all of them, mind you, but a good 98%. I mean, these are the people charged with keeping you safe from the jungle-rules of the office, and yet they're the ones telling everyone how much you make, or how you were fired from your last 3 jobs because of your drug problem. And they know what websites you look at. And knowing how often I look up Rick Ankiel images on google is power.) So, today I thought I'd offer some helpful tips on how to tell someone they are an idiot (or deal with their idiocy) and not have to go through another seminar on workplace behavior.
1. Call their actions or ideas idiotic. This one is skirting things, and usually still pisses people off, but if you say, "Well, Tim, that's probably the dumbest idea I've heard," you're not calling Tim dumb. This keeps it from being personal. Tim will not like you and may try to get you for this later, but he's a fucking moron, so you should be okay.
1A. The conditional. Much like the last suggestion. You don't say, "You are an idiot." You say, well, "Mary, if you think that, you are a blundering idiot." See, this leaves it up to Mary to take responsibility for being an idiot. It gives her the choice to know a better way. It's really the most charitable of the options I can think of.
2. Say it behind their backs. A lot of places you look, you'll see how gossiping about co-workers is bad form. And, yeah, it's not nice, but seriously, the people you work with are mostly mind-numbed, bobble-headed, dolts. If you find one person (or if you're universally lucky more) who can listen and relate, you have to take that opportunity to vent. The key here is to start small. A couple catty things here to weather balloon the situation. But once you've found that she or he isn't adverse to trash talk, let it out man.
3. Voodoo Light. Now, some aren't comfortable telling someone that the way their mind works is less than acceptable. And others aren't blessed with another competent person to vent to. An option in this situation is voodoo. For those of you who don't necessarily want to make the voodoo doll (though I do recommend stealing a lock of their hair for leaving at a crime scene if they really suck), you can just pick one thing that represents them. And yell at it. This should not be your wife or husband. Think inanimate object. This object can be at home, but it's a lot more effective if you're calling the lamp in your office Donna and wondering why it's such a lazy fuck.
4. Voodoo. For this you have to get a lock of their hair and form a doll that looks like your office co-worker(s). (Save some of the hair for the crime scene. Seriously.) Most people will then stab the dolls with long pins that are supposed to cause pain in the person the doll represents. I do recommend this for the catharsis, but I don't know if that works really. It is sometimes enough to have the dolls just sitting on a shelf behind you, so anyone who comes in can see them.
5. General Passive Aggression. If there's one thing I've learned while working with attorneys and their secretaries and administrative lapdogs, it's that passive aggression is your friend. It's often not as rewarding as other options, but there's a certain sense of pride that comes from pretending to give a shit, but wasting time updating your blog or putting their projects towards the back of the line.
6. Just tell them. Seriously, you put up with enough of their shit. Just tell them straight out. Call it the Johnny Paycheck option. "Mr. James, you are an idiot." Be sure to be polite and call them Mr. or Ms. because in this situation being polite is really important, because people's feelings can be hurt so easily. Especially if they don't realize they are an idiot (and sadly, they hardly ever do).
7. Hold on to your sense of self-supremacy. That's the most important thing you can do. Look I'm not saying you're better than your co-workers, but...

Oh Eumaeus, my swineheard...

The snow is taking its last retreat here. Finally. It's been a long dark winter in Chicago, filled with cold tempertures and frequented by snow storms. But, though still below average temperatures, and with thanks to day light savings, I'm seeing more sun and less ice. This is comforting.
Work has been shitty during this period. Punctuated with more projects and less competent people, but this too is supposed to get better soon. Apparently, they are bringing in a "filing expert" to come and take a look at our system and make recommendations. I'm trying not to be bitter that I was once told I would be this expert, but at least this should make things easier. Or so I like to believe.
Staying with work, it seems I've decided to go for the paralegal certificate. There's a lot of positives to it (more cash, more autonomy and thinking, more job opportunities should we decide to leave Chicago, and it opens up jobs outside of law firms a lot more than I originally thought) , and few negatives (billing hours can suck). I'm happy with the decision, but a little disappointed that I'll start in the fall (you know, once I actually apply). It's a year-long program, so, it looks like I may stay here for another year plus. At least with the outsourcing company, who may pony up some cash for me, in which case I could be with them for 2 years or so, total.
You know, when I'd given up the idea of being a ballplayer (though I still have dreams of making it as a low-level relief pitcher [I've got to be as good as Armando Benitez right now, right? Um. no.]), I never thought this is where my life would take me.
For the longest time I assumed my livelihood would be tied to my want for expression. The need to be out there saying something (no matter how softly I spoke). But, I'm 30 years old now. I'm getting married. And while I've published a wee bit in comics, it looks like both publishers I've "worked" with (is it work if they don't pay you? Sort of.) seem to have failed. Though they aren't willing to say they're done. (Here's the bio page with the publisher I would call the "crazy one". I liked how my bio turned out...) And you know, I've still got ideas. And I'm still going to put things down. And maybe I'll get published (hey, someone's still paying John Byrne), but it probably won't be how I thought of it originally.
Which is okay. It's kind of upsetting to me that I'll never (and I'm being honest here) get the acclaim of being a good writer, and the adoring groupies (platonic groupies, Dinah. Platonic groupies). (Little known fact, comics writers do have groupies. Sure, they're dressed as storm troopers, but sexy storm troopers). Really, that's probably what I wanted most. For people to look at something I wrote and say, "hey man, that's pretty good." I can't say if that's how Mark Twain started writing, but I would venture a guess no (though maybe I'm being a little naive about this).
Anyway. I think I only know one person who knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life and now is doing it. In a lot of ways I'm jealous of him and how his life turned out. He's got a nice house, a great wife, a gorgeous (if loud) baby, and the job he's always wanted. It's the American dream, right? It's exactly what we're all supposed to be lusting after, right? I mean, it's not the path I wanted to travel, but the results. Those are the things you're parents (well, mine) tell you (me) to go for. And truthfully, I do want them. Not that it keeps me up at night or rattles me constantly, but. It's there, and I think about it. And I blame myself for not getting there yet. Which probably isn't fair to myself.
I do think I've sort of floated through life up until recently. I haven't aggressively gone after what I want (or deserve, if I'm allowing myself to believe that). But. Maybe that's not my fault. Maybe it's just how I needed to do things. Maybe it's how I needed to figure out that I should be going after the things I want.
Which brings me to Joe Hicks again. I haven't been able to stop thinking about him since I last wrote about him. I wonder what it was that told him it was time to call it a career and pursue something else. Age, most likely. Maybe family concerns. I don't know, and I doubt he'd appreciate me calling him up and asking. Though I like to think he'd invite me down to Kokomo where we'd have a beer and talk about life, baseball, and what-not. (It's too Field of Dreams to really happen, but as long as I don't try to talk to him, I can keep believing this is what would happen.) But, it's the romantic notion (and if he's anything to me, Joe Hicks is a romantic figure), to think he sees his kids playing ball and feels that twinge or remorse at not getting to face Dave Drabecki's fastball or Joaquin Andujar's crazy. But, who knows. Maybe he's happy because he does own the franchise homerun mark in Des Moines (shades of Bull Durham, sure). And he knows he did what he could to get there, and that looking back hurts your neck and your spirit. (Wait, I'm not surprising anyone by saying that I am probably the Joe Hicks I'm talking about am I? Oof. I took that too far.)
What I'm saying is, who knows what I've got coming in the future. I'm getting married (did I mention that's in 16 days? It is.) to an amazing woman. I'm getting a paralegal certificate. Everything else is hazy. I'm not really tied down to any one thing right now. Which, at 30, I thought I would be. That's encouraging, really. Sure, I want some things that will tie me down (house, kids, sexy storm trooper dominatrix), but still. But I'll get them. It's not like I have to have any of this done in the next 10 years. I kind of hope I have some of it done in the next 10 years, but what happens if I don't?
Nothing. I'll live.
Anyhoo. I've rambled a little bit off course, I know. I guess I'm just saying I'm happy the ice is receding, the sun is shining and that I'm getting married in 16 days. I'm not sure I accomplished much with this entry, but it was long. And I'm sure you gained even less by reading, but at least now you know my pen name.

The Truth about my Job....

Sure I bitch about it all the time...and that's largely because it sucks, but the truth about my job is I kind of like it. Kind of, mind you. I don't like it in a "wow, I'm fulfilled, because I put away a lot of paper today" kind of way. I like it in a "I'm really good at this bullshit" sort of way.
I think that statement actually sums it up pretty well. I know it's bullshit. I can do better (more interesting, more lucrative, perhaps) stuff, but it's bullshit I have complete mastery over. I'm the king of Shittown, if you will (and I hope you will). There's a certain satisfaction I gain from knowing exactly what I'm doing all the time.
The things that really bother me about the job are when my expertise of it is called into question. I can't quite explain why it is that I take pride in knowing so much about organizing legal materials for quick recall, but I kind of do. And truthfully, it's not a hard job, but there is enough nuance and thoughtfullness that has to be understood and invested that you can't really just pull someone off the street and expect them to do this shit. (Especially here, where the sytstem is "quirky" like Andy Dick.)
And an odd thing about my job is that everyone sees I'm smart. I don't really keep it hidden. (I read F. Scott Fitzgerald in the breakroom sometimes. I'm asking for it.) And because of this, they ask me to do more than someone else who would fill my position. Part of the bi-product is they're asking themselves to do less, and that bothers me, but also makes me feel special. I've been trained to look for approval at work. It feels good to have your boss ask you (see how I slip into second person when I'm trying to make it seem like it's not just my problem. It's charming, no?) to do more, because it's an acknowledgment that you (I) can do more.
But. This can't go on. And I've gotta go (or at least feel like I'm on the move). Soon.
It looks like any move I make through my outsourcing company is either downward or it's something I'm currently underqualified for. They claim they're all about training me, but I talked to someone today about a position and when I mentioned training, she seemed to be sort of shocked at the thought. So.
It looks like I'm on my own to figure out how my skills translate to somewhere better (probably not a lawfirm). That's kind of difficult. I'm sure they translate somehow and somwhere, but I don't know that I see it. And I don't know if I want to take a big pay cut (little would be okay, though) just to get out.
So.
It looks like I've got to open up other doors for myself. Which means I'm probably going to have to start taking classes. In something.
I've noodled with some ideas (plumber and paralegal being the two most probable; human canonball being the least likely, but still my favorite) about how to make a change. It's odd trying to imagine myself doing any of the jobs though. I have so much inertia here in the legal field (probably why paralegal certification will win out. But even if it does, that doesn't mean I have to work for firms). I'm such a creature of routine sometimes that it's hard for me to lift my head up and look around and see what other people do for money. And see if it's something I want to do.
Eh. I'll mull it over and start looking into things. Wheels are in motion.