Category Archives: Personal

Stop Hitting Yourself

So I was thinking some more about yesterday’s post and the job posting situation. I’ve come to the decision that I am, unsurprisingly, overthinking things. That even though I don’t think I’m likely to get the position, it wouldn’t hurt anything to just apply anyway. After all, if I don’t apply, I definitely won’t get the promotion. See? I can logic.

But because I can’t leave well enough alone, I continued to think about why I was overthinking applying for a promotion I might not even get. And I think it’s because, on some level, part of me thinks I don’t deserve to be happy.

I’ve touched on this issue before. For some reason, I seem to see my current employment situation as a form of penance, if not punishment. After all, I have so far failed to use either of the expensive degree’s I’ve accrued in a work environment, so shouldn’t there be some sort of consequence for that?

I’m not saying that this thought process is in any way rational; it clearly isn’t. It’s not even conscious reasoning all the time. But I feel that sometimes dragging your dark demons out into the blazing sunlight can help you exorcise them. So that’s what I’m doing. And in this case, the buggy train of thought says that I don’t deserve the opportunity.

I’ve failed to find a job in architecture. I’ve failed to use my French degree. I’ve failed to get out of my temporary retail job into something more interesting. I’ve squandered opportunities and failed to foster any modicum of motivation. So as punishment, I have to accept the bad (or at least less-than-ideal) situation I’ve ended up in. I don’t even deserve to make the best of what I’ve got. After all, if I didn’t deserve to be here, wouldn’t I have figured a way out by now?

When put plainly like that, this toxic mind-virus is revealed for the hideous thing it truly is. But we’re so socialized (it may even be an ingrained predisposition) to conflate achievement with worth. After all, if someone is poor, the dominant narrative says that it’s because they “just haven’t tried hard enough” (read: are lazy), rather than acknowledge the possibility that luck has just as much to do with falling down as it does making it to the top of the societal heap.

And I have trouble remembering that. I’ve bought in to the “bad stuff = your fault” narrative without even realizing it. Maybe now that I’ve noticed it will be a bit easier to deal with. But doing so, especially in one’s own life, is much easier said than done. After all, no one thinks they’ll end up a statistic. But those numbers have to come from somewhere.

Doublethink

So I’m facing a bit of a conundrum. At work, the powers-that-be recently posted a full-time job opening for what is essentially the job I’m doing now: stocking product in the (early) morning and working the sales floor in the afternoon. My question is this: do I apply to it?

This whole “temporary” job position I’m in has been an interesting exercise in doublethink. On the one hand, I definitely don’t want to make working retail my career. On the other hand, I want do do what I can to make the best of a less-than-ideal situation. So what does one do?

I could apply for the full time position. It would mean better benefits, and working a guaranteed 40 hours a week. The hours I’ve gotten used to would become normal; I’d have to continue going to bed and waking up extremely early. The early shift wouldn’t be something I fell into, but something that I deliberately chose for myself. Pros: more money. Cons: early mornings. Besides, I’m not even sure what my chances of getting the job would be; full time positions are somewhat coveted, and I don’t have anything resembling seniority amongst the people who are likely to apply.

And if I don’t apply? Well, it feels like it would be a missed opportunity, even if it’s not a direction I want to take my career. In a way, I’d be committing myself to retail even more. I’d have to work 40 hours a week, which means my occasional half days would be a thing of the past, which means it would be even harder to find (or even look for) a better job. Plus, my boss has been talking about how they want to move me onto the sales floor (where I’m supposed to be) more. Lack of seniority will kick in, which means I’m likely to be relegated to late or closing shifts. Given that I have heavy and fencing practices weekly, that would put a serious crimp in my social and extracurricular activities (in addition to having to work weekends like I already do).

Where does the doublethink come into play? Well, I want to present the appearance of a hard-working, motivated go-getter for the benefit of my supervisors, so that I can get more (and maybe better) hours. But in a way that’s just a role I’m playing, a mask I’m presenting. In reality, I don’t want to stay in retail for any considerable length of time. In fact, I often find myself thinking about my current job (that I’ve had for a little under 2 years) as a transient thing, a bad dream I’m due to wake up from any moment now. As such, I’ve worked to improve my position (hooray for no longer pushing carts!), but I don’t want to get too committed. I guess I’m worried that my admittedly somewhat false pretenses will be found out, or I’ll find myself a few years down the road in a place I don’t want to be.

Who knows. I guess I’m just so used to trying to better my situation I feel kinda weird letting an opportunity that would ostensibly do so slip by. But is it really what I want? Is there a risk to making the “quick fix” too stable? Would I even be happy being at work a full 40 hours a week? Am I even using the time I’m not there currently with any modicum of productivity? Would the monetary gain be worth the philosophical price? Do I just let the listing close, the opportunity slip by, or do I make a conscious decision to not apply? Do I show up to the interview dressed as Deadpool in a tutu and sing “I Feel Pretty” at the top of my lungs?

Who knows.

It’s A Small World

A funny thing happened to me yesterday. My girlfriend and I were visiting her parents in celebration of their 50th wedding anniversary. I was running something back out to the car when who should I run into but one of my professors from grad school. It turns out his in-laws live in the same community. Small world, huh?

There’s more to this story, of course. After all, I can’t just write about an amusing anecdote without some sort of psychological baggage, can I? Well, this wasn’t just any old professor of mine. He’s also the internship coordinator for the entire architecture school. One of his jobs is making sure his students can get their careers going as quickly and easily as possible.

So of course, he asks what I’ve been up to since I’ve graduated.

Seeing as I’m an honest person (and he’s the kind of person that would draw honesty out even if I wasn’t), I tell him. I tell him that I’ve been working retail, keeping the bills paid, but I don’t really have any prospects in the architecture field right now. According to him, however, the market is picking back up. He suggested I contact him, set up an appointment to go over my options and opportunities. I took his card, and said I would indeed follow up.

Why does the universe take such perverse pride in ripping open old wounds?

I’ll admit, I’ve basically written off architecture at this point. Heck, on the bad days I wonder if I’ll ever make it out of retail. I’ve tried to get out, as so far every attempt and interview has failed (obviously, or I’d have moved on). So a large part of me had given up, since there’s only so many times your hopes can be crushed (or slowly eroded) before you move on in an attempt to save what dignity and positivity you have left.

But running into my professor, especially that professor, forced me to reconsider my declaration of defeat. Is there a chance that I can still get a job in architecture, even with my skills as rusty as they’ve become? I’d like to hope so. Is architecture something I still want to do? Well, I’d like it if my $38,000 graduate degree wasn’t a complete waste of time, money, and energy. Am I ready for what’s likely to be, given my previous experience up to this point, round after round of rejection? I don’t know.

Needless to say, I’ve got a lot of complicated feels stampeding through my psyche right now. I’m going to meet with my professor, of course. I just need to work up the courage to do so. After all (famous last words), what’s the worst that could happen?

 

P.S.: Sorry there wasn’t a post yesterday. What with the anniversary party, decompressing after a long week of work, and getting home in time to watch Agents of SHIELD, it was around 8h30 before I realized I had forgotten to write. Oh well. Even if it doesn’t matter to you, reader, consider this an apology to myself. And hey, at least I’m not opening this entry with an apology! That’s an improvement, right?

Paralyzed By Choice

How did I become so busy?

Too often these days, when I have a day off of work, I can’t decide what I want to do. Not because there’s nothing I need to get done, but because there’s so much. Take today, for instance. I need to go grocery shopping. I need to pick up some hardware for a project this weekend. And that’s just the short-term stuff. I have new features I want to implement on the website I take care of. I’m toying with the idea of studying some computer science through one of the free online university offerings. I’ve got a ton of articles bookmarked to read, as well as an overflowing Netflix queue. Oh, and I’ve also got a bunch of video games I’d like to play.

Where does one even start?

This is a recurring problem for me. When faced with a large task (or multitude of tasks), I have a really hard time seeing past the enormity of everything, of breaking it down into manageable chunks. Need to write a 20-page research paper? Then you’re in for a long night, because of course you need to do it all in one sitting. And then on top of that, it’s not the only task you need to do. Inevitably, by choosing one thing to do, you’re neglecting all the other things that are just as important. How can you manage that?

So in addition to the enormity of the task at hand, I am far too aware of the missed opportunities that inevitably result from making a decision. That’s why it’s often easier for me to take the past of least resistance (i.e., playing video games all day in my pajamas) then it is to risk making a mistake.

I imagine the two issues are related somehow. If I could just manage to reign in my view, to focus on whatever the task at hand is, I’d be better off. I wouldn’t have to worry about missing opportunities because at least I’m making progress somewhere, which would in the end let me get closer to achieving all my goals.

But I can’t help it. I can’t help but keep some concept of everything I want/need to do in my head at all times. Sure, I could write it down, I guess. That seemed to help in school, when it came to homework deadlines. But I’ve gotten so out of the habit that “getting organized” has become just one more task on the pile.

If it sounds like I’m venting, I guess I am. But even if I’m feeling annoyed by this personal tendency towards “involuntary big picture thinking,” I’m not letting it get me too down. I’m actually feeling pretty productive today. Case in point: I’m actually writing this entry before it has to post! That’s the first time I’ve managed to do so for more than a week. I’m also feeling like I could actually write another entry for the buffer, or leave the house and get errands run. It’s a fragile feeling of productivity, but I’m going to hold on to it tightly for as long (and as gently) as I can.

But really: how did I become so busy?

Productive Or Happy?

I really need to get my feet back under me when it comes to blogging. The past week or so, I’ve been mostly just writing filler stuff, using so many words to say “I don’t know what to write about.” I’m talking, but I don’t know if I’m saying anything interesting.

But today, oddly enough, I’m okay with that.

I have days where my lack of productivity bothers me. Where I feel the full force of internalized societal expectations. You probably know those voices. They’re the ones that call you a slacker if you sit at your computer all day. That look down their noses at you if you play video games all afternoon in your underwear. That sigh when almost two years later you’re still stuck at your “temporary” retail job. That give you grief for not “doing anything.”

And you know what? Screw those voices.

I’ll admit, I find myself listening to them more often than not. But every once in a while I find a state of mind where those concerns just wash over me. At those times I get the closest to an all-encompassing happiness that I can remember.

I sometimes wonder if my martial arts training, with its emphasis on self-control and perseverance, doesn’t sometimes work against me. Do I really need to be strong and moving forward all the time? Or is it okay every once in a while to just lay back and be a bum enjoy life? That rigor can be great as an ideal, but I’m only human.

And that’s what it boils down to, and what I have such a hard time accepting: I’m only human. I make mistakes. I have limited energy reserves. I can’t do everything.

And that needs to be okay.

I’m not there yet, at least not all the time. It’s a scary thought, admitting you’d rather be happy than “productive,” especially when you’ve been taught that being productive makes you happy. After all, I can write a statement like that, but getting my mind to understand, accept, and grok that is a wholly different challenge. One that I’m not always sure how to tackle.

But I figure enjoying my rare days of clarity is a good place to start.

At Least I’m Writing

I don’t have much to say today. I didn’t do much today. I’m not feeling particularly ranty about anything. I’m not even feeling particularly depressed, which I suppose is a good thing. But that kind of eliminates the easy topics, doesn’t it?

But I’ve made a deal with myself. I have to write a post every weekday, even if it feels like I have nothing to say. Readers of this blog (and those of you who do read regularly, thank you) have probably noticed quite a few entries that have started out as “I don’t know what to write about.” And yet, I ended up writing about something.

So what did I do today? Well, I had the day off work, so I slept in. I even managed to get out of bed. I ate some food to keep myself from getting too hungry. I watched an episode of Eureka. I got around to reading/closing several browser tabs. I read some of the graphic novels I picked up from the library. I spent most of the day in the basement, in front of the television. I completed some quests in Dragon’s Dogma (the fantasy game I’m currently playing). I picked up a bit after the weekend (but not too much). I checked Facebook. I checked Tumblr. I even remembered to write a post.

You may say that it’s easier to just not post than to write some random filler like this. But for me, that completely misses the point. Sure, what I have to say when I feel like this may not be that interesting, but at least I’m writing. I’m following through with a goal (unlike my undergraduate major) that hasn’t turned around to bite me yet (unlike grad school). I’m writing, and that has to count for something.

I’ll admit, there have been days when I haven’t written. But I’ve made sure there was a post for those days, often by dipping into whatever buffer exists. I’m already ahead, I’ve thought, so I can stand to relax a bit. But if I don’t have a buffer, not writing/posting merely because “I don’t feel like it” would be akin to admitting defeat.

I’ll admit, it’s hard for me to get motivated about things. I don’t know if this is recent or a more chronic problem, but it exists. It’s probably tied to my depression, if anything. But rather than having this writing commitment become one more thing to feel guilty about, I’ve largely managed to stay on target. True, I’ve been meaning to re-build my buffer for the past few weeks, and that hasn’t happened. True, when I put off writing I tend to end up with filler posts like this. But at least I’m writing. Even if I don’t have anything to say, at least I’m using a lot of words to do it. Sometimes showing up is all you can manage. But at least you’ve done that.

Feels

You know that job application I mentioned yesterday? Yeah, turns out I got myself worked up for nothing. I called the person like they asked, and ended up leaving a voicemail with some generic message service. I didn’t have to talk to anyone. I didn’t have to seem calm, confident, and competent. I didn’t have to pace restlessly around the apartment, gesturing with one hand while the other held my phone up to my ear. Instead I left an impression of my spoken words in the care of a soulless machine, hoping that maybe next time I can rise out of the slush pile of applications and actually get somewhere.

So it goes, eh?

But I did notice something interesting. Sure, I spent most of the day thinking about the phone call, working myself up to the point I was almost too nervous to go through with it. Sure, I probably ended up procrastinating a bit despite my best efforts. Sure, leaving a message was a bit anticlimactic. But you know what? It felt so good to actually have something to do, some purpose to fulfill that was outside my normal, day-to-day routine.

I think that relief and rut-breaking effect is tied to why the possibility of an opportunity was also so painful. We humans can get to a point where nearly anything becomes habitual, for good or for ill. In the latter case, it has to be some sort of coping mechanism. It’s like a chronic injury: if you were acutely aware of the pain all the time, 24/7, you’d probably go mad. Instead the body learns to tune out certain stimuli, so you may not notice the issue until something nudges the status quo. You pick up something wrong. Or something makes you consider how less than ideal your job situation is.

Sure, it would be easier to not feel that hope/despair whiplash I talked about yesterday. But it also felt good to have some sort of purpose today. It made me feel alive in a way stocking shelves and coming home too tired to do anything but sit in front of a monitor generally doesn’t.

Am I enjoying this vague feeling of purpose? Of course. But I know that it is fleeting, and will likely fade away, like the other job opportunities I’ve applied to that never panned out. Am I going to fixate on that hope, ensuring the despair is that much more crushing when the offer never comes? Of course not. Or, I’m at least going to try. I’ll instead enjoy what sense of purpose I have at the moment, not thinking about it too hard lest it scurry away or be crushed under the weight of my scrutiny.

But it is good to feel a bit human.

Stupid Hopes And Dreams

I know I’ve probably ranted about this before (I don’t feel like going to find the link), but I hate it when a small glimmer of hope or a slight chance of success paradoxically makes you feel more depressed than usual.

Since I hate vaguebooking, I will elaborate: I got an email today from a job application I put out. It was one of the throwaway ones that I didn’t really expect to hear back from. You know the type: the ones that seem slightly related to your specialty (or at least more so than what you’re currently doing) but aren’t quite as interesting as they could be. Architecture students applying to be CAD monkeys instead of retail workers, to choose a completely random and unrelated-to-my-life example.

There’s not much more to say about it. I got a reply from someone, asking me to contact them tomorrow. No details, no further information, nothing. So I don’t know what to expect. Of course, my imagination has latched on and run with the possibilities, both good and bad. To make things “better,” I got the email while at work, and it shocked me out of the “retail haze” quite effectively, at least for a while. I was excited, obviously, and figured I would spend some time researching the firm this afternoon instead of playing video games and watching Netflix.

Needless to say, that didn’t happen.

For some reason, that small glimmer of hope perversely reminded me how untenable and un-ideal my current career situation is. It made me face the fact that I really don’t like my job. It reminded me that there’s (of course) so much more I could be doing to improve my situation. It reminded me of all the other glimmers of hope that preceded rejection. It reminded me that nothing I have done to try and climb out of Retail Hell as been successful. It made me feel trapped.

How can such a little bit of hope generate so much despair? It just seems so perverse and backwards. I wish I could find out why and punch it in its metaphorical face. I mean come on: how lame is it to have depression caused by hope? How are you supposed to work with that?

*stomps off*

Freeing Realizations

Last week, I talked about how I thought knowing the cause of certain emotions could help me work through them. This week, I was given an example of how this actually does work. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience, but it’s definitely something I’ll have to keep in mind for the future.

The past few days at work, I had been having real problems with depression. For whatever reason, the menial, early-morning labor seemed even more soul-crushing than usual. I was worried that I would fall into a Funk that would completely destroy my drive and productivity for the rest of the week. And I really didn’t need that right now. Well, not that I ever really need it, but you know what I mean.

So I was all but resigned to my slide into a Funk when I stopped and asked myself: “Why?” Why was I feeling so out of it? Were there instances of any of the triggers I’ve discovered? Was it from brooding too much? I hadn’t really been thinking on things too much, so probably not. Was it fatigue and lack of sleep?

Hmm.

Well, I had gotten to sleep pretty late the past couple nights. One of the downsides to having to wake up at 4am is it’s really easy to stay up too late, especially when you’re naturally inclined to be a night owl. Going to bed at 9pm? You’d better be asleep in a few minutes if you don’t want to be screwed for the rest of the work week. Decide to read a few pages before going to sleep? Watch out, or the next thing you know it might be 10h30, and then you’re doomed!

Once I realized what had happened, I found my black mood lifting slightly. I could put a name (and thus a source) to my feelings. I wasn’t really depressed, I was just exhausted. True, this realization didn’t make me feel any more awake, but it did let me salvage what enjoyment I could out of the work day. I also realized that for me, depression and fatigue are two separate emotional states. True, they often overlap, and the latter can quite often trigger the former. But just because I’m tired doesn’t automatically mean that I’ll be depressed. The two states feel similar, don’t get me wrong. But they are not the same.

What else did I learn? Well, besides the joy caused by avoiding a Funk, I got even more evidence that my depression is not necessarily tied to events or emotional states. It is irrational, and while it can be triggered, there are probably times when it is not. I guess that’s what I was trying to get at when I referred to it as Other. As a result, I shouldn’t feel bad when depression does blindside me; it’s not necessarily my “fault” or something I did that triggered it.

Identifying triggers to accept the lack of them? Convoluted, but I’ll take it.

Leftovers

Leftovers and I have an interesting relationship. As I write this, I have the remains of an omelet and hash browns from this weekend reheating in the oven. Believe it or not, this is a surprisingly quick turnaround for me. Far too often I leave leftovers until they leave the window of viability (heh).

As a kid, I was a very picky eater. I had a small number of meals I enjoyed (like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches) as often as I could (every day for lunch in elementary school). Heck, I didn’t even like pizza until I finally saw the light during a trip to England!

Even today, For the most part I don’t get overly bored with my food choices. I have a sandwich for lunch. Some sort of chicken dish for dinner. And occasionally I’ll even eat out.

But if I end up with leftovers, either through not finishing at a restaurant or cooking more servings than I need at the time (cooking for one was hard, alright?), I tend to let them sit. For some reason, the break in my routine requires a step back to the usual before the unusual can be truly appreciated. For instance: if I make myself spaghetti one night, I won’t want the leftovers the next night. I can have the same style sandwich for lunch every day of the week, but spaghetti two nights in a row? Blasphemy!

So I’ll wait. I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge until they sound appetizing again. But far too often I’ll forget about them. Days, weeks, sometimes even months (embarrassingly enough) can pass before I think about my leftovers again. Even worse, if it’s something someone else has cooked or bought for me, I’ll feel guilty about letting it go to waste. This results in me looking away in shame every time I see the container in the fridge. And I’ll be seeing it quite often, since I often don’t have the heart to throw the food away until it’s well past its prime.

Did you know there are different colors of fuzz on old food? Green, white, and even black!

I don’t know why I treat leftovers like this, but it amuses me nonetheless. Maybe I want to hold on to my enjoyment of something ephemeral as long as possible? I did the same thing with Halloween candy as a kid, often having a leftover stash by the time the next year’s holiday rolled around. Either way, I’ve probably wasted more food than I’d like to admit just because I wanted to save it for some “special time.”

…

I’m hungry.