10.16.2025 11:30 AM - My last post feels a bit too dark and self pitying for this place. I find myself pulling special fish up often at work, and it is a warm place to relax and remember we are all just people living. "Anathema" is a funny word, feels nice to say. My Archeology and Ethics professor used it frequently. Later I read a book, can't recall the title, but the author's tendency to use that word caught my eye. The author was also an archeologist. What is it about archeology that makes that word so attractive? Or is this a fluke of my sample size of 2? 11:00 AM - I am not very good at my job. It's not that I can't build control systems for power plants to power data centers to power AI to ruin the world. I'm sure if I could pretend that I cared about such an endeavor I would be damn good at it. But not only do I not care, I actively despise this work. Feeling a sense of accomplishment is very important to me and no matter how well I execute my proposals, I feel nothing but frustration and resentment for the time I spend at work. As I slog through the never ending swamp of new RFP's, my body slows until it really does feel as though every keystroke is made through thick muck and grime. I feel the weight of it hunch my shoulders. When I am off the clock I rage against the time I lost sitting at my desk doing work that is anathema to me when I could be living. I need a new job, I know. And anyone seeing this may be judging me most harshly for my line of work, I know. But you haven't met JP(my boss). I interviewed for this position for the hybrid work schedule it promised and cried after the call. It is so rare for form such a mutual connection and to feel understood, respected and seen through the phone. I have never regretted accepting this position. I can talk openly to him about my disgust, frustration, and fatigue and he understands. He has advocated for me to make this position more bearable in any way he can. I am fully aware of how rare it is to have the assurance that my manager actually cares about me and puts my health and wellbeing above the job description. The whole team he has cultivated is the same. My immediate coworkers listen to me, sympathize, offer help, and assure me that no matter how urgent the emails get and how far back on the calendar the deadlines slip that "no one is going to die". I love them all so much. I know they would also want me to find a job that does not steal my happiness so completely, but the thought of leaving a secure job, where my manager and coworkers are my friends seems like insanity some (most) days. I know I can't continue here. I will miss them all when I make the leap. 10.15.2025 I love @big8grug! He is a man of mystery, full of whimsy. He's the kind of person you can't get enough of. People can be hard for me, but I can always sit and yap with my man. It is such a blessing to have complete trust in someone. No thought is too silly, no dance too cringe when I'm with you. Today we are going to Ikea with @breadbasket. I couldn't be more excited! My Scandinavian ancestors will be so proud of me as I goof through the aisles with my mans. 10.14.2025 The weather today reminds me of recess. When I was in my Montessori elementary school (shameless plug, it made me who I am) there was a very tall teacher, Stewart. On occasion, he would push you on the swings. You would know this was about to happen when some kid began the cry "STEWART PUSHES" thus kicking off the race to claim one of the ten or so swings. Stewart would walk back and fourth across the row and push you so high, you felt like you were flying and the weightless moment at the top of the arc seemed to last forever. The Montessori school had lovely old radiators with a boxy housing. In the winter, placing your rug next to one so you could lean against its warmth as you worked with the bead frames or word classes is still the epitome of comfort in my mind. Every time I write the word "recommend" I remember writing my (monthly?) book reports- I always spelled it wrong. "I recommend this book to people who like..." was how I ended every report. I can remember exactly where I sat, cross legged on my rug, composition notebook in hand, to memorize it, one C, two M's, written in cursive of course. I took a rug from my Montessori when I graduated 5th grade and keep it next to my bed. Once a boy in the lower elementary looked up from his work, studied my (7-8 year old) face, and said "You look like Saddam Hussein." I stared at him in utter bafflement. "Do you know who that is?" I nodded. 10.11.2025 It's crazy when people perceive you, ya know? Can't be doing that all the time. Stop it. I'm not here, I'm there. On the other hand it's nice to be perceived. They see u, and they like what they see. That's cool. Sometimes you need to be alone so you can watch TV like you're 12, sitting on the table, 2 feet from the boxy screen, remote in hand, one ear waiting to hear the garage door open. 10.9.2025 It is FY26 now. Isn't that just like business to start the year early? Constantly escalating costs, estimating for an unknowable future where limitless growth awaits. "Congratulations on $400M in Sales!" said the sheet cake at the EOY celebration. I leave in the middle of the award ceremony where they admit that the introductions for the recipients were written by AI. I had to go to my horses' dentist appointment. 10.7.2025 Someone at my workplace has been throwing crumpled yet unopened individual sweetener packets (the kind they keep in little trays on diner tables) on top of the cabinets in the break room. The edge of one tossed too close to the front of the cabinet caught my eye as I filled my water bottle. Intrigued by what kind of debris would be in such a place, I reached my phone's camera over the edge to snap a picture of the strange trove (at least 40 packets of all varieties) hidden from view. Why? 10.6.2025 Read a book outside in the shade on my lunch break. Would recommend 10.5.2025 Wonderful new friends appeared downstairs one day last spring- or maybe it was summer. The first new friends in quite some time, though I think that may be my fault. Too busy trying to fit it all in, chasing more time to fill it again. When does it feel like enough? That's why I am here (this site) now- the friends, not the time. I get self conscious easily, not analytical enough fit in with the engineers I work with and too normie to fit in with the artists. I think I'd rather be an artist, but I proudly wear my engineer's ring even on the weekend. To me it is not so different. I want to spend my time 'productively' I tell my therapist, mom, boyfriend. To me that means making something meaningful. I want to be a master carpenter sometimes. The best of both worlds, art and function. I could make some kick ass chairs. My uncle made boxes for pet's ashes (he also made the boxes for his parents even though he died before them). I wonder if that work felt meaningful. Another one of my uncles would make custom wooden drawer organizers for the back of equine veterinarians' vans. They sound beautiful. Each one unique to the vet, here a place for the forceps, the acepromazine, here the ultrasound for seeing the little baby orbs, there the pink pentobarbital for my old man Quigley. ... Anyways, all that to say I am painfully aware of this being seen. I want it to be read, to be part of the club- but what if I come off insincere, trying to hard, or *cringe*? I don't have the bona fides they do. A quick google to make sure I spelled that right- "a person's honesty and sincerity of intention." I have never heard it used that way. I do have that then, at least.