Sunday, July 31, 2005
Sunday, July 03, 2005
"These are the days that must happen to you." -- Walt Whitman
My job sucks. I don't suck at my job, but it does. I answer phones, all day and busy, bizarre, rude New Yorkers are at the other end of the line. From 8 to 5pm, Monday through Friday, for the past year and a half I've sat at a large reception desk on the 44th floor of a non-descript building on 6th Ave in midtown and said the name of my firm over and over and over again.
Not the most joyful job in the world, let me tell ya.
Since posting my first blog entry a month ago I've been stunned at the joyfulness of everyone's feedback towards it. And their joy has been spurring me to take action. For my life. I've hemmed and hawed about my second blog entry, though. I've been feeling pressure to write something entertaining for everyone, but every time I've tried I've quit, because I don't know if I can live up to my first entry. (And maybe because I haven't been digging this whole joy curve thing I invented for myself.)
But I committed to sharing my life with a wider audience, so here's how it's all progressing:
In this past week I went to a friend's art exhibit, read a New York Times Review of another friend of mine's award winning play, and received an email from a playwright who I worked with a year ago telling me he'd just won a prestigious playwriting fellowship. These events were wonderful, and I sincerely congratulated my friends with much love and admiration. "Their success is mine", I said to myself. "I need to be happy for them, and shower them with praise", which I did.
Meanwhile, yours truly is still slumped in the corner of the R train at 7am, stuck in her "don't-bother-me-I'm-playing-my-i-pod-because-my-life-is-joyless-these-days" slouch, wondering when it's going to be "my turn" and believing yet again that everyone else but me has the corner on joy.
But you know what? I'm beginning to think that my attitude sucks way more than my job.
But it's interesting, isn't it, this question I ask of myself: "when is it going to be my turn?"
because it's a question rooted in self pity. I'ts all about thinking that "I -am- the -spare- tire in -the- car- that- is -my- life".
See, I've been really good -- exceptional, in fact -- at not telling the truth about how I feel. I've convinced myself, my family, my friends, and my co-workers that I really am happy answering phones all day. That I really didn't mind it if my friend gets a great review in the New York Times, or wins a playwrighting fellowship, or has an art exhibit.
I do mind. A lot. Not because I don't get the spotlight, but because I'm not a part of something that is bigger than myself . And there's no way I'm going to get the joy curve if I'm completely self absorbed.
And while I really am thrilled for my friends and really do want their success, I keep wondering why it's easier for me to be in the congratulatory role. I wonder why I'm printing my friends New York Times Review because she might need hard copies. My nice christian up-bringing tells me this is a good thing to do and well, here's the deal: thinking about what Jesus would do might help me these days. He might extend my joy curve, and has been known to on occassion. But thinking about what I need to change in my attitude might be the best move, along with finding another job.
So for the past two weeks my head hunter has been setting up interviews for me.
I went to several, and lo and behold, was offered another position, but I decline. Yep, that's right, pull an ole' Nancy Reagan and "just say no". I interviewed well, but something inside told me to wait. That it wasn't a right match for me.
It also didn't help that the individual interviewing me pressed me for close to ten minutes about my acting background and then said the only reason he was questioning me about it was because his "ex-wife was an actress". Or, maybe it was because he was a little too curious about the nationality of my last name.
Or maybe it was because I just couldn't imagine spending another year of my life answering phones for a company I cared nothing about. For the same pay. In the same neighborhood.
These days, if the ability to repeat joyless and un-endurable circumstances in my life were an Olympic sport, I'd take the gold.
But as Uncle Walt says, these are the days that must happen to me.
And I must allow them to happen.
Even when I think it all sucks.
Even when my blog postings are self-absorbed. :)
More soon. I promise.
Love
Erinskaya
Not the most joyful job in the world, let me tell ya.
Since posting my first blog entry a month ago I've been stunned at the joyfulness of everyone's feedback towards it. And their joy has been spurring me to take action. For my life. I've hemmed and hawed about my second blog entry, though. I've been feeling pressure to write something entertaining for everyone, but every time I've tried I've quit, because I don't know if I can live up to my first entry. (And maybe because I haven't been digging this whole joy curve thing I invented for myself.)
But I committed to sharing my life with a wider audience, so here's how it's all progressing:
In this past week I went to a friend's art exhibit, read a New York Times Review of another friend of mine's award winning play, and received an email from a playwright who I worked with a year ago telling me he'd just won a prestigious playwriting fellowship. These events were wonderful, and I sincerely congratulated my friends with much love and admiration. "Their success is mine", I said to myself. "I need to be happy for them, and shower them with praise", which I did.
Meanwhile, yours truly is still slumped in the corner of the R train at 7am, stuck in her "don't-bother-me-I'm-playing-my-i-pod-because-my-life-is-joyless-these-days" slouch, wondering when it's going to be "my turn" and believing yet again that everyone else but me has the corner on joy.
But you know what? I'm beginning to think that my attitude sucks way more than my job.
But it's interesting, isn't it, this question I ask of myself: "when is it going to be my turn?"
because it's a question rooted in self pity. I'ts all about thinking that "I -am- the -spare- tire in -the- car- that- is -my- life".
See, I've been really good -- exceptional, in fact -- at not telling the truth about how I feel. I've convinced myself, my family, my friends, and my co-workers that I really am happy answering phones all day. That I really didn't mind it if my friend gets a great review in the New York Times, or wins a playwrighting fellowship, or has an art exhibit.
I do mind. A lot. Not because I don't get the spotlight, but because I'm not a part of something that is bigger than myself . And there's no way I'm going to get the joy curve if I'm completely self absorbed.
And while I really am thrilled for my friends and really do want their success, I keep wondering why it's easier for me to be in the congratulatory role. I wonder why I'm printing my friends New York Times Review because she might need hard copies. My nice christian up-bringing tells me this is a good thing to do and well, here's the deal: thinking about what Jesus would do might help me these days. He might extend my joy curve, and has been known to on occassion. But thinking about what I need to change in my attitude might be the best move, along with finding another job.
So for the past two weeks my head hunter has been setting up interviews for me.
I went to several, and lo and behold, was offered another position, but I decline. Yep, that's right, pull an ole' Nancy Reagan and "just say no". I interviewed well, but something inside told me to wait. That it wasn't a right match for me.
It also didn't help that the individual interviewing me pressed me for close to ten minutes about my acting background and then said the only reason he was questioning me about it was because his "ex-wife was an actress". Or, maybe it was because he was a little too curious about the nationality of my last name.
Or maybe it was because I just couldn't imagine spending another year of my life answering phones for a company I cared nothing about. For the same pay. In the same neighborhood.
These days, if the ability to repeat joyless and un-endurable circumstances in my life were an Olympic sport, I'd take the gold.
But as Uncle Walt says, these are the days that must happen to me.
And I must allow them to happen.
Even when I think it all sucks.
Even when my blog postings are self-absorbed. :)
More soon. I promise.
Love
Erinskaya
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