A Change Would Do You Good

Before I start I would like to make a disclaimer: Yes, I am grateful for my job. It pays well and is stable. I'm lucky to have a job at all in this economy. And without it I would still be living with my parents and they would not have their new house.

That being said, I am so bored at work lately, and I think I know why. Next month will mark three years I've been working at the Test Site. That's longer than I was at Upper Deck. Longer than any job I've had aside from the Army, (or teaching, but I don't think that counts exactly since it wasn't full time, or all for the same school). As much as I hated being laid off and unemployed all those times, I'd gotten used to the constant change. Changing jobs and  moving house have been such a big part of my life for nearly two decades. I just felt like the stability, if it was going to come someday, it wouldn't be in Las Vegas. I mean seriously. I have lived here for almost 8 years! That's longer than I've lived anywhere since I first left home for college in 1989. When I had to extend the lease here so the landlord would put the garage door opener in, I remember figuring, okay, to stay here until at least January 2013, by that time I'll have been at the Test Site for almost 4 years. And the people around me in the office have all been there for much longer. It's their career. I don't know if I want to be a career tech writer, at the Test Site or anywhere else. Some might say that at age 40, it's really too late to still be deciding about this. I have to get going already on my retirement account. Not that anyone in this country will actually be able to retire by the time I'm in my mid-60s. Social Security might not even exist by then. I'll probably have to keep working indefinitely. And if I am not happy in my job, then it's not a career at all. It's just food and shelter money. 

I've been watching a Netflix marathon of The Office (U.S.). I'm halfway through Season 7. And as dull as working at a paper company must be, as dreary as it sounds that those people have been working there together for so long, years, and years, at least there are things to look forward to for them. Jim and Pam finally got together and started a family, and as it goes in any sitcom, there are endless breakups and recombinations amongst the regulars. Something to break up the monotony. There's none of that at my work. I have no friends among my co-workers. My boss likes me, but she's been promoted so we hardly ever see her anymore. And one of my writer colleagues has been promoted as "acting manager" to take her place, so he's not even as cool as he was now that he's sort of our boss. He was never that cool to begin with, but at least I didn't mind him. Now every time he passes by my desk, he's all official, checking on how things are going, seeing if I need any help or whatnot. And his wife, who also works with us, she is now assisting our old boss, so that's weird too.  I see an email from her, and I just want to ignore it. I've been doing a thing where I see how long I can go without actually speaking to anyone. Sometimes I can go almost all day. There are always those pesky co-workers who have to say something every time you pass in the hallway. I mean, seriously. We see each other for 40 hours every week. It's not necessary to say hi two or three (or more!) times a day. And especially not in the restroom! 

Mostly though, I sit around at work wishing I could do something more creative. When will it be time for me to follow my dream?  What is it and is it even worth following? I don't know. I read Chris Hardwick's book, The Nerdist Way, and I was momentarily inspired. I thought, well if that loser can get his head out of his ass, then anyone can. All I have to do is...wait, what did he say? Use my laser focus that I have as a nerd (or creative obsessive) to do something that is important to me and let that be my life's work. Right. So...how can I make myself care about tech writing? What if that's my only option?

Maybe, more than just being accustomed to constant change, I'm restless. Maybe that's the reason that since Hina mentioned coming to New York for another visit, I've been able to think of little else. Maybe I'll never want to sit still anywhere, doing anything. Too much sitting can be bad. Just ask my enormous ass. There's a sort of paralysis that sets in. You become de-conditioned, body parts just stop working.  I got tired yesterday from walking around at the mall. And I only went to the mall because I knew otherwise, I wouldn't move at all. It's an oxymoronic state. I'm restless, but I can't get myself to move either. I know that could partly be the depression. But they say depression can be helped by physical activity and when you're depressed, the last thing you want to do is anything physical. It's a vicious cycle. 

I have decided to make a spiritual move at least. I've been thinking so much about how I miss the church, and how maybe I should go back and take part in that community again, and if that would help. I got a letter from my new visiting teacher with her phone number saying if I need anything I can call her. But I realized that besides the community and fellowship, what I really need to know is if I still believe the doctrine. And praying is good. But to really know, I have to become more familiar with what it is I'm actually supposed to be following. Since I downloaded The Book of Mormon musical, I've thought a lot about all the misconceptions that it puts out there. All the strange beliefs, things which aren't actually true, but are fun to make fun of. I should really find out what is true. And to do that I have to re-read the Book of Mormon itself. I have to see if the reasons I joined the church, if the feelings I had then are still accessible. So after many, many years, I started reading it again last weekend. Sometimes I read aloud (to Kenneth) so I can really slow down and understand what I'm reading. I'm almost done with 1 Nephi. And you know what, it makes me want to read more. So I guess that's a good thing. We'll see how it goes. Maybe the most important change I can make, is to come full circle and meet up again with my past self, this time a bit older and wiser, but also with a new sense of wonderment.

I'm a Believer

Me and George with Gary Carter  in 1986

The rule of three is something someone made up because it seemed like any time a famous person died there are always two more soon after. Weirdly though, it seems to bear out. This time it was three people gone before their time, which is always so sad. Whitney Houston, age 48, Gary Carter, age 57, and Davy Jones, age 66. 

Gary Carter was the one I had the most personal connection to. A Hall of Fame catcher for the New York Mets, Gary lost his fight with brain cancer on February 16th at only 57 years old.  The one they called "Kid" handled the Mets gifted young pitching staff and helped lead the Mets to their last World Series Championship in 1986. My brother and I were lucky enough to get to meet him that winter at an autograph signing. He was gracious and kind, and giving of his time to all the kids that came to see him. Those who knew him well say he was not just a Hall of Fame player, but a great all around person, a class act all the way. He will be missed. The Mets will wear a patch with his number 8 in memory during this upcoming 2012 season.  Spring training is well underway, and I'm sure Kid Carter is on the minds and in the hearts of the players on the field and the fans in the stands. 

We also grew up watching the Monkees TV show; as kids we didn't know how contrived it was. I remember watching it at my grandparents house during our summers with them in California.  The Monkees sang "I'm a Believer" which was written by Neil Diamond, who we of course love. When I hear it, I think of them both. Davy Jones was only 66 when he died earlier this week, the same age my dad is right now. It's hard to fathom sometimes. People die everyday. Many much too young. And some seem to keep kicking forever. It goes to show how little control we have of things. 

Even though both my sets of grandparents lived into their late 70s or early 80s, I have often thought that I might not live to such a ripe old age. With all the family history of various illnesses (breast cancer, heart disease, high blood pressure, diabetes, etc.), plus my struggles with depression, I figure my time will run out too soon. I'm okay with that, I guess. What matters is that we make the most of the time we have, try to be a positive influence, make a difference in the lives of others. I don't know that I'll get there. I still feel like I've yet to write my book. Hopefully, I still have some time. But if not, I know I have friends and family whose lives have been touched by mine. I'm grateful for that. Beyond that, anything else is a bonus.

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This has left me feeling kind of bummed out so I will add some cheer. Wednesday was Leap Day and spurred on by 30 Rock, I took part in a new Leap Day Tradition. I wore blue and yellow, and tweeted the following picture of me and Kenneth (with his Leap Day bow that I made) to @nbc30Rock for their Leap Day William contest. I didn't get chosen to be on the website, but I don't feel that bad about it. I think they chose randomly, as when I looked at the slide show on the 30 Rock webpage, there seemed to be a picture of someone's dinner they were cooking. It looked like paella. Obviously, not Leap Day appropriate. Some of the other pictures were pretty lame too. Oh well. See you in four years!