Get Ready to CYOB!

Coming soon to a blog near you...Choose Your Own Blogventure #2!!

So on Friday? When you see a piece of some random sci-fi story here? That's why.

In other news, my 'n' key is having issues. I think something is stuck under it - probably from today's earthquake.

Yes, we had an earthquake, centered about 60 miles from here, 5.4, blah blah blah. You'd think it had never happened before with how fast every outlet glommed onto it. Granted, it was the biggest one I've felt in years, but living here, you just come to expect that it'll happen at one point or another - I guess that's how people along the Gulf feel about hurricanes.

And maybe? Sometimes it's pretty cool. Except for the part where all the mortar from the brick walls and tiny slivers of wood fell onto my desk and floor and I had to sweep it up so I didn't keep rolling over it with my chair.

In other other news, Vegas was a good time, as always. But maybe even better because my husband was with me! And Eddie Izzard is funny! And cabanas are the only way to go at the hotel pool! Also: I should not stay out until after 2am when I have to drive four hours later in the day and I'm just getting over a cold. I should also not let certain family members pour my drinks in the middle of the afternoon.

Lastly - vacation week next week! In...wait for it...Vegas! Surprise!! It's my staycation - while not exactly at home, I don't have to pay to stay. I'll be cleaning pantries, having upholstery cleaned, shelving books, and attempting to take down a wallpaper border. Glamour is my middle name, you know. And it's totally the opposite of a true vacation, but I won't be in the office and I'll be working my other job anyway, so I might as well make myself useful in between annotations.

And besides, in November I will probably be making the rounds of Florida theme parks during the annual amusement convention. How will I ever leave themed entertainment?

Dr. No

A discussion about PhDs arose today. The part where you have to take statistics drove me off almost immediately, but it did make me stop and consider what the purpose of getting one would be for a librarian. Sure, you could teach, but you can do that with a Masters. And I certainly don't want to teach.

I mean really, what makes it worth all of the time and sweat and tears and god knows what else to get PhD after your name? I'm finding it hard to understand what, beyond a true specialization in an specific area of library science, one gets out of the doctoral experience. I'd be divorced and have a full head of grey hair and be jobless.

I guess I'm not a true academic.

Fortunately this is not currently my inner struggle, although I understand it. I had the same experience before I decided to get my Masters, with all of the "what ifs" stretching out ahead of me. Of course, it's already proven to be a valuable degree and I'd go back and do it again in a minute. I'm not sure I'd feel the same way about a PhD.

What I'm saying is that my quarter life crisis came out quite well. Maybe the PhD will be my mid-life crisis. That means I needn't worry about it for another 20 years.

Whew.

On the Fast Track...

...to ruin?

Perhaps.

Welcome to week #1 of "will I make it through the next year?" This week features the start of my second job, my other half's continuing search for a first job, and my nagging him to just forget it and go back to school already. It's fun times here in Pasadena, full of angst and worry and the feeling of oh my god I should just quit all of this while I'm ahead and go find a commune where I can be the resident librarian.

I also might be coming down with something. Yippee!

Change is a difficult thing, I know. And I know it doesn't all happen at once and it's going to take time and this is a growth process and blah blah blah it'll all be cupcakes and ponies at the end.

My greatest fear is that it's going to be ex-lax brownies and badgers.

I really need all of this to be worth it. I thought that once school was done things would be easier and I could be a human again and yes, I was for about six weeks. Now it's starting all over again and even though someone is paying me for these 20 hours a week they are not my 20 hours anymore. But it is my decision and the first step toward my dream of working in my pajamas and if I don't do this now, I might not get another chance. And then I'll be 40 and still at the same desk doing the same. damn. thing. Okay - maybe I feel better now.

In the meantime, I just need to make it to the end of Thursday, after which I will be going to Vegas for the wedding of the summer - okay, the only wedding I'm attending this summer. Also: EDDIE IZZARD. And a steak at Circus Circus. Don't laugh - it's one of the best steaks in Las Vegas, even if you have to run from door to door to avoid the fright of the casino.

That reminds me that I keep thinking about starting a side project involving my dining adventures in Sin City. I'll just put that on the list, because hey! I'm sure I have time for that, too.

Finally - do you read Miss Doxie? Because after a long long hiatus, Leigh is back! And she is really f'ing funny.

I Need A Vacation

Before I start slapping people upside the head in the office.

It would REALLY FEEL GOOD.

Blue

Today's post is part of Blog Share, written by an anonymous blogger. Somewhere out there is an anonymous post by me. Links to all participant blogs are listed in the post below.

My mother is depressed. She was diagnosed with depression over 16 years ago and generally manages to stay on top of it with therapy and medication. I say she was diagnosed over 16 years ago because I can't remember when exactly, but I know that about 16 years ago she was suicidal.

I'm telling you this because it scares me.

My mother reminds me often that there is active and severe depression in many of my family members. We discuss the symptoms and ways that I can get help if I feel I am depressed. She tells me stories about staying in bed all day crying; about being unable to care for her children (undiagnosed post-partum depression); about feeling that she had nothing to offer the world.

I cannot pin point the time when I became aware that she was depressed, but I do vividly remember her driving to my school 16 years ago to say 'good bye'. She entered into an in-patient care treatment program. I'm not sure how long she was gone—at the time, I didn't even know where she went.

This is all coming to the forefront again because she was recently admitted to out-patient treatment for two weeks. Her version of a living hell is in-patient treatment, but she knew she needed something. I didn't know. I couldn't see it. But she knew. There is part of that that gives me comfort: she knows the signs, she's discussed this with her doctor, she knows when talk therapy and medication are not enough; but there is an entirely different part of me that just freaks out.

I freak out because I wonder if I suffer from depression. I have read up on it. I have told my husband about symptoms and signs to watch out for. I don't really think I'm depressed, but with all of the family history I can't help but wonder if I'm a ticking time bomb. I do not believe that I am depressed. I do believe that it could come on in the future.

I am certainly not trying to trivialize depression or those suffering from it. My mother leads a rather normal life—what I think of as a good life. It hurts me that sometimes she doesn't see it that way, but I know that I can't take it personally. I have to explain this to my husband and my brother time and time again—yes, she has a lot of good things happening to her and yes, she is aware of them and often pleased or excited by them, but she can't just make herself happy. I try to explain it while not fully grasping the disease. I try to explain it without minimizing the symptoms or raining on their parade. I try to explain it to them and I try to explain it to myself.

Our family is celebrating a lot right now. The joy is all around and I really hope that my mom can take care of herself so that in the near future she is capable of fully enjoying everything that her life has to offer. In the meantime, we're all here to support her.

Blog Share Participants

Here is the official list of participants for Blog Share:

Vent Vox
Turn On The Stars
Trudie - Life After AC
Swimming With Sharks
Stefanie Says
Shhh! Librarian-In-Training
Sauntering Soul
Sass Attack
Reflections in the Snow Covered Hills
Red Red Whine
Our Simplicity
One New Duck
Oh My Seven
The Occasional Truth
No Lady
Nancy Pearl Wannabe
Muse On Vacation
Messing With Texas
Melliferous Pants
Lizland
Live Work Dream
Just Below 63
Jonniker
Java Literally
Heidikins
Full of Snark
Face Down
Ex Everything
Everything I Like Causes Cancer
Did I Say That Outloud?
The Daily Tannenbaum
The Coconut Diaries
Citystreams
Catheroominations
Bright Yellow World
Breath Smiles Tears
And You Know What Else
Alyndabear
3 Carnations

Coming Soon...Blog Share

So tomorrow's post won't be my usual drivel...It will be a guest post from an anonymous blogger participating in Blog Share, hosted by -R- of And You Know What Else fame.

I'm sure it'll be so much more interesting than I am, and somewhere I'll be dulling up someone else's blog with an anonymous post of my own. I probably should have spent some quality time spiffing up my corner of the blogosphere (I hate that word), but dude - I'm lazy and by the end of the day the last thing I want to do is stare blankly at my monitor trying to decide what I want my blog that no one reads to look like.

In the meantime, I signed my contract with Butler Hill this morning and now have to stay mum about all of it for three years. And while I fully intend to honor the terms of my NDA, I have to say that in general I think they are pure bunk. Every project in my office involves some sort of non-disclosure, and someone is always blabbing about what is supposed to be confidential.

Usually it's the boss.

And with that, it's off to my spreadsheets.

Moonlighting

Since I have copious amounts of free time these days, I've decided to take a second job. Because really, the first one doesn't drive me crazy enough, so I'm going to spend another 20 hours a week yelling at my computer screen.

Starting next week, I'll be a data annotator for the Butler Hill Group. I know! Sounds sexy, huh? But I can't deny that it's going to be interesting, especially since I can work in my pajamas on my outdoor sofa. This, you see, is the first step toward my dream of working full-time in my pajamas. And honestly, it's good experience in my chosen field of work and particularly in my field of interest.

The pay is pretty good, too, which was not a deciding factor for me for once.

In another month I might be kicking myself for doing this, but I figure it can't be any worse than going to school, and at least I'm getting paid for it. Especially since those student loans aren't going to pay themselves and I'm mere months away from getting the first bill.

Proof That I Am Certifiably Crazy

Many years ago, I resolved that if I didn't get a tattoo by the time I graduated from college, I would never get one. I didn't really ever have an idea of what I would get permanently etched onto my skin, so I escaped college unscathed.

Then, when I started grad school, I thought, "Oh! I should get the Little Prince tattooed on me since it's my most favorite book EVER." I even decided to have the Library of Congress call number put into his scarf. Meaningful, yes. Dorky? Oh Jeebus, don't get me started. I obviously have not had this etched onto my skin. And thank God for that, because I fear that I might have regretted it.

Here comes the crazy part. The other day I was watching TV and saw some dude with a squid on his back. And I remembered this:

Meet Squinky the Squamster. This is my brother-in-law's creation, and one time I said hey! I should get that tattooed on me! HAHAHAA!

I was probably drinking.

So, that squid tattoo reminded me of him. And in that moment I realized that this is the picture I must have etched onto my skin for all eternity. Tentacles and all, in the old-tyme style of sea monster sketches.

The worst part is that I mean it. I am planning on having tentacles wrapped around my arm when I'm 80.

A Sucker Born Every Minute

Yeah, that sucker is me. But wait! Have you seen Pleo yet? One of my co-workers brought him in this morning...

and by the end of the day I had ordered one. I couldn't help it - that dumb little robot is SO. CUTE. It's like a puppy you don't have to clean up after. All I know is that he'd better last until the end of time for as much as he cost.

Really, though - he's going to be a lot of fun.