Sell out

I've been having these thoughts for about a month. And for the same month, I've been trying to put my finger on what the thoughts meant in the larger scheme of things.

In short, I think I've been selling myself out.

What does that mean?

Well, I went to grad school and sacrificed for 9 long years. I sacrificed my social life, my mental and physical well being, my pride, the opportunity to be debt free, a work history longer than 3 years at the age of 33, and so many other intangible things. I sacrificed willingly.

I did so because I never once wanted someone to say no to me because my education or credentials didn't match up with some amazing job I wanted. I did so because I wanted an enviable, powerful, great paying job that took me around the world (I'd bring that down a couple notches now). I also did so because I'd had so many horrible experiences in my work-life that I wanted to make things better.

A little less than a year ago, unhappy with my current job, I applied to what I thought was my dream job. The current job being one that paid the bills. The current one being one that seemed great on paper, but just wasn't what I look forward to getting up for in the morning. And, for me, I went to school and sacrificed so that I didn't have to suffer through whatever I could find. So, nearly a year ago, in a sad depressed 'I have to get out of here' state of mind, I applied out.

I was rejected. Rejected not for a lack of skill or credentials, but for a piece of red tape that was truly unfair in my case. I nearly quit my job that day, because it was my current job that made me ineligible for my dream job.

Eventually, I worked through my emotions and actually came to find my supervisor was willing to work with me to expand my role into things I found more interesting. And, as I gained tenure in the organization, I found that there are benefits to my current job that just can't be found elsewhere. My satisfaction, oddly enough, increased.

And that, my bloggy friends, is about the time I sold me out. I sold my dreams for vacation time and a flexible schedule and security of maintaining a job that was ok. It is ok. And, perhaps my sacrifice all those years earned me the ability to pull down a job such as this. But, everyday I lust after the jobs of my classmates and friends, knowing that they secretly probably hate their jobs as well.

Perhaps it is stupid. Perhaps I will regret it. But, when I think of spending another year at my current organization, getting further and further away for the work that I love, becoming increasingly irrelevant in my areas of interest, I get scared. I get scared when I think that a year from now I may be even more apathetic and even less likely to try to bust out.

And so, with months of thought and debate, I went ahead and applied to a job that I would love in a state that I would love*.  Which explains my post from yesterday. I think with my application filling-out approach, I may have self-handicapped my likelihood of actually being considered for said job - but at least I have taken a baby step towards being a little more true to me.

*Yes, PC knows of the potential move and has been looking for work in the same area. We've discussed at a high level how we'd handle our living/housing situation here locally. So yes, he'd be coming with me.

Feels like cheating

I know that there's new gadgets used by recruiters for identifying key words from a resume to reduce the number or resumes that they have to look for in a quick and efficient way. But, that doesn't make me feel any less like I'm cheating when I rewrite a resume to include the very same words in the hope I won't get cut out of the initial swipe.

I also don't understand why organizations are able to ask what your prior salary was. I mean I get that they are probably looking for a range of what you're willing to take. But, in this situation when I'm looking in another (more expensive) city, I'm not willing to take less that 20k more that my current salary. So, I entered my salary requirements because it offered a range, but did not enter the start/ending pay ranges for my prior jobs.

Hoping that doesn't get me knocked out either...

Confession

Three nights of bad birthday behavior last week. Delicious French food, Italian another, and insane drinking another. Three days of running, including a 5k. But, instead of jogging tonight I accepted another birthday dinner. Latin food with some amazing frozen yogurt.

Ugh, 2 birthday pounds gained.

Must track down that wagon and get back on it.

It's a bird, it's a plane, nooo, it's my arms

I have a problem.

A couple years ago, I joined a gym. The 'sales person' commented how one of the largest problems for women my age is their arms.

I've never been more offended than to be called 'women of my age'. I mean really. You basically just called me old. You suck at sales. Besides, I have no problem with my arms.

That is until recently. Recently, I've lost some pretty significant weight. To be exact, 15 pounds.

Ok, to more exact, 15.2 but who's counting?

Anyway, around the time I hit 12 pounds lost and I was pretty excited about the possibility of being super thin, I noticed this kind of white movement every once in a while when I reached for something.  It was this kind of fast, white thing that I'd kind of catch out of the corner of my eye...and when ever I'd look directly, I couldn't quite see what it was that I'd missed.

And then I figured it out. It was my arms. My little under arm area. I've discovered those little flabs actually have a complete life outside of my control. They jiggle and move and lay all spread out when I least expect it.

You'd think this would be motivation to do some drastic weight lifting to get rid of the jiggle. But. You'd be wrong.

For one, I still haven't unpacked my weights since the move into the castle. I have no idea which box they might be in and there's no way I'm searching through the remaining 100 boxes to find weights. And, no, I'm not buying more weights. As soon as I buy new weights I will find the boxes with my old weights that I didn't use when they weren't hiding in a random box in the hot garage.

For two, I don't yet care enough. And, third, duuude, surgery would be so much faster and long lasting.

p.s., yay for spell check being back.

Currently unavailable due to the extended celebration of my birthday. And, the first year anniversary of earning my Phd. I imagine it's going to be a hell of a week.

Open letters

Dear Check Engine Light,

Could you please turn off for the next two weeks? I don't really have time to deal with this right now. What with my birthday, girls night out (midweek), party this weekend, and Lil Sis' graduation party next week. Wait, and then there's PC going away on work travel for the first few weeks of May. Better yet, let's plan for end of May, ok?

*******

Dear broken out skin,

Seriously, not even close to TOM and I've been cleaning you regularly. Stop. I have pictures to be taken this week to document el birthday.

*******

Dear dirty dishes,

I don't mean to rush you, but could you hurry it up with the taking of the bath and getting back into your respective places in the kitchen? We've got someone coming in to install a new dishwasher and I don't want to be embarrassed with you guys all laying about.

*******

Dear kitties that share our home,

Please stop fighting. It sounds like world war and you are keeping me awake at night. Perhaps you could agree to be in different rooms since you allege not to like each other. PC and I are onto you though - we've both seen you nose to nose when you think we're not looking. Also, please stop getting on the counter tops to eat left overs off the dirty plates. Otherwise, you will be responsible for washing them and putting them away since you used them last.

*******

Dear rain,

We both have jobs to do. I get it. I sit in an office, you fall from the sky. Perhaps you could work the same hours I do so that I can go run outside.

*******

Dear Mr iPod,

I appologize for sweating on you. You see, it's just that I lost your arm band and you're too old to get a new one at any reasonable local store. Between you refusing to regain your energy and the rain, I'm going to be 50 pounds heavier by the end of the week. Could you please hang in there until my new iPod Touch which I won at my recent conference arrives to replace you?

Making a deal with the Devil

One of the major requirements of my advisor upon signing that little piece of paper that says I am done with grad school, is the promise to publish the dissertation.

Like most, I was willing to promise anything just to make the grad school hell end. And, part of me knew my diss was pretty damn good. And, frankly, I find publishing a secret addiction. I love the affermation that I wrote something worth putting in print and the possibility that someone somewhere will site me.

As a first step toward meeting this promise, I submitted a poster on a very very small part of my diss. Something that was clean and easy to write up. Something that came out as expected, but interesting to a broader audience.

At the poster itself, I had quite a few people stop to chat. Asking where this is being published because it's a great contribution. Then, running into advisor at the conference-watering-hole, I was again asked when I was publishing.

My answer was "Eventually" or "Soon" or something to that effect.

Then, I got an email from the conference folks asking to conduct an interview about the paper to be published on their website and 'selected other media outlets'.

Holy shit! Really?!?!

And that is when I caved. I emailed Advisor to ask where to send the paper to begin the reviewing process for publication. And, that is when the guilt associated with doing all the formating and eventual responses to reviewers was placed right back on my head.

Future-self is going to HATE me.