My apologies for the PG-13 title. All the credit belongs to Mike, who came up with that elegant and oh-so-accurate turn of phrase a long time ago. In the years since I’ve stolen it often and stuck it just about anywhere it was willing to go–in an overwhelmingly trite poetry assignment my sophomore year of college, in countless conversational tidbits, and now finally–and perhaps most applicably–in the title of this blog post.
Spring is not my favorite season. In fact, despite all the shortcomings of Winter, Spring can’t even boast the whimsical undercurrent of that cold and crystal season, so maybe I should just come out with it and say I hate Spring the most, which is true. I hate Spring the most. Winter can be magical, Summer is vivid and luscious, And Autumn–far and away my favorite–is crisp and calm, punctuated with bursts of sunshine and wind.
Spring is a tease. She’s petulant. She’s easily excitable with very little follow through. She’s moody, and impatient, and unrelentingly indecisive. That is to say, she’s a lot like me. And maybe that’s why we don’t get on so well.
I am not one of those people who are frightened by change. Change can be good. It can be energizing and optimistic. I’m all for it. But I just loathe transitions. They make me nervous and irritable. I like routine and tradition and I really, really, really like to be competent and to excel. In fact, it kind of screws me up when I am not immediately brilliant and at ease and comfortable. I like knowing how to get from place to place and to be surrounded by familiar faces. I crave security and sure footing and lots and lots and lots of nesting time. I’m pretty much the poster-child for my zodiac sign (Cancer. Not that it isn’t obvious). The thing about transitions is that they bring to the forefront.
Life right now feels like those Russian nesting dolls: transition within transition within transition.
I have joined the work force. I’ve accepted a long-term temp position with the state of Minnesota in the department of Human Services. My official title is “COBRA Project Technician” which is just a way of saying that I do a lot of data entry and answer the phone a lot. It is not fulfilling work. I miss publishing fiercely, and find that my passion for it has only deepened since I left New York. In unfamiliar surroundings I want even more to do something useful and challenging that inspires me. In some ways I took my career for granted (though in other ways I never did, and fought for it every step of the way). I suppose what I took for granted was that I was making a (meager, paltry, realistically unsustainable) living doing what I loved. I miss that.
This…is not that. But it is paying me, and paying me rather well, actually. More than the career of my heart ever did. It’s my first true cubicle job (hopefully my last?). I haven’t worked full time since September which was–oh my god–seven months ago. And even though I was trying to keep a normal schedule during my unemployment (I tried to wake up when David did–at the very worst I rarely slept past 8:00am–and went to bed when he did) two weeks into my return to full time employment and I am completely exhausted. And flighty and easily irritated and restless. Like Spring.
So. What have I been up to other than working and sorting through the existential crap that comes with the changing of the seasons? Well, I’m trying to grow my own indoor kitchen herb garden. I’ve got basil, cilantro, and greek oregano so far, all started from seed. They’ve all sprouted, so I’m considering the experiment a success–regardless of what may happen in the future.
I’m really looking forward to exploring the Twin Cities more, now that the weather has warmed up.