How I’ve been doing.
First, something I should have done a long time ago.
What I like about The Professor
1. He’s a neat freak. He doesn’t leave clothes, books, and mail strewn about the apartment. He’s taken over vacuuming duties in the apartment, and does a good job. He takes the trash out regularly every few days. He’s careful about having a place for everything and everything in its place.
2. He takes pride in his personal appearance. He’s far from a narcissist, but he worries if his hair is “askew”, he shaves on weekends, he keeps his fingernails groomed and hair trimmed.
3. He works hard on his writing, and he writes to please himself. I hate to critique people’s writing because then they often start writing for an audience and lose their voice. The Professor has enough confidence that he evaluates my opinions based on what he wants his writing to say rather than on changing it into something I’ll like. It makes it easier to offer comments and criticism under those circumstances, and shows that he has a confidence about his writing that I admire.
4. He listens. Yeah, sometimes you need to hit him over the head with a 2X4 to get his attention. But when you have his attention, then it’s sincere and undivided.
5. He has beliefs he is passionate about. That’s becoming a rare commodity today. What’s even rarer is that he can discuss them with someone who doesn’t share these beliefs without getting defensive or abusive.
6. He loves the stars and the dessert and finding quiet places to enjoy both. And he loves sharing that with me.
This week is wearing me down. I haven’t gotten home before 6:00 yet this week (rough, when I’m at my desk before seven every morning). I continue to have bronchitis/asthma problems that have been waking me up in the middle of the night. The new person started on Monday whose office is two away from mine, and she’s already starting to wear me down.
I’m supposed to report to this person once she gets settled in. And she’s already driving me nuts. She’s still settling into her office and the job, and doesn’t have any regular duties or obligations yet. She’s bored, and has taken to hanging out in my office and trying to chat. Problem is, she doesn’t really have all that much to say. She just kind of stands there expectantly, waiting for me to say something. Since I don’t really have all that much to say either, this results in long, awkward silences where she stands there and smiles like Charlie Brown, (You know the smile I mean … the wavy line one that says “Hey, I’m clueless but friendly.”) She’s nice enough, but she’ll do this while I’m on the phone or working at my terminal. It’s disconcerting, to say the least. I pray she gets a huge project soon to occupy her time.
Last night I came home tired and disheartened and just plain sick of my life. This is not where I planned to be at age 45, and some days it weighs heavily on me. It’s no one’s fault but my own, but I hate not having a room to call my own private space. I resent the fact that I’m the only one in my department at my level with only two weeks vacation. (Even the New Kid on the Block came in with three weeks vacation; it never even occurred to me when I was interviewing that I could have tried to negotiate for more than two weeks to start). I’m tired of privately worrying every time I have a run of irregular hear beats or have difficulty breathing if congestive heart failure is finally settling in. I’m frustrated I have no social life outside the computer. This isn’t the job I saw myself doing, this isn’t the life I saw myself living, this isn’t the person I saw myself being.
I talked to the Professor about all this last night (except for the health stuff – he always takes a freak over that, and last night that wouldn’t have been productive). He listened, tried to talk me out of my funk. These aren’t his problems to solve though, and we both know that. And I have no idea how to go about fixing things that seem so badly broken.