Today I am torn. I am also really sick and maybe that's muddling some things in my brain. For those of you who read my last post, you're well aware that I am on the fence with my job. Well, more like holding onto the fence while desperately trying to get the proper footing in order to fling myself onto the other side... but as I've got considerable heft and no agility to speak of, this is proving quite difficult. Okay, long-winded analogy aside, bottom line: I want to quit my job.
I am sure none of you are surprised. Well, maybe some of you are. But here's the thing. I moved to Green Bay to find some semblance of happiness and order in my life. To do something involving writing, and if not that, then something that feeds my soul in even the tiniest of ways as to make not writing for a living, somewhat bearable. And there is nothing, and I do mean absolutely nothing, that feeds my soul about the health insurance industry. And even less soul-feeding are my pathetic paychecks.
It's one thing to do something really interesting and not get paid that well, because at least you're getting one rewarding thing out of the deal; but to have a job that is akin to going to getting a root canal and then to add insult to injury, in comes my meager paycheck.
Alright, I'm off topic. It's this damn cold making my head feel all fuzzy and sinusy. Oh, right, I remember, my doomsday job. So I have always been one for making grandiose declarations that I may or may not follow through on. I like to believe when I make these declarations (This is the year I get really skinny! or.. I'm joining the circus!) that I will actually do them, but ya know sometimes it just doesn't happen quite that way.
I say this because in almost every job I've had at one time or another, I've said, "That's it, I'm never going back. You can't make me and I won't!" And I really meant it. I didn't ever want to make another sub sandwich or deal with some irate customer screaming at me that I overcharged her twenty-five cents for a 99. bracelet. But what did good ol' reliable Cassandra do? She showed up for work the next day, gave her two weeks when it really was quitting time, and so on and so forth.
And really that's good of me. It's the way I was raised. To be reliable and hard-working. However, there is a part of me that has endured oh so many shit jobs, that I just ache to never go back. To just throw in the towel and say, no two weeks, no tomorrow. I am done.
I want to believe I could do that. That I have it in me, to just wash my hands of this whole thing, but I am not sure I do. I have such a deeply grained innate sense of commitment to these jobs--not because they're spectacular by any means, but because I don't like to let people down. And it's so ANNOYING sometimes. Because right now, I am thoroughly fed up. For once I really want to throw caution to the wind, and say ah, to heck with you and find something fabulous. Although knowing me and my luck, I'll do that and just end up having a panic attack over what I've done and settle for working at Burger King because I'm so ashamed of my behavior and nervous over my finances.
Blast. I just don't know. I think I need a nap, all this ruminating has really taken it outta me.
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