someday I will look upon these days and i will sigh at my ridiculousness for never thinking they would pass.

i know they'll pass but right now the world is a very dreary place and i'm running in circles in the downpour looking for the best place to shelter myself -- paralyzed by the idea that the safety niche i find is just that and not my dream house. i don't mind the onslaught of rain, being drenched, worth it if i find my holy grail.

perhaps my search is as ridiculous as monty python's. perhaps i should watch that movie again to remind myself of the ridiculousness of the everyday.

but it is so frustrating when all around me people are enjoying these fantastically mundane lives where they've got the job, they've got the car, they've got the man... but then i wonder whether or not i'm even capable of being happy with any of that?

* * * * *

the role of the receptionist.

i have, by some malicious fluke ended up in a job, that has sent me tumbling backwards into a role i haven't held since the summer before i left for university, that of receptionist.

in between that summer and now, over seven years have passed and innumerable jobs, some worse than the receptionist position at the senior's centre, most challenging and intriguing and enlightening in ways only flexible jobs can be.

i am not hired to be a receptionist here at this drudgerous place of work. i came here -- a 3-hour flight with three overflowing bags strapped precariously to my body -- with the promise of a communications position. all they asked was an initial two-week receptionist while theirs was on holiday. they got rid of the receptionist and i ended up there for three months. a new girl took over, and i settled in to my new position in communications and my spacious office. i was set, at least for a year after which i promised myself to find a job in magazines. I wanted to be a wordsmith and I wanted it bad.

but three months passed again. suddenly, I was expected to be the default receptionist. Every break and lunch hour and absence was noted in my sudden presence at the front. it adds up to two hours a day. or more sometimes.

The rest of the time I was creating 150-page manuals, writing newsletters, revamping websites -- exciting projects that in any other workplace would have boded well for a career.

but not in the volatile, dysfunctional office that I worked in.

I want out. I want out. I want out. If I am going to be treated like shit, I'd rather it be somewhere where I'd willingly work for nickles and dimes anyways due to an inspiring innate love of the job

the rest of the time I was creating 150-page manuals, writing newsletters, revamping websites -- exciting projects that in any other workplace would have boded well for a career.

but not in the volatile, dysfunctional office that I worked in.

I want out. I want out. I want out. If I am going to be treated like shit, I'd rather it be somewhere where I'd willingly work for nickles and dimes anyways due to an inspiring innate love of the job.

i want the contentment and monotony but only in something i adore. a man, a job (not to compare the two... ) aren't worth anything unless i'm convinced of their worth. and dammit, i'm not settling...

but for now, back to work. "Good morning. Office of A. How may I help you?"