I've been working at an organization whose name shall remain nameless at an office job doing a lot of nothing and learning a lot of everything.

Namely, I'm learning a bit about life in the cubicle/office world. I have limited human contact; I impact few if any, and learn about the jobs of all (or, least, many). I'm an anonymous temp with a meaningless, mysterious background. I have a list of tasks; often, a very short list of tasks. I go to lunch whenever I want. If I decide I'm tired and want to stop working, I sit at my desk and do nothing. I'm replaceable. I'm not important enough for my own cubicle, but the only other available desk is in a private, spacious office.  I'm surrounded by people who make a lot of money. Their work is doubly, triply, and (in one case, honest to goodness) seven times valued to that of say, a first year schoolteacher in East Oakland.

I could work at an office one day if I ever had to resort to it. I guess. I wouldn't mind a six figure salary, an office with a jarful of candy. I guess.

Once upon a time, I was described by my peers as a woman of ambition and passion. I wrote it off at the time. Now, sitting in my quiet, barren office, I am beginning to understand what my classmates meant about me. I don't belong here. It's fine, but it's not amazing. I'm never content with fine. It's time to leave. I found inspiration in my past and am determined to find it again elsewhere. Due to my short stint in full-time teaching and shorter stint post-full-time teaching, I'm stronger and more able and willing to take on new challenges. I won't be afraid to jump back on the horse and try again. I won't stop taking risks and I won't stop chasing my dreams.



I am thankful to have spent Thanksgiving week in San Diego -- a city where I spent nine years of my life; a city which I have not visited in an entire year.

I am thankful for my friends -- my friends who are in my life because we consciously make an effort to sustain our relationship and my friends whose souls naturally reach out for mine -- and vice versa -- to connect and reconnect.

Our relationships have stood the test of time. The best of friends -- the ones who stood out better than the rest -- friends from opposite corners of my life -- met and found themselves in each other. Found me in them. 

I also was fortunate enough to do what my friends and I love best: one-on-one everlasting conversations at cafes, over delicious food, and late into the night until the sun threatens to reappear for a new day.

I love our conversations because in it, I discover and reinvent myself and you. These conversations reinforce and challenge my beliefs; they open my mind to new possibilities and perspectives on the world and myself. I trust my self-discoveries and experimental versions of self all the more because they were borne from conversations with my most trusted friends.

I'm feeling particularly nostalgic because of my upcoming Big Move. Mostly, though, I'm glad that our lives crossed at all, rather than sad that much time passes nowadays before our paths cross again.

Til we meet again!


I Was a Battery Borrower / Electronic Nostalgia

Remember the days when you needed a pair of batteries for, say, your

And all you needed to do was borrow batteris from your

or your

 or even the

for the


or the

Heh. Yeah. I was totally a battery thief. 

Tonight, I needed to borrow batteries for my

I searched through every junk drawer and forgotten shelf space in the apartment. I inventoried my electronics in search of borrow-able batteries. Hmm... What are my options?

Nope, nope, and nope.


Three AAA batteries await me inside this addictive vessel. 

I'm glad that AA, AAA, and (God forbid) D batteries no longer are obstacles that stand between user and electronic. Also, I should have bought a bike light that charges via USB.


The Ins and Outs

On bad days, I feel like a has-been superhero whose wings were clipped. Grounded.

On good days, I feel like a bird temporarily blown off course but on its way to an exciting, tropical paradise.

Most days, nowadays, I feel like a Joe Schmo'. Joe Nobody. These are also bad days.

I realize now that I have higher expectations for myself than I do anyone else... and that I expect more out of myself than does anyone else. This internal hunger for more out of myself got me where I wanted to be in life -- teaching in Oakland. This internal hunger also somehow got me out of that very situation. What just happened?

In all honesty -- all shields down, modesty aside, if I may be so forward, permission to speak freely, yadda yadda -- I always expect myself to be at the top of my game at all times. Period. Anything less is unacceptable. Through high school and college and finally, grad school, I upped my speed, gained momentum. I reached full speed as I wrote out life plans, rubbed elbows with the right people, studied, studied, studied, worked, worked, worked... and then slammed to a halt into a concrete wall. The abrupt and painful halt is what quitting what I thought was my dream job feels like.

Though I know what I did was right (for me), I still don't know what went wrong. Not that it matters at this point...

I'm not sure what "rebuilding" will look like in the near future because I do not have a clear vision in mind for myself. I do, however, have an unclear vision for myself. It's a work in progress -- kind of like how I'm a work in progress. It goes like this:

  • Be happy
  • Be healthy
  • Have confidence in -- and use my -- knowledge/abilities/expertise
  • Be financially secure
  • See the world
  • Do all of these above in a timely manner