Searching for joy

As each day then week then month went by without writing, I feared more and more that whatever I did write about when I finally broke the streak would have to be earth shattering.  Well, I’ll be the first to admit, this isn’t earth shattering.   I toyed with writing about my new job or my new hobbies, but I don’t have much to say about them now.  (Though I can say I’m enjoying myself at the new gig.  I’m challenged– BOY AM I CHALLENGED– but I really like the people I work with and I don’t dread work at all.  That’s a nice change.)

So what did I decide to write about?  Something that struck me while staring at a door.  (No, the door itself didn’t hit me, though I admit that is very likely to happen if you stand in front of one and stare at it.)   I noticed that on the door we have a magnet we “borrowed” from some random hotel in Maryland last year.  It was their half clever form of a Do Not Disturb sign.  We thought it was funny, so we took it. So what was so striking?  It’s the concept of being an adult.   I catch myself doing things all the time that I would say an adult probably would not do.  Like borrow things from a hotel.  Or stick my tongue out at a kid on the Metro.  Or buy a talking monkey. Or wear my hair in pig tails.  Or be completely (too?) honest with my new boss as he tries to get a feel for the agency.   Or not know what I want to do when I grow up.  I could go on, but I don’t want to make myself feel too pathetic.

I keep thinking that it’s not now that I have to be grown up, it must be at some other time in the undetermined future.  But what I’ve realized is that I’ve crafted my own version of a grown up.  It doesn’t have to fit someone else’s idea of what an adult should do or be.  So, I say adult schmadult.  Do what ever works.

tentatively joyful,

PS:  Luckily, I didn’t have to have a post entitled “I’m an idiot — shoot me now” as referenced in One week into a new job, and hungover, so that’s a plus.  The new job really is so far, so good.  That’s about the highest praise I can ever give a job anymore.  It hasn’t killed me.  Yet.  And no, I don’t really know what I do yet.  But I’ve been crazy busy doing it.

What better time to write about what I’ve been up to than now– one week into a new job and hungover. 

I’ll get everyone caught up:

Apparently eight months at Federal Mediation Service wasn’t a short enough stint, so I had to out do myself and only last 6 months at USDA. It was a pretty horrible place that I will file away in my memory for the book I’ll write someday about insane workplaces.   I was looking to get out, but nothing was exciting me.  I didn’t want to move to do the same old stuff again.  I was tired of the slow government bureaucracy, the slow government employees, and the not-so-slow increase in pounds as I ate out of boredom on the job. 

I tried to float the idea of a hiatus past the hubby.  He rightfully said, “You want to do what?” Though to his credit, he mostly just pushed me to think through how it would work, make a plan, etc.  I didn’t have a plan, that was the problem.    I just didn’t want to have to move to something else bad.  I wanted to figure out what I want to do for a living.  We both knew that jumping off the train wouldn’t really solve much right now.  And it’s tough to walk away from a paycheck, especially when that paycheck funds my early retirement.  So, I decided not to screw future Julie.

Luckily an opportunity fell into my lap.  A friend asked if I would consider going to back to my old employer, the much maligned (by me) USPS OIG.  (The gig that prompted such posts as Not the good crustiness, How much is joy worth?, and The clouds have parted.)  I decided that I would indeed consider it, and began discussions with the boss.  I quickly remembered the other half of why I left initially.  Aside from the hostile work environment, there were issues with the work.  I didn’t want to do it anymore.  I wanted something new.  The employee development world (as it exists in the government) isn’t for me.  So I told them I wasn’t interested in coming back to the same work.  The environment and leadership would be different, but it wasn’t work that I wanted to do.  I sorta surprised myself.  Usually, I am so desperate to get out of a job that I’ll take whatever.  I take jobs that I can do, not necessarily ones that I want to do.   That leads to boredom.  And don’t even get me started on my complete and utter inability to pick someplace with a culture that fits me.   So when I told them what I do want to do, they eventually came back with a pretty good offer.  It felt good to be on equal footing.

So you’re looking at the new Knowledge Curator.  What?  You don’t know what that is?  Join the club.  But it is interesting so far, and once I understand it I’ll let you know.   I’ve been here a week and so far so good.  It really is different, but it’s also the same.  The things that needed to change have, and the things that merely cause headaches are the same.  I’ll take it.   I’m glad I did.  And thanks to the friend who pointed out that sometimes you have to stop searching for joy and let joy find you.

tentatively joyful,

PS: I fully admit that in 2 months there may be a post entitled “I’m an idiot — shoot me now”, but I reserve that right. Let’s keep our fingers crossed though!

PPS:  The hangover is completely unrelated to all this.  After I finish assisting in a cooking class, the chef cooks us dinner.  I try to pass it up since who needs to eat at 10:00 at night.  But last night I couldn’t resist the beef fillet with duxelles,  mashed potatoes and peach creme brulee. Oh yeah, and wine.  One too many glasses of wine.  Eh, it’s Friday.  There’s, like, 3 people at work today.  Hopefully I won’t nap under my desk.

As promised, here’s evidence of the bread making attempt. Not too shabby!  Too bad I used none of what I learned in the weeks of bread classes   

Growth is one of those things that we don’t really see until there’s a lot of progress made.  I’m not talking about physical growth.  That’s visible for sure… my ever expanding waistline is proof of that!  I’m talking about the kind of growing we do on the inside.  That’s the kind that’s really hard to measure.  So when those little moments come along where we can look at ourselves and say “Hey, I’m better than I was”, we need to celebrate them.

This week at work, I actually worked.  Now, I technically work everyday.  But it is usually stuff that comes very easy to me so I don’t have to try very hard and I have a hard time considering that work.  Well this week I tried hard.  I was proud of the effort, creativity, and time that I put into my project.  It was my project and I was proud of where it was going.  It is supposed to be my first big impact at the new gig.  So when my boss informed me that people who know nothing about my project completely rearranged it without talking to me, I was livid.  I actually raised my voice (not to my boss… heavens no.  But my friend and only savior in the office got a serious earful.)  Apparently, that behavior (the uninformed meddling and upturning, not the yelling) is quite common in our department.  Fabulous.

I’m getting too far into this, because this really isn’t the point.  The point was how I handled it.  I fumed for about a 1/2 hour, then set about retooling my plan to fit the new craziness.  I’m not as proud of the project because it won’t really work as well, but I’m giving them what they want.  Now, you could look at is as being totally broken in by the ridiculousness of Federal government and/or poor management.  I prefer to look at it as keeping perspective.  I often remind myself that really, it just doesn’t matter.  My job exists only because there are tons of laws and regulations about training government employees.  I’m a part of the red tape.  (In theory, that is.  I personally have decided that I will try to make some small difference in how employees do their job, but don’t tell my boss that.)

The growth I bragged about before is the fact that I’m not letting things bug me so much.  I’ve become a pretty irritable person, so any small steps in the other direction are a good thing.  There was a time not so long ago that this kind of setback would have stuck with me longer and affected me more.  I’m growing… see?

Here are some other goods things that I figured I’d share.  Good thing #1:  For about a month now I’ve been spending quite a bit of my free time at a cooking school downtown. After taking some great classes there this Spring, I’m now assisting in the classroom for classes and private parties.  I’m having a great time, making interesting friends, helping people learn to cook, and eating gads of great food.  (See reference to expanding waistline above.)  And since I leave the school sometimes after 10 on weekdays and midnight on weekends, I’m also seeing DC after dark, which is a whole new scene for me.  I don’t mean the monuments lit up all pretty.  That’s not new.  Beautiful, but not new. I mean the whole world of people who go out at 11pm on a Tuesday, or who dress like hoochie mamas after the age of 30.  That last part isn’t really a part of the “good thing”, but I couldn’t stop myself from pointing it out.

Good thing #2:  I finally have some free time to tackle some bread techniques I’ve been meaning to try.  As we speak (type?) I have some no-knead bread resting.  I’ll bake it tomorrow– in a pot, yeah, in a pot–  and we’ll see what happens.  I’m hoping for delicious crusty bread that looks something like this:

I just had to post a picture because I really don’t think mine will look like that, and so we can all have a good laugh if I post a pic tomorrow with what it really looks like. And to tie it all in together, I could say something about the bread rising and that being like my own internal growth.  But I won’t because all the talk about this growth business is already annoying enough.  We don’t need metaphors, or even any good puns.  OK, I lied on that one– a good pun is always called for.  I just didn’t have one.  Well there’s “need” and “knead”, I could go somewhere with that, but I won’t.  It’s late.  Late night humor just gets ugly.

That’s about it for now.

tentatively joyful,

As I sit here this evening, reflecting on my day, I have such a sense of happiness.  This has been a truly wonderful birthday, in no small part due to the people in my life.  It started with a top-notch dinner  at 1789 with the hubz in the same corner of the same room where the Prez dined earlier this month with the German Chancellor.  Then came the Tongan birthday celebration, which was a complete surprise (how could it not be– by definition it’s a day early… you now, because the island of Tonga is a day ahead of us)  It was much of a surprise that I was in my standard “surprised by Dave” outfit: just a wet towel wrapped on my head. (The very same thing I was wearing when he proposed.)

Today I had emails from my nephews, lunch at Alexandria’s best restaurant with a neighbor I’m lucky to call a friend,  a card full of photos from my niece (though I can’t be certain she sent them herself, she is only 2 after all), summery drinks with a dear friend, lots of well wishes from friends and family, all topped off with a song on the iPod that reminded me of my dad (in a good way, not a sad way.)

I know it sounds cheesy, but my heart is full.  Dave and I joke that we don’t have any friends and no one likes us.  (Well, sometimes it’s less of a joke than a pity party.)  It’s days like this that remind me how wrong that is.

So, thanks to all and happy 35th to me.   This past year has had ups and downs, and I feel like I’m where I should be… for now.

tentatively joyful,

PS:  I’ve made up a new term– triddle age.  It is one third my life, like middle age is half.  Yes, I plan on living to 105.  And no, I don’t  know what being 70 is called.  I’ve got 35 years to come up with that one.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, so I figured I’d check in. No revelations lately. Just trying to figure out how what I want fits into what I have. And vice versa. I have my definition of happiness posted right on my desk at work, so I can constantly remind myself of my goal (and more importantly, that I’m not terribly far from it.) Now, I also have a sticky note on my desk that inspires me in other ways. I calculated the exact dollar amount that lands in my pocket just for showing up on any given day. So on those days when I am struggling to be at work, I think to myself, “Would I put up with for this for that amount of money?” The answer has been yes so far, so that’s a good (at least not bad) sign.

My point of today’s post is a bit happier, though, I guess. At least, the focus is on happiness. If you remember, I’m going for joy here, but happiness is a step on that ladder. Well maybe not a ladder because there’s the looming danger of falling off or it falling over, or someone walking under it and having bad luck. Too much pressure. Layer. Maybe that’s a better description. Whatever. I’ve said that joy is something that lives inside. It’s not a mood. It’s not something you are, it’s something you have. But I don’t think I can have it unless I’m happy. I can’t force joy, but happiness, well, that’s a little easier to manipulate. So I’ve decided that my goal for now is to be happy every day. Not just every day, but Every. F-ing. Day. Hey, you want something, ya gotta take it by the horns and chase after it. Wait, that metaphor makes no sense. But hopefully you get the point. I’ve been relatively successful overcoming the absence of happiness so it’s been going OK so far. I’ve had to call on the Glee soundtrack to pull me up from some grumpy places, but there’s no shame in that. I embrace my Gleekiness.  But seriously– I’m making an active choice to be happy.  I look away from things that annoy me.  I am learning to let things go.  I’m paying attention to the moment and realizing it’s just not that bad.  I can’t promise this experiment won’t spiral down in flames.  For now, I’m trying it.

Sorry I didn’t get to say much about the fabulous cooking program I’ve been in (or the food baby I’m now sporting because of it.) Maybe next time. Until then,

tentatively joyful,

It’s a struggle to figure out what I really want. It always has been. Heaven help the people in line behind me at those choose-your-mix-ins ice cream places. I really don’t go to them anymore because the stress of having to pick negates the happiness of the ice cream. Picking a Ben & Jerry’s flavor is bad enough, but I’ll make the sacrifice for that creamy goodness.

What I’ve started to realize, is that while I may not know what I want, I know what I’ll make a sacrifice for. That’s a pretty good way to figure out what’s important. Parents do it every day– they make sacrifices in personal comfort or goals for something more important. For me, I am beginning to realize that something is pretty darn important to me if I’ll sacrifice sleep for it. (Yeah, I’d be safe in saying that parents sacrifice that too!) Seriously, I love sleep. In college, the concept of all-nighters was completely lost on me. No assignment was worth missing a good night’s sleep. Now, hanging out with friends till the wee hours– that’s a different story. Friendship was important enough for me to sacrifice some sleep. Just some. While working on the boats for Clipper, I never got more than six hours of sleep because the adventures I was having were worth sacrificing for.

It’s been a while since I’ve had anything I’d sacrifice sleep for. But for a month now, in addition to getting up an hour and half earlier than I did for my last job (paychecks are certainly worth some sacrifice), twice a week I’ve been pushing off sleep for a few hours at night as well. I’ve been enrolled in two cooking programs which both keep me out entirely too late. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to do it all at once, but you know I’m just a tad willful. Thankfully one program just ended, so I’m back to just one late night a week. For now. I had to backburner my volunteer time at Central Kitchen, so once I catch up on my sleep I’ll be adding that biweekly commitment back in, but at least it’s not crazy late at night. See– I’m going to sacrifice sleep (and down time, which is sort of a subset of sleep) again. Luckily, there’s a recurring theme here, and there is no mystery that cooking is very important to me. More specifically, learning more about cooking, and using my skills to help others. Yay, clarity! Now I just have to keep working to figure out how it all fits in to my life.

For now, I’m exhausted. Is it the weekend yet??

tentatively joyful,

I am working some of the exercises in a book called BeHappy! (Their exclamtion point, not mine.  While I am feeling hopeful, I’m not at the exclamatory point yet.  And no, I didn’t pay for a book with such a ridiculous title.)  The first exercise is to create my own personal Definition of Happiness, which will be the basis for achieving total happiness. There is an inspiring quote by Henry David Thoreau , “Many men go fishing all their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.” This speaks to a fear of mine– plodding along and someday realizing that I’ve gotten myself a life I don’t really want. That I’ve chased the wrong goal, or more accurately since I’m not actively chasing any goals, that  there was a right goal that I just didn’t try for. I’m afraid I’m going to miss out. Get to the end of my life and wish I’d done more, been more.

So I decided to spend some time thinking about what happiness, or joy, means for me. According to the book, this Definition of Happiness answers the question: what would make you a happy person if your life included everything in it?

Here are some guidelines for designing a Definition of Happiness:
1. At least 3 and at most 5 criteria should be included in your definition.
2. Achieving each of these criteria should be at least partially within your control.
3. At least 2 of the criteria should be relatively easy to achieve.
4. Each criterion should motivate you and give you a positive feeling.

After some brainstorming, I came up with my criteria for happiness.

• Healthy body and soul
• warm relationships
• laughing often
• helping others
• utilizing my strengths
• financial security
• travel/adventure
• variety

After much wordsmithing (and wondering how on earth it will only take 5 things to make me completely and utterly eternally happy), here it is:

I will be happy if I am living a secure and healthy life filled with variety, laughter, love and travel while utilizing my strengths to help others.

So I went a few over the 5 criteria limit… I’m tough to please! I admit it’s a tall order, and according to the book if there are too many criteria to meet, it is difficult to get them all aligned and I will likely not achieve true happiness. Crap, now I’ve totally sabotaged all chances at happiness and I’ve just gotten started! Sheesh. Anyway, I guess I will probably change it several times through the process (though I don’t think I’m supposed to), but this is good.

tentatively joyful,

So far, so good on the new gig. I have people to talk to and work to do. I’m pretty proud to be working for USDA. If I had to pick an agency that’s about what I’m about, USDA is pretty high up there. While I don’t actually do anything related to food or agriculture, I’m around people who do. Well, not around, per se, since they are all the way across the long tunnel in the other building and I rarely go over there because there’s a 90% chance I’ll get lost. But I occasionally wander over to the cafeteria for some Edy’s Tartisan fro-yo (SO good if you haven’t had it.  I think it’s like Pink Berry) and I can imagine that all the other people in line are in charge of interesting food and farming projects. And I met the Secretary the other day, so that was something.

That’s not what I felt like writing about today, though. I thought I’d start out Spring (Spring? It surely doesn’t feel like Spring!!) with regaling you with tales of the tourists. I get off the Metro each morning right on the Mall, at the Smithsonian stop. The mornings aren’t too bad. Actually they’ve been pretty neat because the sun has been sitting in a good place for me to see as I come up the escalator. But that’s not funny or amusing. The afternoons, chock full o’ midwesterners, have been irritatingly humorous. No– more accurately, humorously irritating. Here’s the first installment. It’s going to be a loooong tourist season.

• Borat’s parents:  An elderly Soviet-block couple who looked as though they wandered in directly off the farm. Complete with rooster cell phone ring (which surprisingly wasn’t as annoying as Pa’s conversation that ensued on the call.) Then Ma started singing along with her hand-held radio. Keep in mind that we’re on the Metro train. Underground. She didn’t have any radio reception, so we spent the next 15 minutes listening her sing along to static.
• A dad who proceeded to tell his kids wrong facts about DC, such as DC is fighting for sainthood and George Washington built the Washington Monument.

My commute is a series of SNL skits. Let’s hope it stays that way, and doesn’t turn into Cops when I knock someone off the escalator for standing on the left.

Happy Spring everyone!

tentatively joyful,

I had a realization this weekend. At 34, I should know what’s right for me. I’m not talking about the whole “who am I” question– I know that may be a lifelong quest. I’m talking about the things that are easy, like what makeup is right for me, or how to take care of my skin, or what vitamins to take, or what is my real shoe size. Now, I realize that women’s magazines exist solely to tell us we don’t know what’s right for us and to try to convince us to buy the next best thing (that their advertisers are hocking.) It really shouldn’t be this hard. I lamented to friends that I wish I could just pay someone to sort it all our for me. Just tell me what I should do so I can move on to more important things. I’ll call them “my people.”
Step one: skin care and makeup. I threw myself at the mercy of a Bobbi Brown expert at Nordstrom (no, not THAT Bobby Brown, as I couldn’t help being reminded of this skit from SNL)
Anyway, I digress. The cosmetologist was so nice and helpful and didn’t make me feel like a make-up doofus. I’m not really used to spending any more than Target money on taking care and beautifying myself, so this was a change. I left feeling good. Yes, I did leaving feeling $400 lighter, but we’ll call it my reward for my new job (news on that coming when I actually have an offer letter in hand.) At the very least, I have figured out how to cover up the dark circles under my eyes. That is pretty close to priceless in my book!
Anyway, that’s enough about the details of my time in the makeup chair.
The whole point is that my journey towards joy is going to involve a lot of figuring out. How can I tackle the whole inner self thing when I haven’t figured out the outer self? So I will continue my search for experts who can help me. Though now that I’ve got people to help me with hair, skin, and makeup (the fun things) I have to go back to trying to sort out all my various maladies with my muscles and joints. I wonder what SNL skit I can tag to find humor in a visit to my rheumatologist? (And I won’t focus on how pathetic and sucky it is to have a rheumatologist as a part of “my people.”)  Anyone have suggestions for who or what to add to my people?

tentatively joyful,

PS: Here’s the Galapagos album for those interested. Anyone I see in real life is more than welcome to view the actual book version. It’s way cooler