Anyway.

I don’t want to write about the mundane details of moving and preparing to move, and the stress that surrounds it. I already spend enough headspace on it.

For months I’ve been thinking that when I got to this place, I’d have so much to say. To the point where I even planned out what I was going to say. I had my Facebook status, annoucing this moment, picked out ages ago. There are songs I’ve been listening to for months, just waiting for them to be relevant. (Among them: Already Gone (Kelly Clarkson), Time of My Life (David Cook), I’m Movin’ On (Rascal Flatts), Better Things (Dar Williams). I am a planner, in perhaps the worst sense of the word.

And now, I have very little to say. I’m winding things down at work, and I have a proper amount of sadness about leaving, and I have thank you notes to write once I’m done for good. I’m trying not to confuse nostalgia with doubt.  My new job promises to be a step in the right direction, but I’m not particularly excited about it. It will be a job, and while I hate this phrase “it is what it is.” I can’t wait to move in with Keithers and decorate our apartment, but I hate the moving process possibly more than anything in the world.

What I keep repeating to myself is that this will all be okay in a month. If I can just make it through the next month without a breakdown, IT WILL BE OK. Of course, this “month” keeps getting extended, and by now, I should really say “If I can just make it through these next two weeks,” but I’ll split the difference and call it three. In three weeks, I will be in DC, will have been at my new job a week, and will, logistics willing, at least have a mattress.

Until then, I try to organize my desk, get instructions ready for whatever poor temp fills my place, and try not to have too many maudlin moments about how this job saved my life, and how I will miss the gratitude I associate with it.

I can’t concentrate and I can’t focus and I really shouldn’t be drinking Monster Energy Drink.

Unrelated to nothing: my dreams last night were of grizzly bears, poisonous snakes and rabid bats. The snakes may have also been rabid. I jolted awake several times only to drift back into the same dream.  My co-worker teased that we could probably psycho-analyze something out of that!

It seems my nightly dread of having to come to work in the morning is getting worse. Which makes me feel guilty, because as I have said 1000 times, it’s really not that bad. And it isn’t forever, it’s not.

Still, sometimes the circumstances feel more suffocating then others. And three rather serendipitous internet connections within a twelve hour period? That just makes my brain brew more about dreams, and goals, and taking chances.

Maybe I just need to accept it, accept that this will be a waste of a week, and go to Banana Republic during lunch to purchase a cardigan with my 40% coupon, because damnit, it’s cold in here.

]]> http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2010/07/14/a-box-of-anxiety/feed/ 2 http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2010/05/10/ooh-look-shiny/ http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2010/05/10/ooh-look-shiny/#comments Mon, 10 May 2010 21:58:52 +0000 Rachel Not Rebecca http://rachelnotrebecca.com/?p=6753 The combination of my daily Wellbutrin with a Claritan D to ward off the allergy attacks from the pollen (exacerbated, no doubt, by dusty files) PLUS my morning cup of coffee must have been too much of a jolt for my poor-addled mind to handle.

I’ve been unfocused and nervous and have all this anxiety that has no where to go. I tried channeling it into cover letters, but anxiety is the opposite of arrogance, so that was a lost cause.

Important Documents haven’t gotten to Important People (thanks UPS!), I haven’t started packing for the office move, (I’ve been ARCHIVING, there is a difference) and after a brief burst of attempted gym rattery, I’ve not been in a month. Now, it’s a popular notion that exercise is a good means to combat stress/anxiety. However, my anxiety is such that I can’t even stay still long enough to do a worthwhile amount of time on the treadmill. (Yes, I know I wouldn’t be “staying still” on the treadmill.  It’s the struggle to just do ONE task that’s driving me mad.)

This job is making me bitchy. I was just really impatient with  the UPS lady on the phone. There are so many piles and papers surrounding my desk that I don’t even know where to begin. I know the sooner I get done with these things the sooner I can have my sanity back, but it’s one of those paradox-like things and I just lost my train of though.

At this point, I should really just go home, but I’m paranoid about driving because my windshield was replaced and the guy was like “you have to wait an hour” (that was 90 minutes ago) and I don’t know what I think I’m achieving by waiting longer, especially since I’m going to go drive on Route 80 and risk getting my windshield re-smashed by another pesky rock.

I also like to write run on sentences.

And I’m going to spend a lot shopping with Michael. If you want a coupon for 30% off at Old Navy, Gap, or Banana Republic for Thursday-Sunday leave me a comment. I have about 20 invites left. I am buying a proper suit because eventually I will have an interview to rock and I am not going to be scrambling this time.

I’m considering this all a one year anniversary present to myself.

Speaking of the impending anniversary, I thought I would have more to say. That’s usually the case though; if I think something is going to cause me to be reflective, it usually isn’t reflected (literary choice most definitely intended) in my writing. It’s definitely on my mind. I think about it in the car on the way to work, in the music I choose. I think about it while I’m sitting here with no shoes, at job that I’ve complained about a lot as of late, but which has saved my life in two major ways. I think about it, but my ability to write something about what it all means seems to be lacking.

Because there are other things at the forefront of my mind. Like mild worry over a funds transfer I messed up (personal, not work) and how I need to check all my accounts to make sure they are correct, but one of them is at my local bank that is stuck in the Dark Ages and doesn’t do things online.  And the annoyingness of getting home on Sunday. And I really don’t know what else, but something is causing minor anxiety, so I’m spilling it out on paper that inside I’m having a tiny bit of a nutty.

But also, I’m going to finish this entry in a minute and then I’m going to get some mundane things done. And I’m pretty sure that I’m NOT going to be obsessing over the balances of bank accounts righting themselves, because I’m going to be engaged in another task or in the middle of writing an email.

And perhaps, that speaks the most about what this year means.

In the past week I have started several posts bemoaning my laziness but I never finished them. A parable. Sort of. Like that episode of the West Wing, when Donna whines to Josh about the budget surplus not meaning a tax refund, because Democrats know how to spend your money better than you do, and then she refuses to give him change from buying lunch, because she knows how to spend the change better than he does. Or something. Clearly my West Wing obsession is out of control. But I have nothing better to do in suburbia. I could temper the obsession by starting to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which I’ve seen bits and pieces of over the years, but never chronologically.

Or I could, you know, read a book. I recently read “Reproduction is the Flaw of Love” (or something like that. And I don’t remember the author, but I’m not going to google that at work.) The book itself was ok, but the premise made me so antsy that I had to skip to the end before I could concentrate on the middle. I do this sometimes.

A bunch of new, interesting positions (for which I am highly qualified) came up on today’s job search.  One is at Much-Coveted-Organization. They no doubt recieve thousands of resumes for every job posting. On some level, I feel that if I don’t get my application in seconds after the posting goes live, I’m screwed. But then maybe waiting a few days, until the announcement “cools down” so to speak is a viable strategy, given that it’s going to take me at least until tomorrow afternoon to put together an application, properly. And no one reads mail on Friday. So maybe it should wait until Monday. These are the things I’ve been thinking about lately. You’ll forgive me for not posting, right?  You should thank me for not posting them, actually. 

Oh and my resume has an NJ address and I’m applying for jobs in DC, and it has occured to me that maybe I should use a local address (of one of my friends) but won’t that just make things more complicated? I’m still at my current job, in NJ. And I’d need a little notice for an interview. Sigh. I fear that I may end of staying here until I go more insane than I am already going, and then quitting my job (which will no doubt be a bad move. I have never quit a job before. Well that’s not true. I worked for a headhunter for 2.5 weeks.) and moving to DC and sleeping on Keith’s couch forever, and I won’t find a job and I’ll run through all my savings and it will be another failed experiment and I will have to go back to answering phones, and I will do that for the rest of my life.

I enjoy writing long, run-on sentences with fatalistic predictions.

Oh, and I just got an email informing me that my car is being recalled. Awesome!

]]> http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2009/11/23/12-hours/feed/ 0 http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2009/11/22/last-2-days/ http://rachelnotrebecca.com/2009/11/22/last-2-days/#comments Sun, 22 Nov 2009 18:14:26 +0000 Rachel Not Rebecca http://rachelnotrebecca.com/?p=6429 Tomorrow is going to suck. Next topic.

I’m anxiety-ridden about Tuesday. Next topic.

I just want to get through these few days and get to Thanksgiving Break. Because I’ll be able to get back to normal. And my schedule will be my own again. I can stay late at work again – I think part of my anxiety is born from the guilt of having to be out the door at 5:30 sharp every day. It wasn’t a big deal this summer, but things are busy, and even the extra 10 minutes to finish things up would make a difference.

For months, I have not let myself by impatient, because this Tuesday was so far away, that to let myself wait for it would be torture. Now that it’s 48 hours away, I’m a wreck.

I basically spent last night fretting over aforementioned work mistake and babbling about my work mistake to a couple friends. Diagnosis: “You’re just being Rachel.”

I admit, it makes me smile a little that there are people who know me well enough that “Being Rachel” is a catch-all for my delightful neuroses.  I am actually far better than I used to be. I was able to watch Flash Forward and L&O SVU last night when in the past I would deny myself anything enjoyable until I knew for 100% certainty that whatever I was fretting about was resolved.

And now it’s Friday. I would really like to do something productive this weekend. Or, just to be novel, something fun. I am so sick of suburban New Jersey and general isolation. I miss NYC. And while this Libertarian-esque fellowship I’m applying for would be the best thing in the world for me, professionally, if I got it, it would mean NYC is at least that much further away.

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