I went to the pottery studio yesterday thinking I might just find my center there, but it was closed for the holiday weekend. I thought it might be, looked on the website and found nothing. I would likely have known if I hadn't been gone last weekend, to New Orleans. Since then I've found my center (or some reasonable facsimile thereof) in a short collapse into the internet with some basketball on the side.
I can't help but have a sense of wondering what's next, restlessness relative to work, yearning for something closer to my area of expertise, something challenging that could go someplace, mean more than just being a cog in someone else's machine. I guess it comes down to rate of return. I am grateful for the stability and the benefits and I resolved to stay until after the partner who was so sick had passed, believing I was genuinely needed. They've weathered that storm and I think it's time for me to begin preparing them for doing without me and me for doing without them. Am I naive for wanting some kind of meaning to work, a sense of some room for development or at least the possibility of increased reward? I have none of those where I am.
As I mentioned in the previous post, I've been twittering. I like it. With basic internet and email on my phone last weekend on my trip to New Orleans, the addition of twittering as a means of staying in contact, provided sufficient interaction. I needn't have taken my laptop, which never left its case. In the course of looking around for some sign of our beloved Blog-City's management because of Adrastos' spam problem, I wandered over to Alan's blog and found this very interesting video starring Google's own Sergey Brin, showing us all the cool new interactivity coming soon to a hand-held device near you (well, sooner if you're an ubergeek). I wonder if my little aforelinked mobile device can run this open source software.
I don't know if it's related to the spam problem, but the B-C interface is sluggish and slow today, noticeably more so than navigating elsewhere in other tabs and windows (so it's not my computer). I wonder if all those scary spam bots are dragging us down.
I'm cooking a ham (if you can call prepping Paula Deen's spiral sliced ditty, cooking) and Sis Bel, who seems to be feeling better a week out of her radiation treatments, is making au gratin potatoes. Not much of an Easter here. Mama came by earlier and left mad because I didn't feel like talking about not being happy at work right now. I still can't quite figure where she got to be the one who was upset when I was the one whose scab she was picking, but I'm way over trying. It just is what it is. She called a few minutes ago like it never happened. I wished her Happy Easter. She said she didn't want to come over for dinner.
The youngest is safely home from Hilton Head and Part 3 of John Adams is on HBO tonight. The Old Blind Dog is fed and walked and curled at my feet. Dinner is ready and, by all accounts, delicious. Who could ask for more than that?
Peace. Out. Y'all.
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