I can't believe this blog goes back to 2003. That's the year I graduated high school.
As I sit here, bored to high heaven here at work, I'm reading a few entries from August of that year, right before I left for BYU. It's so funny to read those, how I wrote back then, how I thought and what I thought about. I fought with my parents a lot then. Every entry mentions it!
So much of my life, I've felt like I don't fit in. This was largely true in high school, and true in college to an extent. I realize now that I'm older, that feeling has gone away. I guess because I don't care what people think of me anymore. Or maybe because I love myself the way I am. I know I have things to work on, but overall, I'm confident, maybe too confident, in who I am.
I've been thinking the past few days, why do people try to fit themselves into things they are not? Myself included in this question.
At the beginning of the year, I took a Kolbe test, which is designed to sum up how my brain functions. Mainly, how I accomplish tasks, how I like to work, how I work best, etc. I took a test analyzing myself, and one that analyzed my perception of my job and the type of work I do here.
Check out my results.
Exhibit A: The results for my brain.
Exhibit B: The results for what I perceive my job requires of me.
Interesting.
Tuesday I had a lengthy phone call with a guy from the Kolbe test company, who broke down for me a few things.
1. If my job isn't already creating high stress for me in my life, it will very soon, and I will neither excel at it nor will I be able to stick with it. Why? Because we are fundamentally wrong for each other.
This isn't news to me. Though the work I do is easy, it is BORING. It doesn't challenge me in any way, I rarely have deadlines, and there is only ONE WAY to complete most of the tasks I'm supposed to.
Counter this with how I like to work: with deadlines, freedom to invent my own way of doing things, loose guidelines, etc.
2. I should find a new job. Well, duh!
3. He recommended I implement a few work habits to maximize my efficiency. For example, find ways to increase risk in my job. Work on a project only until I start getting tired of it; then move onto something else. Don't plan, just improvise. Don't commit to too much, because committing to things will bring you stress. (This is true. Committing to go visiting teaching tonight is giving me anxiety! Not because of the teaching, but because of the commitment!)
4. He said that my whole life, people have probably been trying to break me of my current work habits, unsuccessfully. This is true. So he encouraged me to embrace them. (Take that, Mom and Dad!)
5. He was AMAZED that I can play the piano and sing and have taught myself to play various instruments over the years. He said normally someone with my Kolbe profile would be incapable of doing something like this, unless motivations to do so were very high. I would argue that my motivation to not be punished was high ;). I'm teasing. Music was ALL I wanted to do as a kid.
Overall, he was amazed that I've lasted in this job since August, and is wondering how much longer I'll last (me too). I keep this job out of necessity, because I need a job, I don't want to teach music full time, and I don't view it as a career path. I would teach music lessons as a career LONG before I ever stay an admin. Ugh. Even my job title makes me cringe.
Sometimes we fit ourselves where we don't belong because we feel like we have to. Most of time, our reason is probably not as good, or at least not as stupid. But we do it anyway.
Good news as of late: We have a family reunion in Branson, MO later in July. And then we are going to St. Louis for a few days to see BB's grandma and stomp my old grounds. I need a new swimsuit for Branson. Which do you like better?
Number one:
or number two?
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Just say no to drugs
Until two months ago, this was my drug of choice.
Or this.
Or definitely this.
Or this.
Or, because I was trying to hide my drug habit from BouBou, I would drink the 20-oz., 50-cent bottles of crack my grocery store of choice (yeah HEB) tries to pass off as diet soda.
Friday night, BB and I went to our favorite TexMex joint so I could order the same thing I always do, fish tacos. We love this eatery not only for their food, but also because they are the only restaurant we know of, other than the heavenly Chick Fil-A, that serves Coke Zero (choice of crack #1).
When Juan came to get our drink order, I swiftly ordered water with lime. But BouBou lingered. He gave me that look, the sideways one where one of his dimples begs me ever so slightly to give in, to let him enjoy the magnificent bubbles and pseudo guilt-free ecstasy. I gave him the answer I always give when he's going to do something he shouldn't do: "It's your choice." He chose to order the Coke Zero.
In the ultimate test of self-mastery, I took three sips. They each burned down the hatch, like I imagine drinking Drano would feel like. (Did your mom ever tell you drinking Drano would burn up your insides? Mine did. Crazy imagery).
Former roommates will attest to my junkie-like dependence on caramel-colored diet soda. I kept a mini fridge in my room sophomore year, stocked with Diet Coke, so I didn't have to go to the kitchen each time I wanted a Coke. I would drink four cans a day, and maybe even a 44-oz. if I had to stay late at school. When I worked at the Daily Universe, my habit was just as bad. My day didn't start right without a Coke. I am embarrassed to say, that though I was Diet Coke-free for the first few months of my mission, by the time I got to Waterloo, IL, Wal-Mart's prices were too good to resist. My habit was back.
I've started and stopped multiple times since moving to Houston, mostly started again. To no avail. The habit has always returned. "Soda is so refreshing," I would think. "It's so hot. Water won't make me feel better," I would reason. But no more.
What makes this time different?
It was those three, miraculous sips that changed who I am forever. My date with diet soda is over. You see, I am soda free, and I will always be.
Or this.
Or definitely this.
Or this.
Or, because I was trying to hide my drug habit from BouBou, I would drink the 20-oz., 50-cent bottles of crack my grocery store of choice (yeah HEB) tries to pass off as diet soda.
Friday night, BB and I went to our favorite TexMex joint so I could order the same thing I always do, fish tacos. We love this eatery not only for their food, but also because they are the only restaurant we know of, other than the heavenly Chick Fil-A, that serves Coke Zero (choice of crack #1).
When Juan came to get our drink order, I swiftly ordered water with lime. But BouBou lingered. He gave me that look, the sideways one where one of his dimples begs me ever so slightly to give in, to let him enjoy the magnificent bubbles and pseudo guilt-free ecstasy. I gave him the answer I always give when he's going to do something he shouldn't do: "It's your choice." He chose to order the Coke Zero.
In the ultimate test of self-mastery, I took three sips. They each burned down the hatch, like I imagine drinking Drano would feel like. (Did your mom ever tell you drinking Drano would burn up your insides? Mine did. Crazy imagery).
Former roommates will attest to my junkie-like dependence on caramel-colored diet soda. I kept a mini fridge in my room sophomore year, stocked with Diet Coke, so I didn't have to go to the kitchen each time I wanted a Coke. I would drink four cans a day, and maybe even a 44-oz. if I had to stay late at school. When I worked at the Daily Universe, my habit was just as bad. My day didn't start right without a Coke. I am embarrassed to say, that though I was Diet Coke-free for the first few months of my mission, by the time I got to Waterloo, IL, Wal-Mart's prices were too good to resist. My habit was back.
I've started and stopped multiple times since moving to Houston, mostly started again. To no avail. The habit has always returned. "Soda is so refreshing," I would think. "It's so hot. Water won't make me feel better," I would reason. But no more.
What makes this time different?
It was those three, miraculous sips that changed who I am forever. My date with diet soda is over. You see, I am soda free, and I will always be.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
BouBou the Birthday Boy
He came home from work less than thrilled.
BouBou was so lucky to teach the same class of students two years in a row. Teach For America may not have delivered on much, but it delivered on the kids. They were the sweetest group of students a teacher could imagine.
BouBou started teaching a new crop last week at the start of summer school, and so far, they are troublesome.
So somebody came home a very grumpy boy. And that's not okay for my BB.
Even though the evening started rough, it ended well, as evidenced by this picture.
I cooked a london broil for dinner--a little too done, but when do I not overcook my meats--and my signature green beans and almonds. Then we went to Costco to buy spinach and salsa, because those are a breakfast food group chez Ward. We closed out our night with the most divine brownie known to mankind, sold only at Barnaby's Cafe in Houston. Wowee. This is a 6" x 6" square of cocoa-infused splendor, topped with homemade vanilla bean ice cream. Party time in my mouth for sure.
He made off with some pretty good gifts. A bunch of shirts, because he (gasp!) wears a small now.
The game "In A Pickle", which neither of us have ever played, but it looked cool.
Converse hi-tops, because every deadlifting Crossfit fool's gotta wear them hi-tops.
A headlamp, both because he wanted one and I have been on an emergency preparedness overload lately.
And the big winner of the night: two tickets to see Jerry Seinfeld's comedy show here in Houston. Yeah, so I went a little overboard this year, but half of this stuff we would have bought anyway. I love you! Mega yay for BB's Birthday!!! Let's do it again!
BouBou was so lucky to teach the same class of students two years in a row. Teach For America may not have delivered on much, but it delivered on the kids. They were the sweetest group of students a teacher could imagine.
BouBou started teaching a new crop last week at the start of summer school, and so far, they are troublesome.
So somebody came home a very grumpy boy. And that's not okay for my BB.
Even though the evening started rough, it ended well, as evidenced by this picture.
I cooked a london broil for dinner--a little too done, but when do I not overcook my meats--and my signature green beans and almonds. Then we went to Costco to buy spinach and salsa, because those are a breakfast food group chez Ward. We closed out our night with the most divine brownie known to mankind, sold only at Barnaby's Cafe in Houston. Wowee. This is a 6" x 6" square of cocoa-infused splendor, topped with homemade vanilla bean ice cream. Party time in my mouth for sure.
He made off with some pretty good gifts. A bunch of shirts, because he (gasp!) wears a small now.
The game "In A Pickle", which neither of us have ever played, but it looked cool.
Converse hi-tops, because every deadlifting Crossfit fool's gotta wear them hi-tops.
A headlamp, both because he wanted one and I have been on an emergency preparedness overload lately.
And the big winner of the night: two tickets to see Jerry Seinfeld's comedy show here in Houston. Yeah, so I went a little overboard this year, but half of this stuff we would have bought anyway. I love you! Mega yay for BB's Birthday!!! Let's do it again!
Monday, June 13, 2011
Tuesday, June 07, 2011
Thursday, June 02, 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)