centre of the universe - the dreaming

Uhhh.

So, I learned something today.

Today, while visiting the Noah, I learned that I am allergic to rabbits.

I knew I had problems with angora. My mother gave me a gorgeous angora sweater when I was younger. I wore it for approximately twelve seconds before I broke out in horrible hives. Unfortunately, I had no other shirt to wear, and it was around the time it would have been ...inappropriate for me to continue on in grade five social studies shirtless.

But I didn't know I had problems with other rabbits.

Apparently, I do. While having a long overdue and much enjoyed visit with Noah and his Goddess, I started suffering from hives on my arms and torso. Then I started sneezing violently. Then, and this was the worst of all, my eyes. Oh GOD, my EYES!!! (the goggles; they do NOTHING!)

So.

To my cat-allergy suffering friends, I am so sorry. I'm not going to cat-sack the fuzzy ones, but I sympathize. I also understand that next time I go to visit Noah and his Goddess, I will dose myself to the proverbial nards in antihistamines (because I won't forego being able to hang out at their delicious new home). I will make sure I have a vast and varied selection of allergy treatments available for my friends.

Labels: allergies, bad cat, the goggles they do nothing

Here's another thing I don't get (welcome to cenobyte's week of mundane revelations): why do folks choose careers they don't like?

Why does it take some guy in a three-thousand dollar suit to tell you to build on your strengths rather than trying to repair your weaknesses?

There are times when you have to take a job in order to make ends meet. Jobs and careers are different...at least, *I* think so. But what really gets me is people who tell me they hate their jobs...folks who are worse off at the end of every day than they were at the beginning of the day. And we are blessed when we find a career that embiggens us. Right?

I love my job. There are times when it is incredibly frustrating, and there are times when I avoid doing what needs to be done. And this is something I don't do very often on my bournal: I rarely talk about my job or my work. Mostly, it doesn't make me comfortable to talk about my career...the actual stuff I do for which I get paid every day. I'm not the sort of person who staunchly draws a line between work life and private life...which is to say, pretty much everyone at my office has met most of my friends, and my co-workers (and some of my board members) have been to my house on more than one occasion. But, and this is going to sound a little weird, even though some of the people I work with do read me, I consider my bournal to be more on the 'private' side of things. Wow. That *is* weird, since this is, inherently, a public forum. Anyway...sorry for the siderail there.

I love my job, and I love my career. I am a writer and an editor, and I get to work with book publishers. That is both what I love to do, and what I *do* do. There are days, like when I've let the bookkeeping slip behind, or when we have six different places to be and only two people to be there, or when things aren't going smootly with our grant applications and reports....those are the times when I want to get in to the office late and leave early. Those are the days I'd rather just cuddle on the couch with The Captain and Sneepy (Yet Another Thing We Call The Nipper).

And there are days when I seriously think about not working in an office anymore and opening a daycare in my home.

But who doesn't? Loving what you do doesn't mean you don't have wonky days. Of *COURSE* you'll have wonky days. I don't think I would stay in a career I wasn't passionate about, honestly. It might mean I'd have to rethink where I live or what I drive or the bad habit I have of buying things at Paderno. But if I was going home angry and stressed every day, every *single day*, I'd be seriosly rethinking my career choice.

On an utterly unrelated note, my bad cat has taken to playing piano.

Labels: bad cat, career, job