Everything Happens for a Reason

Do you remember a time when you hoped that someone would break up with you first, so you didn't have to expend the energy to do it yourself?  Yeah, that just happened to me.  With a job.  Immense relief to hear that I'm not what they were looking for, because they sure as hell weren't what I was looking for.  I am gainfully employed, they asked ME to this interview (same company, so nothing lost), but it felt wrong from the beginning.  Trust your instincts.  Go with your gut.  Whatever eloquent quote you need, do it.  Being honest about my talents, my abilities, and my passions was the way to go.  I'm staying in Wyoming for now.  And I'm happy and relieved for that decision.  I felt light-hearted, for the first time in a month, since this opportunity was presented in a most sloppy fashion.  I belong here, for now.  And I can work on things I know how to do while working on my PhD.  It is the perfect answer for me, and I can't be more excited at how things feel into place for us, oddly enough, to make us stay in a place I thought I wanted desperately to leave.

I'm not afraid to admit I'm wrong.  I'm not afraid to realize that I have it truly great now and to embrace the emotion.  All things happen for a reason.  I think this job interview was the answer to making me appreciate where I am now.

Embracing My Roots

I grew up in Wyoming.  Early morning goose hunts, long deer hunt hikes, and mountainous fishing expeditions were the norm.  Except I, being a princess-girl, resisted my dad's efforts to turn me into a rugged Wyoming girl.  I think he lured me into the goose blind with the promise of hot chocolate, even though at 4 a.m., I was crabby enough to snap back at him (if he knew what he did now, he would have added Kahlua to the hot chocolate and made me a hunter forever).  These were the days before water bottles, so when we got thirsty on the trail, he told us to suck on a rock.  I'm still baffled at how this quenched thirst, but this is my dad - don't ask, just do.  This is the man who, my mom accounted, recently broke his wrist while training for his next elk hunt, and had every doctor, surgeon, and specialist in the regional hospital, where he went to the ER, come to marvel at the man who survived a heart attack 12 years ago, a broken wrist that he didn't know about for three months,, a kidney transplant (courtesy of yours truly), and another broken wrist, and still spends weeks on end in the wilderness (some by himself) hunting wild game every year.  He's a marvel of modern medicine.  I could learn a lot from him - I have learned a lot from him.

We got to elk camp at 1:30 a.m. after tailgating for 5 hours before the first Wyoming Cowboys game.  The beer and Jaeger flowed freely, and I stopped early - dammit, knowing I'd have to drive.  The 2 hours, long, long hours to elk camp.  My dad, the most rugged mountain man alive, stayed up to help us set up our tent (because there was no way in hell I was staying in my parents' camper with my sister, her husband, and 5-year-old nephew - my dad thinks that he can fit a small army in this camper, and I think I need my own personal space).  I rode a four-wheeler, for the first time ever; I drove a four-wheeler, well, obviously a first, and in time to make my dad's dreams come true - as he had returned with my husband, from the morning's hunt to witness this spectacle).  I didn't have a meltdown (like I did last year), despite being a long day of tailgating, a campfire, and a couple days' worth past a shower.  I actually let go and let myself enjoy it.  I was a self-proclaimed city-girl for a long time - until I started dodging the bullet of actually having to move to Philadelphia and being a city-girl.

On the four-wheeler, I saw mountains, streams, lakes, wide open spaces, and fresh air.  People passing by in camo, waving at us, happy as hell to be in a world without cell phones, satellite tv, and internet.  I could maybe do a couple more days, but I have to have tv and internet.  I don't need to be connected through cell phones, but I have to Google shit I don't remember off the top of my head, I have to watch Top Chef, and I have to have my wine (which, rest assured, I did - and found fellow oenophiles in my parents' friends who camped with us).  My dad, thoughtful soul that he is, gave up being the head chef (which is probably one of his other passions - clearly I take after him), and let me cook two meals.  I hadn't cooked in almost two weeks, being on the road, and it was fantastic.  Even in the confines of a small camper trailer, I cooked amazing fajitas one day, and an awesome dry-rub pork loin roast and fried potatoes the next.

But during our four-wheel rides, I realized how truly lucky I am to live a life where this is just a short drive away.  To be able to get truly away, without cell service, and live life more simply, more slow-paced.  One afternoon, we played SkipBo, Uno, rummy, and Pass the Pigs (Google it - it's the most freakin' hilarious game you will ever encounter) with my five-year-old nephew.  If you read this blog (and who does?), you'll know I'm not fond of children.  I live in an adult-only world, but my nephew is the exception.  He's smart, he's well-behaved, and he's hilarious - I laugh until I nearly pee my pants at his entertainment.  He loves to camp, he loves the mountains.  One morning, he found a stick, and hobbled around like an old man - only to find out, he was channeling his inner Yoda, and then he'd break out into Jedi-light-saber mode, it's too funny to even write about.

I don't want the job in the city.  I don't want that life.  It's a rat race that most people would pay dearly to get out of - would probably pay dearly to have the life I do.  Why would I give this up?  To make well over 6-figures?  Who cares? I make close to 6-figures in Wyoming, where we have a beautiful house, the cost of living is cheap, and we can travel to amazing places in a short amount of time.  I dread having the conversation with my boss to tell her I'm not interested in relocating.  I'm not interested in making the big bucks, because with the big bucks, come the big house, the big stress of maintaining the big house, the big lifestyle, when I really already live a life larger than my expectations.  I am grateful that I've learned this now, instead of making a huge mistake to move East and lose it all.

Business Travel Boot Camp

I think I have the job I imagined when I was growing up.  But why do I feel so tired?  Let's recap ... I have been spending two weeks a month in Buffalo, New York, a good, solid 2,000 miles away from home, two connecting flights, and a hearty drive to the airport.  Meanwhile, summer fun travel, and unexpected travel has cropped up.  I'm home maybe 3 days in the next few weeks, a thought that is oddly discomforting.  Not that it might be home for that much longer.  So we drove 17 hours on Wednesday to Oregon.  Spent an incredibly long day filled with funeral prep, memorial service, lots of children, and no booze - a day of Griswold-ian proportions.  After 13 hours, I was beat, but I didn't complain, I held it in.  When a certain not-quite-two-year-old yelled and cried and gave me evil looks, I didn't complain.  When I offered to help, and was given a bean recipe from a cheap church cookbook, fourteen cans of beans, and various other disgusting foods to throw together, I did it.  I helped out. When we had the BBQ with no adult beverages, and lots of mysterious dairy food, I picked through and found the fresh produce, and the relatively innocuous BBQ meat, and sipped ice water.  I was rewarded with a trip to the cousins' local watering hole, and proceeded to match my husband, his sister, and two cousins drink for drink - except they drank craptacular domestic lite brews, I downed dirty Grey Goose martinis like I was dying on the Titanic.  But I digress.  My husband turned a somewhat sad time into a fabulous birthday weekend for me.  Fabulous restaurants, a beautiful hotel room on the beach, more fabulous restaurants, the beach, a winery, and a nice drive down the coast, what more can a girl ask for?  Oh, yes, I'm 35.  That's the first time I've said it.  And you know what?  I like being 35.  This is going to be an awesome year.

We got into Utah around 8 last night, had a few drinks with a friend, and stayed the night by the airport, so I could get up early and head to Buffalo.  Tomorrow it's Philadelphia for an interview, after 4 hours of PhD class tonight - on the East coast, so I won't be finished until 11:00 p.m., which mind you, is only 9:00 p.m where I come from, but my flight for Philly leaves at 7:00 a.m. Eastern time.  Translate:  I only get 4 or 5 hours of sleep tonight before I have to look, feel, sound, and be my best tomorrow, after a flight.  I get home late Friday night, only to take off Saturday morning for the first football game/tailgate of the year, and camping for the weekend.  Come home, then a day later, leave for Texas for another football game.  It gets worse from here, but I'll spare you the details.  I'm tired, I'm disoriented, I just want to sleep, but I can't.  Instead I found a great Japanese take-out restaurant, which made my tummy feel blissfully nourished, had a Grey Goose on the rocks, and thus draining my last flask, and now gearing up for phone calls.  Strap in, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

Even though this is the life I thought I want, I would really rather go home, curl up on my couch and watch bad TV with my husband.  This is the time to put the big-girl pants on, make the most of the fact that people think I do a great job, and see where it goes from here ...

When It's Tough ...

Work started out so well this week, and unfortunately, has gone downhill since.  I was put in tough positions this week, between people decades older (and supposedly wiser) than I.  And I failed several people, disappointed them.  I have always feared authority, and when I disappoint someone in authority, the pain is almost more than I can stomach.  My husband helps me put it into perspective, but it's still difficult to face people, even after I've had to bite my tongue, apologize, and live with the time that has to pass before someone else usurps my mistakes and creates a diversion from me.  

One of my friends posted a quote on Facebook last night that I have to live by, "Sometimes it takes just one person who believes in you."  I have that.  In fact, I have many more than one person who believes in me.  Right now, a few people who I've worked so hard for, don't believe in me.  And I have to recognize that it's okay.  That this, too, will pass.  How do you do that?  Drink martinis at night and make a comforting dinner.  Focus on the people who will stand behind me.  Remember that I'm more than my failures.  Easier said than done.

I'm, quite candidly, disappointed in these same people for not extending to me forgiveness and understanding.  We are trying to change our culture at work into one where people are reinforced to do the right thing.  Unfortunately, there are several key people who don't get the science, who don't practice it, and I know I'm not the only one who is feeling downtrodden.  Three days to go until PhD classes start.  I'm ready for the distraction.  (I think.)

Work/Life Balance?

I'm working 10-11 hour days, traveling weekly for work and fun, and wondering how I am keeping up with it all.  I can go in to work at 6:30 a.m. and look forward to it, and then have to drag myself away at 5:00 p.m.  Really?  It's an attitude, a choice.  I am motivated by the results, by the number of people I can help, by the fact that I am doing something I love and getting feedback that I'm doing it (most of it) right.  It helps that my husband works at the same place and understands the demands.  It also helps that he supports me in my crazy, out-of-town assignments, my PhD work, and knowing that, while I complain, it fulfills me and makes me visible to a large number of colleagues (a point he never fails to mention when I complain!).

I am exhausted, but happy.  The delicious curve-ball is still dangling in the air, mid-pitch, and I have to put it aside and trust that the universe is unfolding as it should.  A dear friend of mine from a life several years ago had this framed picture in his office, called "Desiderata" (never sure what that meant) and it said something to the affect that you have to trust that "the universe is unfolding as it should."  And he would remind me of that so often that it became ingrained in my psyche.  I dearly miss this friend, and our large iced raspberry mochas with extra whipped cream that we treated ourselves with.  We didn't keep in touch when I moved away, and I regret it.  He became my best friend for a couple of years and got me through a tumultuous time in my life.  It's odd how people come and go in our lives.  Some people impact you in ways you don't realize until years later - then you miss them and cherish the time you had.

So back to the work/life balance.  Right now, work has taken a priority over my life.  I'm not proud of it, but I'm doing what I need to - to get the job done, and secure my future.  I still take care of my home life, sure, some things suffer (like housework), but I do my best to support the man who supports me - the man who is my best friend, my biggest fan and supporter.  We work hard, but thanks to him, we play hard, too.  If not for him, I'm afraid I wouldn't take much time off of work.  He has taught me that time spent with family and friends - or just each other - is well spent.  Even if we do nothing but watch bad TV and make sarcastic comments over a bottle of red and a fabulous dinner I've prepared.  Or if we hop in the car and travel 14 hours to get to wine country, 8 hours to Vegas, or 3 hours to the mountains of northern wyoming.

I'm about to start four PhD classes in 6 days.  Four ... three I thought was a push - but I've done it for a few semesters and am probably being over-confident.  A moment of panic.  Can I REALLY do four?  One is totally optional - part of a certification I can get, and it should be easy, it's industrial psychology, which is what I do at work.  Can I do this?  I hope I'm not delusional.  Can I really finish the assignment two time-zones, and two flights away, work at my normal job, take care of my personal life, and continue this PhD journey?  I guess time will tell.  I've only excelled when I've pushed myself.

The PhD Journey

I spent a week on the Colorado State University campus, both in Ft. Collins and Pingree Park.  The people I met and will be working with are fantastic.  By the end of the week (which I will admit was difficult), we created a great support system for each other.

We spent time hiking (a Colorado outdoor enthusiast's definition of a "light" hike is quite different from this Wyoming outdoor UN-enthusiast's - 5+ miles in steep terrain, humidity, and pouring rain).  We also spent time talking about the PhD journey, more specifically, our dissertations.  I love gender and generation studies.  I was planning to research gender and corporate America, but during the hike (when I was forced to look inward for strength and keep my mind of the brutality of the mountains), I changed my focus.  I want my career to be slightly different than human resource management.  My PhD work will focus more on training, development, and performance, and I have the opportunity to better shape my job if I concentrate my research on these topics.  I haven't quite narrowed it down yet, but my Literature Review class this fall will help me find a need.  I want to explore maybe technology in corporate training, even more specifically, training without Powerpoint, which has become a safety net for trainers, a lazy way out.  I do hate training, I might add.  I hate the glossy look of people thinking - what the hell does she know - but I love designing training.  It's my N vs. S on the Myers-Briggs - my intuitive self (as opposed to sensing) loves design and invention and big picture, high energy goals and ideals.  But when it comes to implementing, ehhh leave that to someone else.  I don't want to actually go through with the training - I just want to design it!

What People Eat When They Are Alone

My trip to Buffalo last week was fraught with delays - delays with serious hours of nothing-to-do-magnitude.  I'm beginning to think I'm cursed.  Of course, the one flight that isn't delayed is my original connection flight, that one, of course, leaves on time, leaving me stranded until the next flight hours away.  I digress ... I read a book called What People Eat When They Are Alone and was thoroughly disgusted and disturbed by the contents.  This was the perfect book to combat appetite, because I can't believe people will consume such a poor combination of ingredients.  I shouldn't judge, but well, I am.  We're talking about bizarre items - saltine crackers crushed up in milk, cheese over eggs, toast covered with a sauce that makes it soggy, anchovies and canned fish, I didn't find a single thing in the book that I would even consider adding to my culinary repertoire.

Last week all I ate was restaurant food.  Not good restaurant food - such a thing is rare anyway - but average, completely average food cooked by people who, it seems, do not have a passion for food.  I miss cooking every night for my husband and me.  People complain they don't know how to cook for two - let alone one - but dinner is the most important part of my day.  It's the time of day when I can let go of work, uncork a bottle of vino, and be truly creative.  I don't buy processed foods.  I make as much from scratch as I possibly can.  Americans have become so lazy and complacent about food.  No wonder people make fun of us.