I warned you the blogging would suffer.
It's a very different thing, my new job. Instead of getting all of my work done by noon and sitting aimlessly at my computer searching for jobs and occasionally throwing in a blog entry to kill time, I'm actually so busy the day flies by and sometimes I forget to eat lunch.
My coping mechanisms are taking a beating. I haven't sat in on a euthanasia, yet, but a few animals to whom I felt a personal connection have been put down and that's hard, it's sad, it bothers me but it also bothers me that it doesn't bother me as much as I feel like it should. If that makes sense. What is starting to get to me is that it seems like every time I go up to the front desk to make a copy or put something away, someone's up there giving up their animal. "She bit me." "He smells bad." "There's nobody to take care of it." I don't interact with these people; it's partly not my job but it's also partly that I can't trust myself not to judge them, scorn them, scowl at them. And I'm not sure at all how I'm going to cope with possibly years of seeing it day in and day out, how it will affect my impression of people, how I will stop myself from assuming the worst in everyone off the bat, guilty until proven worthy. Today I walked past the front desk and there was a dog, a little white terrier, cowering sick and dirty and scared and shivering in a ratty cardboard box, its sunken eyes rolling and the stench of neglect and despair filling the room, and I kept walking, eyes averted, suddenly very busy. And I felt awful--I should have stopped, stroked its head, spoken softly, given it a moment of comfort before its inevitable end. That's the point, that's why I'm there, that's why I took the pay cut and make the commute and let my life get eaten up by this job: to provide what comfort I can, to make an animal's life just a little better in some small way. But I didn't.
Meanwhile, I bought a house. This is insanity, really. My absentee landlord has decided to sell our current abode and now I have to figure out how to convince him that he shouldn't sell it until after we're gone because I cannot fathom how I will make this place presentable while I am trying to move out of it.
And all I can think about is my complete inadequacy in what has never seemed an imporant facet of adulthood but now looms dramatically in my future: decorating. My new house (!!!) has hardwood floors in the main level and I feel strongly that there should be, like, rugs but I have no idea how, or where, one goes about purchasing rugs. What colors do I pick? Are there superior and inferior fabrics? Is there math involved?
It is a very good thing that February sweeps are over with because I can't do all of these things while there is good TV on.
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I have a friend who is working part time at a real estate law firm, and her everyday work is evicting people. Poor people. And she and I just had this conversation -- your feelings are not incompetence. It's sanity! If you didn't feel for those poor neglected animals (or similarly the poor evictees) you would have no soul. But keeping a professional distance is what helps you cope until you adapt and develop different coping mechanisms. It is key in helping you do your job. If you ever lose this empathy for the animals, and outrage for their owners, you should quit.
As for decorating, I would start with thinking about the colors you want in the room. Or, you can find one piece (like the rug) and decorate around it. That's what I did last time -- I found a throw pillow I really liked and decided to paint and decorate to match. As for rugs, sometimes it's nice just to refinish hardwood floors and allow their natural beauty to shine through instead of covering up.
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