ADMINISTRATIVE PROFESSIONALS UNITE!

As I currently make my living in the exotic and captivating world of executive assisting, I often find it necessary to remind my charges about old-school Secretary’s Day, and that a happy admin makes for a positive work environment.

This year, Admin Day is passing largely without notice due to a board meeting falling on the same day. However, with the incredible excess of catered chow brought in to satisfy the decision makers, today, the admins dine like C levels.

It’s the little things that get me through my cube farm days.

LOW POINTS

Hit a new low in the self destructive behavior pattern this weekend. There are certain memory gaps leaving me to wonder just how embarrassed I should be, but I seem to have come through relatively unscathed once more. It’s a scary situation I’d rather not find myself in again, and I doubt luck will continue to be on my side indefinitely.

My upbringing tells me I should be well into a shame spiral by now, but I feel oddly detached and unaffected. It’s the same sense I’ve had for some time now. Can’t help but wonder if this means I’ll keep pushing boundaries until I find something that causes enough damage to actually matter.

So, if I know my actions are stupid, purposeless and aren’t even fun past a certain point, should I look into getting help? If I know the obvious answers for how not to find myself in the same position again, would talking to someone make any difference?

Is interesting and dangerous a better choice than safe and bland? Will either make me happy? Haven’t made up my mind just yet.

OW, MY EYE. MY MIND'S EYE!

There are some things in my life, I wish I didn’t know. Not so much in the ignorance is bliss vein, though I do look back fondly on the ignorant days. The stuff I can’t shake tends to be the none of my business, would prefer to rinse my mind with bleach to kill the mental images, kind of issues. Sometimes I unwittingly ask for these disquieting facts, but others are simply foisted on me. Curse my vivid imagination and inquisitive nature.

NOT A CAT PERSON

I’ve been living solo for a year now. It certainly has its perks, such as being able to sleep smack dab in the middle of the bed, having permanent ownership of the remote control and not having to worry about disturbing anyone when coming in really late, except for the upstairs neighbor who can hear when I slide my closet doors shut to loud and claims an inability to get back to sleep once being so rudely disturbed. There are the occasional downsides. The dishes are always mine, the vacuuming doesn’t do itself and no is around to point out that falling asleep in the armchair is going to make for back problems so I should probably get my intoxicated ass all the way to bed.

The toughest adjustment in going from living with someone to not, has been the lack of company. Thus, I am ready for a pet. Since I know I don’t have the dedication or patience to keep a dog healthy in an urban environment, I don’t really consider myself a cat person, and birds are noisy and messy, I’ve elected to adopt fish. A reasonably sized tank w/ a couple of goldfish and a snail for good measure is just the thing. Though it has been unsettling the number of people who seem to think I am a cat person. Is there a vibe I’m unaware of? Of course these assertions were made by cat people, so maybe it was just projection or a nefarious recruitment plot.

The tank was purchased last week and I brought Veronica home on Friday. She actually survived the weekend, though it looked touch and go when she appeared to nearly choke on a piece of artificial grass left in the tank, but she was still swimming, somewhat lethargically, when I left for work this morning. It’s is also possible that I was overfeeding her, but adjustments have been made. Her roomy, Jacqueline, will be collected this afternoon, and I should be able to fit in a shopping trip to select just the right snail companion for the girls.

I’m sure they’ll quickly tire of my endless prattle about office antics and bar disappointments, not to mention the shoddy housekeeping, but now I’ve got some company beyond the TiVo and iPod. Not that they aren’t excellent companions in their own right.

DIFFICULT DAY

It’s one of those infamous anniversaries for an event I would just as soon forget, but at one year it’s still raw and unpleasant to think about. I had hoped my life would be different than it is. That it would be so full of better things that the day would just pass without notice. While my life's inventory of improvements is remarkable, the day stood out just the same. I suppose it needs more time and distance.

There is no moping though. Not allowed. Instead I went out and savored all the things that make this year better than last.

Maybe next year the day will slip.

ANOTHER SWING AND A MISS

“I Tried” That’s the sticker they would give me back in WW when I got turned down for blood donation. It’s a reoccurring theme in my attempts to contribute to the medical world.

I believe quite strongly in blood donation. It’s something that costs me nothing, but could be life saving to someone else. I don’t have a rare blood type or anything, but it still seems like it ought to be useful. Short of paralyzing fear of needles or health reasons, there doesn’t seem to be a reason not to take part. People might question the way funds are used by the Red Cross, but there’s no misusing a blood donation. (At least not that I’ve heard of, but perhaps I’m being naïve.)

However, my batting average at successfully donating continues to slip. Other than the one-year suspension for a body piercing, I consistently fall short on my iron percentage. The Blood bus actually comes to my office building every couple of months now, and both visits have resulting in me nursing a consolatory glass of juice, and few recommendations on how to achieve the 38% minimum iron count to be cleared for donation. They have also let me know that anything over 32% is healthy for women, which is a relief, they just don’t want to risk relieving anyone of a pint should they fall short of 38%. Something about passing out and anemia or some such nonsense.

I thought I was ready this time. I’d been taking my vitamins much more frequently than before, which isn’t to say religiously or anything, and I was eating oatmeal for breakfast. And yet, my count had actually dropped three points since February, leaving me at 34%. Unacceptable!

While my dear friend Stephanie, who is incredibly squicked out by the concept of blood donation, has suggested I just stop trying to donate and move on, I am taking this as a challenge. I will achieve 38% if not higher. Who knows, it might even increase my energy levels and stop me from being such a lazy slob. It’s time to start loading up on the broccoli, oatmeal, raisins and red meat, though I refuse to go so far as to eat liver. Then in accordance with some Internet article, I will also include items high in vitamin C with iron-loaded meals. Throw in some more iron supplements and not drinking caffeinated beverages within a couple hours of iron rich foods, to prevent impaired absorption, and by June 6 I’ll be leaving the Red Cross mobile a pint lighter instead of with a charity cookie.

LOCALIZED DISTURBANCE

As I find myself hitting an age when it's flattering to be carded, I've noticed a distancing within my group of closest friends. Either through life experiences resulting in life-course corrections or actual geography, drifting has occurred.

It's not all bad, and arguably a simple fact of life. I have many friends who I may not see for an age, and just as easily pick up where we left off. Similarly, modern communications make it easy to keep people close in spite of distance.

However, I find myself faced with an unfortunate reality. With my closest friend daring to abandon Seattle and take on new adventures in the wilds of eastern Washington, I find myself without a "local emergency contact." It's the contact info employers, apartment managers and insurance companies want on hand to call up in case you become incapacitated. Locally, I do have some good friends, lots of lovely acquaintances and even a smattering of relatives, but I'm uncertain if I could or should expect any of them to leap into action if something awful happens in the middle of the night.

There are people in life who will jump when the Friend signal hits the sky, and I have found those are the people you don't even have to ask if they are willing to fill that space in your paperwork. You just know. Currently, my space is blank, and it feels kinda lonely.