Ease is a Fantasy

After some drama with my research gig last week, I thought for sure that I would settle into a nice routine this week. I just recently started working with a chiropractor 3 mornings per week, in order to replace the lame job I had (& HATED) at Massage Envy. On Friday, I saw that I was almost fully booked for Monday, which made me very happy.

I also looked forward to starting a new evening massage class on Monday, a month-long module of Intro-Anatomy that I felt prepared and inspired to begin.

So, the weekend was glorious. No work (except for housework and thesis homework), rest, and beautiful sunshine.

Then the shit hit the fan. Again.

Monday morning, bright and early, I show up at the chiropractor's office to a locked door. After waiting 30 minutes (15 minutes past my first appointment time), a confused doctor showed up to find that his business partner had completely moved out over the weekend. Without notice. Total shock to him. WTF? Most of my appointments were his (the MIA doctor's) patients. It was (and still is) a confusing situation that has left my new gig an empty, dissatisfying work-for-peanuts mess.

My week at teaching started off fairly well. Until the second day, that is, when one of my middle-aged students would not stop whining about how much work anatomy is, compared to her first two courses (swedish & chair massage--pansy classes). This was after she painstakingly described her warm day at the beach with her kids and her long run outside. She was so upset, in fact, that she went straight to my boss...not to complain about her total lack of studying or to ask for academic assistance...but to whine about little things that I did that annoy her. This, of course, necessitated an official meeting whereby my annoying habits were brought to the table for discussion and evaluation.

Deja vous Harper College.

So, suffice it to say, I am sensing a turn into a worker bee again--ah, the feeling of not giving a shit about my job anymore, while remembering that being self-employed wasn't quite so bad, because however hard I work for someone else (whether at work or at home off-hours), I'm still doomed to disappoint someone and have my ego chiseled into sausage, because I'm the easy one to blame.

I've been asking myself this question a lot lately: Why am I here again? Is it really THAT important?

I don't even know if I will be accepted into a PhD program (which is the reason I moved here, to work with the lab at UCI), so will all of this be for naught?

Have I mentioned how much I HATE!! LOATHE!!! Orange County? I hate it here. Yes, yes, it's sunny. And warm. But, Praise the Lord! What else??!

Nothing.