Tempo al tempo! All in good time!

I have been sitting at this desk since...well, 8 am this morning, technically. With several bathroom breaks and an hour long lunch scattered throughout. I really mean, though, that I have been inhabiting this particular desk since the end of August. And before that? I have been sitting at a desk within this company (on school breaks, anyway) for nearly three years. I graduated from college this past spring, and after teaching photography at a summer camp, resumed working exactly where I am right...now.

I am a temp. I have performed several different functions at this company, none of which were altogether significant, other than the fact they needed to get done. After being trained on so many random tasks, and the fact that the company needs more permanent workers, it's been suggested I think about...transitioning. About...interviewing. About becoming permanent.

This would mean several things. Benefits, for one. I am not in any great need for beneifts, however. I'm covered under my mother's insurance for two more years. Still, I will need them at some point, so I still consider them a factor. I would also be chained to my phone, err, well, permanently. I am, admittedly, a bit of a phone phobic. Yes, I think it's terrible we as a people seem to generally hide behind technology for communication purposes. I would much rather text you a novel than pick up a phone to have that dreaded two second conversation. I do not understand my reasoning. Wait, let me rephrase, I know there is no logical reasoning behind my thought process. I accept that. And it's not that I flat-out refuse to use the phone. Part of my job now is to make outbound calls. I have gotten more accostumed to making calls, and as such I am a fraction less uncomfortable doing so. But, to have to plug an earpiece into my head every single day, 8am-5pm, with it constantly ringing, and those on the other end bombarding me with a heavy flow of difficult questions and/or complaints, sounds like Chinese water torture. It sounds like a slow, numbing, death is what it sounds like!

So, where were we? Ah, yes! Benefits. I hate phones. The people here are lovely- don't get me wrong! They have been so amazingly good to me! And I do thoroughly enjoy them all. I just want...more. I want to love, or to at least not despise, the job I am doing. I want to be active. This 40 hours a week, sittin' at a desk gig, just ain't doin' it for me. I want...I want...what do I want?

I guess...that I don't know. I'm an English-turned-art-major, fresh out of college. I dig photography, helping people, getting my blood pumping, and the creative wheels a-turnin'. But I need to eat. And I would like to move out of my parents house before I'm...we'll be generous and say, 28 years old (I'm giving myself 5 years, here). I have student loans, and car insurance payments that aren't going to go away on their own. Unfortunately. Okay, so maybe I can cut back a little on the eating thing. They didn't pull "starving artist" out of thin air, y'know. Thin artists, yes. Air, no.

So what is the point of all of this? I want to find my dream job. Or one of 'em, at least (I have a lot of dreams). How ever, in a lot of ways that's "easier said than done" or:

"Tra il dire e il fare, c'è di mezzo il mare."

Between saying and doing, lies the sea. I like to think of myself as the sea. In this case, though the economy isn't thriving, perhaps, and there are a lot of steps between finding a job that you enjoy and can live off of, and then getting that job or something like it, I feel that I am largely what's between me and getting that dream realized. I have been thus far. I have been sitting on my tuchus, twiddling my thumbs, letting it all just...be. "Hey, Status Quo! Just keep statusin' and quoin' okay? Thanks, I really appreciate it, buddy!" No, I need to get up, dust off the cheese puff crumbs, do some research, get myself out there, and sell, sell, sell! Do not get discouraged, me! It will not happen all at once, or  in a particularly timely manner! Do not lose your fire and determination! Capiesh??

Capiesh. I'm hoping, in fact, that this here lil' blogapotomus, will help keep me focused on the task at hand. If I fail at updating this with my progress, that means there isn't any progress. If there isn't any progress, then here exists proof of my glaring, shameful, blemish of a failure! Which I hope will serve as motivation, more than just a mock worthy swing-and-a-miss.

Cross your fingers for me. I would, but google searches go a lot easier if you have all your fingers for typing...