True story, I swear. My "office" is in our sunroom. Lots of windows. Lots of light. Some bookshelves, some files. Its also got seating to just "hang out" in and a train table plus more toys than any child really needs to have. Birds, lord knows why because the windows aren't *that* clean, have this thing about bashing their feathery heads into the sunroom windows. Its nothing new. I should be used to the banging sounds as I work by now.
But yesterday the bang wasn't on the window. It came on my door. At first I thought it was my stupid dog (yeah, she's on my list too). This is the way Tasha tells you its time to let her in. She does not bark. She does not whine. No. She body slams the backdoor. And she will continue to do so at various intervals until you open it. I got up, sighing because she has this knack of wanting in or out the moment I get comfy. It was not, however, my dog. It was nothing as far as I can tell.
I settle back in and moments later I hear it again. Several times in a row. A dull thud. I get up and yank the door open, now aggravated and ready to blame the dog or my goofy neighbor. It was neither of them. At first I see nothing. I glanced around - right, left, high, low. And I see it. A small female gold finch standing near the door under a folded up camp chair. It appears to be staring at me in the partially open door. I can't tell if its stunned or dead but either way I'm not ready to deal with it. I quickly close the door out of some fear the thing is about to rise up and dive bomb my head.
I checked back a bit later and the bird was exactly where it had been. Same spot. Not moved. I think its dead. I check back about an hour later. It has moved. Its now facing away from my door under yet another chair on the opposite side of the small concrete square just outside our door - not even big enough to call a small patio. I figure its still dead and just got blown around in wind or something wild like that. Either that, or it was stunned from all its hang banging before and has since started to come out of it. By the time I'm ready to leave for my doctor's appointment - a good two hours from the time it first crashed into my door - the bird is gone. My dog, by the way, in case you're worried, was inside the house the entire time. So I know the bird did not become dinner.
Then I got all sorts of "deep." That bird, you see, is like me and that damn job. Banging my head on a door repeatedly because its there. Thing is, a year ago I was ready to find new work. I was looking for new work. I was sending out resumes to places that had part-time listings when it seemed something I really would be happy doing. (Which meant I didn't send that many out because I felt I could afford to be picky.) Then the positive HPT came around and that whole search went on hold. I didn't feel right about taking a new job knowing I'd be on extended leave.
My plan has always been to take some of my leave - the end of it - and start looking seriously for new work. In my wild fantasies I find a new job with a human being for a boss and I get to call the current guy at last minute to give my notice. I want nothing more than to find my next career home. Its just not ever an easy move to make, is it. To leave what is known for what is unknown - no matter how crappy the known is. And more than that, its not fun to be fired. To be let go.
It reminds me of my high school boyfriend. I had plans on how to break up with him just before starting my final year. I had no desire to spend that year tied down to this person in terms of my social life. I even had gotten brazen enough to flirt madly with this guy at a week-long journalism workshop held at a local college. Daring this guy in my head only to go ahead and kiss me or something even though I had this boyfriend back at home. I had figured out what I'd say. When I'd say it. How I'd pat his back and say "Its ok. Its not you. Its just this. This doesn't work." Thing is I never got to do it because he got to it first. Over the phone, late one night at the end of an hour long phone call about nothingness. It just fell from the sky like that gross block of airplane toilet ice - if you know what I mean. It devastated me at the time, which is funny when you realize that its what I wanted. Its just that *he* got to dump me. *He* got to reject me. And THAT is the part that hurt. That's what sucked. I wanted to be the one in control of that situation. I wanted to be the one that sat there calmly as he looked confused. I wanted to push the buttons.
This job is no different. I *want* a new option, but I want to find it on *my* terms. Its the part of loosing control of the when and not having the "what's next" ready that freaks me out. Or at least it was. I'm better about it today. That bird, maybe she didn't knock much more into herself than a nice break under my camp chair, but she knocked some reality back into me.