2003-07-10 - 10:51 p.m.
A friend mentioned tonight that my previous blog entry about 'what kind of day?' was hard to follow. Well, that makes sense, since it basically was a list of the moods and frustrations of the past week. Without having access to my thinking process, how would anybody else keep track? Here's what's been happening.
I've always had access to some significant confidential information at work. Now that I'm interning in another unit, I've been given even more. What I've learned over the past couple of weeks disturbs me greatly. Religion is not a significant part of my life, but ethics are my guide to almost everything*. There is not a single person with power to whom I can go. I'm non-union and can be fired for violating confidentiality. How can I reconcile the steady income in a crappy CA economy, my faith in the nonprofit organization, and the reality of fiscal and ethical abuse? It's a problem that will simply not go away.
Now to number two.
This house has been home for nine years as of August. It's been solely financially mine for five years. Without going into details, let's just say that theresponsibility is wearing me down. I know that the whole American dream involves home ownership, and in many ways it brings me great freedom. However, it's nonstop worry for one person. There's always something; it's almost like having a child. It's very tempting to sell the house as is, without even doing the carpet/paint that should be done, pay off all my debt, and sock the money away. I don't even care about the tax consequences any more. The damned IT stock fallout already killed all my investments; might as well go whole hog.
So to sum up, I'm trying to decide if here is where I want to be and if this is what I want to be doing. Everything else - friends, family, knitting, blogging, love life, my Oakland Athletics' chance at the playoffs - is great. I mean, they're a million bucks great. Working this other stuff out is going to take me a while, and I promise not to whine the whole time. Just bear with me, please.
And thanks for reading. I check my stats; I know y'all are out there.
*Yes, even with men. I mention this because it's been made clear (via nasty flames) that there's at least one reader that thinks I'm the worst kind of slut. She's wrong, but it hurt my feelings nontheless. Ah well. Take 'em as they come.
Comments: Speak your piece!
former / latter