February 14, 1999
New Kid On The Block


I know, I know.
 It's been an entire week since I posted anything on this website. And, judging from the e-mail, I've been missed ...

... which is at once gratifying and spooky. (Gratifying, because it means that people are actually reading this journal; spooky, because it means that people are actually reading this journal.)

Thing is. I was worried that going back to work might complicate things, as far as maintaining the website was concerned. And as it turns out, I was right.

On the one hand, I have so much cool stuff to write about now. I survived the hellish First Day on the New Job, for one thing. (I only hung up on one caller that first day! When he called back a moment later, ready to have me publicly flogged, I cutely pleaded *first day*  --  with just the slightest trace of wobble in my voice  -- and it worked. By the end of the conversation he was apologizing for being "strident," and asking me how I like the Bay Area so far.) And there is so much else. Suddenly I've got an entire new city to explore and fall in love with and describe in endless mind-numbing detail ... an entire office full of interesting new people to dissect and lampoon ...

... and, if all else fails, I can always resort to writing about the weather or the bus system or my SHOES. So there should be no shortage of material.

On the other hand, I have so much less time (or energy, or functioning *creativity molecules*) to actually write about any of this fabulous new stuff. 

Sigh.

I crawl back to The Castle in the evenings, and at that point the only thing I'm thinking about is getting out of the ridiculous high heels and into a tubful of Mr. Bubble, ASAP ... followed by a little food, a little time with David and a LOT of sleep. More or less in that order.

(There is also the interesting new problem of sharing a living space with a fellow Internet addict/budding website developer/AOL Message Board Artiste. During my two months of voluntary *vacation,* I did all my website stuff during the day while David was at work, then gladly relinquishing control of the keyboard to him in the evenings. Now we are engaged in an intricate dance, vying for computer time and space while remaining considerate of the other's needs. We've each got our own computer, but desk space is seriously limited ... and I find it hard to write cohesively when he's sitting on my lap, frankly.) I'm still not sure how I'm going to resolve this particular *dilemma.* (Any other Internet journalers out there facing a similar situation? How do you juggle work and website? When do you find the time to update? Do your readers threaten to mutiny when they haven't heard from you in a week?  Do you have to buy them a car or something?)

I'm hoping that maybe  --  as my body clock adjusts to the new hours and the new commute and the new rhythm of the workday  --  I won't feel quite so wiped out when I get home in the evenings. (Getting up earlier is out, btw. I'm already rolling out of bed at 5:30 a.m.: any earlier than that and I might just as well have the dark circles permanently tattooed under my eyes and call them "facial art.")  In the meantime, I'm going to continue experimenting. Maybe just a quick blurb thrown onto the website every night  --  a paragraph or two  --  rather than the epic entry I've felt increasingly compelled to post, each and every time. Maybe just one marathon entry, written on the weekend. Or maybe some combination of the two. I don't know. We'll just have to see what works.

The bottom line is that the website definitely continues ... one way or the other. It just might take a little while for me to figure out how to keep all the balls in the air at once. So again I've got to ask you, Dear Reader, to be patient, and not to abandon the website altogether, and not to freak out when I occasionally *disappear* for a little while ... ahem ...

... and once everything settles down, I'll buy each of you a new car.

Deal?




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The new job, incidentally, is going well ... although I've gotta admit it's kind of tough being the new kid on the block again. Especially when you were hot stuff on the OLD block.

Suddenly, nobody knows your name. Nobody knows your history. Nobody knows that you drink your coffee black, or that you type 89 wpm using only two fingers on each hand, or that you like to sit alone and read during your lunch hour.

Nobody knows how smart you are, or how funny you are, or how cool you are. And if you try to convince them of this stuff, the first few days, you just look like a big jerk.

So  --  for a little while, anyway  --  you resign yourself to being the geeky newcomer wandering around in the hallway, looking for the bathroom. And that's OK. I can handle that. There's a certain comfort and safety in being anonymous while quietly learning your way around. Everyone treats you as though you're just the teensiest, tiniest bit senile  ...  as though you must be gently led over life's hurdles  ...  and when you do something profoundly stupid, like asking the president of the company if he "has an appointment?" when he stops at the reception desk to pick up his mail -- you're forgiven because you're new.

Better enjoy it while it lasts, I guess.




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Before I sign off for the evening, I want to send special Valentine's wishes to the Tots ... to my family ... to my friends, especially Mizz and the Grizz ...

... and most importantly, to He With Whom I Share A Happy Panda Face Toaster. (Now get off my LAP, wouldya? I can't see the monitor.)

I love you all!




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