Just like Barbie, I have a definite basic model, but with every life change, and every so often the occasional perfectly selected outfit, I get the chance to fill various other roles. I would hardly say that I should be in any regard a role-model for the formative young minds of the world's youth like Barbie has supposedly been over the years. But then again, among a boat load of other jobs, Barbie has also been an astronaut, a dentist, a paleontologist, a stewardess, a pilot, an Olympic gymnast, a skater in the ice capades, a veterinarian, a movie producer, a WNBA player, and she's been in the military, meanwhile the Lizzle graduated from college with a few jobs on the resume, floundered in a lousy job market for a while, and then out of necessity and the desire to actually use the degree I paid so dearly for, became a social worker. Personally, I think that Barbie must have spent a fortune on her education because it costs a whole lot of money to switch majors that often! (I just picked the one that most suited me, and I stuck with it all four years... But what do I know?)
Anyway, in recent weeks I've been modeled on what one would call a "model employee" I've been appropriately dressed as always of course, but I've kept up with my paperwork throughout the week, I've had my paperwork turned in early or (at worst) on time, I've answered every call and every question from every case worker and supervisor, I've taken coverage on cases when other workers weren't available, I've billed well over what I am expected to bill, and if my weekly meetings with my supervisor are anything to go by, I've served my clients flawlessly. I'm not trying to over inflate your perception of me, and I'm not trying to over-inflate my ego, because in all honesty, I have NO CLUE as to how I've managed to do this. If you've known me for very long, you know that organization has never been my strongest suit. Procrastination is where I excel in spades, it's been that way for YEARS. (Dear god, please don't say that this is an indication of growing up, because I don't wanna be a grown up! And I sure as hell don't want to be a "model employee" cog in the conformist machine as a grown up!)
I blame a sag in my social calendar lately. Less time out boozing with my friends, and with friends doing dumb things like getting married and/or having babies, I've had fewer opportunities to do any proper boozing. We won't even touch my love life because that sag is taking on epic, near-mythic proportions... But then again, I'm content to suffer the extended love life sag at the moment because I would never forgive myself if I found a guy, got comfortable, and ended up trapped in this midwestern wasteland of suburbia forever.
Things are picking up now that the holidays are in full swing. A few holiday parties, family get-togethers, and the overall improved mood and demeanor of folks greatly improves things. The impending trip to Chicago is also bound to provide certain liquor fueled entertainment, and is bound to take some kind of toll on the perfection at work. I mean my monthly reports which so often become the bane of my existence will have to be turned in BEFORE I go to Chicago. Which means I'm going to have to work on them this week instead of on the night before they are due (when I will most assuredly be drinking in one of my favorite old haunts where I pray the managers, owners, and/or bartenders will still remember my name.)
In other news, now that we are properly past the forgotten holiday of Thanksgiving, I bought and set up my Christmas tree. It is four feet of glorious, silver, cheese-tastic, Christmas tchotchke hotness, and despite being cheap and garish, I love it.
And in a final unrelated note, I would like to take a few moments to address something which has bothered me and quite frankly been proverbially "stuck in my craw." My father, with whom I've had a somewhat exasperating and turbulent relationship over the years, recently visited my apartment for the first time since I moved in, despite many previous trips into town. After giving it a quick once over, he noted it "looked nice" and departed. He was inside for a total of less than five minutes, including some time in the bathroom. He did not take particular note of any of the decor details, didn't note the furniture which is (in all honesty and not at all debatably) nicer than the stuff in his house, and he did not even mention the rather prominent items which he should have recognized, largely because he owned a few of them when he was still married to my mother.
Being a man, I attributed his lack of interest to the typical male response to any mention of "decor," (which is a general malaise or disinterest,) but knowing my father, and how he has always thought of himself as having taste (despite most evidence to the contrary,) I was kind of bitter at the overall lack of response. And when I visited his home for Thanksgiving, and the venture into my home came up in conversation, his only response was, "It was nice... And it was just neat as a pin!" To which I had no choice but to respond with, "Umm, now would be a REALLY GOOD time to stop sounding like my apartment being clean was something of a shocking surprise!" An awkward silence followed. The subject was changed. And while I'm not using this forum to hash out my "daddy issues" I think you more observant readers can now see, based solely on these seemingly inconsequential remarks, some of the deep under current which provides the unstable foundation for our often adversarial relationship. It just bothered me... I mean the only time my dad ever sees me is when we grab a drink at a bar when he is in town, or when I go to visit him at his house and I'm living out of my luggage... This should in no way be a representative sample as to whether or not I should be living in filth. I went through a messy phase in high school, but since my first semester at college, I've been a cleaner, and well, after four years of college and a couple more years since graduation, that cleaning habit hasn't changed. I'm not really going anywhere with this bit, but it just really rubbed me the wrong way for a while, and I couldn't write about it before since I was sans computer, so I decided to just run with it for a little while now.
Feel free to resume your "Cyber Monday" at this point.
That is all.