Friday, August 10, 2007

And the Beat Goes On. . .

A glass of Baily's helped me destress. The noise in this house is driving me crazy. The kids are not to blame-- they are bing kids. IT just gets noisy.

Sometimes I feel so out of it and panicky about classes and what college takes from my children. I may wind up doing my yoga training and a full load of classes. I need to pay back my student loans. I can work at Wal~Mart and donate my check to the student loan office or. . . I can get my degree and improve the lot of my family and have a chance to make the world a better place.

Some religious mommies were telling me to stay home and trust God to provide. I was like, "Look, on my planet i don't have a Replicator or a Holodeck. I have to work to pay off my stdent loans from years ago. I may as well have a degree and a nice job." I waited for the lightening bolt to get me but God was probably saying, "Yeah-- that's about right. But your kids are appreciating your work and education."

PI may also happen. I meet with them next week. I look gullible-- I am gullible. Will I be a good worker for them? That is why I want to volunteer now just stuffing envelopes and learning with them. So many from my degree wind up working in corrections. If I learn and listen to a detective who I think will be my supervisor and learn the boundaries, I will do well.

Tonight I met the grandfather of one of my elder daughter's friends. He works in corrections. He told me that it's a huge field for people in my area of expertise. He said that he thinks I'd have no problem getting hired in an area where they have a shortage of workers, but he said that volunteering and having someone watch me like a hawk would be better for me because there are bad people wanting to take advantage of me. He also said that I may find myself writing grants for them which would be better. I have an unread blog, I've not put any of my great works on here, but I am a good writer and even talking to someone I've never met, the man knows I am an above average writer just by speaking to me for ten minutes. Does he think I'm a good writer or does he see eagerness in my face and not want to discourage me? I hate feeling so inadequate and unproven-- and if I prove myself, will I prove myself competent? I would feel this way when I used to ice skate. I was a bad skater. My brother was a brilliant hockey player but he would feel this way. I am a decent artist-- yet I panic before showing my work.

What did I mean when I said that a glass of Bailys made me feel better? I am a nut case right now. I need more Bailys.

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