COMPOSTING PART 3

(Beware, this layer is a purge.  Some content not suited for grown-ups, or even anyone who can read).

And the mystery continues.  

By way of the bookstore.

Where yesterday it happened that a book and I grabbed each other and I got goosebumps.  It is a book, a work of fiction, about Tesla, and a chambermaid and alternating current and radio and of course the City, which I love.

So it felt good.  Especially because of the weird thing about me and books right now.  The things like:  White Teeth; The Audacity of Hope; The Invisible Man; Lamb; Peace is Every Step: If the Buddha Got Stuck; The Sun Also Rises; Glass Castle; The Hidden Messages in Water; A Thousand Plateaus:  Capitalism and Schizophrenia.

I have tried and failed to read all of these within the last 3 months. (Granted, some were a second read and didn't resonate on this approach).

So.  The encounter in the bookstore was good.  And I hope bears fruit.  Since I need to love this book and it looks like I might.  It reminds me already of The Incantation of Frida K. and I love books with historical figures surmised in the imaginings of time and space.  He is talking to pigeons, actually has a love affair with one.  And she, the chambermaid Louisa , not the pigeon--really loves radio and works in the hotel where Tesla truly lived and she befriends him, and we will see.

 Since my last escapade into Like Water for Elephants nothing has matched.

I remember getting up early in the morning in Jersey.  Just moved self into tall living space in Highland Park.  Newly married, but honeymooning alone because of grad school, alone and pregnant in the winter. I had to get up early to finish reading and writing a presentation for one of my classes.  It was a challenging course with a small group and a very gifted researcher and writer as the professor.

But I was exhausted and behind, and stressed and I got up and cried and read and wrote and presented and it was fine.

This week at work we are printing envelopes.  I know it sounds benign.  But I am certain I will be getting Hypnotherapy related to this experience in the very near future because if you say "printing envelopes" to me I feel sick.

7, 000--and I will not go into all the boring gory details, except this one:

I printed approximately 4,000 envelopes in my whole project before it was pointed out to me that the addresses I had created via a merge template where I set the location of the address looked rather odd.  To me it looked perfect.  To me, the centered one looks strange.  Now, I am able to see their point (everyone chimed in their agreement with the awkwardness of mine).  But before I didn't see that.

This kind of thing  happens all the time to me.  And also when I work really hard I kind of dance through the experience.  I move breathe, focus and try to operate efficiently.  It makes my co-workers nervous and I am not sure if I need to change or the environment and space I work in needs to change.  But I do get the job done this way, just sometimes the work is obviously distinct in style (like the envelopes).

This does frighten me.  Like something is wrong.

And also its fine, I just keep growing and learning and striving for balance and good work.

That was a heavy, and awkward layer.  A bit acidic.  Bit heavy on me it was and now I feel relieved.

I hesitate to write this, but isn't it weird how I just described my writing in a way that sounds like I took a big dump?