Permanent

This week found me sitting in the board room signing my life away. Ok, it was just a contract for a permanent position. Payment processor specializing in exotics payments and EFT's. Exciting. Just like I always said when I was a little girl I wanted to do when I grew up.

Yes, that is sarcasm.

So, I don't have to worry about my job. And I've been told I can rent my apartment month to month, and have my name down for a bachelor place, that is in a killer location with cheap rent. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

So, I have a job, a place to crash, and my dance classes. I've emailed a bunch of places for volunteering. Who knew it would be harder than finding a job? I seem settled. Sure, I feel like everyone here is in competition for who has more, but what are you going to do?

I was telling my mom last night about my contract, complete with bonuses. Of course, she was happy. Her daughter, in the financial industry. For a mother who has worked at Credit Unions pretty much since she was 19, it seems right. For a daughter who would feel more comfortable in a hut in Africa, it seems scary.

And then my mom said the scariest words of all. "Well Shari, it seems with this job and apartment stuff, you seem settled. Permanent."

Freak. Me. Out. Permanent. Scariest word of them all...

I emailed the school in Africa a few minutes ago. Permanent and Shari just don't go together.

S.

(I am happy about my job situation. Having steady paychecks with BENEFITS is something that takes the edge off of being here).

Itchy Feet

I have itchy feet. Not the kind you can scratch. The kind that requires change, moving, difference.

The annoying kind.

If I just had itchy scratchy feet, I'd get some damn ointment and be done with it. A cheap solution. Unfortunately, my problem usually requires a ticket. Plane, train or bus, doesn't matter as long as it gets me somewhere.

So, as it stands right now, I've been back here in Canada for 6 months. I gave myself 6 months to figure out what I wanted once I returned. Guess what? 6 months and not a freakin' clue.

The other night I was sitting on my bed when it hit me. The over whelming need to rearrange my furniture. I get this every few months and have been getting it for YEARS! Things must be changed. The bed must be in a different place. It took a few nights (this process must only ever be done in the late evening/early night) and some creative planning but my apartment is different. I was explaining my moving to a friend and then it hit me... I move the bed so I sleep somewhere different! Suddenly a weird quirk about myself was solved.

It satisfies my itchy feet for a time being when I can't get a real fix for my problem. It's like drinking the free beer your friend brought to the party, when you forgot your tequila at home.

Mmmmm, tequila.


I'm continuing on with the dance classes and I think I may actually be getting better. My hips sure like the movement of belly dance and for the first time, I actually could do both the arms and feet in a break of Flamenco. Rock on! Or rather, olei!

S.