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Popsicle Fever
Spent the evening coming up with gourmet popsicle flavors, which is my newest brilliant business idea. Of course, like most of my brilliant business ideas, this one will never go anywhere! But I do hope we at least makes it to the testing stage, because yum.
I’ve come up with 45 flavors so far, in five broad categories:
- Cream-based (Vanilla Chai, Espresso Fudge, Orange Creamsicle)
- Water-based (Ginger Peach, Strawberry Poppyseed, Lavender Honey)
- Layered (Arnold Palmer, Watermelon Lime, PB&J)
- Cocktail Inspired (Mudslide, Mojito, Pina Colada)
- Super Weird (Maple Bacon, Wasabi Pea, Dill Pickle)
My smart and capable supervisor was pretty much told that she couldn’t advance professionally unless she went back to school and got a bullshit degree. So she’s starting online MBA classes. Reluctantly.
I want a grown-up job, but I neither WANT nor can AFFORD to do the degree-mill coursework this would apparently require. So disappointing. I’ve been wondering why I know so many amazingly smart, hard-working young people who just aren’t getting anywhere. Beginning to suspect this is it.
It’s not enough to be a talented, dedicated employee with ONE degree. You need several. It substitutes for ability, since you’ll probably be working with people who make boatloads of money, but don’t know enough to teach even the best candidate the first thing about their job.
Ugh. Life’s unfair.
I wonder about rebound depression after a period of intense stress. Two weeks ago I was Having A Bad Time at work. Everything’s fine now. But I’m sad and mopey and feel like I’m going to crawl off and weep dramatically in the corner at any moment.
This isn’t NORMAL for me. I’m a cheerful person. I stress and I scheme and I complain, but I deal. This defeatism. It’s heavy and wearying. Come back, happy self. Life is hard enough, without missing you.
Goals & Posts
Goal: To post every night this week.
Wish I had shit to talk about other than soul searching and boy drama. Guess I’ve got other outlets for those.
Lately I am wondering if I was wrong, in the past, to dismiss dudes that I LIKED really well but who I instinctively knew were trouble. Emotional messes, needy, fragile, volatile or just plain difficult.
Of course it would have ended in flames. But I would have learned a little about love, when to give and when to say no, when to help and when they can only help themselves. instead I’ve just learned more about protecting myself.
Without Accountability
I am good at self-restraint, but I am lousy at self-discipline. They do a lot if the same work, so it doesn’t matter much to the outside world. But I know I could be more.
I could have a clean house. I could be learning things. I could be building things. I could be a writer five times over by now. I won’t. This bothers me.
Cotton Wool
Without exception, I find myself wanting to protect my guy friends. Just the males, though. I guess I assume my female friends are as fierce and brave and war-weary as I am?
But the dudes. I am fond of them, which gives me a crazy need to keep them safe. Don’t know why. Maybe it is some sort of weird sublimated friend-attraction. Maybe it is an increased sympathy for battles I’ll never have to fight. Maybe I just am especially drawn to fragile dudes. Whatever it is, it’s strong lately.
Listen, brothers. Listen. It’s gonna be all right.
