This week will be my third week of working full-time. I'm already fatigued :) It feels like an exercise I haven't performed in a long time, and which my muscles have forgotten how to do. I'm hoping I'll feel more in-shape soon. I do get a kick out of the rituals of the work week: the ratio of talk:action that increases as the week goes on, the little snacks/breaks/walks to the bathroom that break up the day, the many crises (both real and imagined/invented) that add spice to the day. A big crisis is looming - the switch to a new accounting and shipping system in August - and the fear and panic about all of its possible forms both invigorates and paralyzes the whole office.

Ironic post-modern moment of the week: I got pulled in to act as clerical and administrative aide for a couple of new green initiatives, one of which involves pricing and researching the switch to recycled copier/printer paper. My coworker, who normally orders the office supplies, was excited about this, and assured me that recycled paper costs less than what we get now. I was pretty sure that it costs more, a fact which was confirmed later in the week. However, I realized that the foundation for my "knowledge" on the subject was a line from "The Office" in which Jim comments that he will be offering recycled paper to his biggest client, for 1 cent more per sheet. Ah, expertise. How easy you are to come by!

The weekend was a melange of small pleasures. I took the train down to Middleboro/Lakeville to meet Keith on Friday afternoon. I was reading a satisfying entry in the "chick lit" genre, and had iced tea, brie, and grapes to graze upon. Seeing Keith was wonderful - that first glimpse upon debarking is really thrilling. So is the coy flirtation we practice during the first several minutes of conversation. There was lots to say, so the drive went quickly. We knew exactly what to get for dinner, and enjoyed Keith's signature enchiladas. Saturday morning was pleasantly lazy, then we geared up for the Russia-Netherlands match of Euro2008. It was a thrilling game, not least because Keith was moved to alternate bouts of joy and agony by the play. Russia won, devastating Keith and secretly thrilling me, the devious underdog-supporter. That night, we watched a great little independent romantic comedy called "Wristcutters: A Love Story", with several nice performances and a great, gravelly turn by Tom Waits as an undercover messiah/saboteur. We also had some good conversations, Keith was finally able to explain his thesis topic in a way I could comprehend, and we made out like bandits at Kohl's. All in all, a good weekend, albeit one that sped by much too swiftly.

I've been thinking a lot about self-presentation. I noticed (not for the first time) that I tend to represent myself in a relentlessly negative light. This comes up when I get together with friends I haven't seen in a while, when people ask me about my job/goals/plans for the future, and when I'm figuring out what descriptors to use on social and career networking sites (eg Facebook, LinkedIn, etc). I've been spending time on LinkedIn lately and it really triggers those negative feelings. At first, I didn't want to invite anyone to be in my network, for fear that I would "poison" them with my lack of ambition and chronic temp work. Of course, my friends and acquaintances were not nearly as worried about this as I was (or at least were kind enough not to say so). As I added more connections, I began to look at their job/career/profession titles, and those in their extended networks. At first, this reinforced my feelings of inferiority - I seemed to be the only one who didn't have a "real" title, and, by extension, a "real" job. However, upon closer examination, I realized that the difference was not in the occupation, but in the NAMING. Most people choose to name themselves after the best-case scenario: the job they hope/want/expect to have. This creates the illusion of success, or the state of already-having-achieved whatever it is. This revelation must seem old-hat to anyone who has studied business, met with a career counselor, or read any kind of self-help book written in the last 100 years, but it is exciting news to me! Yet it is also a reminder that my limitations are self-imposed, and thus exceedingly hard to remove. When I try to imagine an ideal future, I stall completely and become transfixed by my own inertia. Friendly, well-meaning attempts to jostle me into dreaming or fantasizing or brainstorming possibilities only make me feel more stubbornly stuck in the same old rut. I don't want help, because part of the whole myth of adulthood that is so stultifying in the first place is that I should be able to do this myself.

I think that a small improvement might be possible: to find a way to present myself and my current life in a kinder, more positive light. The fear is that people are judging me negatively, so I should point out all my faults so they know I'm at least not ignorant and unaware, as well as being unsuccessful, lazy, ineffective, et al. But perhaps I could allow other people's judgments to come from them, without prejudicing them aforethought. There is always the possibility that if I felt good about myself, others would follow suit. Imagine that.