So I have this kind of incredible best friend/hetero-lifemate, Cat.  I’ve shouted out to her blog before.  But today I wanted to let you know that she has, with one of her co-workers, opened up her own etsy store!  As a proud owner of some Gata originals, I can assure you that her products will liven up your living space   Check out their store, politesocietyinc, as soon as possible!

(This is my Cat original)

I don’t think it’s a secret that I am just a little obsessed with pictures.  In fact I’m pretty sure that, at some point, 95% of the people in my life have been annoyed with my insistence on taking pictures of what’s going on.  But even beyond that, I can literally spend hours looking at old photos.  I love black and white photos.  I love pictures where people aren’t looking at the camera.  I love portraits of individuals.  I love pictures of couples.  I will probably always smile at any picture of a baby.  I can look at pictures that I was never even there for and imagine what was happening, and I can laugh at pictures I am in or that I took and vividly recall the exact situation in which the picture was taken.  And this is pretty much what I have been doing the past three days or so – looking at pretty much every photo of people in my life that I can get my hands on (and you don’t even want to know how many that is).

So, in honor of that, here are some quotes I particularly like about the power of photography…

Photography records the gamut of feelings written on the human face, the beauty of the earth and skies that man has inherited, and the wealth and confusion man has created.  It is a major force in explaining man to man. – Edward Steichen

All photographs are there to remind us of what we forget.  In this – as in other ways – they ar e the opposite of paintings.  Paintings record what the painter remembers.  Because each one of us forgets different things, a photo more than a painting may change its meaning according to who is looking at it. – John Berger

It’s not really a secret that I have a lot of, shall we say, job dissatisfaction.  There’s a lot about my job that is hard, a lot that is unnecessary, a lot that is an inconvenience, a lot that doesn’t make sense, and even some that is just plain dangerous.  Lately all of these negatives have been weighing heavily on my mind – and by that I mean I have begun making randomly bitter exclamations in a surprisingly vehement tone.

It’s not attractive.

It’s also not fun.

But despite all of the varied complaints I have had recently (and no matter how legitimate they may or may not have been) and despite how desperately I continue to search for, well, any other job, today was just one of those days.  I hate it when I have days like this.  There I am, happily going along in my cynical state, adding pile after pile of bleach/manure stained clothes to my dirty laundry list (hehe literally & figuratively, get it?).  Awful things happen, and it’ s just one more thing to add the pile of why I hate my job.  I begin speaking really angrily about…anything, begin stress eating, the nightmares return, my co-workers and I purchase even more wine and stay up till 3am crying and venting, my face breaks out, and I once again start yelling at God when I’m in the shower or car.

And then I have a day like today.  A day that is really no better than any other day – and definitely not better than any day in the past 2 weeks – and a day that is in the middle of another typical not-so-great week.  My kids, who have been on level or behaving appropriately, get in fights, lie, pass notes, sneak drugs, make ignorant comments, break rules, are disrespectful.  My co-workers and I argue and don’t speak and have med errors and become passive aggressive and miss appointments and lose our cool in front of the clients.  The parents cancel visits with the kids, yell at us on the phone, fight in family therapy, try to get us to discipline their kids when they don’t want to, break their kids’ hearts, and give up because they don’t know what to do.  And my organization requires us to take yet another retraining that is a complete waste of time, opens up more jobs instead of giving any of us raises, doesn’t support us on the shift, won’t assume responsibility for the competency of its employees, lie to the kids, and still haven’t fixed our microwave.  As a bonus, a drugged/crazy man comes on campus, violently looking for an “Isaac” when there is no such person in *any* program.  My friends have relationship drama, friendship spats, quarter-life crises, financial disasters, family horrors, illness, death, break-ups, addictions, breakdowns, weddings to plan, body-image problems, job dissatisfaction, muscle spasms, professional disagreements, etc. etc.

And then somehow…I have a good day.  Nothing in particular is great.  But, at the end of the day, I feel like I have done my job.  I have had some truly wonderful conversations.  I have laughed at a variety of things.  I have been supported and appreciated, even if on small small scales.  My opinion has been heard.  I have figured out some of my own issues.  I miss my friends & family in the satisfying nostalgic kind of way that recognizes their blessing in my life.  I have flirted and day-dreamed.  I have had coffee.  I have looked at old photos.  I have mentally talked to my ex-boyfriends and felt satisfied with the parts they played in my lives.  I’ve taken a walk.  I’ve started a new book.  And, most annoyingly, I’ve just melted over my kids and co-workers.  My heart has actually broken for them.  And it’s so damn frustrating because as much as I hate my job, as awful as it is, and as awful as the kids can be and certain staff members can be, by and large…I love those damn crazy people.  Even when things are as frustrating as they can possibly get, that is still there…no matter how much I may try to kill it.

It’s so annoying.

But the sword cuts both ways. While our heart grows in its capacity for pleasure, it grows in its capacity to know pain. The two go hand in hand. What, then, shall we do with disappointment? We can be our own enemy, depending on how we handle the heartache that comes with desire. To want is to suffer; the word passion means to suffer. That is why many Christians are reluctant to listen to their hearts. They know that their dullness is keeping them from feeling the pain of life. Many of us have chosen simply not to want so much; it’s safer that way…Sanctification is an awakening, the rousing of our souls from the dead sleep of sin into the fullness of their capacity for life… – John Eldredge & Brent Curtis