accents: starting over

accents: random tidbits that heighten the mundane of life into lovely memories.

The past 10 days have been one hell of a time. I knew that taking on a new job in the midst of chaos was going to be well, hell, but I had completely forgotten what starting over feels like and I am thoroughly reminded.

I am no longer that college virgin who tucked a measly poor excuse for a document I called a resume into the pocket of a leather bound portfolio, tucked at the pit of my arm, reporting to work on the first day at a "real" job. The past six years had given me enough experience to fill up a whole page of the resume with great content that sells me and make people believe in my capabilities. And though I am now armed with a newly polished resume, as I report to my first day on the "real" second job, all the feelings embodied within the twenty two year old came rushing into this twenty eight year old body, and settled itself comfortably at the pit of my stomach.

There is a new learning curve and I am constantly having to remind myself that this too will pass, just like it did 6 years ago. One day I will look back to this day and realize that all the anxieties and emotions were for naught. One day the tasks of today will become a routine, a mindless exercise. I am qualified for the job, my resume said so, people believe so. I sold it. Now it is to prove it to them. And to myself.

:::As I am battling my own anxiety over my capabilities, my girl is exuding the confidence of a toddler that she is quickly becoming, including walking like a big girl. The last two weeks, she had taken off (literally) and all of the sudden her preferred method of mobility are her two feet.

She had been standing now for more than 3 months, and we thought she would surely start walking around the ten months mark. She surprised us all by continuing to crawl for a good three months before she even start to take a step. Somehow in the last two weeks, she just stood up and walked. I now have a little girl trotting around my house and I am loving the fact that at any turn of the corner, I could find my girl quietly standing there greeting me with her infamous giant smile.

:::I am feverishly making and crafting for her upcoming one year birthday party. It is by no mean an elegant over-the-top affair, but it is going to be a full of home-made goodness with a lot of love.

:::I was what they call a late bloomer. Throughout high school, I considered myself one of the ugly ducklings of my class. I didn't really discover the power of make-up and clothes (at least the right kind) until well into college, specifically after my 21st birthday. I understand it now, and continue to discover the right kind for the right occasion. Maybe it is an attribute of discovering it late, or maybe it is the lack of awareness altogether, but I am continue to be surprised at how much power there lays within curled hair, smoky-eyes and a fitted dress. I have a feeling that it is much more powerful when it is externally noticed but internally oblivious.

As a case in point, my friend had a yard sale recently that I helped with. I was simply wearing a short pair of shorts, my hair still curled left over from the previous day's wedding, I was chasing after my one year old that required me to bend down quite a bit. Apparently, that attracted a couple of males who ended up purchasing $20 worth of stuff. While everyone else present insisted that was the case, I continue to day am unconvinced of its power, simply and especially because I didn't even have any make up on that day.

The point of that story is not to gloat, because simply I am not even convinced that I am beautiful by any standard, but it is to demonstrate that sometimes, being unaware may be the most attractive thing about beauty, by whatever standards.

While I willingly admit that my daughter is beautiful (I am a tad bit biased), I do hope to instill in her a balance between her own awareness of that fact and what others perceived her to be. I'm still struggling with how to do that. If I am to be unsuccessful, I at least hope to delay that awareness for as long as possible, until she knows how to use that power wisely.

:::I am struggling a bit with the concept of "working for the man" and the politics that come with it. I am coming to term with the fact that while I have 6 years under my belt, I still have at least 30 years left in my career. That is a long time to be struggling with the concept, especially if I am to be in the midst of it. I am slowly understanding my worth and the pay I get at my job reflects that mount of shit I have to deal with. There really isn't a free lunch. I am becoming envious of those who hold jobs in the home, where there are admittedly politics present, but at least it is with people they love and who love them in return. It eases the blow, or does it now?

When significant changes happen in life, such as a change in a job, there is an exquisite opportunity of starting over, but there is also anxiety of failure, extra efforts in discovering the unknown. These alone make for one heck of a stressor.