Another word... or three

I realize that my previous entry was a touch on the morose end of the emotional spectrum. Okay... it might have been more than morose. It may have been plain sad. I guess I was on a bit of a self-pity trip, which I try to stay away from as often as possible. Often, I wonder if sadness just breeds more sadness, and whether indulging in melancholy only contributes to melancholy. Isn't the idea of catharsis the release of such emotion? If such is the case... then why does it remain?

To turn this page to a somewhat more positive note... In all the muck I've had to wade through, there have been some blessings (some silver ribbon encircling the situation, if you will?) that have found their way to me. Although I'm still not working in the profession I attended school for, I was lucky enough to find a temporary (or maybe somewhat long-term) job at a book publishing company.

Now, before you get too excited, I'm not a newly discovered writer or some sort of marketing guru... I'm a lackey. A grunt lackey. I receive order lists, and I fill them. Then once those are filled, I take more order lists and fill those. I also pick boxes up and put boxes down. I lift boxes, move boxes, stack boxes, shift boxes, pack boxes and cuddle with boxes. Okay, maybe I don't cuddle with them per se. But they are all around me, regardless of the word used to describe the relationship.

I received the job through a friend who I contacted about job leads... PRESTO! She happens to be working at the aforementioned publishing company and knew they needed help. I quite enjoy it... even though I'm a warehouse Joe, I get to have lunch with nerdy editors and writers and bibliophiles, and I get to play with one of my favourite things in the world: books! Okay, not so much play as move and pack... but again, use whatever words you want.

The facts from the previous entry haven't changed... all still remain as they were. It's been raining here for the past two days, but at times the rain feels like an old sweater that was recently found... not necessarily beautiful or even comfortable, but a part of me regardless of what it may seem to be from an outsider's perspective.

Have you ever felt like you're trying to find your way back to yourself? It's a strange feeling, considering I never thought I was lost in the first place...

T