The potatoes are boiling for Shabbat dinner, and I still have a fair amount to do before Daniel comes home. But I had an amazing week, and I need to write it down as a way of commemorating and celebrating it. I’m bad about celebrating my accomplishments — I try to minimize them. Even as I was writing that sentence I almost added “as small as they are” but they aren’t always small. And it matters how they feel — there’s no measuring stick.
So this week, I was a rock star. I gave a talk about my book at a major, major conference, and while I was there I made good connections with two giant superstars in my field, including one who I will one day convince to hire me. (That’s the goal.) Then I came back and gave two more presentations about my book, and I think I’ve inspired one group to actually stop talking about doing something and instead do something. This is also very good for me professionally. And I interviewed today for a new job. I don’t particularly want this job, and I’m not qualified for it (objectively not qualified– this isn’t a Lean In problem. They want someone with academic experience and analytical skills that I don’t have. I’m not qualified for this job in the same way that I’m not qualified to teach scuba diving, or be a professional chef. Just a skill mismatch). But I said what the hell and gave a reasonably good interview, and learned so much about how to give an absolutely smashing interview at the next opportunity. Amidst it all I had some outstanding ideas for my next writing project. And, dear readers, all that counts as being a rock star.
Things at work have been super-duper extra crazy. When your boss tells you that some of your colleagues think you should be fired, is he being a good boss or a bad boss? I’ve been grappling with that question ever since my boss told me 3 weeks ago that some of my colleagues think I should be fired. And of course, grappling with the fact itself (if it is, indeed, a fact — my boss may be an unreliable narrator). And yet, I keep plugging along, getting great validation from people outside my office, steadily reaching out to people who might help me find the next great thing — the thing that would bring: 1) what I know I’m capable of; 2) what I’m actually supposed to do; and 3) the expectations and support of my colleagues all into alignment. I’m doing this. I thought I was finished realizing my dreams after I wrote the book, but it turns out that was just the preparatory mountain, and there’s another bigger one in front of me. But dammit, I’m scaling that sucker.
I can’t celebrate this with Daniel tonight. He’s just returned from a memorial service — and he’s gone to two of those and one funeral in the last 10 days, of dear and beloved friends. And yesterday he cleaned out his mother’s house in preparation for its sale. He’s not in a head to celebrate my worldly progress. But that’s okay for now because I am in a space to celebrate (this is that space) and then to help him. (Freudian typo: I originally typed “me” when I meant to type “him.” That’s interesting).
I did this. I did all this. And I’ll keep doing stuff like this until I get where I am going, and then I’ll keep doing it there, too, because I am capable of doing this.
Another Door 