The Algebra of Selling Yourself

Image courtesy of apoorplayer.net

Work is supposed to take up 40 hours of each week, right? We sell 40 hours of each precious 168 hours of our lives in order to survive. It's less than a quarter of our time, so it's not a bad deal really, considering what people once had to do to survive.

Then we sleep, what?, 7 hours a night, if we're lucky and insomnia doesn't plague us. That's 49 hours a week, 30 percent of a week.

Another 5 hours a week getting ready for work, 3.5 hours a week getting to and from work and 5 hours a week having lunch breaks (but because they are surrounded on both sides by work, one can hardly think of them as one's own time). That's another 15.5 hours (10 percent of a week) that belong to work and not to myself.

That's 104.5 hours out of 168 that are not available for all the rest of the things I need or would like to do.

Or, looking at it positively, I have 63.5 hours a week to cook, eat, shop, do errands, pay bills, take walks, call my mom, see my kids, visit friends, write, garden, fly kites, kayak, dance, do yoga and kiss my boyfriend.

The trick is not to be mentally and physically exhausted during those 63.5 hours so that they can be used properly.

At the moment, the problem is that work is nudging out of its 55.5-hour allotment, bleeding by the hour into my "free" time and even into my sleep.

I have to get it under control or I'm going to become like those sweaty guys in bad suits swigging Maalox from their desk drawers.
This week, a crew (including me) from the company I work for is going to a trade show in Las Vegas. Work, already growing beyond its boundaries as I have described, is about to take on 24/7 proportions for an entire week.

By the way, don't let the word "Vegas" sound too alluring; I've been to these events before. They are a series of 15 hour days on your feet answering question after question, walking miles on concrete, smiling when you don't want to, and not being able to shut down your mind for sleeping when you finally get back to your cold hotel room.

When I get home, I intend to find balance.

New Things

I went to the Student Health Center yesterday to get something for stress and to finally get the paperwork to register with the disability services on campus.

I have been struggling for ages with the necessity of getting disability services for my MS, reluctant to admit I'm not as strong and capable as any 18-year-old on that campus. Climbing the campus to Founders Hall every day finally got the best of me.

I haven't actually signed up yet, but when/if I do, I can get a ride to Founders in a little bus.

Founders Hall. These are about a sixth of the stairs necessary to climb.

New School Schedule
I should mention, as an aside, that I dropped two of my classes in order to have time to search for work in a serious and focused way. Now I only have one class, Teaching ESL Composition, two days a week.

I miss my teaching internship in Language Analysis a lot, but I am frankly relieved not to have to attend the American Lit class anymore because of a tiresome couple of preachy, politically-correct undergrads. But that's another story...

I will still finish at the end of the Fall semester, as planned, but I will have to take an American Lit class while I am writing my thesis.

New Health Concerns
At the health center, they measured my blood pressure as usual and found, for the very first time in my life, hypertension. 116/90. That's worrisome.

In spite of my sedentary habits, indulgent eating and voluptuous figure, I am used to receiving unearned praise when I go in for check-ups: compliments on my nice, low blood pressure.

Now, life has to change. Most importantly, I need some exercise, something more than trooping miserably around the campus.

Can worry and heartache can cause hypertension? I do have a lot on my mind. Soon, I will tell you about it.

A New Goal
On a more hopeful note, I found a job announcement for a great job I intend to apply for. There is a huge application process, beginning with a curriculum vitae, recommendation letters, transcripts, and a letter of intent.

My hopes are up; I can't help it. So wish me luck.

Once I dropped classes and grad school dropped in priority, I had a realization. I know it sounds ridiculously obvious, but a good job is the answer to all my problems. Of course, it means I won't be able to teach next semester at HSU. *sigh*

New Appreciation for You
I should mention that as of March 1, we joined the ranks of America's uninsured. My son's eye problems are still ongoing.

I just came from reading the most inane discussion over at the Eureka Standard where one of his readers is saying that people who object to the American insurance industry and the state of health care in the US are "slackers."

Blood pressure and all, middle-aged mom and all, peace-loving intellectual and all, I would gladly punch this guy in the face.

How I would love to be a slacker just for a day!

And thank you, to all my readers, for being sensitive, intelligent, kind-hearted people.