Working it Out

It's weird how every job I have shapes me in a new way.  I mean, it's probably not weird at all,  but I'm very aware of it.  There are very specific traits I have and habits/qualities I value because of certain past job experiences.  I think it's why I'm never satisfied doing one thing for very long, or staying in one place forever.  When I was younger, someone put it in my head that being the same as an adult as you were when you were a kid is a failure.  I haven't stopped looking for change ever since.
So anyway,  my current job is pretty much the same as my old one but less busy.  I'm at home with more down time and way less stress.  I also work different hours than most of my coworkers which forces me to test the site and research to get answers rather than asking for them.  It's so unlike me.  Previously, I thought it was an inefficient use of my time to try and figure things out when I could just ask someone and get the info.  I still think that.  Other people may see it as lazy, my brain sees it as smart.  The differences in people. Oh the differences.  But, having the time to spend on experimenting and learning is teaching me to appreciate it more... and it's definitely shifting my thinking.   Maybe someday I'll want to read an instruction manual.    

probably not

Also in my downtime, I've been reading through some old journals.  They make me both really happy and sad at the same time.  I miss things, people, the way things were etc.  Even in times when everything was shit though,  there are these excerpts about a conversation with a friend, or looking across a skyline that was more beautiful than anything I'd seen before. Stories of singing karaoke in a smoky room all night, losing the time over Skype til birds started chirping, getting a surprise and thoughtful package, or playing a (stupid) prank that everyone kept going.  Over the years of sporadic entries, there's always a few excerpts that take me back to those moments and remind me how good things can be.  Even in a mess of shit, one moment can make everything seem ok.

Also, when I die, my journals should be burned. not tossed around the room like magazines to read like my grandparents' were.  I want to take my secrets with me.