Winter Break

Seeing as I still have green grass in my yard, is it still called winter break? At least the grass isn't growing.

I am finished with Spanish 101 and what a semester it has been. I still have to take my Lit final, and that is due Thursday, but for the most part I feel like a HUGE weight has been lifted off of my brain. But, I know that Spanish 105 is looming for next semester, so I guess I'd better enjoy this while it lasts. I am hoping that I can get a break from the migraines. I had 7 total this semester, more than I've had in the last two years combined. At least I know for sure one of my triggers is stress. I'm a bit better with the panic issues, but I think that will resurface next semester. One thing I've noticed is that the first half of a semester always makes me overwhelmed and on edge about how I'm going to do and what my grades are going to be. I'm sure everyone goes through that, and I just have to remind myself that it will be ok and to take a deep breath and let it take its course. No pun intended.

Why is it that when a person takes a test they get things wrong that they know for certain? In checking a few things after the Spanish final, I realize I answered questions wrong that I knew how to do correctly. And, while taking the test, I knew something was wrong with my constructions. But, I just couldn't figure out what. That's really irritating.

My husband bought me a Sony Walkman digital media player for Christmas. Now, while this isn't an Earth shattering present, I am still none the less impressed with it. My old mp3 player, which, really wasn't that old but stopped working, used an SD card and had no internal memory to it. It also had a joystick like button thingy that was VERY annoying. After four years of banging around in my backpack, it finally completely broke. Or, well, the card became corrupted actually. I suppose I could have tried a new card, but honestly, I really wanted a new player. My new player boasts 8GB of memory and I've filled 6 gigs already. The reason why I bring this up (besides being excited by fun technology)is that I'm old enough to remember when the first Walkmans came out. The cassette playing Walkmans that were available with or without an FM radio. And they were HUGE. About the size of a Michener paperback and twice the weight, these portable players are the distant ancestors of the tiny, lightweight, sparkly-red player that I'm currently listening to. I believe I was a Junior in high school when my friend got one for her birthday. And I remember thinking at the time, "who needs to listen to music outside of their home?" The concept of putting headphones on and blocking other people from talking to you was so foreign to me that I really didn't think the "craze" was going to catch on. Transistor radios had been around for ages, and they sometimes had those white, one-ear plug devices with them, but for the most part headphones were something that TV announcers and military people wore. Wow, was I wrong. Sorry Patti.

I don't normally discuss my music tastes, but I'm currently enthralled with an 11 year old by the name of Jackie Evancho. I had seen her on a TV talent show and couldn't believe that someone that young and that small could produce the voice she has. She's now everywhere, and for good reason, and I hope that her life path is very successful and she can avoid the downside to growing up public. She has a true talent and perfect pitch which is very rare. As someone who only sings alone in the car (for good reason) I find it encouraging that beauty in voice can still be found.

I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and I hope that for the coming new year 2012 will prove to be a happier and less contentious year. 2011 will not be one of my better years and while I'm thankful for what I have, Terry's death and seeing Jill through this will forever leave a scar. Again, one of the things humans collect as they grow older. As to the contentious part, I really would like our government to just "get along" and stop acting like spoiled children fighting in the sand box. Enough already.

Perspectives

I have a coworker who is, from my perspective, a pain in the rear. I would like to be more harsh but I try to keep the vulgarities out of my vocabulary. This person has a life perspective that she is the center of the universe. Now if she were 5 years old, I guess I could understand why she would think that as most 5 year olds generally do have the perspective that they are the center of the universe. As with most companies in the United States, my work decided to split her job and give half of it to me and then have her go to the main hospital campus for the second half of her day. Basically, I'm doing something called job-sharing. She is in-house and I'm retail, but because I come from in-house and am still a Certified Pharmacy Technician, I can do both jobs. And, apparently I will be starting Monday. I'm thankful to still be employed. CSM let over 300 people go in 2011, five of them from pharmacy including my direct manager and the department director back in June. I could have easily been one of them, but because I am the only person doing the billing for the retail pharmacies, there was no one who could do both my job and theirs. However, the powers that be decided that two techs in the same room were one-half too many and pulled this coworker back to the main campus for half-days on my non-school days.

Now, this wasn't my idea. I had nothing to do with it, I didn't suggest it, nor do I wish to have her job. But, from her perspective, this coworker has decided to tell everyone she meets that I am out to get her job, her personally, and that my goal is to get her fired. She sees this maneuver on CSM's part as something I orchestrated, not the bean-counters in finance who decided that I could do one and a half jobs while she is just being pulled back to the main hospital for 4 hours. The outpatient site I work at has a large pharmacy room that is locked with just us two inside of it. I have my "office" on one half of the room, and she is on the other half. And, it probably doesn't help that we have a mutual dislike for each other. She pretends to "like" me, and I don't pretend to like her. I can tolerate her and civilly answer any questions she poses, but, to be honest, I just don't like her. I knew her from way back in my Columbia days, and when I was a newbie tech she flat out told another tech that "she (myself) doesn't know anything". I was standing in the same room with them when she said and she made no attempt to apologize or rephrase her statement. At that point, I decided I had no use for her and to this day I don't. But, that doesn't help me when she is convinced that I'm the reason she is being persecuted. Again, she thinks she is the center of the universe and why wouldn't I want her job? She considers this the "end of her life" and an "attack on her". I told her she was being overly dramatic and that maybe she needs to re-evaluate her outlook on life and consider herself lucky she still has a decent paying job.

So, I now have a 60 hour work week (my full time and her part time) position crammed into 40 hours. It has not once occurred to her that maybe she got the better end of the deal. I am actually looking forward to her leaving for half the day even though it means I have to fill in for those four hours. Silence is golden, and her leaving so I don't have to hear about how this is all a conspiracy against her will indeed be golden.

This has been one of the more difficult semesters I have had since returning to school. Spanish has been incredibly elusive for me and a huge struggle to learn. I still haven't mastered my panic when taking tests and did very bad on the last test we took. Luckily, we get to drop one test score for our grade and that will be the one I drop. I still don't understand what is going on and why I panic so, but it must be a confidence issue. This panic is something new for me and I have a new perspective on people that suffer from it in their daily lives. I certainly see enough medication moving out the door to treat this issue, but I always had the thought in the back of my head that they should just be able to take a deep breath and calm down. I know differently now and will never make that assumption again. I have two finals for Spanish class and I am absolutely dreading both of them. One is an oral final and the other is a written final. And I've been doing a fair amount of freaking out about them. The interesting thing however, is that we had to write a one page composition on a movie we watched and that presented no emotional issues for me. I sat down, wrote it, and did a fair job of it. Why? Why am I able to do that, and not answer questions on a test? We weren't allowed to use translators, or outside help from Spanish speaking friends or family, and could only use our notes, handouts, text books, and a few words from the dictionary. Yet this presented no issues for me. No drama of panic, no hysterical excuses, and certainly no migraines. I have no answer.

Our perspectives constantly and continually change in life. For the most part I want to think that is a good thing because shouldn't our perspectives become more acute as we age? Isn't it the trade off for gray hair, wrinkles, and sore backs? As we experience life and all it offers or takes away we should be learning something from our passage of time. There is a lesson for me and my panic somewhere and all I need to do is figure out what it is. Then, maybe, just maybe I can get back to being the stealer of jobs and general all-around evil orchestrater of all things bad to my coworker. Because I have nothing better to do than to make my life more difficult and time-pressed than it already is. But, that's my perspective.

Random things....

I applied for UW Milwaukee yesterday. If all goes well, I will start there for the summer term of 2012. I decided to major in English, as I've come to the realization that unless I get a Master's in Library Science, I won't really go anywhere in that world either. It will be the same as I have now where I've done all aspects of pharmacy without actually being a Pharmacist. I can go no further in that world, and I really don't want to be dealing with insurance companies for the next 25 years until I can retire. I am thinking of a minor in the Information Science and Technology program as I can see that being very useful in applying for a job where undoubtedly I will be using a computer beyond Microsoft Word. I don't see myself as an author, so I am thinking of following the technical writing/grant writing track. I've done a bit of both for both pharmacy and library jobs, and the pharmacy adopted the policies and procedures and the library got the grant so maybe I have some type of ability for that. The only down-side to this major is that I now have to take two semesters of a foreign language, as my one year of high school French doesn't fulfill the requirement. So, it's Spanish 101 and 105 for me, and these two semesters will be the death of me yet. I have NO ability for a language other than English, and I am stressing beyond normal because of it. I've had a panic attack and three migraines in a week and a half, and if I don't get this under control, I'm going to have a stroke.

I've spoken with my Spanish professor and he assures me I'll do fine. And so far on my tests, homework, and quizzes I have. But, I don't feel like I really understand what I'm trying to learn and that at some point (just like every college student has had this nightmare) a test will be plunked down in front of me and I will have no clue whatsoever. None. In fact, learning a foreign language is like having aura with a migraine. I know those are letters and words that should make some sense to me, but they don't. It might as well be shorthand, hieroglyphics, or Rorschach test cards for all the sense they make to me. And, almost all of the other students in my class have had several years of Spanish in high school so they are babbling happily away while I can barely tell them what my name is. When I questioned why the student I was paired up with was in this class and not third semester Spanish, his reply was, "it's an easy four credits." In English, of course, because I couldn't understand what he had said in Spanish. I asked him if he realized how much tuition he was wasting on something he already knew? (Four credits tuition and a $200 book) His blank look back at me said many things, amongst which was the fact that he probably wasn't paying for his tuition to begin with.

I'm going to start a protest against the protests. Enough already. Unless you have something that is really Earth shattering to protest against, I don't want to hear about it anymore. I worked minimum wage jobs for years until I worked my way up to where I am now. There's no reason why anyone else shouldn't be able to do the same thing. There is no guarantee in this life that you will be provided for no matter what. And, there shouldn't be either. I don't expect my tuition to be paid for, and as a tax payer, home owner, and student I get to pay twice so maybe I should protest against that. Hmm, it's an idea.

The way I see it, the only ones winning with all these protests are the sign making shops.

Bad cop

I need to get this out of my system. As I've mentioned before in this blog, I do a great quantity of freeway driving. Today was no different. I left work at noon, headed to Sheboygan for my afternoon classes and while driving north on I-43 had a car nearly run me off the road and out of the left lane. I was passing a slower vehicle that was in the right lane, and was waiting for a comfortable distance before pulling back into the right lane. When I looked into my rear view mirror, I knew immediately that a police officer of some sort was the offending driver. I'm always suspicious of Ford Crown Victoria's, and this one was all black with various antenna's all over it; a sure sign of authority. I scooted over into the right lane and Mr. Nipper went flying by, without lights and siren, by the way.

This happened around the Port Washington area. The stretch of freeway from Port to Sheboygan is relatively flat, boring, and unremarkable, so I was able to watch Mr. Nipper and his lead foot gallop miles ahead. No lights, no siren, nothing to indicate he was on an emergency run. When I exited the freeway at Hwy. 28 in Sheboygan, whom do I see waiting at the red light? Yep, Mr. Leadfoot McNipper. He was in the LEFT right turn lane. You know, the one that has a special sign that tells drivers they can't turn right from that lane? Well, guess what Mr. Nipper does. Exactly that. And, as I watch him, he cuts across all the lanes of traffic to turn left on to Taylor drive. I get the green arrow and once again, find myself caught up with him waiting for another arrow to turn onto Taylor. I look over at him, and I am at a complete loss as to how this arrogant jerk gets to be the judge of other drivers.

If he had been on an emergency call, he gets to do pretty much what he needs to do within limits. But he wasn't on an emergency call and as such is subject to the EXACT same driving rules everyone else must obey. If I had done the exact same maneuvers he had done, I would find myself tonight with multiple fines and several points assessed to my license. And, I can't even report this yahoo because the car was completely unmarked, and had a regular license plate with no identifying organization on it. State Patrol? Ozaukee County? Sheboygan County? Milwaukee County? Any number of municipals? Federal? Who knows?? Which brings me to the point: How do you behave when no one can identify you? Do you barrel down on a 2007 Martrix with a police interceptor engine (I know this because it had a plate saying exactly that on the edge of the trunk) just because it somehow soothes your ego? Not much competition there. At 165 horsepower, I can barely merge onto the freeway at times, but it gets great gas mileage. Then, disobey the speed limit not only on the freeway, but through a construction zone and then ignore the posted traffic law signs. Yet, in the course of his job, this "officer" is going to write tickets to the public who have done exactly what he has willfully done without just cause.

I expect more from people who should be setting good examples. If a person freely chooses to become an officer of the law, I expect that while in the car the tax-payers have bought, doing a job the tax-payers pay for, and "should" be an expert in the area where the tax-payers need an impartial judgement of behaviors. Again, I ask. Would Mr. Leadfoot McNipper have let me do the exact same things he did this afternoon?

Snap! Sizzle! Fire Extinguisher!

Are the choices we make in life based on free will or the concept of free will? Consider the lowly light bulb. Basically, a hollow, glass globe that when electrified turns white hot producing light. Simple enough and since its invention it has basically stayed the same. There have been some advances in durability, the color and clarity of the light, and some different shapes. However, starting in 2012, this lowly device will begin to fade and disappear only to be replaced by compact fluorescent bulbs. My free will choice is to buy the traditional bulb because my experience with CFBs has been nothing but entirely negative and soon I will only have the concept of free will choice of which brand CFB I’d like to buy.

First, I hate the color of the light these bulbs give off. The sickly, yellowish harsh lighting is ghastly. My husband and I replaced five dining room lights and three kitchen lights with CFBs only to reel in disgust when we turned them on. We decided that we’d give them a try since all the propaganda, er, information on them tells us that they are the bee’s knees for the environment. And, slowly, as time went by, we no longer mumbled in disgust when we would turn the lights on.

Second, CFBs have mercury in them. Now, when the first bulb burned out, and more on that in a bit, I dutifully took it out and replaced it with another CFB and tossed the burned-out bulb in the garbage just like you would with any other traditional bulb. Then, several weeks later, I heard that they contained mercury and should never be thrown in the regular trash. WHAT? How did society go from using a regular bulb that doesn’t contain mercury – a substance that many businesses and facilities are trying very hard to eradicate from their practices – to endorsing the next best thing in lighting that actually contains what is a banned substance in many states? AND making the decision that the public shouldn’t have the free will to purchase whichever bulb they would like, but to make them purchase CFBs simply because traditional bulbs can no longer be made and sold?

Third, CFBs catch on fire. I know this because I have had three of them catch on fire. We have been incredibly lucky in that my husband, myself, or both of us have been home and standing by the light fixture when the bulb went on its little self-destruct mission. It begins by making a snapping and buzzing sound, quickly followed by wisps of smoke that come barreling out of the ballast part of the bulb and then, the God-awful stench of toxic ingredients of whatever those things are made of. It is enough to make me retch while trying to find a pot holder so that I don’t get third degree burns while trying to save my house from burning down.

On retrospect, I’m a bit befuddled why I gave the things THREE tries before I pulled them all out and put regular bulbs back into my fixtures. My free will however, is chosen for me because I won’t be able to buy the safe, traditional bulbs within the next few years. Why? Because we are saving the planet from safe light bulbs in favor of mercury containing bulbs of rage that want nothing more than to burn my house down and I no longer have free will of choice. What if we had left either light fixture on and left for a few minutes? It happened with both of my fixtures and with different sockets so there’s no real chance that it was just one defective socket or fixture. Besides, I never had this problem with the traditional bulbs. POP! And that’s it. No fire, no smoke, no hysterics, and no screaming for the fire extinguisher.

I hate the fact that I will no longer have the free will to buy bulbs that will not burn my house down or that I can toss in the garbage without worrying that I’m poisoning the Earth. Yes, I know all of the arguments about how much coal is burned (also releasing some mercury vapor into the air) to light a traditional bulb, but I’ve never had to worry that I would find my house a burned-out shell because I left a light on. Also, isn’t the same coal being burned to now light the mercury containing bulb that would have lit a traditional bulb? Doesn’t that mean there’s even more mercury being released into the environment because I seriously doubt that Mr. and Mrs. John and Jane Doe will actually go to their local country hazardous waste dump day to get rid of the CFBs? I want to know why free will of choice of bulbs can not be market driven. Why are laws being made and passed in favor of CFBs when the buying public is perfectly capable of choosing which bulb they would like? And where will those lawmakers be when my house is ashes?

As a society, we live by rules both real and implied. Some things are chosen for us because of real concerns or safety. You don’t have the free will to yell fire in the crowded place unless, well, a CFB is burning out and it is actually on fire. You don’t have the free will to walk around punching people without suffering repercussions: Either by law enforcement or by someone retaliating and punching you back. And you certainly won’t have the free will, in the years to come, to purchase a light bulb that will only burn out and not start your house on fire. That decision has been made for us. And one last thing: As my house burns to the ground, doesn’t that release toxic and greenhouse gases too? So, now I have mercury bulbs that will be even more toxic as I lose everything I’ve worked for. Yeah, sounds about right. I guess then, I will have the free will choice of finding a builder to do it all over again.

Terry

Left to right: Best man Mark, Jill, Terry and myself. Photo copyright Pat Goetzinger

I was Jill and Terry's matron of honor at their wedding on June 13th 1998. This past Monday, July 18th 2011, I attended his memorial and watched my best friend since the third grade greet people for almost four hours straight who had come to express their condolences. It was heart-breaking, but she managed to greet everyone with a smile and a hug while listening to the story they wished to impart to her. Knowing the entire story of his illness, I was amazed that Jill could still function enough to make sure that she greeted everyone and visited with them after the receiving line finally ended. Terry struggled for over two years with kidney cancer and Jill was his caretaker throughout the entire struggle. She had some help with Hospice a few weeks at the end, and Terry passed away at his home with Jill by his side.

Terry was a very popular person, especially in the Milwaukee music scene. He co-founded the band Those XCleavers in the 1980's and recorded a few records and had several hits that had national play. I know this because I helped Jill sort through the multitudes of news articles and band posters four days before he died. She was stressed about getting the scrapbooks in order for the "party" as she called it, and with mine and Natalie's help we got it done. We had five three ring binders filled with all of the band stuff from not only XClevers and a few others, but also his reggae bands Road Damage, Kojo, and his last band King Solomon. The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel did a wonderful article and obituary for him and here are the links:

http://www.jsonline.com/multimedia/photos/125667883.html

http://www.jsonline.com/news/obituaries/125673893.html

I knew Terry from a different point of view than most of his friends and fans. As Jill's friend, I knew him without the popularity attached to him. My husband Scott would often help Jill with her computer woes, and I would usually be in their living room watching tv and working on a quilt or beading project. If Terry didn't have a gig or band practice that night, he would plunk down beside me on the couch and we'd find something to watch. He often asked about the project I was working on, and even though I knew he may not have been interested in it, he would pay attention through my entire story and often asked questions about the project. On one occasion I was binding a quilt. He and I were watching tv and eventually we both fell asleep under the quilt. Hey, it was late at night, we'd both worked our day jobs (he was a VP at Educator's Credit Union) and it was a really warm quilt in the middle of winter. It was hilarious to all of us when Jill and Scott walked into the room and Terry and I were sacked out under the quilt.

One of many quilting nights at Jill and Terry's. The quilt I made for them for their wedding is behind our heads (backing material).

On a different evening, I got a detailed lesson on how to care for and repair an electric guitar. I am by no means an expert or even knowledgeable about guitars, but I do know the name Fender Stratocaster. Terry's was a red and white one that had seen many, many performances and he fixed the base area where the strings are attached on the guitar body with, of all things, the spring from a ball point clickey pen. Once he showed me all the parts, how they worked together, and cleaned everything I was privy to a personal concert of several of his songs.

To know a popular or famous person not for what they are known for, but because they are a good friend's spouse is a unique point of view that I never really realized until his memorial. There were several hundred people who showed up, and was certainly the biggest funeral or memorial I've ever been too. Jill had several monitors up and running that were showing his various band's videos, concerts, and gigs. She also had a few of them showing pictures of friends and family and the "normal" pictures everyone acquires in a lifetime. Family, friends, vacations, wedding, and candid pics. Scott and I were included in those photos and it was an odd reaction to see the people next to me, then turn and look at me and ask how I knew him and Jill when they never saw me at gigs or other "Milwaukee" events. I had gone to several of them, but schedules and distance made attending gigs somewhat difficult. Hence, other than the close friend and parent circle no one knew Scott or I, but we were elevated to the inner circle.

Terry was also a story-teller. He had plethora of stories that were incredible and entertaining. As I have that same tendency to "collect" stories, I loved listening to him relate an episode that was sure to have a really good ending. Because of who he was, he had many of them, and like all musicians, they are really good stories. So, thanks Terry, for the memories and the stories, I will never be able to look at another electric guitar without thinking of pen springs and the amp you made from a red plastic gas can. That was a very good story too.

Something nice

This past Tuesday night (May 3rd) I received an Outstanding English Student award from UW-Sheboygan Faculty. I was informed that I had been selected for an Honor about two weeks before, but the school kept it secret and only tells the students about their Honors on the night of the presentations. Ever since 2008 when I went back to school, I've never really had the chance to become really active on campus. A full time job, a house to run, a husband, friends, and lots and lots of studying somehow prevented my involvement. So, it was a shock to me when I was told it was an award given to me my by professors. I was stunned they even remembered me. I have no illusions that somehow every one of my professors remember who I am as they see so many students pass through that how could they? So when Student Services informed me of this, I first thought it was a mistake, then a practical joke, and then just shock.

I still have a hard time considering myself a "good" student. As I've mentioned before, my first year of college was well, not a full-blown disaster, but I was suspended for one semester for crappy grades. I just never went back until 2008; 20 some years later. My English 102 professor, Azor Cigelske had his class start a blog for weekly assignments, and even though I'm not a faithful contributer now that that semester has long ended, it does help with venting on the occasion and with keeping up my writing skills. At the presentation ceremony, he said very nice things about me and I'm still stunned that he would remember me after all the semesters of students coming and going. However, his class was one of two that were my first classes back, and it had been a very long time since I had written a college paper, or any paper for that matter. If I had done poorly in that class and the algebra class I was also taking, I wouldn't have continued on with my college studies. They were my litmus classes and thankfully I did very well in them and received encouragement from both professors to restore enough of my confidence to continue on. I seriously doubt that either now or at the time either one of them knew how much I had placed in their professional judgement of my work as to my "worthiness" to be a college student.

So, thank you Azor for not only the very nice things you wrote about me at the Honors Convocation, but for giving me enough confidence to continue on. It was a huge decision for me to go back, but ultimately I know that I will be very happy I did and am able to, albeit late, correct a life mistake that would have had me regretting and doubting myself forever.

Time flies...

So, it's been several months since my last post, but that probably doesn't matter as no one reads this anyway. I've just re-read my last two posts, and since then I've moved to my new office at River Woods and have quit working at the library. The move was sad, and working 44 hours a week was fine until school started. I thought I was doing ok with that schedule until I got a B on a test that I should have gotten an A on and realized that I wasn't studying enough and was slipping into a funk of apathy. Probably not the best combination. Apparently unwilling to cut my bonds with my old work life, I quit the library. This decision still bothers me and makes me wonder how serious I really am with changing jobs.

My office moved into a large work room that also has my boss in a smaller office sectioned out and a coworker from the in-house pharmacy on the other half of the room. I hate it. I miss my office at Columbia something fierce. My job requires a certain level of studying and reading Medicare rules and policies which, believe it or not, I prefer to have silence when trying to figure out if some of the government-speak applies to my billing or not. This past week, there were two technicians that were covering for the regular technician that decided they could watch downloaded episodes of "Sex in the City" on an iPad while on work hours. I have never known a job where that would be acceptable unless the person is a critic writing a review of the show. I personally have never watched the show although I do know of it just from popular culture and awareness of the show and movie as an entertainment venue. As I was sitting at my desk reading about the fascinating details of ICD-10 codes and modifiers to HCPCS codes, dialog and sounds that are best left to private moments of our lives was blasting throughout the room for all to hear. It was just annoying when it was the regular parts of the show blaring, but THOSE parts of the show blaring was just indescribable for a workplace setting. I thought for sure my boss would come out of his office and tell them to shut it off. He didn't. When I asked him about it later, he claims he didn't hear it.

How do we stand each other as a human race when we can't stand each other as individuals? These two St. Mary's individuals for a good portion of the day had a running commentary on how stupid and incompetent the Columbia people are. The full merger of Columbia St. Mary's happened in mid-October and since then it has been an "us versus them" mode of thinking. As a former Columbia employee, I took great offense at this running commentary and was mystified why they thought it perfectly acceptable to bad-mouth Columbia employees with myself sitting just a few feet away. After several hours of this, I finally reminded them that I was a Columbia employee and didn't appreciate their bad-mouthing us. I remarked that maybe if the tables were turned and they were the ones to be refugees, they might not feel so smug and content with their lot in working life. They looked as if I struck them with a bat and that the concept of them losing there secure work environment never once occurred to them. Yet, management would have us believe that we are one big happy family and that there is no "us versus them".

At what point do the decisions in life become easy, or easier? I'm still wrestling with my decision to get my Bachelor's degree. I really don't know what to do, what I want to do, or if I want to do anything. I recognize what the last of those statements mean, and it bothers me. I'm beginning to wonder if I should just stick it out and count the years to retirement? And is this all that there is? I keep asking myself the following question: With no barriers to block the way, and knowing that I could have an instant change with no consequences, what would I be? Just like asking a kid, only I don't have an answer. I really don't know. The same thought keeps coming back to my. What happens when a person gets what they want and it becomes the same day-in day-out routine that I have now? Will it just be more tolerable?

I guess that's enough life pondering for another Sunday night. After all, the same draining routine starts again tomorrow and I will no doubt be pondering the same thoughts as I sit down in my communal corner and once again try to decipher the wonderful world of billing and coding.