| Apr. 29th, 2009 @ 12:13 pm Back to Work |
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Once again, I have a job, through a temp agency. It's part-time, has bad hours, and is only a contract thing, but at least it's honest work.
This might be a good time to answer that big question about my last job, as curator of the planetarium in Macon, Georgia. If it was such a good job, and it bettered the community, and I enjoyed doing it, and it would have been secure until the museum itself was shuttered, why did I walk away?
I had something profound I was going to write here, drawing upon an allegory from another professional, who spent his life doing what he most enjoyed and paid a price, but as I researched further into that individual's circumstances, it is clear that I don't have all the facts, and it would be inappropriate here for me to relate his story, his name, or even his profession. Look, it's like this: he did a good thing, which enriched the lives of millions. He kept at it as long as was physically possible, and even after his death, his work is still celebrated today.
And he had a wife, who spent the duration of their marriage knowing she would always be the second-most-important thing, after his work.
I've often thought about how sad that home must have been.
I had a job once, that I enjoyed immensely. Seriously, the only job more awesome than working in a planetarium, is working as a Mythbuster. About a year after I started, I met Tim. In those days, we would drive 2-1/2 hours to see each other. We generally worked it out to take turns driving to each other's cities every other weekend or so. About twice a year, we'd try to schedule a weeklong vacation. Sometimes there was an event, maybe a concert in Atlanta, and we'd see each other two weekends in a row. Other times, one of us might have obligations at work, or with our own families, and we'd have to put off our time together for more than two weeks. Occasionally we were even apart as long as a month.
And then, even when we were together, work crept in. The museum had family days, and observatory nights. And any time my helpers couldn't come in for the shows, I had to pick up the slack. I dreaded getting that Sunday morning call, when my weekend help had yet another flat tire (how many tires did that damn truck have, anyway?). Or five minutes into a known showtime, when he would call about a burned-out projector bulb, or a wrong slide tray, or he forgot to keep breathing and his head fell off. Tim will tell you: I am still conditioned to mutter, "Aw, SHIT!" every time my cell phone rings. Sometimes Tim would go with me to the museum, and sit with the computer in my office while I did shows. Sometimes, he would doze in the front row. Other times, I would leave him at home with a key and the TV as I headed out.
All of this troubled me. I was torn between my work, and the love of my life. Work was the only thing keeping me in Macon (the fact that my mother lives there is beside the point; I lost her a long time ago). But if I had lost the planetarium, I would've gone to Augusta to stay.
So I walked away from the planetarium because I never wanted my man to think anything else in my life came before him. I knew there would be consequences. I knew my career would be set back years, to say nothing of my savings. And I still don't know how everything is going to shake out. But so far, it's totally been worth it.
I have a job now, that I don't especially like. And I am thankful for that fact, because there is no question that it will ever compete with what I love most. |
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