Big 8 of Cups Energy
I gave up Goonhilda for Lent for the last time.
Gave up really isn’t right. Released. Yeah, that’s it.
Actually I took my final peek at her Twatter account when I read that she wore a tank top and tights to a colleague’s party. No skirt or pants or anything.
And here I was thinking that it was going to be her chronic complaining about the people at work that would get her to go private. Sheet, it was her dressing like a damn foo that did me in.
I didn’t even see any photos, if there was any sort of photographic evidence. Christ I hope not.
Speaking of work, every single time I ask tarot how to be happier there, I pull the 8 of Cups. The biggest and most blaring sign to walk away in the entire deck.
I won’t talk about any of it here. I mean, it’s all fine and nothing is unusual.
That’s what happened the last time I kept pulling the 8C about the job — it was the same hamster wheel of crisis.
This time around, I’m wise enough to realize it’s not that I’m overwhelmed but rather that I’m under resourced.
Sure I have a lot of staff now. But they are not me. I mean I have some rock stars. Rock fucking stars, man. But I also have someone who whines when they have to accommodate 1-2 pieces of the project when I’m taking 7-8 on top of supervising 20-odd people and attending All The Meetings.
I’m not comparing woes. I’m just saying that I may have the staff but I don’t have the SKILLED staff to take over these projects on the moronically short deadlines we’re expected to produce them under.
Anyway, I think a lot about what I’d do next. Or where. We already learned that I can’t function outside of there. What makes me think going into a completely different field would work out any better than my attempts to move around within it?