Unsolicited Advice

I've just quit a horrible job. It didn't start horrible. It was a seasonal gig. I re-upped for several years because it was a lot of fun, and I got to work with artsy weirdos. But I've spent the past few months having an extended conversation with them that can be summarized, from my point of view, thusly: Me: So, you keep asking me to do things that are physically impossible, like cover the job duties for 2-3 separate positions by myself. You also keep asking me to do things that I am sincerely not comfortable with, like asking me to give additional on-the-job training and directions to my own brand-new supervisor. You would never ask this of any of my coworkers. Please quit asking me. Them: You're right, we would never ask your coworkers to do this. Because of turnover, you have been here many years longer than any of them, a situation which we have chosen not to reflect upon in the slightest. You can look forward to more of the same, indefinitely. Me: If yo

I don't deal with avoidant people much. They tend to avoid me. I generally feel it's kinder to let them. Someone who refuses to assume they know what other people are thinking unless told, and someone who would rather swallow their own tongue than state their wants outright is a bad combination, and makes everyone unhappy. And yet, I seem to have a friend who is like this. The first time I did something that rubbed them the wrong way, they let me go on doing it forever, not only not telling me, but doing their damndest to make sure I didn't notice anything was wrong. When they finally did say something, they had an honest-to-God panic attack right in front of me, and disintegrated so badly I couldn't tell if they were afraid I would quit talking to them over this, or afraid that I wouldn't. To their credit, they were completely aware that this should have been no big deal, and it was their anxiety that had made it snowball so badly; but on the other hand, if it wa

I'm not very good at asking for comfort. One reason is that I learned very early on that no one was responsible for coddling me. Asking people to do it anyway was a great way to get disappointed, if not yelled at. Another reason is that... well, it doesn't help much. I don't generally verbalize things to other people until they have grown to a serious, obstructive Problem, which hugging does nothing concrete to alleviate. The only problem you can fix with hugging is the problem of "I have been insufficiently hugged today." Inasmuch as I do have friends, and many of them are in the performing arts, this is not a state of affairs that persists long enough to be an issue. People in theater will hug you because you're arriving, or departing, or remaining, or happy, or sad, or nervous, or because you've broken up with someone, or just because it happens to be a Wednesday in the month before the spring equinox just before the full moon. I've any number o

Every year, I give myself until the end of January to figure out my new year's resolutions. This prevents me from trying to take stock of my entire life while I'm still exhausted and sad from the six-week Festival of Consumerism And Family Joy, and concluding that I'm a terrible person and need to burn it all down to the ground. I always try to fix everything at once, and that... does not work. This year, one of my small stupid resolutions is to finish a senbazuru . Senbazuru are the "thousand paper cranes" of Japanese folklore, usually tied together in twenty-five strings of forty cranes each. They are perhaps most familiar to Westerners from the story of Sasaki Sadako , a young hibakusha -- survivor of the atomic bombings -- who developed leukemia some years later, and began folding cranes out of scrap paper while she was in the hospital. She finished 644 birds before passing away. Her classmates finished the rest. A statue of Sadako stands in Hiroshima t