Profession(al)

For the past nine and an half years, I have called myself a community organizer. To be more specific, I was a union organizer, a Jewish community professional, and a food justice community organizer.

In two weeks time, I will hold my first for-profit job since 2000, and that was undoubtedly one of the weirdest jobs I've ever had--dubious distinction amongst the doozies I've had over the years.

I'm of two minds about entering a workplace where my job is to make more money for the company, and in turn, myself. There is a certain appeal to being able to pay my regular bills, fix things that need fixing on my car and home, and have enough left over to take a vacation to a warm beach, visit friends in states more than a day's drive from Nashville, and give to my favorite charities in a more meaningful way.

On the flip side, my identity has been tied inextricably to being a community organizer. It was my profession, as well as my philosophy. As I declare my amateur rabble-rouser status, I look forward to weaving my community organizing skills into my new professional role.

Wish me luck!

Five years and blogging

I'm not totally sure how I managed to start a blog and totally forget about it immediately...as predicted in my first post. Guess I know myself better than I think I do.

Despite my best intentions, writing on a daily, weekly, or monthly basis has not been a lifelong habit. Countless partially-filled journals, diaries and sketchbooks in my closets, garage and on bookshelves are the sad, discarded truth of my ego abandonment. So, I thought I'd give the electronic version another try. Oh, wait. That's what Facebook is! Ego saved.

Next time, maybe I'll tell you about my crazy acupuncture hallucinations (today's included hands and arms wrung out like a wet towel, my chest turning into a bellows, and jonquils blooming out of my mouth).