Lachrymose Matters and Eventually a Lesson in Panbiodoros--The Division of Renjitsu that Deals with ArtScience

I just returned from a staff "retreat" that began at 8:45 this morning. [We "retreated" to a large painting studio on the second floor; breakfast and lunch was provided. No massages or facials.] Despite my bitchy bitterness I realized during the meeting that I do truly love this job. Sure, the pay is shit. Even crappy Southern Oregon University pays their Library Assistants about $12 per hour and the Eugene Public library pays their "paraprofessionals" $13.89-$17.30 per hour. I make $9.25. Yeah. [oh wait, I think I now make $9.48 with the "cost-of-living" increase.]

Sincerely though, I really like some of the people who work here and I feel that my job is important. I am proud of the work I do and the way that we, in the library, support the entire institution. 'Tis a sad thing when an expensive, private art school can not pay its staff adequately, provide up-to-date technology, or draw esteemed faculty.

Which reminds me... This all comes after a severe disappointment--in myself and the world. I recently learned that a colleague and her husband are moving to L.A. The husband works for the local museum. In the library. [I have desperately applied for two jobs at said museum in the last year.] Well, two positions opened up and I intended to apply for both of them. Weeeeeell, I, being the idiot-busy-procrastinator that I am, waited too long. I wrote two beautiful and heart-felt cover letters, but that same day, the online applications were removed. Through e-mail correspondence with the library director, I found that they were not accepting any more applications because they already had received 95. I did not even have the chance to apply to my dream job. Why? Because I suck. Ach, that bites. [Of course, I mean that literally, not like a surfer.]

What is the lesson here, Saturn? Are you gnawing on my ass so that I will focus on graduate school? Is that horrible pinching sensation in my thorax a reminder that I am not a teenager anymore and therefore must work harder, faster, smarter for anything that I want? I still haven't told my mom about the job situation because the day before The Disappointment she was prodding me to submit my applications while instead I was reading Harry Potter.

So to quell and/or stifle the pain of my loserhood I choose to immerse myself in creative projects and try to weasel a promotion at my current job. Brain juices were stewing last night as I thought of all the deliciously creative people I know and then decided to make them all come together in a glorious and spaztastic orgy of art. By the way, I just found out that there's a part of the human brain called the Arachnoid granulations (Number 2 on the diagram below.) I think that the juices that stewed were the fluids in the Interpeduncular cistern (number 14) because I believe that my creativity is deeply embedded in the center of my grey-wad. Why do I believe this?

Postulation:
If my creativity came from the cerebrospinal fluid contained in the cerebellomedullary cistern, or cisterna magna (number 22), then it would be a hell of a lot easier to access.