bronte parte deux (trois? neuf? cinqante?)

i've been struggling over what to write today, for some reason. i think that i'm feeling really disconnected from myself these past couple of weeks, and so there's all sorts of turgid thought and emotion roiling around in my head, but very little of it is making it to the surface. so, forgive me gentle readers.. i know not what i do.

i think that i need to go travel for a bit.. i need to fill my tank with gas and drive for about 3 hours, stop at a cool spot, get a room overlooking some water within walking distance of a good cafe that opens early, pull out my book and settle in for about a week. then, when i come out on the other side, i'll have a bit of clarity over who i am and where i want to be right now. that or i'll be so content that i'll just never leave - i'll get a job at the little cafe making muffins, soup and cinammon buns and be delighted my new small town life.

is it a bad thing that, really, all i want is a job where i bake and make soup for people in a small spot with tonnes of characters to talk to? where i can play cool music and have great magazines left about, where people come to hang out and have a good meal, where teenagers dressed in black come to scribble in their notebooks, drink espresso and chew on black painted fingernails?

mr. married looked at me over lunch in the cafeteria yesterday and said "you are so not right for this place... you are good at your job because, honestly, i think you would be good at anything you tried, but this isn't for you. you are going to quit, unless there is a major change in the structure of your department - it's just a matter of time." smart man, is mr. married. now i just have to find an alternative plan.