jookitcz: (Default)
I received the results for my most recent (third) actuarial exam, the MFE. 3 out of 10, where passing is a six. I am unsurprised, but hugely disheartened. There is nothing like failing at something that you work very hard at, but don't actually care about.

I used to feel fine about stumbling at my job, because I felt like my job was really difficult, and stumbling was to be expected. A year later, though, when most of my stumbles are the result of missing details (oh, I needed to adjust the coding to apply the prepayment credit to each of the quarterly required contributions because it now covers all four after removing the 413 adjustment? how did I not see that?) I just feel like I am secretly a brain-dead zombie, all the time. Like my real brain is wrapped in wax and suffocating.

The problem is this: working as an actuary is the best decision I could possibly make. I am so lucky to have this job! I am in the 99th percentile of being infinitely fortunate! I work in a beautiful building with reasonable people making a pretty fantastic starting salary for someone with only a bachelor's degree with a huge potential for earning promotions and raises and all that.

I also feel like I enter a stasis pod for nine hours a day, five days a week, in which I am conscious but not really alive.

It is possible that I am a spoiled brat who misinterprets her self-imposed discontent as a desire for abstracts like "meaningful interactions" or "intellectual fulfillment." Possibly, I am just too lazy.
jookitcz: (Default)
I was going to say, "It's not you, it's me."  But maybe it is you, Livejournal.  Here I was, wondering why I was putting up with advertisements that play in the middle of my page instead of just keeping it to a Basic account, and then I discovered, I am already as basic as it gets.  I have to say, I am not sure that I like this side of you.  And it's not that I'm into Facebook--you can understand why I spend time over there, right?  It's totally platonic.  Everyone else is doing it.  But I don't know if we can make this work.  I don't know if we can get back to the magic we once shared.

After attending the gorgeous, soul-enriching wedding of two friends and returning home to discover that my mom has decided to treat me with silent hostility (the cause of which I have not yet determined.  I'm sure there must be one, other than my returning from the wedding later in the day than she expected--that's all the reason I've gotten, but there must be more?) the world is dim and cool and my job (thank god I have a job I am grateful for my job) has taken one more day from me, one more day that I fumble through my own gauzy wrappings of incompetence on the slow crawl to master tasks that have no meaning to me besides the mathematical, legislative, logical, and organizational challenges that they present.  Another diverting, difficult, and empty day.  

And when I get home, twelve hours after I leave in the morning, I get only "Are you going to eat?" from my mom, and then, later, "Move this box into that room."  My dad and brother are no less sociable than their respective engrossing tasks allow them to be, and don't scowl.  

But just last week I was thinking how lucky am I to get along so well with my nearest kin, to make the stasis of living with them comfortably engaging! 

They are utterly within their rights.  Another couple hours of living in my head alone won't kill me.

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jookitcz

July 2010

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