unlabor

It is Labor Day once again. 
I can just barely recall last year's. Today, I am excelling at doing nothing at all; although, I have myself beat in comparison to the past. Sure, I may be doing little more at the moment than listening to music and eating gummy bears, but I am actually dressed and back from the corner with milk and a kale, lemon and beet juice. Great feats.
I will be dog sitting for the next few days for a friend back in the old hood of Park Slope. She is happy and fluffy, white with big cinnamon spots. She is appropriately named Ginger.


In the past month, I changed business addresses from 845 Madison to 845 Third.
I started my new job as Coordinator of Leadership Development Programs at a not-for-profit, not a non-profit. There is a difference, I've learned.      
For the last several weeks, I have been reading all the new material on and relevant to the organization (and sitting in meetings about Intangible Assets and how to factor in their worth to a company's market value) and studying said programs for which I must soon coordinate. So. Blah blah, metrics, yadda yadda economic jargon jargon jargon. 
 It is obvious I still do not comprehend in full the whole intricate web of This new organization and its members, so I will explain it better once I know it better.
I know I never would have even dreamed myself in a position at a place such as this, but it is just another thing to learn, and the environment is much more kind to me than my last. I am able to do lots of research; I like research. All this drowning helps divert my brain from other sad-sappy-suckerish things, so for that, I guess I am a little grateful. 
Shifting my focus, I'd like to help change something. And finding out why the Fed is interested on my organization's psychology theories of Leadership is one of them. I would like to foil their plan so damn hard, whatever that may be. 
In a way, I feel more and more like Ron Swanson, lately. 
Also, I attended a 9/11 Memorial city cruise put on by the Constitutionalist party and the John Birch Society. During the lunch portion, I sat next to a Pennsylvanian that looked a helluvalot like Roy Scheider.