More porn than you can shake a stick at*

Well, it just happened.

The last of the good-byes, the final jerk that ripped off the band-aid of Transition that has been pulling my hair out by the roots for lo these four months. My bosses, the directors, officially... don't work here anymore. And I, officially in every way imaginable, am the Managing Director of this humble institution. I have the desk, the business cards, the key, and above all the responsibility. This is the biggest thing that has ever been on my shoulders.

I have no idea how Atlas managed to shrug.

Their parting words to me were "Jess, you are the right person for this job. We know you can do it." This, of course, has been my most profound fear and my most perplexed question: why me, of all people? I never said I wanted this job. In fact, I only ever said I didn't, and I meant it. I don't have any experience in running any sort of organization except my own pathetic little household of one; this is my first "real" job, for Pete's sake. What could they possibly see in me that makes them think I could - and what's more, should - do this? Sitting here in my office with Missions Impossible:1 and 2 and all of their evil progeny coming at me from all possible directions, clamoring for energy I no longer have, I just don't see it.

Supposedly, the permanent version of my current position (i.e. my successor) is the most sought-after international position right now. (WTF? Do people think this is glamorous or something?) Most days, as I lie in bed giving myself the obligatory "Yes, you do have to get up, yes I know you already got up every single day this week, you still have to do it today, too" pep talk, I think... if all these people want my job, well... they can have it. Tfadaloo!

When I am very honest with myself and evaluate my abilities from the most objective possible viewpoint, I see that really, I have been doing this work all along: at first just in random bits and pieces, but later on I really did start to piece together the big picture and get a handle on the details. But still. Just because I get it doesn't mean I can do it. This job is a rollercoaster on crack, endlessly speeding up, relentlessly twisting and churning and flipping me upside down until I scream for mercy... and you can't make it stop. Almost every day I add another notch to our belt, another program to our calendar, another straw to the camel's back. And the carny cranks up the speed just a little bit more, and I hold on even more determinedly.

So, here I sit, a writhing, dialectic admixture of "let me outta here!" and "bring it on, bitch!" I guess we'll see who wins.


*Ok, so the title doesn't really match the post, but the line was so good that I promised myself I'd use it as the headline for my next blog entry. And there you have it.