Untitled

It's been awhile since I've written, partly because I've been busy but mostly because I've felt uninspired. But don't think this is so because I'm sad. I'm not. I'm happy and hopeful for the first time in a long time. I'm starting a new job in mid-July and moving in with Neil. I'm excited about getting a new apartment together and maybe even getting a dog. Of course, because I'm me, I can't only be happy and hopeful and excited - there must be some anxiety and complex mixed emotions that go along with any life change, no matter how positive that change may be. I always liked to think of myself as unique and quirky and special. This job fits in with that image of myself fairly nicely. I'm the only girl on this rig, and while I don't like to be stared at 24/7 (not in a perverse way, just pure curiosity), I do get immense please out of knowing that I'm doing something completely different from everyone I've ever known. I like working with my hands and getting dirty and not bathing for too long and knowing when I need to use a pipe wrench or needlenose plyers or allen keys and I like that I actually need to use them. Who I am on the rig is so completely unlike who I am on my days off or who I was before this job. And it makes me sad that my family and friends will never see that side of me -- the person that's able to give technical instructions to a group of grown blue collar men and have them listen, and the person that knows how to fix and perform maintenance on million dollar equipment. In the past two months I've finally reached that level of competence that I hoped I would before I quit this job. I'm super helpful and skilled and know what to do in most every situation; I don't need many instructions.

And yet I'm quitting, right when I've achieved all of this. When I return to Maryland I'll have this technical knowledge that isn't of any use outside of the oilfield, and that person who I've become because of this job...she'll be gone and no one where I'm going will have ever known her. I'm scared of becoming painfully average: riding the metro to work, wearing sensible heels, shaving my legs more than once every two weeks. Fuck.

As I'm writing this I realize I'm making my current life seem awesome and my future-DC life seem horrible, but that's just me getting nostalgic and melodramatic. The truth is that most of the time on this rig and off it, I'm lonely and aware that I'm not within 1000 miles of anyone that loves me. And a lot of the times being on the rig is rewarding, but many times it's so stressful that I can barely stand it and think about jumping off the side. Right now, I'm in the ideal point in my field engineer career--I'm good at my job and help out the day hand, I know what needs to be done without being told, but when shit hits the fan I can wake up my day hand and we troubleshoot the issue together. The responsibility lies on him, and knowing that takes an unbelievable amount of pressure off me. It still sucks when things go wrong, but I don't take it as bad as I would if I were in charge. If I were to stay in this company, I would probably be a day hand by the end of 2011. I do not want this. Some people like to be leaders, and I think I have the potential to be a leader in certain arenas, but in a high-pressure situation where computers are breaking and equipment is malfunctioning and everyone on the rig is waiting on us to fix our shit...don't look at me and don't wake me up because I will be the one in the corner pulling out her hair and bitting her nails to a stump.

So yes, now is a good time for me to leave the oilfield.