I'm waiting for a server bounce, and because idle hands are the devil's playthings, I've decided to type something; the first thing popping into my head...a five-for-friday post featuring the random junk on my desk.
I'm embracing the sacred grunginess that is my desk today:
1. Mocha orange hand cream.
2. Two monster finger puppets (I stage impromptu puppet shows with these little guys when I need to let off steam). They were in my Christmas stocking last year.
A few years ago I was on a project for work that required me to travel every week from my home in Nashville to Seattle for 8 months straight (in other words, Seattle was my home for 8 months).
Every Sunday night I had a car pick me up from the SEA-TAC airport to drive me to my hotel in downtown Seattle. I got to know the driver fairly well, and we always chit-chatted about my life in Nashville or his new plans for his family. One evening we got on the subject of my cats. Cabbie Joe (I will call him that to protect his identity), who was from Nigeria, had a hard time understanding why people (and by "people," I believe he meant "Americans") wanted to own pets. In his country, he explained, animals are not pets. He started rattling off numbers on how much money "people" could save if they didn't have pets. He had apparently researched this topic well, unless the statistics he spewed at me were made up on the fly.
I had to agree with him (the figures were staggering when I heard them), but asked, "What about companionship? Pets provide companionship." He replied, "I have a wife and children for companionship." I was tired, and didn't feel like getting into a huge philosophical debate with him. He also believed that I, as a woman, should be married and not traveling around the country for work (this was a discussion we had had on a previous week).
Later that evening while checking emails from my hotel room, I started to give the pet conversation some thought. Not because I necessarily agreed with him, but because he was extremely firm in his belief about not owning pets and he was very aggressive in getting his point across. Perhaps he had a strong dislike of animals. I don't know.
I mention this now because my poor Kwinn has been to the vet 3 times in the last week and a half. I love this cat with every fiber of my being (I'm not exaggerating this time), but I'm beginning to detest going to the vet as much as he is. Not just because of the cost, but because he is a rude little bastard when we arrive (understandably...I'll give him that), he pukes in my car each trip, and gives me the cold shoulder for days afterwards.
Last night, after cleaning the cat vomit from the cat carrier (after returning home from our 3rd vet visit), for a split second I believed that perhaps Cabbie Joe was right after all. For a nano second. Then I went through the house looking for Kwinn to apologize for thinking such terrible thoughts. I found him, hiding under the bed in the guest room. I lifted the bedskirt and reached out to pet my beloved little companion. On cue, he growled at me, turned his head the other way, thinking he should have just had a wife and some kids.
It is done. Tomorrow is my last day at a job that I've been at for nearly two years, but for the most part I've been unsatisfied because I haven't been doing what it is that I do. I have a niche skill in the IT ERP system industry, and though I've been thankful for the job I've had and learned a great deal, it hasn't really "clicked" with the real me.
Fortunately, a wonderful opportunity landed in my lap, and of course I had to take it. Tomorrow is my last day at my current employer and I will of course leave my position in capable hands.
I have been sharing an office with our summer intern for over a year now (she stayed on part-time throughout the year, and she is defintely more than a summer intern), and she just graduated from high school and will start college in the fall. I am extremely fond of this exceptionally smart, polite, sweet young lady and will truly miss her. I will call her "Miss M."
Today as I was leaving the office and taking some of my personal belongings with me, I imparted some wisdom (if you want to call it that) on my Miss M as I prepare to leave for a new opportunity. Throughout my working years, anytime I've left one job for another one, it has always, and I mean always been for the better. I've never left a job and had later regrets. I believe I have been fortunate in those regards because I've always gone with my gut instinct. I may second guess myself sometimes, but I ask myself in the end to remember my initial gut instinct, which has yet to lead me astray. That is the greatest tip I can give a younger generation.
So, as I close one door and open the next, I move on with confidence and certainty because I've relied on myself, even though my wiring seems faulty sometimes, it is my wiring, and thanks to my dad, I know how to use a soldering iron.
I've been working as a computer programmer/analyst/project manager for almost 16 years now and I'm bored. I like what I do (most of the time) but I'm asking myself lately what it is that I really want to do. I've decided. I want to be a Samurai.
During my last semester of college I had to take one more elective course, and every course I was interested in taking was full, so my counselor, Sister Mary (I won't use her last name, yes it was a Catholic college, and no, I'm not Catholic), talked me into taking a Japanese film and literature course. Actually, there wasn't much "talking" involved...she registered me for it, told me I was taking it, and that was that. Nuns are very decisive.
Despite my determination to be obstinate, I fell in love with the course immediately. Never did I think of Samurai warriors and medieval Japan as being so romantic (yes, I saw Shogun as a child, and yes Richard Chamberlain was hot). I don't mean romantic in the gushy way, but in a beautiful, historic, respected way of life way...if that makes sense. I was enthralled with this part of history that I knew nothing about. I've been to Japan, and it is breathtakingly beautiful, but the stories of the Samurai warrior and their lonely, albeit exciting, lives made a huge impact on me during that class. So prodigious in fact, that I decided I would like to be a Samurai.
Though the Samurai way of life was once very noble and respected, there isn't much demand for them these days. There are no wealthy landowners who are looking to have their acres protected or poor villagers looking for a ronin (a wandering, lone samurai) to save them from evil miscreants who come to steal their meager dwellings and rice. I've read through the want ads, performed searches on Monster.com and Craigslist (I did find an ad for a Samurai on Craigslist, but it wasn't the kind of Samurai job I was looking for, more specifically, I wasn't the type of Samurai they were looking for), but alas, nothing.
Until I find a position as a Samurai, I have to be content with watching old Kurosawa flicks and refrain from committing hara-kiri. I suppose it's just as well. Samurai were paid in rice, and I'm trying to watch my carbohydrate intake. Sayonara ( さようなら ).
Just a question, right? I could start over. Why not? For a second this morning, becoming an astronaut sounded appealing (and oh so original...just like every other Gen Xer at the age of 10) but I know I won't pass the mental, physcial, and IQ tests, so astronaut is out.
Although, anyone interested in becoming an astronaut should read this: http://hubpages.com/hub/How-To-Become-An-Astronaut. I found it this morning while searching on requirements for becoming an astronaut (See, I told you I thought about it for a second or two this morning. I was serious in a not-really-serious-but-sort-of-curious way). According to the author, "Not only do you need the balls the size of hypergiant twin binary-stars. You will need a baggage of academic and practical excellence."
So, astronaut is out for me...maybe swap meet coordinator?
Life truly is a rat race and hostility is our cage. It isn't just a meaningless cliche; we are rats! Now that I have a 'regular' job again and I'm not consulting, I have to do the daily commute like every other rat, and I can't believe how much I abhor said commute. The actual driving, or even the volume of traffic I encounter (but I would be lying if I didn't say that it was a little bit traffic) doesn't really bother me so much as the dog-eat-dog-world attitude that everyone on the road seems to brandish like a weapon.
Have you ever looked at people, I mean really looked at them while driving to work these days? They seem so miserable. No one smiles and it isn't just a lack of smiling that is downright disturbing, it is the actual presence of a snarl or a frown (ladies, you need to especially be aware that that does cause wrinkles). Everyone is out to get into the fastest moving lane, the closest parking spot (and it's usually those that could stand to walk a bit more and stop knocking back those lattes with whipped cream that scramble for the closest parking spot), etc. It's maddening I tell you. It has such a profound negative effect on the psyche.
When (I almost wrote if...there is no "if" when it comes to red lights, only "when") I am stopped at a red light, the guy (or gal) next to me always seems ready to race, to beat me to punch as soon as the light turns green. The literal rat race! The first one through the green lights wins it all!
Do you think I care that you took off before me when the light changed from red to green? Is that really getting you anywhere in life? Is it going to improve your day, your beating me at the light? I'm just going to see you at the next red light and we will both be waiting like trained monkeys for it to change from red to green again, but congratulations, you beat me there. You were an entire 5.5 seconds ahead of me. Let's recap: where are you? The same place that I am, yet you stressed yourself out, emitted more noise pollution and used more gas. Way to get ahead in life.
For those of you who know me personally, don't get me wrong, I'm not innocent here. I've engaged in that behavior more times than I want to admit, but it is so obvious to me how stupid it is when I see others do it. I've also noticed that I seem to be avoiding stressful commutes these days by popping the radio over to the classical channel and pretending I can't see to the left or right of me. My driving experience has improved for the better. Seems to be less hostile if I pretend no one else exists. I simply focus on the cheese and chewing through the cage.
I overheard a commercial on tv the other day (I have no idea what the ad was actually about...I usually don't), and the narrator said something about "happiness molecules." I don't know where to get those, but I want some.
I was sad because I was unemployed for 7 months, now I have a job, making more money, but I'm still in "sad" mode. Anyone who has read my blog probably knows that I suffer from chronic depression, and have for most of my life, and though I have little control over it, I used to be just swell. The past year of course has knocked me for a loop and I'm trying to get back to my happy spot, and some happiness molecules would be great.
I'm thinking I could be ok without happiness molecules if my cat would realize once and for all that throwing up doesn't get him any more attention than not throwing up and he would decide to STOP! It would also help if it never rained again and everyday was sunny and bright and lovely. It might also help if I were independently wealthy and could sit outside at a coffee shop all day, everyday and make fun of everyone who had to work. It would also help if I found my Lite-Brite from childhood. Those bright colored pegs used to cheer me up when I stared directly into them (that could also be why I'm legally blind). I think it might help if I were someone else...
OK, no, it never helps to be someone else because everyone else comes with their own baggage and set of problems, and I don't want to wake up one day and be someone wealthy but with turrets syndrome (I'm allowed to talk about other people's disorders because I have obsessive compulsive disorder and laugh at myself so I don't want anyone whining that I'm not being politically correct). I would rather my cat throw up than having him be gone, and if I had my Lite-Brite now, I would forget to turn it off at night and it would catch the carpet on fire, then I'd be homeless.
"And in the sea there is a fish, A fish that has a secret wish, A wish to be a big cactus With a pink flower on it." -Kimya Dawson
I assume as a child one is supposed to have learned the most basic of coping skills. I did not. As far back as grade school (early grade school years) I worried and stressed over ever so small details. It was routine for me to be awake at night, anxious because I wasn't sure if I should wear the blue bell bottoms or the yellow pants (it was the 70's...). When I say I was "anxious" about those things, I'm not kidding. I wasn't worrying about which pants people would think were cool, I was really fretting over having to make a decision about something and not being able to do so. I was in a constant state of distress over minute specifics that even a teenager could have cared less about, so coping with anything that was the least bit out of my normal routine was impossible.
Because I didn't learn coping skills as a child, I am now in an agonizing state of constant flutter. My inability to cope with even the tiniest of bumps in the road amazes me, and it has grown worse since I've been unemployed. Let's face it, I've never been a Polly-ana-everything-will-work-out-in-the-end type of person, but I've been reduced to Chicken Little. I've had so many "upsets" in the past few months that I almost feel like I'm putting out little fires everyday, just to keep my head above water and I think I've nearly given up! I had a job offer at the end of last week, then things went awry today, so I don't know if I'm still going to have that job offer. Anyway, it is today's turn of events that started me thinking about my coping skills.
Friday, I posted a great quote from Dr. Suess and it was going to be my new mantra. I was ready to play King-of-the-Mountain with anybody and everybody on Friday, then this setback, and I'm ready to change my mantra back to, "I knew it wouldn't work out!" What gives here Chicken Little? Stop it!
I'm ready to face it: I have no coping skills. When bad things come up now, I have an intense desire to withdraw from the world. Seriously. Someone else can take my place. Any takers?
--Fortuitous Observer (a.k.a Chicken Little, under the table, hands over head)
I have been a fan of Dr. Seuss since I could read (he helped me learn to read actually, the silly old guff, and he didn't even know it), and during the past 7 months of membership in the unemployed gang I've been riding the emotional roller coaster at full-tilt. I find happy hills one day and sad lonely valleys the next. It has been a vicious ride and an unkind one. Zeus has been supportive and he has had to deal with many of these emotions, fast and furiously, without warning most of the time, and I owe him a great deal.
Though I am leary about posting this news until it is in writing, I believe I am now among the employed once again (though I am waiting for the official offer letter, I was given the good news verbally today).
When my time in unemployment land began, I was hopeful and optimistic. I've never had a problem finding a job, and my skills are quite valuable. As the weeks wore on, my optimism waned a bit and I quickly had to recover it, getting my energy level elevated once more. As the months wore on, it was becoming quite impossible to keep motivated. I tried every day to keep my head above the tide and continue to swim. I'll admit, these last couple of weeks were the toughest and to be honest, I'm not sure I could have continued to tread water.
So, after receiving the call today with a job offer (a very, very good one), I ran through every emotion possible and became quite philosophical, causing me to reach for my small blue book, Seuss-isms, a book edited by Audrey Geisel, Ted Geisel's (a.k.a. Dr. Suess) wife, and I found a Seuss-ism that is perfect for today:
I learned there are troubles Of more than one kind. Some come from ahead And some come from behind
September 1, 2009. I have my windows open on this beautiful Carolina morning. I'm confused, however, because it should be humid and in the upper 80's at 10am. I'm a sun bunny, and I don't mind heat and yes, even a little humidity, but I have to admit I'm digging this morning, and so is that pesky little squirrel who keeps trying to get into my anti-squirrel bird feeder (of course I had to snap a pic).
I have to hand it to him, he is a trooper. He doesn't give up. I'm going to learn from him today. I had a not so great day yesterday. Being unemployed for 6 months can sometimes sneak up on me, even though I try to stay active and upbeat, the mean blues (or according to Holly Golightly, the mean reds) creep up on me unexpectedly from time to time. Having suffered from chronic depression most of my life, I am still sometimes overwhelmed when it hits. One would think by now I would be used to it, but no (though I am medicated!!!! Yeah for meds).
Anyway, getting back to the squirrel. He doesn't give up. He is out there everyday, rain or shine, trying to claw his way through the metal wiring on the bird feeder. He doesn't care that it was made specifically to keep rodents like him from stealing seed rightfully belonging to birds. He will not hear that. Nay, he will have those sunflowers!
Remember Laverne and Shirely? When Shirely would be feeling down, or not wanting to go along with one of Laverne's schemes, Laverne would sing the song "High Hopes" to her, you know the one about the little ant thinking he can move a rubber tree plant? The squirrel reminded me of that, so that will be the song stuck in my head ALL DAY LONG. I found this version on youtube today, so everybody sing!!
