Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/guide/.
Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.
Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)
Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Life(?) of Trillian
Single/Zero
Friday, December 31, 2010
Good riddance '00s
The Millennium got off on a bad decade. I'm hoping the Millennium's teenage years are better than its early years.
I am not big on year-end this or year-end that. I don’t really do new year’s resolutions. I dunno. December 31 isn’t any different than September 31 except that if you’re a calendar kind of person you have to go out and get a new calendar at the end of December.
Reflection, learning, change, loss…life…they’re all processes, not events. They don’t just happen at the stroke of midnight on any specific date.
But.
I’ll be the first in line to bid the ‘00s adieu.
Kiss my fat, white arse, ‘00s. You sucked.
That’s not to say the next decade won’t suck. The next decade could suck, too. The suck trend may only be mid-arc. The suckiest may be yet to come. Time will tell.
But.
I can now unequivocally say the ‘00s were the worst 10 years of my life thus far. It started well enough. Ahhhh, I remember it well. HWNMBNS and I greeting the dawn of 2000. Hope and excitement for the future, our future. I had a manager I liked and my job was good. I'd never been mugged. My parents were healthy and happy. My cat was frisky and healthy. Things were, you know, good. There was no reason to think there was anything too adverse lurking in the decade ahead. Certainly no indication the lessons would be painful.
Turns out the theme (and lesson) of the decade was: Loss. Apparently the Universe felt I had lessons to learn about loss and the last ten years were the perfect time for me to get my education.
Among the many things I lost:
My fiancé
My cat
(Full use of) my left foot
My dad
My job
And to end the decade with a grand finale: My home.
Oh. And. Just to ram the lesson of loss home and because the Universe loves to mock me: Today, December 31, 2010, I lost my coveted guitar pick tossed at me by Chrissie Hynde herself when I was but a teenager myself. It was not a good luck charm - I don't believe in luck good or bad. It was not a talisman. Maybe it was a kind of security blanket. But mainly it was a memento of a good time in my life. It was a great concert on a great night during a great period of my life. Touching it, giving it a little rub, takes me to my happy place. Some people have a WWJD? moment when they're at a crossroads or confused or wavering. Me? When I'm feeling insecure I ask myself, "WWCD?" What would Chrissie do? No, it doesn't transform me or give me even a shred of her coolness, but, it helps me conceptualize what the cool, as in the decent, confident, thing to do is. I've carried that pick with me for years. Not always, not every day, not even every week, but a lot of the time. Mainly when I'm feeling, you know, less than great. It's small, lightweight, unobtrusive, and until today: It seemed impossible to lose. Funnily enough, I've never thought, "What if I lose it?" It seems weird, now that I've lost it, that in all these years that the possibility of losing it never crossed my mind. I guess I childishly thought it was some sort of magnet polarized to me, that Chrissie set it on a course to me and so it was mine, always, unlosable.
It is really and truly gone, I can't find it. I spent some panicked moments feverishly retracing my steps, even asking the manager of a theater if someone found it, or if the cleaning crew could look for it. Nope. Not found. My mother says, "Maybe it'll turn up."
I know better. It's the final exam in my lessons in loss over the past decade. Well played, Universe. Well swutting played.
It's not the culmination, certainly not the "worst" loss, but the final test of how well I've learned to let go, how well I've learned to deal with loss.
I don't need a guitar pick to remind me of anything. I remember that concert - that night, that period of my life - I remember it just fine without the pick. I don't need it to summon confidence or inspiration.
So. Okay, Universe, lessons in loss learned. Take no one, nothing, for granted. Everyone, everything, can be lost in an instant. I get it.
How to deal with it? Remember that the world will continue to turn, the Sun will rise and set and rise and set. If your heart's still beating and your lungs are functioning life is continuing. Different than expected, without someone or something you once had, you are suffering a loss, at a loss but not lost. Take stock of what you have, learn the lessons, cherish and store the memories of what you had. Paradoxically, loss doesn't lighten the load. It creates bigger, heavier burdens to carry - it heavies the heart. This is where motivational posters and spiritual leaders say things like, "the way to unburden a heavy heart is enlightenment."
I don't do platitudes.
So. You know. Let's just say I'm traveling light these days yet carrying a heavy load.
What I've learned is that loss comes unannounced and robs you with a kick-in-the-gut wallop and then it scurries off leaving you to deal with the aftermath on your own, the getting on with life without the person/job/home/thing/whatever is your problem, your challenge.
I've learned there's no way to hit back as powerfully. It's not a fair fight. Loss is a heavyweight and us mere mortals are all lightweights. The best way to respond? I think not with a retaliatory bang but a "Well. all righty then."
The hole will never be filled. You can put other stuff in it, and maybe even better stuff, but it'll never fill the hole exactly. The shapes will never be an exact match. Some people, some things, cannot be replaced. There will always be gaps, odd shaped spaces of loss where the person or thing used to be.
Sure, I can get a new job (I mean, I hope at some point I will get a new job), a new cat (maybe someday), a new home (a box under the highway, a shelter, a friend's couch), a new guitar pick (maybe). But what I learned is that they're not the same. Sometimes better, and that's good, but they don't fill the holes exactly. And that's probably good, too. The odd shapes, the voids left from losses, are part of life and make us unique. Like snowflakes. Or slices of Swiss cheese.
Loss has left me with a lot of odd shaped holes, so many holes I'll never be whole. But that's what loss does. Accept. Accept the empty spaces. All righty, then. And then you figure out a new plan and move onward. Suffering a loss doesn't mean you are lost or at a loss.
It's not courageous or brave or strong...it's just...life.
So. New decade. New subject matter. New lessons, no doubt. Hopefully more positive ones that will fill in some of the gaps the holes from the losses the last decade left.
The Millennium's teenage years are in the decade ahead. That oughtta be fun.
Friday, December 17, 2010
I'm thinking of launching a new business. I've given a lot of thought about what I can do, what I'm good at doing and what sets me apart from other job seekers. After a lot of careful consideration I came up with one thing, one skill that sets me apart from most others. My one unique, special skill that makes me a standout, sets me apart from all the others. And now I'm ready to capitalize on it.
Here's the marketing I've worked out so far.
Looking to find a nice girl and settle down?
Trying to find the perfect employee to fill that job vacancy?
Well, you've come to the right place. Trillian is a one-stop resource for your marriage and hiring needs.
Trillian is not The One you'll want marry.
Trillian is not the one you will ultimately hire.
But.
Trillian has a proven track record of being both
the girl men date before they meet the girl they marry
the job candidate that comes in second, the person who tips the balance in favor of the other top contender.
Trillian is now offering her services to the men who want to get married but can't find the right girl and employers facing tough hiring decisions.
Guaranteed success rate!
Men Looking for Marriage!
Date Trillian for a couple months (a couple years, if you want) and then break up with her. You don't need a valid reason to break up with her! In fact our data indicates the more vague your reasons to break up with her, the sooner you'll meet the girl of your dreams! "Reasons" like these garner a 99.8% success rate in the next relationship. Date Trillian for a few weeks, months, heck a couple years, and then break up with her via the following "reasons" and you will be married to the girl of your dreams within a year, even as little as six months in a few cases!
"It's not you, it's me, I don't know what I want right now and it's unfair to string you along"
"I dunno, I guess I'm going through something, I think I need some time on my own"
"You're too nice for me. You deserve better."
"The timing's bad, I have that big project at work and my dad's having surgery and softball season's coming up, I just really don't have time for a relationship right now"
"You're too good for me, I want you, a girl like you, but you make me realize I need to work on myself before I'm ready for a serious relationship with a girl like you"
"I have commitment/trust issues. You're great, you've helped me come a long way with those issues but ultimately I'm just not all the way there."
"I'm just not ready for a serious relationship"
Why not just cut out the middle (wo)man and move straight to the girl of your dreams? Good question! Our extensive research data on this is inconclusive. Substantial evidence points to commitment and trust issues, but our findings are inconclusive due to the success rate men garner in their Post-Trillian Relationships. Which is why we say, "Don't ask why, just do what many other men have done to achieve a long term relationship! Date Trillian for a few weeks/months/years!"
Lest you think dating Trillian must be such an awful experience that she'll scare you into settling down with someone, anyone, who isn't her, rest assured previous dates/boyfriends all concur:
she's a lot of fun,
your parents will love her,
she'll enthusiastically support your career and hobbies,
she's not high maintenance,
she won't make you sit through cinematic adaptations of Jane Austin, Bronte sisters or other period romance literature,
there's nothing fake or phony about her,
she likes hockey and baseball and understands you might like other sports and like to watch them on television while wearing your dirty sweats and drinking beer,
she'll even give you lots of personal space and freedom,
she'll "do that" on days other than your birthday/anniversary/New Year's Eve,
she doesn't care what kind of car you drive
Some men even claim to fall in love, "feel emotions they've never felt," and want to be better people when they're with Trillian.
So why not just marry Trillian? Inconclusive data. But Trillian isn't important. You want to get married, and Trilian is the means to that end. The conduit to a lifetime commitment!
But don't just take our word for it. Here's what satisfied customers have to say about dating Trillian,
"Yeah, she's a really nice girl. I was falling really hard for her. That scared me so I broke up with her and then, a month later I met the girl I ended up marrying! After losing Trillian I knew I had to man up and not lose the next one. Lucky for me opportunity knocked twice! A month after I broke up with Trillian I met my wife! Thanks to what I learned about myself while dating Trillian I laid down the welcome mat and opened the door on a lifetime commitment!"
"Trillian? Almost perfect girlfriend - that is if you like intelligent, kind, leggy brunettes with big tits. If you prefer short, dumb blondes or Asians she's not for you. But other than that she's almost perfect. I almost married her. Almost."
"Trillian, oh man, yeah, she's awesome. She totally got me over my fear of commitment. After dating Trillian for two years I was so ready to settle down that two weeks - just two weeks! - after I broke up with Trillian I met my wife! Thanks to Trillian I was ready to make a lifetime commitment and knew I didn't want to waste any more time so within six months of breaking up with Trillian I was getting married! I owe my wife, kids...my life to Trillian. If I hadn't dated her I never would have been ready for making lifetime commitments."
"She's great, you'll love dating her. She's fun, she's kind, she's compassionate, she's a class-act but not snobby. I would have married her but I realized I wasn't good enough for her. I always wanted to date a girl like her, I thought she was what I wanted, but after I had her I realized I'm too insecure to be with someone like that. So when I met Candi a couple nights after I broke up with Trillian, I knew a stripper 15 years younger than me with fake boobs and a coke habit was the perfect girl for me. If I hadn't dated Trillian I'd still be reaching for that brass ring of women, the intelligent, kind, classy, trustworthy kind of woman, I'd be unfulfilled, chasing that dream, you know? But now look at me! Candi and I have been together three years and it's all because I dated Trillian!"
Don't waste another date night on women who don't leave you ready/longing for the lifetime commitment of your dreams!
Date Trillian.
The One You Date Before You Meet The One.
Guaranteed success rate!
Employers Looking for Professional Interview Candidates!
Interview Trillian once or twice (three or four, if you want) and then interview someone else.. You don't need a valid reason to interview anyone else! In fact our data indicates the more vague your reasons to continue your candidate quest, the sooner you'll fill your job vacancy! "Reasons" like these garner a 99.8% success hiring rate. Interview Trillian once, twice or even several times, maybe even check her references and negotiate a salary, and then interview someone else for the following "reasons" and you will hire the perfect candidate within weeks, within days in a few cases!
"You're perfectly qualified, but we're revising the job description and not sure what we really need"
"You're overqualified, but we want to talk to you in case someone quits and we need to hire a replacement"
"You're too experienced for us. You should be in a higher caliber role than we can offer"
"The timing's bad, we just lost a client and that department was reorganized and our international numbers didn't come in the way we hoped, we just can't take the hiring risk right now"
"You're overqualified, we want you, an employee like you, but you make us realize we need to work on our internal procedures before we're ready to hire a candidate like you"
"We have commitment/trust issues. You're great, we know you would do a great job here, but you're better than me, even, and that makes me nervous, they might replace me with you."
"We're discontinuing the candidate search at this time"
Why not just cut out the middle (wo)man and move straight to the candidate you'll hire? Good question! Our extensive research data on this is inconclusive. Substantial evidence points to commitment and trust issues, but our findings are inconclusive due to the success rate employees garner in their Post-Trillian Interviews. Which is why we say, "Don't ask why, just do what many other employers have done to find job candidates! Interview Trillian!"
Lest you think Trillian must be such an awful experience that she'll scare you into hiring someone, anyone, who isn't her, rest assured previous interviewers all concur:
she's very professional,
HR and coworkers will love her
she's creative
she has years of relevant professional experience
she is tech savvy and current with latest trends and technology
she'll enthusiastically support your creative marketing goals,
she's not high above working long hours or traveling to Boise. In January.
she's client-safe: Proper grammar, no visible tattoos, clean clothes, won't get drunk and/or have sex with clients
doesn't have a husband/boyfriend/kids to text/email/talk to all day at work
she won't make you sit through Power Point adaptations of her resume and project history
she's punctual
she'll ask lots of insightful questions
she'll "do that" even though it's not in her job description
she doesn't care what the salary or benefits are
Some employers even claim to want to hire her, even aspire to new and better departmental goals when they interview Trillian.
So why not just hire Trillian? Inconclusive data. But Trillian isn't important. You want to fill a job vacancy, and Trilian is the means to that end. The conduit to a full employee roster.
But don't just take our word for it. Here's what satisfied customers have to say about interviewing Trillian,
"Yeah, she's a really great person. We really liked her. She was a little overqualified, though, and that scared the manager of that department, so we interviewed our second choice again, even more overqualified than Trillian, and a week later we hired her to replace the insecure manager! After interviewing Trillian our way forward was clear, we didn't need a new creative manager, we needed a new department manager! Lucky for us opportunity knocked twice! A week after our third interview with Trillian, just before we made her a final offer, we re-interviewed another candidate and hired them! Thanks to what we learned about the department while interviewing Trillian, our departmental goals were so much more clear!"
"Oh yeah, I remember her. She wasn't qualified for the job, I mean, I'm sure she could have done it, she has words on her resume I don't even know what they mean, but we just needed someone to stock shelves on the midnight shift. I mean, I would have hired her because she seemed eager, but Tim over at central distribution has this thing about not wanting to hire college grads and he's the boss, so... The thing is, the next person, like, the very next person who applied was perfect. If it hadn't been for Trillian I might not have realized that so quickly, I mean, the comparison was, like, staring me in the face it was so obvious, I hired that guy on the spot. I might have had to work doubles until we hired someone, so I owe Trillian for making the hiring choice obvious."
"Trillian is the perfect interview candidate. Do not hesitate to interview her. Especially if you're a hiring manager with a recruitment quota. Trillian's viable, she could be a real contender, so no one will suspect you're bringing in candidates just to pad your numbers. She'll give the real candidate a run for their money, too, and a little extra competition in the interview process always makes for good water cooler conversation. Trillian, yeah, she's perfect. So perfect you almost want to hire her. Almost."
"Trillian, she's great. She really energized our interview process. After interviewing her four times we knew we were ready to hire someone. Two weeks after our last interview with Trillian we still couldn't decide which candidate we wanted to hire, but thanks to Trilian we knew we had to get someone in that role ASAP, so we let HR make the final decision. Thanks to Trillian we knew we really did need to hire someone and were ready to make a hiring commitment. We didn't want to waste time so we let HR handle it and within a week we hired someone! Really, we owe this year's successful marketing to Trillian. If we hadn't interviewed her and had the conversation about meeting marketing goals we never would have gone ahead and hired someone that soon!"
"Trillian. Yeah. We liked her. We had a lot of great candidates but two stood out with impressive qualifications and personalities. Trillian and the guy we hired. Equally qualified. Impossible to choose, really. It came down to a coin toss, best three out of five, and well, Trillian lost the toss. But it was great to have a choice. Us hiring managers dream of that scenario, the coin-toss scenario. It may be the thrill of my hiring manager career, you know? I mean, usually there's one stand-out, or no stand-outs. But to have two completely equal candidates? Two thoroughbreds in the same race? Wow, I mean, that's the stuff of hiring managerial legends. So I'm glad we put her through three rounds of interviews. Who could have guessed they'd both tie in the interview tri-fecta?! Neck and neck, I tell you. Neck. And. Neck. A nail biter to the end. The coin toss was worth it. No regrets. I'd interview her again in a heartbeat."
"You'll love interviewing Trillian. She's professional, she's creative, she's sincere, she's interested, she's savvy, she's nice, she's a class-act. We would have hired her but we realized we aren't good enough for her. We wanted to hire someone like her, we thought she was what we wanted, but after we discussed her history of successful creative project management, deadline scheduling and re-reviewed her on-time deliverable project history we realized we're too insecure to work with someone like that. So when Bronyx's resume came across HR's desk a couple days after the fourth interview with Trillian we knew a recent college grad with no professional work or project history who lives with his parents and didn't pass the drug test was the perfect candidate for us. If we hadn't interviewed Trillian we'd still be reaching for that brass ring of job candidates, the intelligent, professional, experienced, trustworthy kind of candidates. We'd be unfulfilled, chasing that dream, you know? But now look at us! Bronyx has been with us two months and only missed eight days of work and three deadlines! And all because we interviewed Trillian!"
Don't waste another interview on candidates who don't leave you ready/longing for the perfect candidate for your office!
Interview Trillian.
The One You Want To Hire Until You Meet The Candidate You Will Hire.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Ahhhh, it's the most wonderful time of the year.
Fa la la la whatever.
Have you seen the ad about "being the Santa you want to be" this year? I also saw a jewelry ad coaxing men to get in touch with their inner Santa and buy their women diamonds. The ending fade-out implies that undying love, respect, faithfulness and a lot of sex, even the stuff she doesn't usually like to do, will follow.*
This whole be all the Santa you can be and finding your inner Santa stuff has reminded me about a classmate when I was 6.
He was known as The Jesus Kid. I can sense you rolling your eyes in instant recognition of the person whose memory I just conjured. There was a Jesus Kid in your class, too. I've learned almost everyone had a Jesus kid in their class or school.
I also realize you are surprised to learn my school's Jesus kid wasn't me. Yes, at age 6 I was still a Jesus enthusiast. But I've always been extremely secular. Even in my most fervent and zealous Jesus years it was deeply personal to me. I wasn't ashamed or embarrassed about my religion and I don't remember anyone telling me to keep it on the down-low in public. It was just always a very personal "this is between me, God and Jesus" thing for me. Plus being raised old school Methodist/Presbyterian instilled me that humility matters most and anything remotely resembling bragging, boasting or showboating is not only socially boring, it's morally wrong and spiritually offensive. We are mere mortals. Period. Know your place in this life. Mere. Mortal. Humble servant. There's a fine line between proclaiming your creator and self righteous bragging. Going around spouting holier than thou about your relationship with Jesus/God or anyone immortal could backfire on you on judgment day. I erred on the side of caution and kept my thoughts and beliefs on religion between me and the Holy Men lest I cross the line into self righteous bragging. It was just safer.
And when I entered that classroom and discovered that The Jesus Kid was the class butt of jokes and subject of ridicule the lesson was cemented. I soon discovered The Jesus Kid's religious zeal wasn't really the reason why he was the butt of jokes and subject of ridicule. He was fairly good at math but fairly bad at all other subjects. He was still struggling with his alphabet, for crying out loud. Oh. And he smelled funny.
I was momentarily relieved that the class already had a whipping boy. I selfishly thought that finally some of the teasing aimed at me would subside, or could at least be deflected onto The Jesus Kid, or, maybe, just maybe, The Jesus Kid and I could form some sort of alliance.
I was six. I didn't fully understand the intricacies of social justice in the classroom. But I was learning. I'd not yet read Lord of the Flies and did not realize that life was imitating art right there in my classroom. 8 years later, when I did read Lord of the Flies, I struggled to get through it because I couldn't stop crying. The tears wouldn't stop welling in my eyes. It hit home in ways I don't think Golding could have imagined when he penned it.
This is going somewhere, I promise.
The Jesus Kid and I did not form a bullying victim alliance. He turned out to be mean. I suppose all the bullying and his personal struggle with, you know, the alphabet, took a heavy toll on him. I did feel sorry for him and I didn't tease him - I was never a teaser. a) I never wanted to tease anyone, b) it wasn't my style, and c) I never had the opportunity. I was always at the bottom of the classroom social hierarchy and therefore teasing was strictly forbidden.
I wasn't initially aware of the parallels between classroom humility and religious humility, but a few years later (before Lord of the Flies) I made the connection and knew at some point I would have to decide if this was a personality trait, a quirk of my individual DNA, or if it was something I was learning. This realization hit me during my introduction to the concept of nature v. nurture. Gregor Mendel was merely a science lesson about beans to most of the kids, but for me a light bulb of awareness clicked on and after that I started weighing everything on the scales of nature v. nurture. "Is he mean just because that's who he is, or is he mean because that's how he is?"
Right.
The Jesus Kid.
I soon learned why he was known as The Jesus Kid. No, he didn't go around quoting scripture or talking about Jesus. No he didn't condemn the rest of us kids to eternal damnation. He did pray before eating his lunch, but some of the other kids did, too, so that wasn't enough to earn him the mocking moniker. He was tagged The Jesus Kid because he was not allowed to sing Santa Claus songs. He was not allowed to even talk about Santa, even utter Santa's name. He did not believe in Santa. He believed (Believed) in Jesus.
You know, okay. Fine, cool, whatever. But here's the thing. He was so devout and steadfast in his conviction that he refused to even sing the name Santa in songs. (This was in a very, very small town back in the days long before political correctness and zealous litigation.) I later discovered his conviction over Santa was really just a deep, deep fear of being found out and then beaten by his extremely pious parents.
Ours was a religious town, but a very secular one. We said the pledge, every day, one nation, under God, and it was totally okay if we included Jesus in our Christmas/Easter drawings. (yes, Christmas and Easter were talked about in the classroom, primarily because that's when we had vacation during the school year.) But if you wanted to pray or really talk about religion in school you went to the Catholic school. The Jesus Kid's refusal to sing Santa songs was fine with our music teacher and holiday pageant director. He didn't have to participate.
But.
He wanted to participate.
So. He hit upon the idea of replacing Santa with Jesus, and Santa Claus with Jesus Christ. So, "Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus, right down Santa Claus Lane" became "Here comes Jesus Christ, here comes Jesus Christ, right down Jesus Christ Lane."
The Jesus Kid especially loved Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Go ahead, sing Rudolph and replace Santa with Jesus. I'll give you a minute.
Yeah. I know.
The Jesus Kid was an idiot savant.
For me it was akin to learning Dark Side of the Moon syncs with Wizard of Oz. Just a coincidence, but wow, that's kind of weird. It's kind of uncanny. It illustrates Jesus' love of animals and those less fortunate along with lessons of forgiveness, humility, acceptance, His almighty light and salvation found by following said light.
But of course I didn't understand the deeper meaning behind Rudolph when Santa replaces Jesus. That didn't occur to me until much later (probably about the time I was sobbing through Lord of the Flies). The Jesus Kid was just a kid who smelled funny, didn't know the alphabet, didn't believe in Santa Claus and got teased by the other kids.
I foolishly thought we might have some common ground vis a vis the teasing and that we could be, if not friends, at least friendly.
That's when I discovered that The Jesus Kid was mean. When my other classmates mocked, cajoled, tormented, teased and generally picked on me for being tall/smart/a good drawer/whatever they deemed mockworthy that day** The Jesus Kid immediately joined in the mockery. I quickly realized The Jesus Kid was beyond thrilled that a kid other than him was being picked on and consequently seized upon the opportunity to a) bask in the glory of not being teased, and b) be the one throwing out the insults instead of receiving them.What would Jesus do? Well, not that. So much for the Jesus Kid walking in the light of the Lord.
Nonetheless, I extended an olive branch of peace and hope to him in the form of offering to help him with his alphabet and reading. Mindful of his feelings, I tried to make it sound not like charity but instead a partnership. I'd help him with his reading if he'd help me with my subtraction.
The Jesus Kid wouldn't have anything to do with that plan. "Figure out your own subtraction problems. Hey, the new tall girl can't do subtraction!! Ha ha!!" (Could have said, "Et tu, Jesus Kid, et tu? I can to do subtraction, it just takes me a long time to figure it out. And I know my alphabet, even backwards, and I even read chapter books. And I don't smell funny. Like some other kids whose name I won't mention, Jesus Kid." Instead said: Nothing.)
For that reason I held The Jesus Kid in higher contempt than some of the other kids who teased me. He should have had more empathy and compassion for a kid being teased. Stupid, smelly Jesus Kid. I kept my distance from him. Forever.
Except during the holiday pageant season when I had to stand next to him during two songs. So I had to hear him singing Jesus instead of Santa in all our songs.
To this day when I hear a Santa song I chuckle at the irony of replacing Santa with Jesus.
Maybe it's the press the atheist billboards are getting, or the retaliatory "Jesus is the reason for the season" billboards, or the whole "I will say Merry Christmas, dammit" blogging, or maybe it's because I'm unemployed and poor so I notice this year's marketing more. Whatever the reason, the "be the Santa you want to be" and "find your inner Santa," has triggered a lot of memories of The Jesus Kid. I've been mentally swapping Santa with Jesus, "Be the Jesus you want to be," "find your inner Jesus," and the ironies are making me laugh. And opened the floodgates of my personal issues.
Of all people, you'd think a confused, unemployed, single, childless agnostic would be the first to either a) jump on the Scrooge wagon or b) rally against religion-based marketing.
I'm not big on The Holidays. I'm especially not big on the marketing of The Holidays. Regardless of my feelings about Jesus now, it's weird (and for Believers, blasphemous) to use Jesus as a means to a capitalistic end. "It's Christmas! Buy presents! Expensive presents! Prove how much you love/care about your family and friends by spending a lot of money on stuff to wrap up and give as a way to honor Jesus' birth." Even if they leave Jesus out of it, retailers are advertising for Christmas sales, cashing in on religion. Using a religious holiday for commercial profit is a long standing tradition, predates Jesus. But I dunno, I suppose it's the religious humility that was instilled in me, cashing in on religion, using religion, especially Jesus (of all people) to hawk diamonds and cars seems really obtuse.
And since my dad died Christmas has been...difficult. To say the least. My dad loved Christmas. I mean, he loved it. Everything about it. He embraced it with such enthusiasm it was impossible to remain Grinchy around him. His religious humility took a vacation during December. Outdoor lighting displays, indoor lighting displays, there wasn't a room in the house that wasn't decorated for Christmas. And: Presents. Lots and lots and lots of presents. Both my parents got a little nuts with Christmas presents, even my mother. Oh, she tried to keep us humble with gifts of socks and underwear, but, her attempts were feeble and would never stand up in court. "Yes, yes, we see Exhibit A, the socks, but enter Exhibit B, a Barbie Dreamhouse with furniture and a Barbie pool (sold separately, some assembly required)."
To be fair, though, my parents were equally zealous about the Christ part of Christmas. Sure, we had a countdown to Christmas calendar with Santa and reindeer shaped chocolates, but right next to it was an advent wreath with lights for each Sunday in advent and special prayers for each light. Sure, from December 1 to December 26 the hi-fi was loaded with the Chipmunks, Johnny Mathis, Bing Crosby and Rudolph/Santa songs, but there was also Handel, and every version of Silent Night, First Noel and O, Come All Ye Faithful ever recorded. Sure, hundreds of cookies were baked, but huge boxes of food were collected and distributed to needy families and charities. Sure, we had a lavishly adorned Santa in sleigh with reindeer (all of them, Rudolph with his nose so bright, actually lit with a bulb my dad engineered, leading the pack) flying across the wall above the fireplace mantel, but on the mantel was a large, ornately carved and back-lit Creche. There were a lot of presents under the heavily decorated tree, but there were a lot of donations of money and time to charities, too. I'm not saying they got the balance right, or that the mixed messages didn't result in a lot of religious confusion. But. It was the one facet of my childhood that was (I think) normal in comparison to other kids of my demographic.
My parents knew all the stuff of Christmas could go away and we'd still have a celebration. The stuff was just icing on Jesus' birthday cake and as good excuse as any to let themselves go a bit more than usual. Be a little showy, spoil the kids a little. We all knew the exuberance and abundance weren't what the holiday was about, and I never expected to find a bacchanalia of childhood fantasies spread out for me on Christmas morning. I was always truly surprised, every year, that I was given anything other than socks and underwear.
But since my dad died my mother just doesn't have it in her to do all the Christmas stuff. She misses my dad too much. She does the Jesus stuff, church, charities, but the rest of it? Well, let's just say Santa isn't jovially riding across the wall above the fireplace and there's not a lot of music in the house this time of year. And that's fine with me. We're not Scrooge-y or Grinch-y, "all that" holiday stuff is fine for other people. But it just makes my father's absence even more conspicuous and painful. We're "down to basics" as my mother says. So the advertising and marketing of Christmas seems even more glaring in the stark contrast to our "down to basics" Christmases.
Something that always surprised me was that after I parted ways with religion I still liked Christmas. Not the presents, or the marketing or the holiday travel. I could have seized those aspects and held them up as proof of the sham and mockery of religion. But I didn't/don't feel that way. Some may call me a hypocrite because of this, but, I like the "real" aspects of Christmas. I like being with my family (yes, even my sister). I like the ideals of Christmas. Heck, I like the message of Christmas. To be clear, I like the messages of Jesus. I'm down with the emotional, intellectual and spiritual ideals of Jesus. There's a lot of good stuff to be learned from the New Testament regardless of your belief in the messenger. (Messenger?) No matter what was going on with my family, or in the world, Christmas was always the same with my family. I could count on it. In all the zeal and festooning of Christmas, somehow my parents managed to exude an air of calm. Yep. Amidst all that holiday hoopla there was always an overriding sense of peace and calm during the holidays. Busy, bustling, but not frantic or crazed. (Come to think of it, my parents did drink a bit more than usual during the holidays.) I don't know how they did it because December was always packed with non-stop activities and errands and stuff to do, but either they had it down to a science, a well-oiled holiday machine, or, they loved doing it so much that none of it was a burden. They enjoyed it. Enjoyed it, I suppose.
The gaping hole where my dad used to be is unsettling. His presence is still there, though. And that weird sense of calm in all the holiday madness is still there. Not quite as obvious, but it's there. I suppose it's part of his omnipresent presence.
But those commercials. Geeze. They really bug me. A lot. Always have. I do not like holiday marketing. But. This year there seems to be a lot of reference to being Santa in relation to giving gifts procured from high-priced vendors. It bugs me. So I have to thank the mean, smelly Jesus Kid who didn't know the alphabet for a useful coping tool. Swap "Jesus" for Santa where/whenever you see Santa used in marketing. The obvious, glaring wrongness of the message is so offensive and comical that the commercials become even more ridicule-worthy.
Of all the holiday marketing I hate the most, the ilk I find most repugnant are the jewelry ads. These are actually quite complex bits of marketing, not as obvious as they seem. Yes, they're trying to ensnare men into buying expensive jewelry (usually diamonds) for their girlfriends/wives. But, those ads are not made with men in mind. The "plot lines" of those ads are composed solely for women. They are 30 or 60 second Lifetime movies. The ads are made for women. Yep. They are made to encourage and perpetuate the marketing goldmine that is: Women nag men for stuff. Either out and out nagging, or by more "subtle" clue dropping, the jewelry marketers are banking on the emotional/romantic attachment a lot of women have to jewelry, especially jewelry given to them by a man. Bombard women with these commercials, show them the fairy tale scenario of the dream holiday gift exchange over and over and eventually even the most anti-marketing woman will cave into the desire to have her man spend a lot of money on jewelry for her. She'll either out and out tell her man to behave like the guys in those ads, or, more subtly encourage him to emulate what the ads portray. "Here's a lovely sweater, darling, why don't you put it on, and look, I decorated the living room in soft-lit romantic hues, and I have my hair and makeup done perfectly, oh, here, I just opened a bottle of bubbly, gosh, we look like one of those ads on tv..."
If jewelry ads were actually made for men, targeted at men, hoping to get men to pay attention to the ad and spin the product so well men would race out to buy it, they would not be shot in soft focus with a well dressed couple sipping champagne in a nicely decorated home or at a posh restaurant or exotic/quaint/festive locale, and they wouldn't have a plot, or at least a romantic plot. They'd be 15 second spots with a naked chick saying, "Buy your woman expensive jewelry and she'll give you a blow job."
Or they'd look like beer commercials.
The chicks would be naked, or in bikinis, the guys would not look like fit, well-groomed male models and they'd be in jeans in t-shirts and the setting would be a sports bar or cluttered garage with plenty of stuff to lure the men into watching the ad. "Hey, is that a belt sander behind that guy? Ooooo, getta load of that nail gun. A chick in a bikini, awesome. She's waxing his jet-ski, that's the new Wave Runner. Oh, he's giving her a ring and she seems happy about that, she's undoing the zipper of his jeans. Ya know, I think I'll buy my girlfriend a diamond ring." (I know, I don't know why I'm still unemployed, either. Can't figure it out.)
The whole thing is nauseating. It's unsettling. It speaks to an Orwellian level of psychology and social engineering. And I hate myself for getting ensnared by it every year. I know what's going on. I know the psychology and commercial theory behind it. And no, I have never, ever wanted (or expected) a man to give me expensive jewelry, especially for Christmas. I don't buy into the "expensive gifts = love" theory and I hate that it's perpetuated, especially at Christmas. WWJD? Uh, well, I dunno, but I'm pretty sure manipulation, guilt and emotional blackmail aren't His go to plans for love.
What I hate is that those ads make me feel more alone, more of a loser because I don't have a man in my life to turn to and say, "If you even think about giving me a diamond for Christmas I'll leave you so fast you won't even see the blur I make on my way out the door."
But this year's prominent use of Santa in jewelry advertising helps soften the sting. Especially when I use the "replace Santa with Jesus" trick. Thank you, smelly, mean Jesus kid, wherever you are. You teased me and wouldn't help me with math, but that's okay. All is forgiven because you provided me with a coping skill that helps me keep it real during the holidays. A skill that helps me maintain a calm, rational mindset amidst the holiday hype hoopla. And in turn, because of that odd juxtaposition of calm against chaos, I'm able to feel "normal" during the holidays.
Has my heart grown two sizes to big? Am I a born-again Jesus freak? Nope. But I'm not offended by Christmas, either. I like the Jesus ideals. And anything that celebrates love, forgiveness, kindness, tolerance and peace is good. It's the message, not the messenger (Messenger?) Not sure what to get someone for Christmas? Look to the holiday marketing and then spin it. "Be the Santa you want to be" implies giving the biggest/best/priciest/most intoxicating gift you can find. "Be the Jesus you want to be" implies giving something that actually matters, regardless of your religious beliefs.
*I don't personally know any woman who has leveraged a diamond in trade for "the kinky/icky/painful stuff," but then the women I know wouldn't openly admit to being so easily sexually swayed by expensive presents, so, you know, the possibility that my friends are pleasing their men in ways they'd rather not simply because their men bought them expensive jewelry certainly exists. I personally am not swayed, sexually or otherwise, by lavish gifts, especially lavish gifts that end up costing me my pride/dignity/self esteem. Not that I have been showered with a lot of lavish gifts. I have not. But on the few occasions a lavish gift has been presented to me by someone other than my parents there have been a) strings attached and b) a lot of social psychology and posturing behind it. So. I'm generally not in favor of lavish gifts.
**"Blue mittens? Only kindergartners wear blue mittens on Thursdays. Ha ha ha, you're a kindergartner!!!" You know, that sort of thing. Good times.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
If you are bashing/boycotting the Salvation Army for discriminating against gays and minorities and for the charity's anti-Harry Potter/Twilight stance you damn well better not shop at Walmart where they
a) discriminate against gays, minorities, women and the disabled - not just during the holidays but year 'round;
b) believe in censorship and refuse to sell music with the PMRC label or books with "naughty" words/ideas (or written by dangerous minds like Jon Stewart and George Carlin);
and, oh yeah, c) sell firearms, bullets, bows, arrows and crossbows.
Reminder: Walmart is a profit corporation bound by state and federal labor and trade laws, unlike the Salvation Army which is a religious non-profit charity who can thus distribute their donations however, wherever they see fit in accordance to their publicly posted recipient guidelines. They have never, not once, hidden the fact that they are a Christian organization. They laud Jesus and do their work in His name. They value fundamental Christian values - there is no secret about this. The Salvation Army is, and always has been, out and proud about their purpose and values. The issue of gay rights, therefore, isn't with the Salvation Army, it's with many Bible-based religions.
In boycotting the Salvation Army you are guilty of discrimination, too. You are, by disassociation, discriminating against the Salvation Army donation recipients in your community. You are depriving people of food, clothing, health care, and yes, toys for the kids, among other services the Salvation Army provides. You are condemning and persecuting the Salvation Army for their religious beliefs, beliefs they have not hidden or denied. You and I may not agree with those beliefs, but that's not the point. We don't want anyone to tell us what to Believe (or not). If we admonish, lambaste or disrespect other people for their Beliefs (or unBelief) we are a) hypocritical and b) guilty of discrimination and religious persecution. Hatred. We become haters, guilty of the exact type of hatred we hate: Blind. Judgmental. Intolerant. Narrow-minded. Self-centered. The only way to "fight" back is, you guessed it: Accept. Forgive. Heal. Peace. Love. (duh). Accept. It's the first and most important step in the process.
Things are bad. Unemployment is still ravaging across the US and world. People, lots of people, are still losing their homes, or struggling to keep a roof over their heads and eat at least one a meal a day. If it weren't for my family and friends I would be in a shelter - most likely a Salvation Army funded shelter - and/or eating a meal provided by Salvation Army pantries. Thankfully I have family and friends who can and will help me. But other people, lots of other people, don't have that option. Their family and friends are impoverished, too. So yes, the outburst of hatred and protests about the Salvation Army are packing a particularly painful sting this year. Perhaps the people making those posts have been unaffected by the past couple years of economic hardship. (Yes, there are a few people who remain blissfully unaware.) To them I implore: This is not the time in history to discourage ANY charitable contributions.
There’s a thin line between supporting a cause and self-righteous, self-promoting puffery. Before you spread charity-bashing blog/Facebook/Twitter posts take a minute to think about why you're compelled to make that post and who your actions will impact. Your friends and family are probably well aware of your feelings about gay rights, discrimination and censorship. They probably agree with you. They probably don't need to read your "DON'T DONATE TO THE SALVATION ARMY BECAUSE THEY HATE GAYS AND WON'T ACCEPT HARRY POTTER AND TWILIGHT BOOKS!!!" post. Think about who will really pay the price for reduced contributions. It won't be the people ringing bells in front of stores or playing in the brass bands on sidewalks. It will be the neediest people in your community who will see a reduction in (or go completely without) help from the Salvation Army.
If you truly want to support gay rights and promote anti-censorship (as well as anti-gun causes) while also supporting your community small businesses and their employees there's a very easy first step to take: Stop shopping at effing Walmart.
I support gay rights and anti-gun legislation, fully. I find discrimination of any kind abhorrent. Censorship? Intolerable. Church and state? Separate, always and forever.
But. I also believe in redemption. I believe in the big picture, the greater good. The Salvation Army's tireless global good works coupled with their long history of direct community aid are too important to overlook and/or dismiss. Too many truly needy people benefit from the Salvation Army's aid to write the charity off as gay-bashing, gun-toting, Bible-thumping, Bush-supporting villains.
By the way, did you know the The Salvation Army organized a "Trade in your guns for a Bible" exchange in Papua, New Guinea? While in an ideal world I would prefer a "Trade in your guns for clean water and a post-secondary education" exchange, getting even a few guns out of circulation is a positive step forward. And hey, if some of the peace, forgiveness and acceptance lessons from the Bible sink in with a former gun-toting/trading Papuan, where's the harm in that?
Also, keep in mind that the Salvation Army is one of the few charities that apply their donations directly to the communities where the donations are given. When you donate to your local Salvation Army buckets/drive you are donating directly to less fortunate and disabled people in your community. Yes, a percentage of the local donations goes toward the global mission. The percentages vary by community depending on the financial dynamic of the community. The Salvation Army in Detroit, for instance, gives a lesser percentage to the global mission than, say, the Beverly Hills chapter who has a lesser local need.
I love and support my friends who happen to be homosexual and I long for a day sexual preference won't be an issue in any arena.
I would give my life in a fight against censorship and I dream of a day when anyone in the world can freely read or listen to anything they want without fear.
I respect the right to religious beliefs, or lack thereof, and my biggest hope for human evolution is that we will live up to our "rational thinking" reputation on the food chain and become a tolerant, respecting, accepting species.
And I would never advocate abstaining from donating to a charitable organization that helps people in their darkest hours and in their deepest need.
If my homosexual friends/readers find this opinion to be hypocritical, I am truly sorry we disagree. I don't see it as an either/or issue. In my vision of a perfect world gay rights would be a given, a non-issue, like breathing (and drinking clean water and reading any book and listening to any music we want). And in that world poverty and disasters wouldn't exist so there wouldn't be a need for the Salvation Army.
Unfortunately we live in an imperfect world with a lot of poverty and disasters. Gay rights matter, a lot. Fighting censorship matters, a lot. But feeding, clothing and sheltering homeless families, our friends and neighbors, is a more urgent and critical matter. A kid who doesn't have a place to live or food to eat isn't worried about what happens to Bella in the next installment of Twilight. I wish poverty (and it's affiliated issues like food, shelter, clothing and healthcare) wasn't such a widespread and urgent issue. I wish poverty was so insignificant, affecting such a tiny portion of the world populous, that there would be no need for charitable agencies.
Wouldn't it be great to live in a world where we could honestly say, "C'mon, do we really need the Salvation Army? I mean, geeze, everyone in the world has a safe place to live, healthy food to eat, clean water, climate appropriate clothing, and access to healthcare and education. Why do we even need the Salvation Army anymore?" I hope I live to see that day. And on that day I hope my gay friends are married and we're sitting around discussing the latest books about wizardry, religion, politics and sex and laughing about the silly old days when music came with a warning attached to it.
Until then, my change is going in the Salvation Army bucket. I'll shop at the Salvation Army Thrift Stores not because I'm unemployed and poor, but because I want to shop there. In spite of what people say about eBay, I contend that the Salvation Army Thrift Stores are the world's biggest garage sale except the money goes to charity instead of funding someone's new couch. (And seriously, I've found some fantastic vintage vinyl at Salvation Army stores.)
And I will not perpetuate discrimination, religious persecution and hatred.
*My local Salvation Army does not accept toy guns of any kind - Nerf, water, potato...no guns or weapons whatsoever. And I recently perused the book shelves at a Salvation Army Thrift Store and saw some Twilight books there. A couple years ago I found a treasure trove of early '70s vinyl including Alice Cooper's Billion Dollar Babies, which, by the way, Walmart will not stock the CD version.
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
In case you've been busy or held hostage in a scary cave near the North Pole, it's viral, it's '80s, it's Rudolph and it's weirdly compelling if for no other reason than Hermey/Sting.
Thursday, December 02, 2010
Open letter to parents in custody disputes:
Dear parent so obsessed/angry/vengeful/vindictive that you want to get even with your ex by hiding/abusing/kidnapping/killing your children,
Instead of "getting even" with your ex by torturing, abusing or killing your children why not let me or another sane, unbiased third-party adult who doesn't care who's right or who's wrong take care of your kids while you and your ex get some serious counseling (perhaps including medication(s)) to help you think more like yourself and less like a maniacal homicidal beast with a grudge? I'll be happy to take care of your kids, keep them safe, play games, read books, make sure they do their homework, and let them be kids - safe and away from the nastier side of adult life that you're experiencing. Most of all I'll let them live.
I just spent 40 excruciating minutes behind the two women on the planet who haven't heard about TSA/air safety rules. They attempted to go through airport security with, among other things: Manicure kits (w/nail polish, nail polish remover, pointy nail file and scissors, natch) (wrapped in festive holiday paper, apparently they were gifts), bottles of pop, a large tube of hand lotion, large bottle of shampoo, lace-up-over-the-knee boots, every piece of jewelry they own and: cigarette lighters. And they were confused and angry that they were taken to the "special" security check area.
On the one hand, kind of "interesting" and somewhat humorous to witness, but on the other hand, huh? What the...????
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Not judging, merely observing and reporting...
I mean, it's not every day you read a statement from the Pope about male prostitution. Child molestation, criminal sexual abuse, homosexual priests and lesbian nuns, yeah, sure, you hear a lot about those things. But male prostitution? That's a new one to my ears.
But hey, this is good news for male prostitutes! The Pope publicly acknowledged male prostitution! This gives Catholic women hope for the future! Maybe one day a pope will acknowledge that a man who took a vow of celibacy has no business dictating what goes on in a woman's uterus!
[Catholic] Church teaching has long opposed condoms since they're a form of artificial contraception. The Vatican has been harshly criticized for its position given the AIDS crisis.
Benedict said that for male prostitutes — for whom contraception isn't a central issue — condoms are not a moral solution. But he said they could be justified "in the intention of reducing the risk of infection."
I need some clarification, though, Pope, you specify male prostitutes. What about men who are not themselves prostitutes, but rather the consumer in a sexual transaction? Are condoms a moral solution for them? Given that you specify male prostitutes, combined with the Catholic church's legacy of repressing and oppressing women, can we assume that you don't deem it acceptable for female prostitutes to insist their clients use condoms?
Just trying to understand the intricacies of the Catholic church's guidance on prostitution, male and otherwise. Accept, forgive, heal, peace, love and all that.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
I haven't posted a Michigan shout-out post for a while. Sorry, Michigan. I'm, you know, going through something.
I'm not big on the whole cupcake trend. The cupcake lovefest is waning, which is too bad for enterprising bakers who were able to breathe new life into their shops, but it was all just a bit too much. For the sake of small business owners and the people they employ I'm hoping the bottom doesn't fall out of the cupcake market. But I do hope the fever pitch cupcake hype calms a bit.
Mrs. Field probably launched the baked-good marketing machine. Then remember when croissants were all the rage? Croissant shops popped up everywhere. Then it was bagels. Then biscotti. Blondies had a little moment in the baked good marketing sun. Then those cookies that look like flowers delivered in a "bouquet." So, you know, there is solid empirical baked-good marketing data for the cupcake people to use. People like novelty baked goods but baked-good trends fade fast. Get in early, make a giant cake pan full of money and get out before TLC has a show featuring the baked good as a topic for a reality show. (TLC is my trend barometer: Once they air a show featuring something that thing's popularity (and trend value) is waning. If TLC is airing a show on a product or service, don't invest, the value is dropping, you missed the quick investment money opportunity.)
Right. Now that I've said all that, I have the nerve to turn around and say, "Rock on Just Baked! Check out these cupcakes!!!"
That little girl in the photo is displaying the exact look I had when I bit into a Faygo cupcake.
Faygo pop is sometimes the butt of jokes. Jokes about being poor and living in Detroit. But. I like the stuff. Redpop especially. It's kind of like a Twizzler, but with fizz and a little something more, something redder. Yes, redder than a Twizzler! I know! If you've never had the pleasure of a Faygo Redpop you haven't fully lived life. Plus it's fun to say. Redpop. Redpop. Redpop. No, it's not a Vernor's, my go-to pop of choice, but Redpop is special. It's for birthday parties and Christmas and sack lunches packed for school field trips to the zoo and sleepovers and the last day of Summer vacation before school starts and a secret ingredient in punch and...you get the point. It's special.
If, by chance you end up not enjoying the sweet red elixir don't despair over the money spent on pop! My parents used to use Faygo Redpop to attract hummingbirds to the garden.
And now, oh glorious bake-a-licious goodness, now the sweet nectar that is Faygo Redpop is available in cupcake form. Like Redpop, it's reminiscent of a Twizzler. But different. Redder.
The grape and orange pop flavored cupcakes are good, too. The grape tastes exactly like grape pop and the orange has a nice citrus-y zest. I like citrus-y zest.
As relieved as I am that the cupcake trend is subsiding I wish metropolitan Detroit's Just Baked bakery continued success. I also hope they go national with their Faygo flavored baked-goods. I would love for Just Baked to put Detroit on the national baked good map. Plus they have a Fat Elvis cupcake. ("Our moist banana cake topped with peanut butter-buttercream pillows then hand dipped in our homemade ganache. Takin' Care of Business!") I mean c'mon, that's not just jumping on a trend, that's inspired.
If you can't find a Faygo cupcake in your area here's a recipe that is really good, straight from the Faygo website: Faygo Black Cherry Chocolate Cake
And for the crafty/adventurous, also from the Faygo website, how to make your own play dough using pop! This was a holiday staple craft in my Sunday school. We molded entire diaramas of Bethlehem out of play dough we made ourselves. I was usually in charge of sculpting the animals because I had a way with rendering animals play dough, but one year I couldn't get a good texture on a lamb so I re-worked it into what became baby Jesus.
My parents were very proud. They beamed as the parishioners looked on at our painstakingly crafted nativity model. "Our daughter made baby Jesus this year!" I remember parishioners being impressed. Or at least pretending to be impressed. Having your home-made play dough baby Jesus chosen for the display was quite an honor. And pretty much the highlight of my Sunday school career.
After Advent ended we took the hardened home-made play dough baby Jesus home. He was put on display on the mantel next to my brother's shop class wood and copper owl-perched-in-a-tree sculpture. He was there for a couple years and my parents explained to visitors that it was baby Jesus and that I not only sculpted Him, I also made the play dough from which He was formed. I think they were trying to boost my self esteem. I mean, sure, a play dough baby Jesus used in the church Sunday school nativity is no small feat, but, it's not on par with a mixed media owl-perched-in-a-tree shop class project. But I digress. Faygo rocks. (and rye! Rock and rye!!! Rock on! (That's a Michigan thing, rock and rye is another Faygo flavor))
Monday, November 01, 2010
Okay, I'm going to just say it. Come clean, just come right out and admit it, I've been living in the lie of silence, guilt by omission, for too long.
I'm going to let the truth set me free.
I like Cher.
So much so that I talked seven other people (and two accessories) to go as "The Stages of Cher" with me to a Halloween party.
And we won a prize. Money. Cash.
So, I want to say, "Thank you, Cher, for the $83 and 33¢ in my pocket."
Well, Cher can't get all the credit. Much credit also to MAF who, with a mere three cases of make-up and a lot of hairspray, artfully transformed all six of us regular schlumps (including two men) into the many glorious "Stages of Cher" (and two other men into accessories, Sonny and Greg Allman).
And I gotta say, the two men who became, and I do mean became 1986 Oscars Cher and "If I Could Turn Back Time" era Cher were startling doppelgangers. (None of us chicks had the confidence to attempt "If I Could Turn Back Time" era Cher - testament more to Cher's Cher-ness than to our self-esteem and body issues.)
My suburban mom friends channeled their inner Chers and slipped into their Cher eras, "Cheras" as they're known, to create their Cher-sonas: Moonstruck Cher, "Do You Believe in Life After Love" Cher, bio-hazard Silkwood Cher, Native-American/"Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves" era Cher and Witches of Eastwick Cher became, you know, less suburban mom-ish and more, well, Cher-ish.
Because I have the boobs, legs and sense of humor to fill out a Bob Mackie-esque polyester halter jumpsuit (and already owned a pair of silver go-go sandals, don't ask) I was 1972 variety show era Cher. My friend's height-challenged husband was Sonny. (Ironically, his brother was Greg Allman, or All Man as he preferred to be called.)
What we immediately discovered is that people, almost everyone, likes Cher. We brought so many smiles to so many people it was like we were visual Prozac. Sure, it's funny, and Cher is funny, but she's also, you know, talented and aware and even, yes, a little vulnerable, so even in her most out-there get-ups there's still a tiny hint of, I swear it's true, humility, about her. Going out in public as the Stages of Cher (or Cheras) was liberating. Not only were we saying, "Yeah. We like Cher. You got a problem with that?" We were all more, well, happy. We liked being Cher, in any Chera, we liked pretending we had that kind of confidence, sense of fun and disregard for what anyone else thinks of us. I loved being Cher, even if for only a few hours. I loved being in the company of other Cheras. I love what it did to us, for us.
What this proves is that given enough alcohol, we all have an inner Cher, or at least the ability to attempt to find our inner Cher. And maybe we don't need Halloween and a costume and makeup to channel her. Maybe it would be good for all of us to say, "Today I am Cher. I have talent and a sense of humor. I will not take myself too seriously and I will succeed. And even if I fail, I will have tried, made the effort, put myself out there, which is a success in itself. It is more than most other people can say for themselves. The people who are not in touch with their inner-Cher."
Doubt me? Try it. Choose a Chera and pretend to have that attitude. See how it makes you feel. See how it transforms you.
So there it is. I feel good, better, to have this out in the open. I feel relieved and liberated to be out of the Cher closet.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
The Halloween Sunday "Dracula Brunch" at the local Hungarian/Romanian restaurant sounded like a fun way to celebrate Halloween. The special holiday-themed menu posted online offered plenty of options for the vegetarians and even the vegans. Eastern European food is not traditionally vegetarian but because of the promise of offerings for the non-animal-eating members of the group combined with Romanian wine tasting the group enthusiastically made a reservation.
Judgment blurred from the free and liberally flowing Carpathian-region wine offered by the proprietor, they didn't notice when one-by-one the vegetarians in the group didn't return from the pastry buffet.
They were unaware that vampires scoff at vegetarians and view them as cheap, disposable swill compared to the exquisite sweet nectar of meat-eaters' blood.
They were too drunk and too busy enjoying the Eastern European fare to realize the Halloween Dracula-themed brunch was nothing but an elaborate ruse to lure in trusting vegetarians so the vampire proprietors could ensnare the non-meat-eating patrons, let the young ones suck their blood as a holiday treat, then push their drained bodies into a cauldron and serve the up as an ironic Soylent Green ghoulash on the buffet for the meat eating patrons.
The next evening, when they gave accounts of their last sightings of their missing friends (all of whom happened to be vegetarian) to detectives, the Dracula Brunch diners wondered why the bloodhounds incessantly sniffed at their stomachs and lower GI regions.
Friday, October 29, 2010 Night of the Living Dead (original). Dawn of the Dead. Army of Darkness. Zombieland. Evil Dead. 28 Days Later. Cemetery Man. Shaun of the Dead.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Sit back and enjoy with a bowl of your favorite treats (Twizzlers are nice....) and bubbling cauldron of your favorite beverage.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Speaking of Tim Burton...
I heard a rumor that he's going to remake Frankenweenie as a full length movie. Not sure how I feel about that because the original is pretty much perfect. Especially considering it was made in 1984 - still holds up really well, n'cest pas?
(This is the end clip, search for parts I and II if you're unfamiliar with the story.)
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
This was going to be my Halloween post but I couldn't wait until then to share it and I thought you might want to share it with others before the big day.
Yes, it borrows heavily from 9, but good nonetheless.
Friday, October 22, 2010
I know someone who actively chooses to never see the Wizard of Oz. Okay. We all have our movie quirks. If you don't stand for something you'll fall for anything. Gotta draw a line, set personal boundaries.
But.
Last night I met someone who hates the movie Babe. Not just "meh, not my cuppa..." They passionately hate the movie. Um. How is it possible to passionately hate Babe? Sure, it's so adorable it hurts like an entire bag of Sour Patch Kids, but c'mon, it's quietly beautiful and charming and...would one have to be demonic to passionately hate Babe? Suspect, n'cest pas? (Yeah, I'm still doing that. Annoying, n'cest pas?)
1:47 PM
Sunday, October 10, 2010
In honor of 10 10 10 I give you this (it really happened...life(?) goes on):
(For those who aren't nerdy geeks, the un-binary translation: It was day three of his Cialis bender. He was horny, desperate and drunk. He usually dates women who are young, dumb, short and blond. He was looking to pad his sexual dossier with a leggy brunette. I wasn't looking to add "sexual prop" to my sexual dossier.)
11:22 AM
Thursday, October 07, 2010
Dear Hiring Manager/Human Capital Coordinator/HR peon,
I recently applied for a marketing manager position at your highly esteemed company. The careers section of your website is very informative! It details (with copious links) the high regard you have established as a “great place to work.” There are employee testimonials and survey data showcasing the emphasis you place on employees and their career goals at your company. You cite surveys from both Fortune and Forbes touting your high level of commitment to employee satisfaction and your investment in human capital. Very impressive!
Naturally I was very excited to see a job posting with a description detailing not only my career goals, but also matching my professional experience and education. I could barely contain my enthusiasm upon learning of a suitable job opportunity for me at your company!
I pored over the details of the job description giving each detail serious thought and consideration. After thoughtful and careful review I concluded that I exactly match your desired skills and experience. I was so excited about the potential opportunity!
I researched your company and your client-base. With each passing bit of information I found I became more interested and eager about the professional possibilities and what I have to offer your company.
I analyzed my research data on your company and your clients. I collected and analyzed my experience and skill sets. I compared and contrasted your desires for a job candidate, your company history and client base against my experience and skills. The final statistical analysis concluded that based on your job description and what I learned about your company and clients I am 100% qualified for the job.
I then crafted a thoughtful and informative cover letter and resume telling you about me and why I am qualified for the job. I told you why I want the job, and more importantly what assets I can bring to your company. I gave thoughtful, detailed job description specific, quantifiable, verifiable examples of my work history. I offered links to former client sites showcasing my work as well as my own website showcasing projects, my career details and highlights. I gave you real-life, real-time, in-use examples of my work in the cover letter and in the many (many) essay questions on your online application.
I thoughtfully completed all the (many and extensive) pages of your hiring site process. I put full effort into the myriad essay questions, even the "optional" ones. I uploaded required Word documents, pdf documents and links. I self-identified my race, gender, age, marital, disability, veteran and criminal history status. (Because I couldn't advance to the next page of the application unless I made selections for each of those categories. And hey, if I'm lucky enough to get an interview at your highly esteemed company it's going to be obvious I'm a white girl over the age of 30 who doesn't wear a wedding/engagement ring, walks with a limp and hasn't served time in the military. Illegal questions, schmillegal schmestions. People get so hung up on that stuff!) And when you asked if I had religious obligations I barely flinched. I even gave you my social security number because your (very) comprehensive careers site requires all applicants to submit that information.
Between research on your company and clients and your arduous “user friendly comprehensive” online application process I spent over 12 hours on my application. Excited and confident in my abilities and application, I pressed the “submit” button at 7 PM Monday evening.
11:28 AM Thursday morning I received a form email from your “online recruiter” stating:
“Dear Applicant,
Thank you for submitting your application for the position of Marketing Manager. Unfortunately we have decided not to pursue your application at this time because other candidates' qualifications more closely match the position requirements.”
I realize hiring managers receive hundreds, sometimes thousands of applications for a single job. I understand that number increases exponentially when multiplied by the number ofjob openings. I realize that equates to a high volume of applicants. So I do not expect hiring managers to spend a lot of time reviewing candidates. I understand there is a specific skill set delineated by key words and phrases in cover letters and resumes. I understand there are many (many) qualified candidates from which to choose in the marketing industry.
I respect your company and the caliber of work you produce. I want you to have continued success and esteem as an industry leader. So I hope the qualified marketing peer chosen for this professional opportunity does a great job and brings your company continued accolades.
Along with my professional experience I also have an impressive amount of experience with rejection. (See above, many (many) qualified candidates from which to choose in the marketing field.) I am a gracious loser and I am resilient (and intrepid). I am not bitter, resentful or mentally unstable. I have thick skin that quickly heals without scarring.
Please keep that in mind when I ask the following:
What do you want? What were you looking for in a candidate? Was there something you didn’t mention in the job description, something that immediately disqualified me? It would be extremely helpful for me to know why you dismissed my application so quickly.
I spent over 12 hours applying for one job at your company, a company that boasts “priority investment in human capital.” How much time did you spend reviewing my application? Three minutes? A minute? 30 seconds? The time it takes your automatic response software to process and send an email? Did an actual human assess my human capital?
You required many (many) web pages of personal information and subjective essay responses to many (many) questions. I thought (hoped) that was a reflection of your candidate review process. I thought it spoke to your commitment to invest in human capital. I presumed because you require such an extensive and subjective application that your screening process is equally extensive and subjective.
Perhaps you have an HR staff of hundreds devoted to subjectively reviewing job applications. If so, then kudos to you for living up to your reputation as a company devoted to investing in human capital. If, however, as I suspect, you do not have hundreds of people reviewing job applications and you utilize application screening software, why bother with the myriad essay questions required on your application website? I ask this because I'm confused and I want to understand. I have a thirst for knowledge in hiring processes.
Other companies, companies who do not win accolades from Forbes and Fortune, have more streamlined online application processes. Some require one or two essay answers, most do not require candidates to self-identify their race, gender, age, disability, marital, and veteran status (probably because it's illegal to require this information) and very few require that social security numbers be provided on the initial online application. Your site is indeed comprehensive and unique, hence my confusion and quest for information.
My blood type is A+, by the way. You didn’t ask for that information but since it’s the only piece of information you didn’t require on your application I thought I’d offer it so that you know absolutely everything not only about my professional career but also my personal life. Perhaps when you’re researching human capital for future job openings you’ll have a need for an A+ blood type candidate.
Monday, July 26, 2010
I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do with myself, my life, and everything.
I need to re-evaluate and reorganize, rethink and retool.
So, I did a little life assessment.
What's working, what's not working, pull confidence from what's working and set new goals and form new plans for what's not.
Well, crap.
Nothing's working.
There is not one facet of my life that's how I want it to be.
And yes, yes, I cut myself slack for crap beyond my control.
But.
Still.
Crap beyond control is a fact of life; you have to roll with it, adapt, evolve.
For the past year my goals have been: Find a job; pay my mortgage.
Pretty much every second, waking and even sleeping, has been devoted to those two goals. They're omnipresent. Unemployment is all pervasive.
And here I am. Unemployed a year and on the verge of foreclosure. So. Obviously I didn't meet my goals. Obviously.
But I haven't taken the time to think about (or even care) about other facets of my life - at least not in the goal and plan setting realm. I mean, nothing matters except finding a job and keeping a roof over my head. Unemployment does simplify life, reduces it to the bare essentials and forces you to focus on the basics. Money, shelter, food. In that order.
Intrinsic things like fulfillment, creativity, fun, what I want from life...yeah, uh, those things are non-issues. So I don't really think about them. At first I just put those goals on hold. "Job. Find a job. Keep a roof over your head. Deal with the rest later. Focus, focus, focus on the situation at hand."
And here I am. Unemployed a year and on the verge of foreclosure.
Crap.
So, let's take a look. Where do I go from here? What do I want, where do I want it, how do I get there?
Oh crap again.
Unemployment has consumed every facet of my life. And when I say consumed I mean eaten, digested and flushed it down the toilet.
Because I have difficulty even remembering what I want in my life.
And once I did recollect a few things - I vaguely remember something about stability, moving to a child-worthy home, adopting children, travel, making the every day aspects of life an adventure, being creative, helping other people, eating a balanced and healthy diet, figuring out a way to be active with a foot and ankle disability - I got tremendously depressed. Broken dreams are difficult to reconcile under the best of circumstances. In the worst of circumstances reviewing broken dreams is not advisable.
And then I reached waaaaay back, I mean way, way, way back. And revisited what I really wanted in life. You know, before my soul was crushed and I tried to make due with revised desires and hopes and goals.
Um. Yeah. Well. Talk about depressing.
A love-based committed marriage with an intelligent, funny, compassionate, nice guy with similar core values and life outlook. A modest but nice home. A stable career that allows me to use my creativity and insight in positive ways. A couple children. A vacation or two. Helping other people. Being a regular but vital member of society.
Not exactly lofty goals, are they? That's pretty much SOP for everyone. Most people find someone who loves them enough to marry them. I know there are other single people out there. But. There are more married people than single people. Most people get married. It's not a lofty or idealistic dream. It's normal. Even really, really stupid people do it.
But nope, not me. No one wants me. So. Scratch that off the goal list.
Once married, many people work and save money to buy a home.
Okay, well, I retooled that goal to make it singleton achievable. I had to add a couple steps, work a little harder, take a little longer, but it's do-able. So I bought a tiny condo with the goal of selling it in a few years at a small profit, but enough to get me into a bigger, child-worthy home.
Well, thanks to unemployment and now foreclosure I can now scratch that re-tooled goal off the list. Even, even if I magically manage to keep my home in the 11th hour (not likely, as I am currently in the 11th hour), it will take a lot longer to sell at enough profit to move to a bigger place than originally anticipated. I planned on five years and that was extremely realistic at the time. Now it'll take at least another five years, maybe more, for the market to change enough to sell at enough profit to move to a bigger place. That's three additional years, or more. And by then adoption agencies are not going to be exactly eager to even look at my application. It's rough enough to get past the single/zero hurdle at adoption agencies. Social workers like to place children in two-parent homes, or failing that, homes where a single parent has proven success with other children. Add my increasing age to the mix and it's a total non-starter.
So. Scratch those two re-tooled goals off the list.
So that leaves working and traveling.
No one wants to hire me. So. Yeah. That's problematic.
But I do have a gazillion air miles.
So technically I can travel. But. Once I get wherever I go I need, you know, actual money. I'm not scratching it off my list, but, that goal, that aspect of my life is on hold due to a lack of funds. Unless I just travel from airport to airport, and don't think for a minute I haven't considered that possibility. I have honestly planned the logistics of an around the world trip solely on planes and in airports. Technically it's possible. And technically I can do it, I have enough air miles to do it at least twice, three times if I'm clever about the logistics.
And the pattern emerges. I accept failure but not defeat. When I fall short of a goal I re-tool and re-visit and re-organize my goals, my plans, my life, myself.
But now I think it's time to admit defeat. I've re-tooled, re-visited and re-organized my goals, my life and myself so many times that I'm not me anymore. I'm an amorphous blob, a lump of mixed up DNA taking up valuable molecules better used on more successful members of my species.
Oh, chin up, Trill, this is just a rough patch, you're depressed and upset and scared and who wouldn't be? A lot of people are going through this right now. It's hard times.
Yeah. I know. I know.
But.
Not one facet of my life is how I want it to be and the harder I try to change, the farther away from my goals I get. Working hard, making a lot of effort, seems to have an inverse impact, which flies in the face of logic and empirical data. Which means I'm not doing it properly. I change, re-tool, re-organize, but apparently not the right way or at the right times. Which means I'm a failure and now I think it's time to admit and accept defeat. Obviously I'm incredibly unhappy with and in my life. I think I'm a pretty okay person, even a good person at times, and I find as much joy as I can from the little things in life, but ultimately there's not one aspect of my life that's how I want it and every attempt (repeated, and repeated and re-tooled attempts) end in failure, and from there I pick myself up, brush off the affront to my pride and hopes, and update my goals and myself.
I've done it one too many times. I don't know who I am and have difficulty remembering who I was before the crap of life(?) happened and I started re-adjusting and re-formatting my goals, plans and life. I'm just too far away, now, to get back home, to myself. I'd like to find the old me, the original me, but she was full of hopes and dreams and lofty ideals. She'd be afraid of me. She wouldn't want anything to do with me. She'd think, "Wow, that's sad, she's really sad, but that'll never happen to me...I have goals! And plans! And hope, lots and lots of hope! Someone as smart and full of wonder as I am will never end up like that!" Yeah. I used to be plucky and enthusiastic about myself and my future.
Now I'm depressed and fearful.
And I don't want to live that way. That's not who or how I am, it's not my definition of living and not helpful to anyone, least of all myself.
This is usually where I say, "Oh get over yourself. You're just down and depressed, this, too, shall pass. The sun will rise tomorrow and you'll take a deep breath and revise your goals and move on."
But now, this time, I can't formulate a goal that I deem worthy of bother. Even, even if I miraculously get a job and somehow manage to keep a roof over my head, is that really what I want from life(?)? Scraping by, always re-inventing myself to accommodate the revised goals set after yet another failure?
Where's the joy in that? I am, yes, even now, a joyful person. I can find it in almost anything. But. When the most joy you can find is the thrill of being able to afford a quart of fresh blueberries, well, I mean, you know, I like blueberries but c'mon, is that really all there is to life? Maybe so, and you know, not to discredit fresh blueberries. Fresh Michigan blueberries are pretty awesome. Especially when they're on sale and I can scrape together $3 to afford them. But. I mean. You know. They're blueberries. How much joy can I really get from them and how long can it sustain me?
When do you accept and admit defeat? In the end.
Don't get all freaky about this, yes, I, do consider suicide but I would never do that to my mother. Never.
But I'm not me, not who or how I want to be and even trying as hard as I can (reveling in the joy of $3 worth of fresh blueberries, for instance), doing everything in my power (and even reaching beyond my power) I'm still failing. And not just failing at one goal, I'm failing at everything and falling even farther behind. The logical next step is to stop trying.
So.
That's what I'm going to do. The failure hurts too much, now, and the revised goals are weak and stupid and not "me" at all. They're consolation prizes. And I'm not even achieving a consolation prize. Which means I'm not even in the game.
Which is not me. Or not who I was. Or who I want to be.
So.
I don't know that I'm "giving up" as much as I am just finally, finally accepting defeat.
So.
Losers can be humorous but they're boring. Monotonous.
You know how this life(?) goes. Goal, attempt, failure; goal, attempt, failure. Ad infinitum.
You are all great people and good friends and I'm sorry if you're disappointed in me. Believe me, no one is more disappointed in me than I am. I really let myself down and somehow managed to make a complete shambles of myself and my life.
This isn't "oh poor me," this is finally, finally accepting not the failures, but also the defeat. Surrender. That's it, surrender. Admitting that in the end it will have all been a colossal failure and why not just cut to that chase.
I will continue to exist, a lump of DNA taking up valuable molecules but I'm not so sure about the blog. I'm continually shocked, even all these years later, that anyone reads it, and continues to read it. Absolutely, mind-boggling shocked by that. Really and truly it's beyond fathomable to me that you're sitting there reading this.
But I'm boring and it's just the same thing over and over and over again. Oh sure, the occasional Most Affected Man or weird job interview or ridiculous friend situation arises, and it's humorous because life(?) is pretty funny if you choose to look at it that way. But it's really just the same thing, different day.
Ultimately I suppose that's the take-away. If I give anything to the Universe I hope it's a lesson in learning to laugh at yourself and your life. It is funny if you choose to see the humor in it. Most of you do that, so it's not a lesson you need to learn, especially from me.
I have a lot going on in the next few weeks. My brother is helping me move my essentials to my mothers' house, putting the rest in storage and we're de-Dadding my parents' house, prepping my mother for a move to a more suitable retirement community. I'll stay in my parents' house until it's sold or until I find a job that will pay me enough to pay rent. If that doesn't happen, well, then, it's mooching off friends and couch surfing or camping.
I can see the humor in just about anything, but try as I might I can't find anything remotely comedic or interesting about what happens next. Maybe, you know, who knows? Maybe homelessness is funnier than I think it is. If so, I'll let you know.
It's not good-bye, I'd love to hear from you, most of you have great things going on in your lives and I'm very pleased for you and I'd love to keep up with what's going on with you. It's safe to assume, at this point, that nothing good will be going on with me and I don't want to be that lonely, depressed, sad, weary friend who can never quite get her shit together and brings down the party. That's not me. That's not how I am. I don't want to be that person. And I have tried, and tried and tried to put a good spin on all of it, trying to convince myself and everyone else that I can make the best of it, see the humor in it and resiliently moving forward, trying again and revising goals and moving in a new direction.
You know the quotes. "We are not retreating, we are advancing in another direction." "It's a process, not an event." "I never could get the hang of Thursdays."
That's really the sum total of it.
Maybe somehow, someway I'll emerge from this and be re-energized and back here before you know it. But right now I just can't do this anymore. As cathartic as it is, as fun as it is, as much as I love all of you, the whole "what's the point? The point is there is no point!" aspect is tedious. "What's the point?" Well, there isn't one, really. I'm a lonesome, unemployed, homeless loser no one wants to hire or date. I have valiantly tried to rise above, make lemonade, re-tool and re-invent myself. Lots of people love being single. Lots of people use a job lay-off as a springboard to new and exciting careers. But they want to be single, they want a career change.
I don't, and never did, want to be single. I hate being single and always have hated being single. I don't "need" a man, but I like to be with a man, I like being in a good relationship. I don't want to be single. That's what differentiates us lonely singles from contented singles. If us lonely singles could flip a switch and not want to be single, we would. But it's part of our personalities, who we are, we want to be with someone in a good relationship. We want that as much as contented singles don't want to be in a relationship. Ditto the career issue. I was stressed and dealing with a lot of crap at my former job (thanks, nincompoop sycophantic liar of a boss) but I liked my work. I liked what I did. I liked my clients. My work, what actually did, was fulfilling. I don't want a new career. I liked my old one. I wasn't sitting on some wish or dream about a different career. There was no hobby I longed to turn into a new career. There was no desire to leave it and pursue a dream or new line of work. Sure, a different company, the same job at a different company, yes, that would be great. But. It's not happening. And I have no idea what to do to make a living. I'm overqualified for a lot of jobs, and not qualified for a lot of other jobs. The unemployment offices tells me they'll train me to be a plumber or learn Spanish so I can get a bilingual telemarketing job. That pays a little more than minimum wage. I'm not really clever with pipes and wrenches and unfortunately minimum wage doesn't pay rent. Maybe I'm the world's greatest plumber and I just don't realize it. Maybe my future lies in bilingual telemarketing. Maybe I need to be more accepting of these opportunities. N'est-ce pas? I don't think I have latent, dormant dreams for either of those careers, but who knows? Maybe I would find them deeply rewarding. I'm mulling it over, considering it, figuring out the logistics of the training. It depresses me to the point of tears to think about both of those career options, but I've run out of other options, so, I really don't have a choice.
Accepting and admitting defeat. White flag raised. Surrender.
I'm doing this now as a preemptive measure. July 31, 2008 my dad died. July 31, 2009, I was laid off. I'm not superstitious, but let's just say I'm keeping my head down and bracing for impact of what July 31, 2010 may bring. I'm getting everything taken care of before then.
Tidying up loose ends and all that. So, you know, there you are. Loose end of the blog tied.
Maybe I should have guest bloggers? If anyone wants to post anything here send it to me. I'll post it. Maybe that would be fun for you - you could all get to know each other. Kind of like a cocktail party. Yeah, that could be funny, send me a Trillian-inspired post and I'll post it.
Or.
Just.
Accept. Forgive. Heal. Peace. Love. Duh.
Do it.
Only a handful of people are interested in Just Drive, She Said. I'll post the rest at some point or I'll send you the full doc if you want it. Chapter VII is now live.
