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
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
So, if you are (painfully) aware that you and your life have become sad clichés are you merely pathetically cliché or does your awareness grant you the right to be humorously ironic?
I think there's a very thin line between the two and I would caution everyone to stay far away from both. Avoid that area altogether.
I've been flirting dangerously close to that line for a few years. But heed my warning. I'm there, now. And even though there are moments of humor, mostly I'm depressed, embarrassed, frustrated and scared.
Oh sure, it's kind of funny when something cliché happens, the stuff of sitcoms and movies starring Seth Rogan or Owen Wilson. But trust me, it's funnier on screen than in real life.
My mother's having some health issues and has been bouncing between hospital and rehabilitation centers and will be doing so for the next few weeks.
Okay, well, one positive aspect of being unemployed is that I can help her. So, I'm staying at my parents house. Alone. This is the first time I've been in my parents' house alone, overnight, since college. So I have that teenaged sense of woohoo! home alone! crank Dad's stereo and eat Doritos in the living room feeling, a la pretty much every '80s teen movie.
Yes. I have lived on my own for a lot of years and I can crank my stereo and eat Doritos (and wash them down with booze) whenever and wherever I want.
But something about your parents' house prompts that giddy sense of freedom, that feeling of new, on the precipice of adulthood freedom, freedom to do whatever you want within a controlled environment.
I told you it's pathetic.
I may have discovered why grown people, intelligent people, choose to live in their parents' basements. I always thought people who are capable of living on their own but choose to live with their parents are a) immature, b) lazy, c) spoiled, d) emotionally "off," e) controlled by domineering mothers, or f) all of the above. But now I'm starting to realize it might be a lot more complex than how it appears on the surface.
For me and a lot of other fortunate people, my parents' home has always been a safe, calm, happy place. Sure, there are rules and an expected modicum of behavior, but it's generally a comfortable, safe place. Nothing bad happens at your parents' house. I know, I'm lucky. Not everyone is raised in that kind of environment. But for those of us who were, it's a nice safe haven.
But I haven't spent more than a few hours alone in my parents' home since college and that is triggering some weird behaviors. See above, cranking the stereo and eating Doritos.
It's all fun and games until someone's pride gets wounded.
So, a couple nights ago I may have had the stereo volume a little louder than, you know, necessary. And I may have been jumping around a little more than necessary.
I realize that I am well past the crank the stereo and jump off the couch air guitaring age, and I realize that I am not, in fact, Pete Townshend. But. I had a long day with my mother and her doctors. I had a bunch of chores to do including a huge stack of laundry and I unearthed some of my brother's old LPs in a closet so I threw on a little music and I guess somehow I turned up the stereo a little louder than necessary and "We Won't Get Fooled Again" sort of got the best of me and for a moment, there, it was glorious and I guess I didn't hear the doorbell and yadda yadda yadda my parents' friends who were feeling sorry for me and dropping off a casserole and a cinnamon bundt cake looked through the front window and caught me jumping off the living room couch with a mid-air air guitar windmill.
Mid-air, half-splits and windmill on my phantom guitar I noticed two senior citizens looking into the the window, hands cupped at the window for a better, glare-free look to see if anyone was home or if the stereo was blaring the Who all on its own.
Oh. And. I wasn't wearing pants. Or underwear. Just a beat up Red Wings jersey and socks.
Yes. I shot my parents' friends a beaver. A mid-air beaver with accompanying windmill guitar shred. My mother has sheer curtains under the regular drapes so it's possible they didn't get a clear view of the beav through the sheer curtains...but we're splitting (pubic) hairs, here.
No, there wasn't a bag of Doritos strewn about the coffee table, but there was a bag of veggie chips open on the counter in the kitchen. Which my parents' friends saw when I finally found some pants and let them in the house.
My mother's in a physical rehabilitation "facility" and her unemployed financially destitute loser adult daughter is half naked jumping off couches with the stereo blasting the Who.
I know it's cliché and pathetic. I was very aware of that before I turned up the stereo. But I did it anyway.
And no, I am not harboring Risky Business fantasies. I was doing laundry and my jeans were in the dryer and my pjs were mid-spin cycle. Hence my lack of pants.
Fortunately I've known these friends of my parents for a long time and they thought it was funny, but, we can all presume there will be awkward pauses and awkward deflected looks the next time I see them.
If I were a teenager this behavior would be expected. But. I'm not a teenager. Not even close.
If booze were somehow involved it could be explained. But alcohol was not a factor.
If I had friends over and we were having a party it would still be a little weird, but explainable, dismissible. But I was alone. Painfully alone.
If I had young children to entertain it could be explained. But. I don't have children. And my nearest niece was 75 miles away at the time.
If I had a job, any job, it would still be embarrassing, but the unemployed/financially destitute angle adds a disturbing element to the whole thing.
And the casserole and bundt cake...I mean, it just makes me feel even worse. Here these nice people were feeling so sorry for me that they made me food and packaged it all up in a cute basket festooned with a ribbon and handwritten cooking instructions for the casserole....and there I was jumping off couches without pants.
I think it's the bundt cake that makes it all the more degrading. There's something pure and innocent and nice about bundt cakes. A grown woman who cranks her parents' stereo and jumps off their living room couch without wearing pants does not deserve a bundt cake. A woman like that tarnishes - besmirches - a bundt cake.
And it was taking place in the living room! If it had been the family room...a bedroom... perhaps in the shower...but no. The living room. The most formal room in the house. How could I sully the living room's reputation like that?
I'm pretty sure the only way this could have been worse is if I had some stoner guy there splayed out on the floor with a bong. (Where's my head banger stoner neighbor when I really need him?) But then, that would give me an "excuse." In the retelling of the story, the boyfriend would be blamed. My parents' friends would say something like, "Trillian's going through a rough time...unemployed...and that fellow she's dating...she's vulnerable...he's no good for her...her self esteem is hurting what with the unemployment..."
But no. There's no stoner boyfriend. Just me and my brother's old scratched copy of Who's Next and my dad's stereo. And no pants.
And a cinnamon bundt cake.
Oh, and did I mention that this is an old stereo and there is a stack of quarters taped to the needle arm to prevent the needle from skipping across a 33 1/3 rpm vinyl LP?
Yeah. It gets more pathetic with each element.
Which is somehow fitting. I feel like this is what I deserve, this is exactly where I deserve to be and how pathetic my life deserves to be. I lost my financé, I lost my job, I'm losing my home, I've lost every tiny shred of pride I had left. I have failed in every aspect of my life. And failures live at home with their parents listening to old scratched records left behind by older siblings. The pantlessness is just a nice touch I apparently felt a need to add.
And that is my epiphany about people who live in their parents' basements. They're in the basement to spare their parents the embarrassment of their behavior. If I'd been hermitting away in my parents' basement my parents' friends would have heard the music but would have been spared the pantsless air guitar demonstration. And so, with that I guess I'll be joining the ranks of the "weird people" who live in their parents' basements. I suppose we all knew it was going to come to this sooner or later.
I've been plagued by a nagging question as long as I can remember. In fact one of my earliest memories involves this question.
And I've yet to resolve it.
And I've asked a lot of people for advice and insight.
And still, as yet, it's an unresolved mystery to me.
Where do I belong?
And its follow up question: How do you know where you belong?
I have no more clue now than I did when I was three. And I continue to assuage my confusion with, "Just make the best of wherever you are."
Make the best of what you have and where you have it. Find contentment within and the rest will either take care of itself or not matter.
Good solution, right?
Yeah, I think so, too. And for the most part it's worked out okay for me.
But now...well...now since no one will hire me and I'm going to be homeless I am forced to consider not only what my next move is, but where it is. I could stay in Chicago, or the suburbs thereof. MAF and his partner have offered their couch and another friend has offered a spare bedroom in her suburban home. But those are only temporary options, not long term solutions. Where do I want to go? Gee, I dunno. Okay, well, let's look at this from another angle. Where do I belong? I have absolutely no idea.
I know some basics about where I don't belong. Climate is an important factor. I know I don't belong anywhere with an average temperature above 80° or humidity above 70%. (And yes, that is Chicago for several weeks/months of the year so what the heck am I doing in Chicago?)
And now economics is an important factor. I know I don't belong anywhere with an average income above $40K and rent/mortgage costs over $700/month. (And yes, you'd be hard pressed to find an insect-free apartment located more than 3 blocks from crack dealers for less than $700 in Chicago so what the heck am I doing in Chicago?)
For a lot of people family is a factor. And yes, given her health and widowhood I'd prefer not to be more than a six hour drive/one hour plane trip from my mother, but...given my, um, "predicament" that's lower on the list of practical considerations.
And that's not really my point, here.
I'm not talking about the best place to live, I'm talking about figuring out where you belong. My feeling is that the two are rarely the same. I contend that very few people live where they belong. Or belong where they live.
So I've never felt "bad" about my bewilderment over not knowing where I belong. I don't think I'm in a small minority of people who are clueless about where they belong. In fact, I'm confident a lot of people have no clue where they belong, physically or metaphorically.
My contention, though, is that we'd all be a heck of a lot more content if we a) figured out where we belong and b) lived there. Contentment = serenity; Serenity = positivity; Positivity = fewer health problems, less crime, fewer wars...so yeah, figuring out where you belong and living there is actually a pretty big deal.
Religious people claim they don't have this conundrum because they have Jesus/God/Buddha/Elvis in their heart and He is their origination, destination and compass for all points in-between.
Yay. How very convenient. Don't throw your Bible at me and I won't throw my Sartre at you.
A lot of people equate belonging with home, and in turn, home with a specific person/people. Home is where your heart/mom/spouse/kids/dog/Ferrari/light saber is. Except in the case of material possessions I think that's a good outlook. (and for the record if religion provides contentment without judgment, rock on)
But.
If you're an adult, and you have no spouse/kids/dog(or Ferrari or light saber) do you really "belong" with your parents? If you met an adult who lives with their parents, and in response to the question, "Why do you live with your parents?" they said, "This is where I belong," what would you think? Really. Be honest. You'd think a lot of negative stereotypes and social stigmas.
Which is too bad but I don't see that attitude changing anytime soon.
Which is too bad because there are a lot of lonely single people on this planet and it's sorrowful and depressing to think that the one place where many of them feel like they belong is the one place society mocks and ridicules.
I know I don't belong in The Suburbs. Even though I'm from The Suburbs, I'm a native, I don't belong there. I didn't even belong there when I was a kid with a right granted by my parents' property tax payments to live in The Suburbs. Now, when I visit friends and family there as a never married, childless adult not only do I not fit in, I am judged, questioned and either pitied or dismissed. I definitely do not belong there.
And it's worse for men. Never married, childless men can add "creepy" and "feared" to the list of reasons they don't belong in The Suburbs. A never married, childless man buying a home in the suburbs automatically makes him suspect: He's labeled a sex offender, murderer and/or evil scientist conducting sinister experiments on young children before the moving truck pulls out of the driveway.
So. We can cross The Suburbs off the list of possible places I might belong.
That leaves: Heavily populated urban centers and isolated rural areas.
I like cities, I prefer cities, I'm comfortable in the anonymity cities provide. But cities are expensive places to live. And I'm unemployed. And out of savings. So. Yeah. That's a non-starter. But that's okay. Because even though I like cities, I've never found one where I felt I belonged. I felt like I didn't belong in several cities which I won't mention. But, there are cities I like and wanted to belong but didn't. I like New York. London. Antwerp. San Francisco. Vancouver. Minneapolis. And I think I've spent enough time in all of those cities (doing things other than vacationing) to know whether or not I belong there. I feel affectionate toward them, but I don't feel that affection is reciprocated. I've never had bad experiences in those cities, but I don't feel like I belong in any of them.
So that leaves a whole heck of a lot of isolated rural areas.
And my parent's house.
Okay, let's just say I move home with my mother. I mean, why not? Why not just admit defeat in every aspect of my life and move home with my mother? Start wearing cheap knock-off versions of Pajama Jeans* and mismatched slippers to the grocery to buy RC Cola and Velveeta. A spinster who failed at life moves home with her widowed mother. That's how it's supposed to happen, right? That's what happens to spinsters who fail at their careers and at life in general. They move in with their widowed mothers, eventually the mother dies, one cat turns into 150, the spinster starts yelling crazy nonsensical things at neighborhood children, maybe starts shooting a shotgun at anyone who comes within 100 feet, the house falls into disrepair, yadda yadda yadda the gas company guy goes to shut off the gas for non-payment and smells something fetid and finds cats dining on what's left of the spinster, who the coroner figures was dead at least seven months. (And yet people say I don't think about my future. Bah! Obviously it's all I think about.)
The sooner I admit to myself that this is my life, accept it and stop fighting for something more, better or at least different, the sooner I will find contentment.
But. I think, I hope, I have at least a few years of early spinsterhood left. The jaded, bitter, callous, shrew years. Oh boy!
And my mother happens to live in suburban Detroit. Detroit, though full of many virtues and nowhere near as bad as comedians seem to think, is not a great place for an unemployed person looking for a fresh start. And more to the immediate point, I've spent a lot of time in Detroit, and Michigan, and even though I love it and have zero complaints and nothing but praise and heart swelling pride about being from there, I never felt like I belonged there. I wish I belonged there, but even with my burgeoning span of unemployment I still don't feel like I belong there. (Because there's a heck of a lot more to Detroit, and Michigan, than unemployment.)
So.
See square one, "I have no clue where I belong."
I'm not looking for contentment. It would be nice, but contentment is a luxury, a pipe dream for me.
I'd be happy with acceptance. It would be really nice to be accepted, as is, no judgment or questions. That, too, I think is a pipe dream. Unless there's a place, a colony or island or gated community solely for single, educated-professional-but-unemployed people who have nowhere else to go. That's where I belong. If you know of such a place please tell me how to get there.
If, as I suspect, that singles safe haven doesn't exist, then how do I choose where to go?
Or, as I also suspect, if no one feels like they really belong anywhere, then is a nomadic life the best solution? People who don't know where they belong (physically or metaphorically) are by definition discontent. Wouldn't they, we, find some contentment (or at least solace) if we were traveling around trying new places, looking for a place we belong rather than stagnating somewhere where we don't belong? The irony of being a nomad to avoid discontentment is not lost on me. And yes, yes, I know, I know. The fastest and surest route to discontentment is to question where you belong. I know that. I read. I listen. I hear. I live. I look in the mirror.
And yes, yes, I know. I'm stepping around the obvious metaphoric aspect of belonging. Doesn't it go without saying that if you're not at peace, comfortable in your own skin, you'll never feel like you belong anywhere? I thought that was assumed knowledge.
And yes, yes, I struggle with self-image, but, even so, I am comfortable in my skin. All 5'11" of it. I don't like that men don't find me, my outer appearance, attractive, and therefore I wish my skin was wrapped around a more appealing physical face and body, but, I am comfortable in my own skin. I know who I am. And I know men are not attracted to me. I accept this. I'm not "happy" about it but I have come to accept it enough to be content with that knowledge. If I weren't comfortable in my skin I would have bought plastic surgery instead of a condo. A decision I am starting regret because, ha, the joke's on me, the plastic surgery would have lasted longer than my condo and if I were more attractive I'd stand a better chance at job offers which would give me a better and steadier income so I could buy a condo. But, heh heh, I was comfortable in my skin, I accepted myself and was well on my way to finding contentment in loads of ways other than romantic affection and a stable relationship. Look where that got me. Unemployed and homeless.
But hey, I'm comfortable in my skin. I know who I am, I know how I look, and I know men are not attracted to me. Trust me, there's a heck of a lot of contentment in accepting that.
Unfortunately we live in a Disney-fied society where women, educated, intelligent women, choose to ignore the census data that proves it is statistically impossible for there to be someone for everyone. (and that true love's kiss can solve any problem) Also unfortunate is that our media-spun society showcases only the most attractive women, so men have a very skewed view of what women "should" look like. (yes, guys, I am saying you buy into female physical stereotypes, it's not a bad thing, I spent six seasons watching LOST (including repeats) solely because the men were stereotypical handsome).
I'm not blaming other people for my inability to attract a mate. I take full responsibility for my DNA.
But I am pointing out that other people are part of the equation when trying to sort out where one belongs. And for me, an area densely populated with women who truly believe there's someone for everyone and men who are only attracted to centerfold or super-close-up scene ready women is not a place where I belong. (If someone will give me a research grant I will doggedly study and report my findings on the correlation between college educated women who believe in real life fairy tales (and regularly use that term) and men who only date women who are possession of stereotypical physical attraction and the increasing role plastic surgery plays in "real life fairy tales.")
Obviously I do not belong in a fairy tale, real life or otherwise. I'm content with that. I have census data and demographic stats to keep me warm.
So. Yes, emotional, mental contentment plays a huge role in the feeling of belonging. But I'm fairly certain that's not holding me back from figuring out where I belong. It is my fervent hope there is at least one place on this planet where it is not commonly believed that there is someone for everyone and anyone who doesn't have someone is either sad and pitiable or flawed and scorn-worthy. That's where I belong. But I have no idea where that is (other than in my imagination).
I have lots of questions and I'm betting you have lots of answers.
Do you know where you belong? Do you live there? Are you planning to live there? How do you know it's where you belong? When and how did you figure out you belong there? Was your discovery an accident or based on a calculation derived from a formula involving several factors?
How well do you know yourself? Do you have a solid grasp on how other people see you? What's your comfort level in your skin? Is that comfort level a factor in your contentment with your locale?
*I've already looked into Pajama Jeans. They don't come cheap. And. If you find yourself reaching for the credit card when the Pajama Jean commercial airs you are exactly the person who should not be reaching for the credit card when the Pajama Jean commercial airs. I don't know who belongs in Pajama Jeans, but I am certain women who find them appealing are the women who do not belong in them.
Trillian received a holiday gift from a friend, a $50 gift card to an expensive department store. She also received a $50 cash from an aunt. Trillian saw a lace top on clearance for $98 at the expensive department store. It was the least expensive thing she could find in the store. Trillian has nowhere to wear a lace top and even if she had an appropriate venue/occasion to wear it, she lacks the confidence and physical attributes to pull off the look of the lace top. However Trillian noted she would like to have the confidence and physical attributes to pull off the look of the lace top and a place/reason to wear it. She then conjectured an hypothesis of cause and effect: Buy the lace top, acquire the confidence and attributes and a reason/place to wear it.
Given that Trillian is unemployed and soon to be homeless and lives in the Midwestern US and it's January, she is also researching outdoorwear. She is eying a long foul-weather waterproof down-alternative parka. She would never usually consider such a garment but has discerned it to be a wise and serviceable garment for homeless people: It can act not only as a coat, but is also long enough to improvise as a blanket. And as a tent/raincover in warmer, rainier seasons. The down alternative also provides enough padding to act as a mattress on pavement, ground and park benches. The coat Trillian feels offers the most and best multipurpose features is on sale for $120. She can scrape up $20 cash to augment the $50 cash gift, but will have to trade or sell the $50 giftcard at a loss to put it to use anywhere other than the expensive department store.
Calculate the IQ of the person who gives someone who's unemployed a giftcard for a luxury department store.
Extra credit: Determine the probability and odds of the giftcard being regift.
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
So, obviously I'm depressed. Duh. That's a given.
I'm unemployed. I'm approaching the one year anniversary of my lay-off. And I'm no closer to landing a full-time job than I was the day I was laid off.
I knew it would be "a while." I knew it could be a year.
But.
Now that I'm actually closing in on a year the reality of my reality is hitting hard.
The depression seems to be kicking up a couple notches. People told me there'd be depression and I thought I was braced for it.
But hooo boy, this is harder than I imagined. And what I imagined was awful.
And the telemarketing gig is beyond awful. It may in fact be killing me.
So. Yeah.
I do all the things you're supposed do to combat depression. Stay positive. Find happiness in small positive things, little things I enjoy like music, movies, books, etc. Get some exercise. Call a friend.
Okay, so, maybe calling my friends isn't the best way to combat depression.
I've known for a while that my friends are a source of stress and depression. But I know it's not them, it's me. They're not doing anything wrong, they're not purposely depressing and stressing me. They're just being normal people. And some of them have been extraordinarily great to me since I was laid off.
But.
Most of my friends haven't worked for 5+ years. They are all married. Most of them have children or are trying to have children. They've all moved to nice big houses in nice suburban communities. Something that, when they were single or first married, most of them staunchly swore they'd never do. But it happens, life happens. I know their lives aren't perfect. I know they have stress and issues and problems and it's not one big prozac moment.
But.
They haven't worked much less endured work-related stress and stress from losing their jobs. When they got married they had two incomes to save up a large down payment so their mortgages are relatively low. A few of my friends are even close to paying off 30 year mortgages in 15 years thanks to low mortgages thanks to sizable down payments thanks to two incomes. And I'm happy for them, really, when we were all single these are the things we talked about and planned and hoped for in our lives. Though very few of them planned to quit working. We all said we'd work, in some capacity, no matter how many children we had. Some of them had careers that would easily translate to work-at-home jobs. One by one they met great guys and got married and followed through with all the plans we talked about when we were single. They moved forward. And, oddly, none of them continued to work or even migrated to their work-at-home ideas. Their careers, their interests, their goals...poof! gone. These were highly educated professional women. Now they're highly educated women who consciously choose to not work.
I, on the other hand, did not move forward. I worked. That's it. I worked. At first my friends insisted there's someone for everyone and someone, some man would come along and I'd get married and have two incomes and save for a house and have kids and I was going to be a great mom...yeah, the statistics, the cold hard facts, the body of concrete evidence pointing against me evaded them.
I, on the other hand, looked at the stats, crunched the numbers and realized that since women my age outnumber men 4 to 1 there's no swutting way there's someone for everyone and with each passing birthday it became more clear that a) there's not someone for everyone and b) I'm one of the people on the single side of the stats. In life, as in schoolyard games, I was not good enough to be chosen for a team.
Some of my friends finally stopped being ridiculously deluded by their own rose colored glasses and admitted that I was right, the stats don't lie and I'm not getting any younger and the man prospects were getting more narrow all the time. I am the Mayor of Singleton. Someone has to be.
So they insisted that just because I'm single doesn't mean I can't follow through with the lives we planned and hoped for when we were single. They encouraged me to try to buy a condo, live there a few years, sell and make a profit, move to a bigger place and then be a foster parent and then adopt. That's the path a lot of single people who want a home and family take. It made sense to me. It wasn't how I imagined my life, but, it was good. A woman no man wants adopting kids parents don't want. Sounds very Hallmark Movie Night. And it appealed to my sense of compassion. It wasn't the "ideal" situation, I would prefer to have a husband and raise children in a two-parent home. But. As we know, my life(?) is not exactly ideal. A lot of rejection, disappointments, unforeseen issues, and a lot of Plan Bs. And as long as there are children who are not wanted, there are children who need a home, even a one parent home is better than no parent and no home. The whole thing started to make a lot of sense to me. My parents were even coming around to the idea. They encouraged me, told me I wouldn't be doing it on my own, they'd be there with full grandparent support. Everyone told me if anyone could manage a job and single parenthood it was me.
So, I found a small condo with good resale potential, planned to live there 4 -5 years, build some equity and save some money, buy a bigger place and then start the foster and adoption process.
There you go. There it is. The story behind the story and the bigger reasons behind why unemployment and foreclosure are even more depressing than "just" being laid off and losing my home. I was working on my revised life-plan. I wrote down a plan, had all the sub-goals and steps to get to the big goal. By the end of 2011 I would embark on finding a home big enough to be social-worker approved for a couple kids and have a little money saved. I read every book I could find about foster parenting and adopting older or special needs kids.
And now I'm not working. Not by choice. And I'm going to lose my home. And last week I boxed up all the books on foster parenting and adopting and sent them to a book reseller.
Yeah. That's that.
When I was first laid off I crunched the numbers and tried to figure out how to stay on track, what I had to do to keep up with my plans. Being unemployed for longer than six months would mean putting my plans on hold until 2012 or 2013. Which would put me older and closer to the age where social workers and adoption agencies start questioning and vetoing single-parent adoption. Single parent adoption is difficult. You have to jump through a lot of extra hoops. And there are already a lot of hoops for adoption. When you're single there are almost double the amount of hoops.
When I hit the six month mark of unemployment I refused to give up, but, I did force myself to start accepting the reality that my plans were not only postponed, but probably going to have to be canceled completely. So I've been kind of upset about that. Each month I thought, "Okay, I can still turn this around, if I get a job this week I might be able to get back on track." And now that I'm closing in on a year...and there are more foreclosures in my building...and the value of my condo has dropped to almost half what I paid for it...and I'm still unemployed...there's no way I can a) sell my place; b) recoup the loss in just a couple years; c) even consider adopting or fostering even a cat let alone a child.
A few weeks ago I made myself stare into the face of reality, deal with it, accept it and stop pinning hopes on an unrealistic fantasy. I was deluding myself. It was unhealthy. It was a form of denial. Denial not only of my current situation, but of the slim chances of my plan working even if I hadn't been laid off. So many things had to happen "just so" for my plan to work. The housing market had to stay stable. (It did not.) I had to save money. (I was doing this but not enough thanks to a wage freeze.) I had to find a suitable for children home that I could afford. I had to prove my worthiness and stability (financial, emotional, physical, professional) to social workers. Someone else had to choose to not want their children. I mean, there are a lot of factors and if even one of them wasn't perfect, and I mean perfect, the plan wouldn't happen. I now see the lay off and ensuing unemployment as a way to hasten my acceptance. If I hadn't been laid off I would have clung to my plan. And the reality is that it was a very long shot under the best of circumstances. Difficult as it is, I'm trying to see that this is actually a positive aspect of unemployment. Facing cold, hard reality. No more clinging to false hopes and elaborate, slim-chanced plans.
It is good that I'm dealing with it now. But it's still depressing. That's why the past couple of weeks have been especially difficult for me.
And then, because the Universe loves to throw poignant irony at me, one of my friends announced that she and her husband are expecting child number three.
And, then, a few days later, one of my friends who's been through every possible type of insemination is finally pregnant.
Yep. Two of my friends are expecting babies.
And yes, yes, I am really and truly happy for them and their husbands.
But it's really depressing for me to be around all the jubilant happy family planning.
I feel selfish and guilty for feeling jealous and depressed by their happy news.
It's not their fault that sometimes they depress me. It's my fault. I'm the failure, I'm the one who can't get her life together. I'm the one who's too sensitive. They're just doing what people do. They're just living normal lives. They're not horrible people self righteously flaunting their success and happiness in my face.
Or, well, you know, not usually. Not intentionally. A few days ago one of my friends came over to help me lug some stuff to the charity shop. She brought her kids. It got to be nap time. The kids hugged their mom and laid down on the couch for a catnap. As they drifted off to sleep they called out, "I love you, Mommy." I know. I know. They could not possibly be any cuter. My friend said, "...and that, Trill, is how I keep my perspective and sanity and why I don't go back to work. No one, in any office where I ever worked, told me they loved me. I hear it, unsolicited, many times a day."
Gee. How nice for you, friend. That got me thinking. How many times a day does someone tell me they love me? None. Per week? Other than my mother? None. Per month? Other than my mother? None. Per year? Other than my mother and occasionally my nieces and once or twice a far away friend? None. When was the last time someone other than a family member or friend tossing out the occasional cursory "love ya" told me they loved me? I can't remember. Probably 2001. Nine years.
And I wonder why I'm depressed?
I decided I have to find a way to deal with this. I either cut myself off from my friends, just drop them, because we have little in common and just by being them they depress me. Or. I figure out how to deal with my depression, envy and inability to achieve what I want in my life.
I have "lost" a lot of friends in the past 10 years. They got married, moved, had kids, stopped working, moved again...we drifted. So if I cut myself off from my few remaining friends I'll be nearly friendless. MAF and his partner are working in Europe so right now, at this moment, I have no single friends closer than 6,000 miles from me. If I cut myself off from my married with children friends MAF's absence makes a social life a bit problematic. If I cut myself off from my married with children friends basically I have no friends.
But, if I don't find a job soon I'll be homeless, I'll have to move home with my mother hundreds of miles away and this will all be a moot point. My social life will be my mother and her senior citizen friends and neighbors. So, you know, ultimately this is all a stupid waste of emotion anyway.
Okay. So. That's way more information than anyone wants. But I could use some advice. Advice other than "find new friends." I've tried. I do try. I know people, lots of people, but friends, real, get together and socialize friends are hard to find, especially single, childless friends. What do single people do to handle the envy and depression caused by their married with children friends? (Again, other than "find new friends.") Therapy?
Or ultimately is this just evolution at work, the thinning of the herd? If we were a herd or flock of animals and no males wanted to mate with me I'd be viewed as a liability. I'd be ostracized from the herd/flock. Are humans any different? Are mateless, childless members of our herd a liability and socially cast out and ignored? Do I just need to accept this as the reality of single life?
I read a statistic about unemployment that only fueled this whole contemplative depression. In the last two years childless employees were laid off 1.5 to 1 over employees with children under the age of 18. That works out that in a company-wide layoff of 300 people, 200 of them will be childless. Thinning of the herd. Evolution. Plus it's easier to tell a childless person they're being laid off. There are no cute photos of grinning children on the desk. There are no college funds being jeopardized. It's just less painful to lay off a childless employee. The lay-off only affects one person, not an entire family, not children.
And please, spare me the "single people can be very happy on their own, lots of single people are very fulfilled and happy" line. I know that. And that rocks for them. Yay them. But they are the single people who do notwant to be in a committed relationship and/or have children. They're living the life they want to live. So naturally they are fulfilled and happy without a spouse and/or children.
So, back to my question. What do I do about my friends and the depression they cause me? Is the only option figuring out a way to get past and give up on what I want in my life, accept the loneliness/lovelessness and just be happy for my friends, maybe even live vicariously through their lives? Now that my save money/buy a bigger home/adopt plan has slid away from me is there another option?
I know - just get over it and "make peace" with my life as it is, however it is. There is real human suffering in this world and my failure and loneliness is inconsequential and trivial compared to what a lot of people deal with on a daily basis. I know this. I am very aware that my problems aren't problems. Well. Okay. Losing my job and home are problems. Big problems. But. Lots of people are unemployed and homeless. I'm not special. But I do need to figure out how to deal with all of this. And it's all tied into one big depressed jumble. All of the issues are related to each other. I don't think there's one answer to solve all of it, but I do think there must be a way to deal with the resulting depression, emptiness and envy I feel toward my friends. I'm certainly not the first person who's gone through this. What are the coping mechanisms? What is the "best" way to deal with resulting depression?
