Thursday, August 16, 2012

Jobless, Clueless, Penniless

I have been at my current position for about 10 years.  I have been in my current field for over 15 years.   Basically, all but one of my "grown-up" jobs have been within the same industry.  I love my current job and my current boss but the decline in business has finally come to a head for our little office. 

At the end of this month, I am jobless.

I am trying to remain calm but minor episodes of madness seem to keep bubbling up and leaking out  when I least expect it.  I imagine this would have been a lot easier to handle without the fact that life has been imitating a caged chimpanzee for the past couple of years, flinging all kinds of crap on me at every opportunity.  Still, I am trying my best...breathe in...breathe out...put on my hazmat suit...damned chimpanzees!

I go about updating my resume, realize I haven't done so since I was in my twenties, chuck the whole thing and start fresh.  Quite symbolic, wouldn't you say?  I contact all of my, well...contacts and start faxing and emailing resumes, filling out applications and making phone calls.  Attempting a positive attitude, I envision potential interviews and practice prospective interview questions.  I feel confident, completely prepared to being the job hunt.  I go to sleep dreaming of perfect interviews and jobs so surreally perfect, there should be a fairy godmother hovering at my shoulder. 

Early the next morning, I have a phone interview set up.  Though still somewhat groggy, I answer the phone in my most professional phone voice and my first interview begins.  The interviewer asks me to list some of the computer systems I have worked with and I draw a blank.  I actually respond by saying, "I'm not sure, what does my resume say?".  I then proceed to try to lighten things up when she talks of the long hours tied to a desk and phone by stating,  "I prefer to do my work sitting down, that's where I shine.".  It sounded funny in my head.  By the end of the call, she says they will make their decision by the end of the week and someone should get back to me by Friday afternoon.  I thank her and then brilliantly ask, "What company is this?".

I realize then that in this new reality, I am clueless.

There is one other issue that makes my job search less than promising.  Because of the crap-slinging life chimp, I am dealing with some pretty horrific finances.  I work in a fiduciary field and my credit will definitely be considered.  If my credit history were viewed as a line chart, you would see a slowly elevating line with some minor dips in the beginning but basically a softly inclining hill of a line.  Then, as of last year, you would see the line drop.  Not a slanting decrease but more like there was an error with the printer, resulting in a vertical line appearing and effectively stopping all other information from printing through.

In other words, I am penniless.

So, if you hear of anyone seeking a jobless, clueless, penniless person with a mostly positive, mildly crazy demeanor who has lots of job skills but apparently can't recall them without having to use her own resume as a cheat sheet...I am your girl!

Wish me luck...I have a feeling I'll need it.

Thursday, August 9, 2012


I was cleaning out a box that had yet to be unpacked since my move last year.  (A lot of you are probably shuddering at the thought of all those unpacked boxes stacked in my garage for over a year now)  Not the point to this post though so I shall continue.

I found my old yearbook and as I was going through it, I decided to see if I could locate some of the people from my senior class.  (This wasn't really about nostalgia or even vague curiosity.  This was all about avoiding having to keep unpacking the damn box.)

Through the privacy invading phenomena of Facebook and Google, I was able to locate most of these past phantoms.  It was disturbingly easy, even for someone as technologically challenged as myself.  (I wonder if I can claim that as a disability?)  Anyway, back to the post.

Obviously, over the broad spectrum of years and geography, lifestyles, relationship statuses and personal philosophies have altered a bit.  Amongst students of human nature, I suppose it could even warrant an interesting if irrelevant study of human nature.  Well, maybe not a study, more like a short unsubstantiated observation.  Since I'm not a student of human nature, unless you count people watching (which I happen to be great at), this is still not what inspired this post.

My high school years occurred in the late eighties, where all the girls had big hair and all the boys had, well, big hair.  Now that it's 2012, I noticed most of us made the socially responsible decision to tone down our earlier grooming practices.  Some of us, however, have clung to our teen looks with a death grip as secure as the NRA reps with their guns.  Others have left their coifs behind by force rather than personal awareness of themselves or our planet's atmospheric health.

Coincidentally, these victims are all male.  They were all attacked by the same culprit.  Who was this villain, you ask?  Why, it was male pattern baldness, I answer.  Although, that may just be an alias used to give a semblance of blamelessness since these particular males come from an era where excessively long tresses were routinely teased and sprayed into submission.  It's possible the baldness was simply a result of hair abuse or a protest by the poor follicles to the humiliation they endured for years.  (Lest you forget, long, ratted out hair for males turned into mullets and rat-tails.)

Either way, bald is really not that bad.  In a world where shaved heads are considered a fashion statement, these individuals should be fairing quite well.  The problem?  Women aren't the only ones obsessed with their youth.  (gravity defying breasts, frozen faces, inner tube-esque lips...)  Men have a mysterious relationship with their youth that seems to center primarily around their hair, their car and their penis.

There's the Friar Tuck, the combover, the roadkill...err...toupee, camouflage in the form of trucker caps, cowboy hats, bandannas...and many many more.  To me, a shaved head shows a man who has come to terms with the inevitable and has decided to face it with his balls in tact.  Still, this particular person's choice seemed at once, rebellious and sad:

Graciously, while leaning heavily on my strong command of the English language, I remain silent.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Promises. Promises.

Recently, I promised myself I would write more often.  I am fully aware that hasn't been the case.  I've made a lot of promises to myself in the past year and to others as well.  I haven't really kept those either.  I could blame the loss of my husband last year, the move to a new house and the financial and emotional abandonment of the old one, the pending bankruptcy due to astronomical medical bills while Hubby was in critical care, or even my own ever worsening crappy health ...Yep, I could point my finger at any of those things or all of them, but it wouldn't be true.

The reason I've failed to follow through is because I didn't really mean it.  I say what I say, I do what I do, I promise what you want to hear from me but I'm just going through the motions.  I don't have good days and bad days.  I have bad days and days when I feel nothing at all...depressing huh?

But this past week or so, something changed.

Last year, my life was altered so drastically, I've felt as though I haven't been able to catch my breath ever since, but last week...I heard myself sigh.  I could feel the air filling my lungs, all the way to the bottom.  I know it isn't much but I am starting to feel again.  I hadn't realized how numb I'd become.

Why the change?  My baby girl, at 19 yrs old, gave birth to her own little girl last week.  She's beautiful, healthy and she's my granddaughter.  At 41, I became a widow and my whole world blew apart.  Now at 42, I became a grandmother and somehow, my world, though still a wasteland, might possibly be rebuilt.  This tiny little baby with her grabby fingers, soft delicate skin, hungry cries, and poopy diapers has brought me hope.

So I will make new promises, about writing more, caring more, doing more...And I will try my best to keep them.  But, if nothing else, I will never forget the moment I saw my precious little grandchild for the first time and how suddenly I could breathe again.  I will never forget how that little baby was able to reach past everything right to my heart..I PROMISE.

Welcome to the family, baby Nari!  That's right...they named her after me.

She has ten little fingers too!

Wednesday, July 18, 2012


He wakes.  Keeping his eyes shut, he lets his senses stretch out around him.  He's laying on something-not the ground.  A mattress?  There's a low mechanical hum and the air swirls across his skin, moving along his legs, his chest, his arms.  It feels good.  He inhales the scents around him.  No dirt, no gun powder, no sweat.  He smells soap, clean sheets...a woman.  He must still be dreaming.  He can hear her breathing beside him now and slowly reaches out his hand, wanting to keep the dream going for as long as possible.

His fingertips brush against cool satin, moving lower until he feels the silky softness of her skin.  She sighs but doesn't wake.  His hand runs up her bared thigh, over the curve of her hip.  When he reaches her waist, his fingers curl and grip, pulling her against his side.  His heart threatens to pound right out of his chest.  Is this real?  Fearing the answer is no, he squeezes his eyes tighter, and wraps himself around her feminine softness, letting her warmth seep into him.  She smells so good, like she always does, and his whole body aches for her.  She turns in his arms and whispers a kiss across his mouth, nuzzling her face against his throat.  It feels perfect.

Knowing he can't put it off any longer, feeling the trappings of this beautiful recurring dream slipping away, he forces his eyes open, preparing himself for the sight of his brothers, the sound of enemy gunfire, the smell of sweat and dirt...but he's still lying in his bed with his woman in his arms.  He just stares at her and she smiles, looking up at him, running her fingers through his hair.

Then, she says the one thing he needs to hear most.  Her confirmation.  "You're really here. We're really here.", she whispers softly and as he looks into her beautiful eyes, filled with love and longing, he knows that it's true.  Here, with her in his arms, one word echoes though his mind...HOME.


She wakes as his breathing becomes more shallow and knows he will wake up soon.  She waits to see what will happen and then feels his hand brush against her moving lower to her leg and then back up again.  Moving so slowly and gently that she wonders if she's imagining it.  She releases the breath she's been holding in anticipation of this first morning and trembles beneath his light touch.  Thank God.  It still feels the same.  He still feels the same.  She feels his fingers wrap around her waist and pull her to him.  After a moment, he completely surrounds her body with his.  His love and his undeniable strength a part of her again, sheltering her and keeping her safe.

As the heat from his hard chest sears through her nightgown and sizzles along her spine, her body begins to hum with yearning.  She turns in his arms and sees his eyes are still closed.  She kisses him softly and puts her nose to his neck to fill herself with his scent once again, feeding her soul as her body yields to his.  She can feel his eyes on her and looks up, seeking more contact.  She can see his longing, his love, his wariness and imagines hers must look the same.  She smiles, reaching up and touching his hair.  She can't bear not touching him.

With a lump in her throat, she manages to choke out her plea, "You're really here.  We're really here."  Hoping to make them true by voicing them out loud.  His eyes seem to flash for a moment with what...relief?...and then his mouth descends to hers.  His lips strong, confident, insistent.  The same as before and she knows it's finally true...he's HOME. 

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Linking In

Yesterday, I peeked in to read some posts from some of my favorite bloggers.  I haven't been around for a while.  No posts, no comments...nothing.  I don't know what compelled me to get on and see what you all were up to yesterday but I did and this is what I discovered:

The talented and funny Vinnie continues to have wonderfully hilarious conversations with Mrs. C.  (It's good to know some things never change.  My heart eases with the laughter he coaxes out of me)

The beautifully descriptive and enchanting baglady has taken me to Mykonos.  (It's true.  I went to Greece.  It was wonderful)

A brilliant, quirky and honest man, Mr. L Street discusses siblings, with humor and honesty.  (Plus, he shares the true benefits of a zen garden)

My favorite paramedic, Spence, shares the story of an untimely death from his unique viewpoint.  (His stories always provide a personal connection to the scene, through the people, the scenery, even the inanimate objects)

And this, boys and girls, is what I have life may feel bottomless right now but to keep going, I need to be connected.  Maybe that's why I signed back on yesterday.  I know I've distanced myself from everything for the past year, stretching the tethers that connect me to the rest of the world to the point where you could probably play them like harp strings at this point.  This is one of the ways for me to link back in which is why I have linked a few noteworthy bloggers into this post.

Thanks for checking in with me too.