Sunday's Child is Full of Grace

Just so we're clear, I was not born on a Sunday.  Saturday, actually.  And I guess it's Tuesday's child is full of grace.  Sunday's child is....well, here is what Mother Goose said:

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace;
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go;
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for its living;
But the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay. 

So I guess I will work hard for my living.  That's okay, because I do actually like to work.  Love, love to work.  As in, I neglect cleaning for a full month and then I clean, because it's a lot harder work doing it that way.  Well, actually it's more like...when no potential men are around, messiness will abound (ha ha, my own rhyme). 

I am expecting a visitor this week Tuesday, of the handsome black man variety, and I'm looking forward to it.  So I am cleaning my condo.  I suppose it's the polite thing to do, even though he will not see it.  I'm not sure why I'm bothering, though.

So I began my Sunday with the obligatory noon awakening, followied by coffee and taking out the recycling before yoga (which was really amazing today, by the way).  I really love my yoga teacher.  She happens to be a close friend too, but that does not bias me.  I would not be back week after week if I didn't love it.  I'm just that way.  

I fell flat on my Mexican Ass (as I affectionately call my shapely size 6 derriere) while closing the gate to the parking lot and later stabbed myself in the hand with the business end of a knife whilst cutting potatoes (quick recipe: cut yukon gold potatoes; mix 1 TBSP each of ancho chile powder, New Mexico chile powder and Laury's seasoning salt; pour on a little olive oil and sprinkle on the mix and stir around til covered, then bake at 425 F for 20-30 minutes, depending how you like your potatoes).  I guess this is how excited I am to have someone handsome hang out with me.  Also, I really like just listening to his voice.  And he thinks it's cute when I drink and then I'm really flirty and Ms. Chatty Cathy.  But all that aside, we are just friends.  

One fall, a knife stabbing (what else would you stab with--oh, maybe a pen if a knife wasn't handy), yoga and a two and a half hour meeting later...here I am, dreading the "cleaning."  Which actually is much needed.  After the ex-man-boy and I decided to part ways, I guess I got a little lazy.  But now, my house is smelling like a various assortment of cleaners.  And now I'm hungry, but it's 10:13pm and I wonder if I should dirty my kitchen (which is only half clean at the moment).  The Council of Cats says yes, because it will go well with my $4 cheap white wine.  And I always listen to the Council of Cats.  I stay up late usually, anyways, so I guess having dinner at 10:45 won't hurt anything.

In other news, I got to go salsa dancing this weekend, as well as dancing at some other club where some young bloke in sunglasses (yes, in a dark club, sunglasses) tried to grab me and make me dance with him.  I'm not sure if it's just his thing to like grabbing a girl a third his size and force her to dance with him while she shoves him away repeatedly and hits him with her tiny fists, but lemme tell you blokes like that out there...next time...I'm kneeing you in the balls.  Like I do when you try to pick me up because I'm so tiny.

Goodness, I love being me.  Bring it on world.  I shall conquer you.

Snark Snark Snarky Snark

I really wish I would have taped this call I had today.  Now I feel utterly snarky.  Yes, I love the work snarky.  What other word in the English language begins with "sn?" 

So this call was about my commitment to the leadership program I committed to.  Did I mention I committed to a commitment?  And this commitment will almost definitely lead to me a job, as the director would have me believe.  My fellow participants will be there to support me and help me through this difficult time.  Wha?  A bunch of high schoolers have the emotional intelligence to do that?!  Had I known this when I was in high school, why, with that amount of emotional intelligence and passion to change the world...I just might have changed the world.  

What I hate most, is when people try to compare their "career transition" to yours.  Particularly when they are 25 years older than you, haven't been "in transition" in this economic environment and are married with kids and practically always have been.  Nope, I'm sorry. You can't tell me that I'll be the one losing out on the most if I quit this program while you simultaneously berate me because you too, as a non-profit organization, will be losing income if I withdraw my participation.

Seriously, these were the most unsupportive women with whom I've ever had the displeasure of an uncomfortable conversation.  I will be the one losing out on the most?  Why?  Because it's considered losing if you reject high school-ish, cliquish, anti-OTR, I'm here just for my resume I don't care about you behaviour?   Ha ha ha.  Try again maties.

And, sitting at home, not interacting with others with a crappy phone (yes, her words, not mine) is not a good alternative to being in their program.  Sorry ladies, the more you try to force this horse to your corporate kool-aid infused water I'm gonna be buckin' and snortin' and stompin'.  I do have other activities in which I participate, thank you very much.  I do have other contacts and colleagues who could actually set me up with a job in my very own industry.  Do I need you so much?

And thank you so much, for telling me that the only way to get a job in this environment is to network and to know people.  Really?  Is that why they say it's who you know, not what you know?  Thanks for clarifying, I never knew exactly what that meant.  And do you really think these high schoolers who offer me jobs in data entry and park and rec type work really really know of a high powered investment industry job?  Okay, well if that's the case then tomorrow I shall expect to see monkeys and pigs flying.  

Here, read this article about the realities of returning to the working world.  And while you're at it, read this one about what I have to look forward to if I don't find a job relatively soon, and what my aunt and millions others are experiencing.  And you are really going to act like you know what's best for me?  Really?  You're going to tell me that you know where I should be putting my emotional savings (of which I have very little)?  Is putting up with childish, I'm avoiding you, you live in the wrong neighbourhood, and you have to pay for this shit really, I mean really, going to be my best personal and emotional investment?  Okay, if you say so, I will believe you.  Because you sound like you really know what you're talking about.

Basically the arguments for me returning to this program were a) [I don't care if you  now have $4,000+ in hospital bill debt] you agreed to pay for this [hogwash] and we are counting on your financial obligation to us [to continue this tom foolery]; and b) ... you will be losing out on all [the fine, high school-esque behaviours that you got more than enough of when you were actually in high school, and] the job opportunities this [cliquish] city can offer you.

Seriously, I need to get the hell outta dodge and the sooner the better.  I might self-implode from all the snarkiness I feel right now.  And, pretty much continue to feel while living in this lovely city.

iWrite

Here's a list of book or article titles that have been running around in my head, that I'd like to write.

1. I Think My Boyfriend is Being a Schmuck but I Can't Prove it. This is a book about all the ways in which I (and I'm sure others) have made up soooo many excuses why our man is good and not a schmuck when in fact, he is.
2. Never Trust a Skinny Cook. This is what my amazing great-grandmother, Memmaw, used to say. And my Granny used to tell me. This would be a cookbook, full of my amazing and most fattening recipes. Cream, sugar, butter, bacon, pancetta...just a few of my favourite things.
3. Ten Things to Never Say to Your Cats. An article about ten things you should never say to your kitties. Includes, "shit, we're all out of litter."
4. A Cocktail Party. This could be an article or a book, I haven't quite decided.  It will be list of great cocktails for every major (or minor) life event. The Kamikaze for when your latest relationship crashed and burned. The Hurricane, because that's what's twisting through town when you put your hottest dress on, your red heels and that alluring scent to go rock the town.
5. Curly-Q. All about hair for curly haired girls. And boys, I suppose. Just to be fair.
6. The Don Cheadle Fan Club. Enough said. A picture book, of course.  No words needed for that bloke.
7. Conversations with Kitty.  All the things my cats and I would talk about if they could in fact, talk.
8. When I am Old.  My memoirs.
   

Grateful: A List

I am grateful for:

1. Friends and colleagues are are more than willing to help me prepare for this upcoming, very important interview.
2. The person who recently told me, "Don't waste this time.  Don't take it for granted."  You were right.
3. Friends who are constantly getting back in touch with me, just when I need it.
4. Neighbours who are the best!  I'm blessed with neighbours turned friends and friends turned neighbours who are always thinking of me and willing to hang out and celebrate small victories with me.
5. FedEx, because it sends things to places really fast.
6. Having had a successful career previously.  Parents who taught me my good work ethic and to save.  
7. My aunt, for always being there when it really counts.  I hope I can do the same for you someday.
8. Fellow bloggers like Broken Heel who read my stuff and are supportive to the unemployed community.
9. Bacon.  Do I really need to explain this?
10. The cats, so I don't feel alone and useless...at least, not entirely.

On My Way to Employmentville

I had been on a pretty good schedule of taking a Tylenol PM an hour before I wanted to go to bed, wind down with some tele, then actually sleep.  I would then be able to get up at a reasonable hour and make progress in the job search realm.  Sans the Tylenol PM, I'm having a hard time with that sleep part and I don't end up out of bed til (I'm embarrassed to admit this) around 11am.  Then I check emails and such til noon with a cup of coffee and then I consider how I will spend the rest of my day.  

Yesterday I went and bought a new suit for my interview.  Turns out my old size 2 bum is now a size 6 and I freaked out!  So I also spent an hour at the gym and signed up for a few training sessions that I've already paid for but haven't used yet.  I intend to have that snug size 6 be a little less snug, if not by the time of my interview, then by the time I (hopefully) get hired by the company!

The job would involve moving to the Boston area, of course, and I would be on the road like 80% of the time.  I'd buy a new wardrobe filled with wrap dresses and wrinkle-proof suits.  I'd have to looke100% amazing, smart and capable 500% of the time.  I've actually worked with this company's consultants before and I was always amazed at how fresh, well-dressed, professional and talented they all were.  And that's why I want to work there.

So...there it is.  I have a new suit and now I'm in pursuit of new shoes.  I am wondering where the closed-toe pump in basic black went.  Everything seems open-toed now and that is not acceptable for professional work (I guess unless you're a professional dancer or something).  Of course, I'm working with only shoes that come in 4.5 and unfortunately it's not a lot.  Thank you, Nordstrom, for having more of my size than any other major retailer.

And oh, the kittens!  Whatever will I do with them if I am on the road presumably from Monday through Friday?!  I don't know that I want a roommate because if I'm spending the majority of my time on the road, I want to come home and relax.  I'll figure something out for sure.

Take Your Cat(s) to Work Day

I just think everyone should have the opportunity to bring their kitties to work.  That's all.

The most exciting part of my day so far, other than the Chipotle lunch I treated myself to is hearing back from that contact (we shall just call him Ace, as he was the ace up my sleeve).  Ace contacted this certain employer who is interested in talking to me.  In fact, my background would make me an excellent candidate at the firm and there is quite a bit of work to do in Brasil and would I be interested in that? he wanted to know.  Would I be?  I cannot think of anything better!!  Ace relayed that I certainly had the language background and thought I was mobile. 

I spoke to who I will now refer to as Chaz, and Chaz wants me to come in for an interview in the Boston, MA area.  I am so, so excited!  This would be an on the road 75-80% of [most of] the time.  I'd initially stay pretty close to Boston, but knowing I have the language experience, he could put me on any urgent situations in Brazil or elsewhere.  I need to consider relocating and being on the road that much.  At this point in my life, the only concern I have would be for my kitties...I would miss them a lot and I would need someone to watch them!

My heart is palpitating, I'm shivering (maybe because it's 59 degrees in my place), I'm nervous and want to ace this interview.  Oh, now I need to buy a new outfit and shoes; I need to look my BEST. 

In other news, my grandfather passed away this morning.  It is for the best as he was very ill with MS.  RIP Grandpa J.

Playing the Game

This morning I pulled that ace out of my sleeve and put it into play.  The ace being that contact (former colleague) that thinks extremely highly of me and my talents, has a good business relationship with a coveted employer in Boston that pays well and has good benefits.  It's a strong, self-funded company and offers a premier product to the investment world.  Ladies and gentlemen, I am making my move.  I have upped the ante and I am all in.  In it to win it.  

I'm also making progress in other areas, such as my laptop.  Crazy Cat did not manage to completely screw it up, gracas a Deus..  It still boots up to Windows and connects to the internet.  I let it dry for a few days, popped all the keys off and did some light cleaning inside with alcohol (rubbing alcohol that is, the bottle of tequila is for me).  I was able to get my files off and save it to my handy dandy thumb drive without resorting to the Geek Squad, and saved myself $99.  I will be sending it back in to HP, however, as some of the keys do not work.  

I also had a recruiter email me to get my resume in a Word doc format, so I am hoping that this is an indication that good things are on the way...or at least, a job.  This was for a position I applied for through a job site and is also in Boston, MA.  The position sounds like a great fit for my experience and background, as well as career level. 

Not much else is new.  I still do not know what Google Fiber is...sounds like a breakfast cereal to me. 

What do I... ?

I asked myself two questions when I woke up this morning.  First, I wondered what gets me excited these days?  And secondly, what do I look forward to the most?  Basically this boils down to one question burning in my mind: What gets me out of bed in the morning?  Or, what would get me out of bed in the morning.  Other than the fact that if I don't, my sister is liable to call the police and ask them to take me to a hospital.  She tends to be overly dramatic about these things.  Coffee and sunshine readily come to mind, but I'm digging deep to try to figure out what would get me going these days?  Thus commences an accurate transcript of my inner monologue

I spend the majority of my time alone these days.  Which I hate.  Although the cats are here and I love just holding and hugging my big, fluffy Porshy-cat.  But she's really just a substitute for what I really want: someone important in my life (aka a someone in a strong, committed relationship with me).  I thought that T and I had that, and at first it was so great.  I loved how perfectly I could tuck myself under his arm and he was a solid, muscular guy and when he gave me hugs, it was always so warm and cuddly and I never, ever wanted to move.  I wanted to soak in all that love I felt.  I miss him so much.  But I miss the T that I knew when we first met, not the one that did all these shady things.

But enough of thinking about that stuff.  A guy and has never made me truly happy, so what else?  If I had a job, would I really be so much happier?  Certainly perhaps less stressed about my finances.  But if I took another finance/investment-related job, would I really be happy?  I pondered this yesterday when I was downtown in the central business district and saw all these men in suits.  I was actually, momentarily recalling the feeling of power and excitement one can have conducting a meeting or talking with an executive about the decisions facing the company.  I too, wanted to don a suit once again and get back in the game...

Well...while making good money has always been a good thing... I reminded myself that I've always made more money than every guy I've dated, except my first boyfriend.  Although, when I first met him, he was an intern and I was an almost full-time assistant in the same department.  My AGI that year was actually probably more than his.   Ha.  I have never thought of that before.  But it really kind of sucks always making more than whomever I'm dating.  Also, I guess T made more money than I did...I was unemployed.and he was not.  But I had had a better job and had made more money than he did before that.  So when do I get to be with someone who can take care of me and I don't have to feel obligated to take care of him, financially or otherwise because I'm the one who makes more?  

Back to the job thing...so, am I really happy in this Midwest, highly segregated, conservative, extremely cliquish city?  Sure, friends and such have been great, but I keep coming back to what I really want: a loving, committed relationship.  There's something you should know about me here.  I'm not really attracted to average white-bread American boys.  Okay, not really attracted to white men.  And as much as I hate to say it, the majority of non-whites here are thugs...just as much as in Kentucky, most whites are hicks.  Yes, I'm generalizing and stereotyping and you can hate me for it, but it's kind of true.  Not to mention, if you're white and grew up in this city, you're likely to think your high school days were your hey-days.  It's true.  They don't have much of a world view here, in a city where you are judged upon what high school you went to.  I had a conversation yesterday about this with two women from this area who I think did not appreciate in the least, my strong aversion to dating their men.  They are used to it.  It's what they presumably want or get to look forward to if they want to get married and stay here.  But me?

Not a chance.  I'm looking for someone well educated, ambitious and if not already successful, I'll take well on the road to success with great potential.  Mature, kind, compassionate and no credit card debt (read: financially stable).  Someone with a world view.  Preferably preferring to take our kids (if we have them, I'm not sure on that subject yet) to museums not the suburban devil.  They just don't make those here, I'm convinced.  I could launch into my tirade of yesterday and explain how the women of this city have done a great job of conditioning the men to treat them poorly and to expect a hook-up over a real relationship, but I can already feel the painful jabs of daggers coming my way.  At that point in the conversation yesterday, I could sense I had really offended one girl (she said she was eternally single though, since she had three cats so I'm not sure why she cared so much).  

So, moving to Boston, NYC or San Francisco or...somewhere with a much larger and diverse population where I feel I'd fit in and not stick out like a sore thumb would be apropos.  Also, I sense more jobs are there anyways.  I really don't know how this monologue of what excites me and gets me going turned into a diatribe about this city.  Maybe it's my anger towards T being directed towards other things.  Don't worry, even thought T knows about my blog, he never reads it.  Which I always thought was uncool.  Because if you like me and care about me, read my blog so you know how I feel about things...I'm handing you a "get to know me better with low effort" on a platter!

Sigh.  The end.

Friday Night Lights

Last night I went to a new restaurant opening in my neighbourhood.  This is a big deal, as is my neighbourhood, as it is the location of 2001 race riots where part of the city was on lock-down (guess where I live).  I LOVE my neighbourhood and I did a lot of research before deciding where I wanted to buy a house.  I bought a condo and haven't looked back since.  

The new restaurant was so busy on opening night that the hostess seated my friend GG and I at a 6-top.  With two other couples who didn't know each other.  By the end of the evening, we were all fast friends and vowed to come back and do this again, some with significant other additions.  It makes me so happy that 6 perfect strangers can come together and over food, become good friends.  And, the food was good.  Particularly the truffle fries, which I will definitely be going back for.  I can definitely see myself hanging out at the bar for drinks and truffle fries.  I just love, love, love having a neighbourhood hangout spot.

After eating, GG and I went to the CAC for the opening of Shephard Fairey's exhibit.  It was phenomenal, but I'll have to go back as it was super-crowded and hard to really enjoy the art.  I met up with friends at a local hotel bar and (still not drinking), made some more new friends.  One of the young lads I met is actually moving into my neighbourhood (if the condo negotiations are successful) and that is exciting. We bar-hopped for the night, I danced one salsa dance (very badly), did not drink (yay for me, but I really wanted a glass of wine!) and ate pizza.  I saw one of the guys from my leadership group that I hadn't met yet and introduced myself.  He is nice. 

And there is the old ME!  Coming back...  It's amazing how much more attractive I am when I'm happy.  Ah...

Be Happy!

A friend of mine emailed me an article entitled, Nine Tips for Feeling Happier When You've Lost Your Job--Or Fear You Might.  Other than being a mouthful... the title intrigued me. 

The only one that I particularly disagree with at first is #7: Be wary of treating yourself.  But I see the point and have actually  practiced this.  I have indulged my inner foodie with a little too much, had that extra glass of wine, bought the gorgeous 4" gold heels...and then, felt fat, had a hangover and sadly returned those beautiful little bitty heels that would have gone great with my gorgeous gams.  Have I ever mentioned my love of alliteration?

But there are things you can, and should, do to treat yourself.  I spend an extra 10 minutes in the shower when I deign to take one.  I don't pay for water, it warms me up and it relaxes me.  Buy that awesome song on iTunes because it keeps you pumped up.  I recommend Can't Box Me In by Honor Society.  Get out and dance, put on your pretty party dress, grab your girls and go... 

One of the best things I did for myself recently was get rid of my cable.  Sure, I'll miss the Golden Girls, but I still dream about them at night (true story: Dorothy and I were hot on the trail of a murderer last night). But...guess what I'm doing instead?

I applied to the local culinary institute.  I want to learn flambe.  No, really.  Setting fire to food is a talent.  I invented a blog so I can write whatever the hell I want to.  I'm blasting and bopping around to loud music during the day, singing at the top of my lungs to my favourite songs.  I dance around with my cats til they puke (another true story) and I can't stop laughing.  I never make up my bed...okay, so that's not really a new one.  I use my financial calculator sometimes, just for fun, to pretend like I'm an important investment person still.  I made a blanket fort for Delinquent Cat with my ironing board and a huge blanket.  And I spent time in it with her (yes I am that small, I can fit under an ironing board).  

I'm giving you this present that tells you about what credit card changes are taking effect on Monday, February 22.  You should read it.  Credit card debt is bad and I will never marry anyone who has it. 

Day 210

Today Portia and I ate Chicken McNuggets together.  I had returned my cable box and some articles of clothing I had purchased for an interview (thank you, expanding waistline) but had not needed, and I was quite hungry.  During my last few days of self-imposed misery I had eaten little more than a half a loaf of bread of some multi-grain variety with a lot of butter, and some noodle soup.  Whomever invented bread and butter, and I honestly think it was the Dutch, should be greatly rewarded in the afterlife.  But I digress.

After I ran errands, I decided to treat myself to protein and settled on McDonald's as it was across from the mall.  I had intended only to buy a 4 piece for a dollar but then remembered here in Ohio, a 4 piece is not on the dollar menu.  The kids meal was $3.20 and the 10 piece McNugget meal was $4.95.  According to my lightning fast calculations, the 10 piece meal was a better deal.  I ate all 10 nuggets and the fries.  The Coca-Cola (regular, of course) left a slightly chemical taste in the back of my throat so I didn't finish it.  For those of you who know me, eating all that is quite a feat.  But I had help.

As I was sitting in front of my computer, Portia lept onto my lap and grabbed the half eaten nugget out of my hand and ran off to enjoy her spoil.  She returned for seconds.  What an emboldened cat I have. 

Now that I no longer have cable until next football season, I have to actually do stuff during the day.  My condo might actually get cleaned up.  Since I don't have to keep it neat for regular company, I generally do not keep it neat at all.  After all, I would not want to let my mother down.  I like to live up to her expectations.  

I enjoyed the company of my new neighbour, KK, today as well.  His lady love needed a cake pan so I brought one over.  Then we walked to the Contemporary Arts Center and went for a coffee.  I came home and now all of a sudden it is almost 10:30pm.  I will watch some 30 Rock and The Office on NBC and continue holding fat cat who wants nothing more in this life than to be attached at the hip with me.

Emotional Assault

I discovered an article entitled, "Unemployment Is Not Leisure" (see page 41) by Martha Falconer-Blake.  It was written in 1983 by someone using a pseudonym, but her (I presume she would use her own gender in creating a pen name) eloquently written sentiments on unemployment reflect my own experience so accurately, I decided I simply must discuss them with you.  She has written her thoughts better than I have been able to express my own.

She describes the "adjustments" an unemployed individual makes in her life, whether it is in relationships, social standing or support.  While I had never pinpointed with the author's own precision what exactly it was that I have lost, her description of a loss of status is exactly what I have attempted to portray within my blog.  And, what I believe, those who have not been unemployed do not, and cannot, understand.

  "I then realized I had a loss of status and resisting this loss had culminated in my present state.  The customary restraint which I had was no longer evident.  I cried easily and the cooperative habits I had in happier times began to disintegrate." 

This particular paragraph struck such a chord with me.  It so accurately describes what I feel has happened in my own personal life.  My loss of status has brought me to a point where indeed, my normally cooperative nature in social situations has deteriorated.  Case in point, the weekend leadership retreat.  I often feel that my own misery was probably so evident in my demeanour that it likely repelled others.  And my perception (and worst fear) that my lack of any status would also repel others became a reality.  Telling others that I am unemployed is a far cry from being able to say I am the VP of an investment firm.  And just as the author found it easy to cry, I cried myself to sleep that evening.  

 

Martha (I feel we're on a first-name basis already) does not fully explore the effects of this loss on her personal relationships.  She states that she was a provider, so I imagine she had a family or those who depended upon her.  She discussed withdrawing from certain social contacts because many people are unaware of the length of  unemployment; she could no longer "cover up" her unemployment.  This is an area, however, where I feel my loss of status and income has made the largest impact.

Prior to my unemployment I made good money.  I was able to do pretty much what I wanted, when I wanted.  This included enjoying dinner and nice restaurants, drinks, dancing, and other social engagements.  By nature, I am a social butterfly and have generally enjoyed a full social calendar.  I was single as well, and more than capable of providing myself with the entertainment, dining pleasures and other enjoyments for which other people might rely on a significant other.  

Almost to the day, a month after my unemployment began, I met a delightful young man.  When I met him I stared him dead in the eyes and stated that if he couldn't handle an independent woman headed to Harvard, he could just move along.  I was so brazen and bold with my insistence to not date while I was unemployed.  Besides, he was only 26 and I doubted very much he could handle a strong, intense woman as myself who had once had a stellar career and probably made more than twice what he made.  But he laughed it off and contacted me the next day and continued for two months, to make every effort to win me over.  Little did he know that he had indeed won me over instantly.  Thus was the wonderfully blissful beginning to our relationship.  

Sadly, as with Martha, my cooperative habits of happier times disintegrated rapidly over the ensuing months.  I wanted so much to lean on him for everything that I needed physically, emotionally, mentally and financially.  Coupled with my deteriorating condition, his lack of ability and/or desire to provide me with everything I needed and wanted created a situation where I was no longer desired. at all  And could I blame the poor bloke?  Most days, no, I could not.  

 

I invoked my inner scorned woman and unleashed fury upon him.  I refrained from inflicting fury of hellish proportions on him, although I'm certain he thinks I did.  Dear Sweet Tea, it could have been so much worse.  I have oft apologized to him for things not working out between us and although he states it's not my fault, I know it takes two...to fight and to get along.  I feel like if I had been at my best while our relationship was young and growing, we could still be together.  I'm sad that it didn't get the chance I thought it should have and that this was due in large part to my situation.

Now, I know what many readers will think and say...that if he truly loved me, or cared about me etc. etc., none of this would have mattered.  Sure, I understand that, but when a relationship is so young and fragile and it's with a young and self-centered 26 year old, difficult times threaten the endurance of the relationship.  He is moving, hates the midwest and the snow and can't wait to get the hell out of dodge.  Who am I to impose my needy state upon him and implore him to stay and take care of me, while he would rather be in warm, sunny LA dancing and enjoying drunken revelry with women less needy and more beautiful than I?  It's a lose-lose situation.  

 

When I state that he is self-centered, I don't intend this to be a mean-spirited statement.  I understand that a 26 year old young man is in a completely different stage of life than I am.  That's precisely why I told him point blank, in no uncertain terms, who he was dealing with when he met me.  In the end, it turns out that my initial assessment was in fact, accurate.  My loss of status in the end, propelled me into that state of despair that he is not equipped to handle.  I'm not sure if I am. 

 

I believe Martha looked into the future and felt my heartache.  "Like a disease, the state of unemployment threatened my entire being."    I you are, are have been  unemployed, I am certain you too will understand what Martha and I have felt.  There is a certain comfort in knowing others have gone before you, some are journeying with you, and a hope that there is no one else to follow.

Unemployment is like...

...a toilet.  You keep getting dumped on.

Today I thought I would post a bunch of quotes on unemployment.  Who knew there were actually a lot of quotes on the subject, made by very famous people?  And none of them are happy quotes.

It's a recession when your neighbor loses his job; it's a depression when you lose your own.  Harry S. Truman


Unemployment is capitalism's way of getting you to plant a garden.  Orson Scott Card


Hunger is not the worst feature of unemployment; idleness is.  William E. Barrett


A man willing to work, and unable to find work, is perhaps the saddest sight that fortune's inequality exhibits under this sun.  ~Thomas Carlyle


You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live.  William Shakespeare


A man who has no office to go to - I don't care who he is - is a trial of which you can have no conception.  George Bernard Shaw


The trouble with unemployment is that the minute you wake up in the morning you're on the job.  Slappy White


[O]f all the aspects of social misery nothing is so heartbreaking as unemployment.  Jane Addams

Cessation of work is not accompanied by cessation of expenses.  Cato the Elder


The hardest work in the world is being out of work.  Whitney Young, Jr.


An "acceptable" level of unemployment means that the government economist to whom it is acceptable still has a job.  Anonymous


Unemployment diminishes people.  Leisure enlarges them.  Mason Cooley

Unemployment is like a headache or a high temperature - unpleasant and exhausting but not carrying in itself any explanation of its cause.  William Henry Beveridge


We believe that if men have the talent to invent new machines that put men out of work, they have the talent to put those men back to work.  John F. Kennedy


When I quit working, I lost all sense of identity in about fifteen minutes.  Paige Rense


When we're unemployed, we're called lazy; when the whites are unemployed it's called a depression.  Jesse Jackson


I do not believe we can repair the basic fabric of society until people who are willing to work have work.  Work organizes life.  It gives structure and discipline to life.  Bill Clinton


What is the good of being a genius if you cannot use it as an excuse for being unemployed?  Gerald Barzan


The shock of unemployment becomes a pathology in its own right.  Robert Farrar Capon, "Being Let Go," New York Times, 5 August 1984

My Babies

Fiona, 5 aka Delinquent Cat

Known Aliases: Crazy Cat, Bad Kitty, Princess Fiona

Portia, 4 aka P-Cat

Known Aliases: Portia Maria, Little Pisser, Mama's Girl

Hire Us - New Blog Feature

I have added a new feature to my blog.  It's called Hire Us.  It's a link list of unemployed individuals who I think are awesome and talented.  If you are unemployed and would like a link to your personal website to be displayed, please submit a comment with your site and explain why you are so talented.

Please note: I reserve the right to exclude those who I feel do not reflect the quality by which I should be represented.  

 

Snowmegeddon Part III

Here in the lovely Midwest, we are getting another snow storm.  I have immensely enjoyed the last two and am presently blissfully looking out the window on a wonderfully snowy, wintery scene.  I guess my enjoyment is two-fold.  1) Snow seems to make the grey, overcast and freezing cold temperatures more than useless.  If we're going to have icky and grey days, let's lighten it up with some pretty, white snow.  2) If no one else can get to work and if schools are cancelled, then I feel justified in my lack of productivity.  Oddly, days like this make me more productive, as do bright and sunny days. 

Well, now that that's settled, let me tell you about my weekend.  Friday night, I went to a club with a friend of mine.  We had a very enjoyable time and I did not drink...I'm a cheap date these days.  I'm sticking to my non-drinking like a life ring.  If I can accomplish this one, tiny thing, perhaps my self-confidence in myself and my determination will be slightly restored.  Besides, Saturday morning I had to help some friends of mine move.  They already lived fairly close to me but now they are literally across the parking lot.  Strangely, this makes me feel not so alone.  And, it's my homeboy KK and he has also been unemployed for nearly a year.  He is an extremely talented designer.  If you need a designer, you should hire him.  I'll put a link to his fine work on my blog.  

It was pretty cold Saturday morning, but this was mitigated by the bright sunshine and cloudless sky.  Twenty degrees did not feel like twenty degrees.  So they got all moved in and now I can invite myself to come and visit!  I had to leave a little early from that to go babysitting for a day.  Ah, a free, warm place and free food for a day.  The kids, 10 and 8, boy and girl respectively, were great.  They begged me to take them to Chuck E. Cheese, which I have decided is the surburban devil.  

Why, you ask?  Well.  Let me explain first, that the only time I ever went there as a kid was when my grandparents took us for my cousin's birthday.  Secondly, my parents took us to such places as the Gerald R. Ford Museum and other such places.  Both parents, my father especially, are avid readers.  My dad loves historical stuff and thus we visited rather educational things when we were kids.  I contemplated this as I tried to keep on eye on my the two kids.  If I ever have kids, it's doubtful that I will take them to Chuck E. Cheese and such places.  Honestly.  My kids will probably be as big of nerds as I am, or they will serioiusly rebel and be the complete opposite.  

We also visited the Henry Ford Museum and Greenfield Village multiple times.  As an adult, I returned to both places with my first boyfriend and we had a ton of fun.  My granny lived in Texas, where my mother was born and partially raised.  We visited her a few times (insert memory reel showing three sick kids in the back of a Cutlass driving from Michigan to Texas).  Part of the Mission Trail, in particular the San Antonio Missions, is a memory I savor.  My older sister and I were in matching sun dresses that my mother made us and we wore sombreros to keep the sun from our fair skin.  I loved visiting the old missions, including the Alamo while my older sister thought it drudgery and she complained endlessly.  I think my love of the sites fueled my father to keep driving us to "one more" and I took pleasure in my sister's misery.  

But alas, I digress.  Chuck E. Cheese is the suburban devil and the kids were great and I returned home yesterday afternoon, before the snOMG III began.  I didn't stock up on eggs and bread and water as people in these parts are wont to do before a snow storm.  I am in walking distance to a grocery store and am not afriad of getting out and walking in snow if need be.  I got some dinner from Buffalo Wild Wings as a reward for making some money this weekend.  Chicken tenders are like crack to me.  Or comfort food, I'm not sure which.  I got the parmesan garlic and asian zing sauces.  Portia helped me eat some of the chicken and Fiona actually tasted the parmesan garlic sauce, after which she couldn't stop licking her chops.  I don't think she cared for it all that much.

In other news, my sister (the one who hates the Mission Trail) and I may start a food blog   Our little sister who is probably relieved she was too little to remember any of the Mission Trail, is now the sous chef at the JW Marriott in our home town.  We may possibly rope her into this endeavour as well.  I will keep you all posted. 

Boston

I am happy to report that after my anger and bitterness of yesterday, I have awoken with renewed hope and happiness.  Well, happiness is relative isn't it?  I'm sure I'm not as happy as I could be, or used to be, but for these days...I'm relatively happy.  

I have been contemplating my next possible move in this great game of life.  It's a lot like chess.  Or, so I think.  I don't know how to play chess, but my understanding is that it's a game of strategery, forecasting and making sacrifices in order to win.  I feel like I have it in me to move to another city.  A clean, fresh start.  As much as I love, Love, LOVE my condo here (among many, many other things and people), and constantly think of so many ways to decorate and improve it, part of me wants a fresh start.  

Since I plan to attend graduate school in the fall of 2011, and Harvard is my #1 choice, a move to Boston would be quite apropos.  I do have a possible solution for getting there and I need to make some calls today to get that going.  Ideally, I would live in a warm and sunny place but I have lived in the barren hinterlands of the Great White North (also known as Michigan) and of the armpit of the Midwest (also known as Ohio) so a city like Boston, while from a weather perspective is not ideal, I could definitely handle.  And perhaps a greater supply of single, eligible men would be available.  Not to mention just a big, historical city.

I visited Boston this past September and I really, really enjoyed it. Below is a picture of myself and my friend who went with me.  We did not get to see the ship that was involved in the Boston Tea Party as it was undergoing repairs, so that in itself would be reason enough to return.  

I particularly enjoyed staying near Little Italy and would consider living there.  Cafe Paradiso was my favourite morning cappucino spot and I could see myself hanging out there frequently.  They had the best, most authentic Italian cappucinos. 

Well,  I am babysitting this weekend and need to get my things ready to go.  I have a phone call or two to make and some resumes to ship out.  And right now...a big, fat cat on my lap who is purring happily... and somewhere, Delinquent Cat is hiding from my wrath.

Donate Today - Save My Sanity

I have added a PayPal Donation button.  Partially to demonstrate my web savvy, partially tongue-in-cheek.  I promise that all proceeds will go to pay off my ever increasing hospital bills.

Chapter 11

Chapter 11 in the saga of "Anything That Can Go Wrong to This Author, Will in Fact Go Wrong" begins like this...

Imagine with me, our petite little author, cozied up in sweatpants (fresh ones today), sipping a cup of coffee and checking email on her shiny new laptop.  Let's call our author "Lucy."  Lucy has been waiting since early December to hear if she'll be offered a position with a former employer, where she spent the majority of her career.  Eight and a half years, to be exact.  While a decision is continuously delayed, she has hope in her heart today that she will receive some positive news.  She has emailed the recruiter, for the second time in two months, to check on progress.

As Lucy logs into her email account, there it is.  An email from the recruiter.  With baited breath she clicks and...voila!  Oh, wait a moment.  What is it Lucy?  We see her face screwed up in annoyance and frustration.  It seems that first round interview will hopefully be completed in March!!!  Lucy breathes in a sharp, disappointed breath filled with anxiety.  Anxiety fills her heart and her mind.  She can't wait any longer for this job!  She has been waiting, hoping this ideal position would come her way so she wouldn't have to move and she would be able to work with all the people she used to.

Anger and anxiety fill her mind now and she continues on, determinedly.  She will find someone who wants to hire her.  She's been holding an ace up her sleeve and now is the time to use it.  As she pulls it  out, ready to send her resume off and make that possibly life-changing call, it happens.

Fiona, desperate for attention, jumps up on the desk and knocks Lucy's full cup of coffee all over her laptop!  Lucy frantically jumps up and attemps to mop up the copious amounts of coffee from the keyboard.  She turns it upside down to let it drain out and in her mind, she is obliviously confident that these days they must make laptops to be coffee-proof.  Right?  She attempts to turn it on but, alas, poor Lucy is unaware that in fact, laptops are not coffee-proof.  She finds this out the hard way and calls her brother-in-law.  Because of the sugar in the coffee, it's likely that the computer is fried.  Lucy needs to let it dry for a few days and then see if it will turn on.  But it's likely fried...those words echo endlessly in her brain.  

God has a wicked sense of humour, she thinks to herself.  If the point of being a disaster magnet is to keep those little cherubic cheeks laughing, Lucy has achieved her life's purpose.  Sadness, anger and disappointment fill her heart and soul once again.  Frustration...it's too much effort to feel this emotion.  Hopelessness prevails once again.  Bitterness is all she can feel.  

The cable has been turned off.  Another $400 bill has been sent to her for her hospital visit.  And she sees only one place this road ends...a fried, useless computer and a waste of money.

V-Day

Yes, this weekend it's time for that little, insipid "holiday" that insidiously lands on February 14 each year.  I refuse to acknowledge it by its full name here in my blog.  I have always tried to ignore it and continue with my consistently single life.  The colours red and pink are puke-inducing to me during this time of the year.  Cupids, hearts and the like provoke anxiety, fear and hatred. 

What is the genesis of this complete and resolute enmity for February 14 and all that it represents?  I'm glad you asked.  First, it is a fraudulent holiday fabricated by manufacturers of sugary confections and purveyors of saccharine greeting card poetry.  These anonymous charlatans impose on humanity their exaggerated conception of love, commitment and romance.  Practically every woman expects to receive such meaningless drivel, and every man is obligated to proffer the reliquaries of love and affection.  We are required on this day, to pay homage to our feelings and emotions for our loved, and unloved, ones. 

At this point, you have likely accurately assessed that I must be consistently unfettered by the shackles of a significant other.  Indeed, this is undeniable. If you have followed my blog since its inception, you know that until recently, I was dating someone.  This five month alleged relationship is officially my second longest.  We may perhaps discuss this, and the fact that I am 29, in another post.  But I digress.  Once again, I find myself alone and flying solo on February 14.  Whatever shall I celebrate?

V-day for me, is Victory-Day.  Victory over this "holiday" inflicted on humankind by those aforementioned charlatans.  I do not subscribe to those ubiquitous definitions and standards of love that surround us during this time of year.  I'm going to say Happy V-Day to those who define, in my language of love, the true meaning of cherishing friends and loved ones. 

Happy V-Day to you,

   S.R., for the consistent encouragement you provide; for the understanding and support you have always given; for the genuine epitome of contentment and happiness that I hope to achieve.  Thank you for always celebrating me and my journey.

   S.C., for everything you generously and selflessly give me.  Thanks for letting me call you all the time, no matter what time it is.  I hope I can someday reciprocate all that you've taught me, as I know I wouldn't be where I am without you.  I promise to take care of you in your old age.

   F&P, my sweet, adorable and loving kittens.  Fiona, thanks for always feeling my emotions and providing the appropriate response.  Portia, you always make my day by following me around and sleeping on my lap while purring extremely loudly.  You both make me feel loved every day.

   J.F., D.K., J.B., A.B., and many others whom I don't know very well, but are always there for me with kind and gentle words when I need to hear them.  Thanks for reading my blog and for making me feel like a good human being.  Your grace and kindnesses are inspiring.

My definitions of love, commitment and romance are quite different than hearts, chocolates and greeting cards.  To love me is to be committed to me; commitment to me is being there every time I need you, even if I'm sad, angry and making you feel uncomfortable.  Romance is doing the unexpected and being thoughtful; romance is thinking of me before you think of yourself. 

And this V-day, I am again sans a boyfriend.  I'm fine with that; I won't reduce my standards just to have someone to take me to dinner, give me a box of chocolates or a card because someone says he should.  As you can see, I'm surrounded by those who love me, are committed to seeing my success and support me through my journey.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

  

Hunger Pains

Yesterday, for the Super Bowl, I made some great wings and some potato skins.  I thought I would share my latest food adventures with you.

The recipe for the Smoky Chipotle Wings is from Bobby Flay on Food Network.  What I loved about these wings is that the sauce had a great flavour, was spicy enough to have your mouth on fire, but not so spicy that the fire-mouth lasted very long.  They were really easy to make and the flour-chili powder mix for dredging was actually quite good on the wings that I kept plain, with no sauce.  The yogurt-blue cheese dipping sauce was quite good too, but it turned out I have a lot left over.  I guess the recipe is probably made for more than one person. 

I made potato skins too.  I had never made them before and in the past, have been unable to keep the skin of a baked potato intact enough to create twice-baked potatoes so I was a little nervous at attempting this.  I baked several whole potatoes, slit on the top so they don't explode, for 45 minutes in a 450 degree oven.  After letting them cool 15 minutes or so, cut in half and scooped out the potato, but still left a thicker layer of potato on the inside because I thought having a good potato to skin ration sounded yummy.  I layered on a bunch of shredded cheese and although I forgot bacon, would have added it, and baked for another 11 minutes at 450.  I topped with sour cream and chives. 

I saved all that scooped out potato stuff and figured I'd probably make some mashed potatoes out of it.  Since I have quite a bit of that yogurt-blue cheese sauce left over, I think I will actually add that to the potatoes instead of making traditional mashed potatoes.  That way I'm using all of my leftovers and, I imagine it will be super tasty.  I'll have that for dinner tonight along with some of the leftover wings. 

Now that I have started eating more than just soup after my stomach-emptying episode, I find that I just want to eat all the time.  This is due to boredom and probably, my body just realises what it has been missing for the past few weeks.  And honestly, I really just missed tasty food.

I hope you'll try the wings at your next party!  They're easy and very tasty.  You can always tone down the heat with less of any of the chili powders and perhaps add more garlic powder if that suits you.

Enjoy!

Leadership Retreat = Fail

And thus continues the saga of the depressing posts.  This weekend was supposed to be a great time for me to try on my new confidence.  I had high hopes after an enjoyable carpool ride with two participants who I really like.  We were the last to arrive, however, and it seemed that this set me back in the meet and greet department.  The weekend was supposed to involve ropes courses and physical challenges outdoors.  But alas, the midwest winter weather, also known as White Death in these parts, rearranged our plans. 

We still did some physical challenges meant to help you embrace your team (of 55) and become intimately acquainted with them.  It was apparent from our outdoor activity on Friday morning, that these Type A young professionals had no experience with the small, wise terror.  Or perhaps, any small, wise terror.  During a particular group physical challenge, it was determined that short, or small people could not succeed!!  What?

Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  I found myself, for the first time in a long time, in a group of individuals who highly underestimated the effect of the Napoleonic complex.  They really and truly believed that a short person could not achieve and succeed where they had!  Never have I encountered such a large group of individuals who have so completely and circumspectly de-valued me and who I am because of my size!  It was practically unanimous that failure was inevitable for the short of stature.  What they did not, and still do not know, is that I am not short on character, motivation and the strongest will to succeed of any of them.

I spoke up for myself during this initial activity and made clear my resentment of their belief that someone who was short couldn't succeed in the activity.  One of the camp counselors, also a petite lady, asked if I would like to do that activity again and I agreed.  I needed a partner and I stood for a full minute before anyone else volunteered.  Some debate was held as to whether the tallest or the next shortest among us should participate.  Finally I declared that I did not care what height or size someone was, that I would partner with anyone willing.  And then the most obnoxious man-boy in the group volunteered.

The remainder of the weekend was pretty much the same.  Short people...the smallest person...someone little...  oh, she won't be able to do that!!!  It was one of the most emotionally debilitating experiences of my life.  I did not entirely feel the need to prove them wrong; it was on them that they were missing out on the best of the small, wise terror.  I mentioned this to one of the event organizers and she said that in the past, many small people have encountered the same thing at the leadership retreat.  The difference, she said, was that the other small people also did not believe that they could succeed.  Shocked, I am!!! 

Besides the whole you're short so you can't succeed thing, there was the oh my, you live in that neighbourhood thing.  And the oh, you're unemployed thing.  Let's see: I've been unemployed for nearly 7 months.  My car has broken down on me twice, costing me upwards of $3,000.  I've been in the ER twice for a grand total of nearly $4,000 because I don't have insurance.  My boyfriend left me, just walked away.  Hmm.  What positive and light-hearted things do I have to talk to these 20-something, I have to wear Ralph Lauren always, I've had everything handed to me, I'm married and my life is awesome, I make a lot of money, I just want to go out and drink and have a good time little people?  Yeah.  Nothing. 

No one understands.  No one.  No one.  No one understands what I'm going through.  No one I know, knows what it's like to be in my position.  Single, 100% self-reliant for everything.  And unemployed, down to practically brass tacks.  I can't go out any more.  It's not an option.  I might get hurt or sick.  I'm not going to literally piss away my money.  In the meantime, there is no one at home here for me any more.  Even when I was seeing someone, he never took me out.  It's just me, ladies and gentlemen.

Yes, I'm short.  4'9" to be quite exact.  Don't underestimate me though.  I've worked in some of the toughest prisons in Brazil.  I went to school to become a police officer.  I learned the investment industry purely by rolling up my sleeves, jumping in and learning, managing eventually to become the VP of an investment firm by the time I was 28.  I put myself through school with no student loans and even moved out on my own my senior year of college.  I adopted two sweet and precious kittens.  I came down to this city by myself, knowing practically no one.  I made a life for myself, bought a condo, made friends and now, here I am.  All by my short little self.  And those people wanted to take away the last shred of my dignity this weekend.  Try a little harder, a**holes.  You didn't quite manage to succeed.

I feel it comin back...

In the last six months or so, I've felt varying degrees of getting back to my normal self.  And as suddenly as I feel it, something takes that feeling away.  The last month or so has probably been the complete opposite.  I never felt anything like my normal self.  When friends tell me they read my blog they note how depressing it is.  I'm okay with that, it doesn't offend me.  That's what I've been feeling like.  A friend told me yesterday it was like reading a book, seeing all the ups and downs and the emotional life of the character.

As difficult as being in social situations has been for me lately, I'm feeling it come back.  "It" being the very sociable old me.  Maybe I give people too little credit for being compassionate and understanding.  Maybe I give myself too much credit for coming off sad, mopey, depressed and with nothing to talk about since I don't have a job.

In the past I've been much more of a fiery, self-confident presence.  Even when I'm quiet, people know... watch out for that little girl.  She's small.  She's wise.  She's a terror for her size.  Yeah.  That's me.  And I've genuinely enjoyed being that fiesty pretty little thing.  Immensely.  It's who I am.

Now, I feel that my confidence is more of a quiet, I-know-what-you-don't-know kind of thing.  At least, I think that's how it's starting out.  This weekend I'll be testing out this new kind of confidence.  I haven't been this quiet since I was teacher's pet in first grade, honestly.  I'll be at a weekend leadership/group trust building retreat.  I'm supposed to bring business cards, but I don't have any. 

Other new things that are keeping me hopping: a few new friends, singlehood, this leadership class, possibly a new church located quite conveniently in my 'hood, going to check out culinary school next week, a new year of my volunteer group, and...I guess that's about all. 

I'm trying to think of my new theme song now...

Statement Enclosed

$3,157.62 = my latest hospital bill.  Oddly, as I opened the bill, unhurriedly and unworriedly, I did not have a dollar figure in my mind, as I usually do when I open bills and anticipate the bleeding of my savings.  I merely dropped an f-bomb (sorry mum) and said, "oh well."  Did you know a CT Scan costs $1,700?  Just being in the ER is a mere $750.  And General Therapeutic Service is $90.  I am uncertain what that general therapy was.  It sounds like I should have gotten a foot massage while I was there and as out of it as I was, I'm certain I didn't get one.  I did, however, get a $2,105.08 discount for self pay.  Very nice.

I was an excellent patient, providing the nurses with intelligent conversation, entertainment with my slurred speech and I even got up to get my own ice once.  Well, that was because I couldn't find the "get the nurse quick" button.  Perhaps I will send them my bill for General Intelligent Conversation ($340), Light Entertainment ($120) and Being Graced With My Presence (Priceless).  I guess that means they owe me.  Oh, and it's due on February 19.  Thank you very much.

Life in General

Life in general at the moment is about recovering.  Recovering from being sick, which is still in progress.  Recovering from being in a relationship and now becoming friends.  Recovering from unemployment, by hopefully becoming employed this week or soon.  Recovering from the effects of eating things full of sugar, cream and butter, and from the soothing effects of a drink, by getting back to the gym and eating healthy. 

During my moment of recovery, I've become the ultimate introvert.  This is hardly imaginable for many who know me, but as a friend of mine told me this evening, is that we really only truly, chemically change when we have time completely to ourselves to think about....everything, basically.  I believe that I needed to become an introvert--someone who gets their energy or recharges by being alone--in order to learn through this process of recovery.  And, in order to get through it. 

I'm constantly enveloped in my own thoughts.  I rarely escape the cacophony of worries, fears, sadness, hopes, dreams and realities in my own mind.  My hopes often drowned out by sadness occasionally find their way to the surface, present fleeting distraction, but are necessary to my recovery process.

I struggle to find ways to break out of the prison of my own mind.  I feel like it kept me from being the best girlfriend, and now friend, that I could be.  Does anyone know how I do this?