I was 10 years old, sitting in Mrs. Fitzpatrick's class, waiting for our recycling demonstration set to Michael Jackson's "We Are the World." I remember thinking about it before she even asked us. Our class joined up with Mrs. Strand's class, and I was staring at the pictures on the wall. I never answered the way anybody wanted, and this was no exception. She pointed at me and said, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I looked at the pictures again, of various men and women (mostly men) in their careers. I thought about how, if I said "a business woman," all the girls in both classes would know it was because of our collective crush, our Junior Achievement teacher, who looked just like Tom Cruise, but with better hair. I knew what I wanted to do; I had already started looking into it on my own. I don't know why it felt like a knee-jerk reaction, but I blurted, "I want to be an Archaeologist, but not with dinosaurs. I hate dinosaurs." The assembled classes of course laughed, but the picture of the archaeologist was surrounded by dinosaur bones, and South Dakota was not my idea of excitement; plus I had serious doubts about dinosaurs. I always felt like they just found bones and stuck them together, and who knows if that animal really looked that way? You could have bones from 6 different animals for all you know. I said this, but no one heard me, because they were still laughing at me. I wanted to be in some far off place (not Egypt though, I never knew why), carefully brushing off sand and dust to reveal some treasure from the past that no one had seen for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years. Of course, with all the laughing and the pointing, a girl tends to start keeping that stuff to herself. Not until college, sitting in a course in Egyptology (ironic, is it not? I had to take it before I could take the Civil War class I wanted), when I remembered this moment from the 5th grade. I decided again I wanted to be an archaeologist, but my boyfriend at the time wasn't going to be ok with that. My prof was planning a trip to Jericho, in Iran (or Iraq? I can't remember now), but they didn't end up going anyway because of the diplomatic climate. I thought that would have been amazing. To go on an actual dig, finding pots with burnt grains on top, but whole grains underneath. Yeah, I thought Archeology would be amazing. I had spent the last 2 years with a guy-friend, watching Biographies and learning little known things, and of course had fallen in love with him. He ended up marrying my boss' daughter and I quit and went to college, where I never watched any biographies. Stupid boys. But I digress.
They say you know yourself the best when you're 10. German and Norwegian children choose a career when they are 10, and that determines which kind of school to which they go. They choose, and are trained in that field up until they complete school, when they are ready to go into that field. Can you imagine if Americans did this? How many times would we change our mind and how long would schooling take? 22 and just graduating highschool because you changed your mind 3 times? No direction. No staying power.
All of this is on my mind this morning, along with some random 3rd grade memories, for some reason. Actually I know why. I had a best friend in Elementary school, and one night we watched "The Princess Bride." It was the first time I had seen it, and it was soon my favorite. I still watch it a couple of times a year. When she moved away, I set our whole friendship on that, how she and I shared something that is still so precious. So imagine my surprise when, on facebook, she FAILED the Princess Bride quiz this week. She doesn't remember most of it; hasn't watched it since 4th grade, when we watched it together. So sad. It was cemented in my mind that we would always have that memory and could relive it whenever. :P
You may know that I started my new job this week. I don't really think of it as a job. I think of it more as 4 hours of exercise, first thing in the morning, for which I am paid. I am grateful for the work, and it will nearly pay all the bills, even part time. I just don't see it as my "job." Maybe I will. I forget what it's like to be new. I forget that those you work with have done this job, and are likely bored with this job, and have discovered how to slack off at this job. I stand there at 5am asking, "so the truck is late, what do you do when the truck is late? Down stock?" And they look at me, like, cool it, lady. We chill. We make small talk, and the manager walks by. I start asking if they will teach me....whatever. Show me around. The guys I work with in the morning are really wonderful. Nice guys. My first day, one of them loaded up a cart for me, gave me all the light stuff, carried anything heavy for me. It was really sweet. I know that won't last, and that's fine. But it was nice. And we're already working as a team really well. First day was great, we finished everything early and did down stock, we rocked it. Second day is where it got interesting.
I couldn't remember either of my coworkers' names. They, unlike me, don't wear their name tags out for the world (I still need to find the loopholes that these guys find in the rules :P). So I go to the first guy, tell him I am terrible with names, and can he tell me again. So I learn his name, get it down, remember. Then I confide in him that I can't remember the other guy's name either, so he tells me, but for some reason, I can't hear. So after 2 attempts, he shows me on the schedule. Ok. So all morning, I'm calling them by their names, we're getting along, and 3 hours into the shift, I call the 2nd guy over, and he tells me I've been using the wrong name all day. I looked at the wrong name on the schedule. Fantastic. So I tell him I couldn't remember and tried to cheat by looking at the schedule, thinking, why didn't the first guy tell me? Ohhh, Minnesota Nice. He didn't want me to feel like an idiot. Yes, yes, job well done. Funny, isn't it? The lady at church last week who called me the wrong name and I didn't correct her because I didn't want her to feel foolish, and then this happens? Anyway...
The day goes on, and we have extra work to do because the trucks were late. I still have not learned to take a break. Both days I've worked, I have not taken breaks. I will. Anyway, this guy comes in to the aisle where I am working, standing on a flatbed cart (kids, don't try this at home). Of course he needs something and I have no clue where it is. So I spend about 40 seconds trying to get off this cart gracefully, and finally end up leaping onto solid ground. I turn around to see him with one eyebrow up, so I self-defamate by throwing my hands in the air and singing, "graceful!" I turn to RUN around the corner to ask for help, when I run straight into a fellow employee, a moustached stranger. Chest to chest, full on collision. We are both so stunned, and neither can think of a good icebreaker, or awkwardly funny phrase. We stand there, both our hands on the other's outer arms, embarrassed laughter in our eyes, and all we can think to do is slide our hands down until we are holding hands, and say, "good morning!" In full view of my customer, who already knows I'm a spaz. Yippee. I'm surprised we didn't dance; it looked like we were going to. So I go to my manager and tell her that my morning just got very embarrassing, but feel no need to tell her why, I have a customer waiting.
When I took this job, I thought, "Yes. 5-9am, no customers, just stock and get out." But consistently, customers start coming in about 6:30. Why? And on Fridays it's worse, earlier and busier. They all find me for help, and I always find someone else to help, because really, what do I know? Oh well. It makes it easier to work later for more money. It's pretty relaxed there. The policy is after you miss 3 shifts without calling, then they talk to you. Yesterday the General Manager came up to my manager and said that someone wasn't in yet. She said, "if she's not in within the next half hour, let me know, I'll text her and wake her up." Nice. That was not how I ran things, but I had a much more stringent schedule, and a lot less people to fill it. So those things crack me up. I like wearing normal clothes, jeans, to work. I can just go do anything after. But I ask so many questions, involved ones. "With the discount, does it come out pre or post tax? How long do you have to work to get profit sharing? Can part timers get in on the 401k plan? How much does health insurance cost per week, and what's the grace period? When is open enrollment? What if I am trained in Blood Borne Pathogens, do I still need to call a manager to clean up human fluid spills?" The poor HR guy. In training, we'd watch the riDICulous videos, and you know what I mean. He'd say, "are there any questions?" and look at me. The one time I didn't have a question, he was shocked. He just kept saying, "Don't worry about it." It's a sarcastic and relaxed place. It's a good fit. I just have to make more money with it :) It doesn't sound like extra hours will be hard to come by.
Today's song of the day:
Round Room - Phish. I don't know why. It's the cadence, I think. This is how I'm feeling :)
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Round_Room/64138
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
My Super Power is Minnesota Nice. Will I Use it for Good or Evil?
So at Grace Church Roseville, this series of sermons is happening about Minnesota Nice. He had a great definition up there from Wikipedia, and it stirred up my own thoughts on the subject.
Minnesota Nice is an expected politeness, an inherited people-pleasing gene; letting others go first, opening doors, deferring to others when making a decision about social locales. Minnesota nice is nice, but I think it also brings to light an underlying self esteem issue that Midwesterners have as a whole. The premise is nice, make others feel good, so they like you. Minnesota Nice also carries with it a connotation of shallow, passive-aggressive behavior that leaves one open to manipulation. Minnesotans would die like martyrs just to prove a point, without having to say it, as long as they were the nicer one in the situation. They will exhaust themselves helping others and baking "bars," just so people won't think they don't care. They will put other families before their own, giving all they have, just to have the appearance of being a nice, wonderful person, while their own family falls to the wayside. People talk about that too.
With this Minnesota Nice expectation comes some stress. Often I will sit at a stoplight, waiting to turn left or right. If I am the first one at the light, I fear that somehow, even though the light is red and we are bound by law, I am holding up the person behind me. In my mind they get angrier and angrier, and it's my fault, because I am in front of them. Almost invariably, when I finally get up the nerve to confront the seething person by looking in my rear view mirror, there is no one even behind me. If they are there, they are oblivious to me. So Minnesota Nice becomes this constant quest of "how can I make everything easy for those around me," as if it is my job. Also stressful is sitting in, say an office waiting room. You're expected to make small talk. I'm not one for small talk, I don't like talking about the weather. I will give this to Minnesotans: they usually begin the conversation with a joke about themselves, to put everyone at ease, myself included. Because that would make other people comfortable. But after a few sentences, awkward pauses dot the conversation, and no one knows if the polite thing to do is continue the conversation, or if the other person is getting uncomfortable (see my first entry, "Searching for Jobs and Chutzpah"...these are "Bob" situations).
It seems like a wonderful thing, this Minnesota Nice, and it is, when one is in a new situation. People are warm and inviting. But getting into a real friendship is harrowing business. One can't just say, "this is the kind of friend I am, these are my faults" to a forming friend. These things have to come out slowly, over time. You can't stress someone out with any issues you may have with yourself. You can't show imperfections until well after the 5th or 6th lunch date. Many times, you invest the initial 4 months trying to get to know someone, and when they FINALLY start showing you who they are, it's not always pretty, or worth it, and sometimes you never get below their "nice." Sometimes (thank you, Gertrude Stein), there is no there, there.
The other issue about Minnesota Nice I didn't even realize until the last few years is the manipulation and actual insult that Minnesota Nice can bring. I worked in a very stressful place as a caregiver, and one of my coworkers would come and vent about Minnesota Nice on a regular basis. She was from Europe, and she just didn't understand this concept. Just say you messed up. Just say what you want from her and she will do it! There is this sense, and maybe it is heightened in the health care field, that you need to show people you care about others more than they do. You are a better person because of how you care for others, and your whole life is devoted to it. People use it as credentials; "because I work with the needy, I have a more weighted opinion." She also felt like it was lying. She didn't feel like she knew any really honest people, because everyone is trying so hard to be nice, that the truth never comes out at all.
The manipulation is different than the dishonesty. The manipulation comes from those that know what Minnesota Nice entails, and use it for sympathy, attention, food, you name it. Minnesotans are ridiculously easy to guilt. They'll fall for that game, as I have often done. But, taking over hot dishes and bars doesn't even help, because the helper won't ask what's going on. They won't delve into how else they can help; food solves everything. This works out well for the manipulator, because there really is no problem anyway. Other manipulations come from people who, in their quest to be nice, simply cannot show their true personality; they act differently with each friend they have, and in a group social event either don't go, or say little, because they have to be a different person with each friend. This is the people-pleasing gene. They always have to look like the good guy, or they always are in need of help. They pick a role in the friendship that will make the other person feel good about themselves, and the boundaries are set. This creates HUGE problems in a social group, because one friend thinks they know the friend in question, but then they hear a completely different side or issue from another. This brings up gossip, each friend calling the others to see what they were told, and the last resort usually is confronting the friend in question, which Minnesotans aren't typically prone to do. That would be rude.
Here's a perfect example of Minnesota Nice, a real texting conversation between my Minnesotan friend that moved to Tennessee. We'll call her D:
Me: We HAVE to get together and have lunch while you're visiting!
D: Totally! Where do you want to go?
Me: You're the one visiting, what places do you miss? You have to chose.
D: You have to choose, because you know what's there, and what's affordable and what's close. I do miss the ginger dressing at Saji-Ya, but I also like the Good Earth, the French Meadow and Shish.
Me: Well that is just plain not helpful. ;) Where is the French Meadow? I've never been there.
D: It's in Minneapolis, I can't believe you've never been there! It's all natural and delicious.
Me: That may be a little undesirable, geographically speaking (yes, this is how we text. We text for hours, when we could call in 10 minutes, and we both HATE abbreviations).
D: Well, they are all good to me. You pick.
Me: YOU pick! You're the one visiting!
D: Ok, how about you decide between Saji-Ya and the Good Earth?
Me: Fine. Saji-Ya. How's 11?
D: Great. Does Saji-Ya do lunch? Can we do 12:30?
Me: I'll check. (20 minutes later). Yes, they do lunch.
D: Ok, then Saji-Ya at 12:30. Unless you want to do something else.
Me: NO! That's it. Saji-Ya at 12:30. I'm so excited to see you!
D: Me too!
Ok, so that conversation is typical, and really happened. Apparently we have all the time in the world to make decisions. On the actual day, this is the texting that took place:
D: I'm running late and changing plans. Will 3:00 work for you? We could have an earlier dinner, or a late lunch.
Me: Sure! (20 Minutes go by). Uh-oh; Saji-Ya is closed from 2-5. We need to find another place.
D: Gah! ok. How about Shish?
Me: Where is Shish?
D: Somewhere on Grand. I can't remember. By MacAlester somewhere.
Me: Ok, I will google it. I can do that.
D: Are you sure? We could go somewhere else.
Me: I'm sure! I'm not having THAT conversation again. :P I will meet you at 3 at Shish on Grand.
D: Sounds great!
Believe it or not, this is progress. You can clearly see that I made a decision both times. Yay me. Plus, I told her that she was not being helpful, and she didn't cry. Yay her! :) This is why you use emoticons when texting Minnesotans, so they don't EVER get the wrong idea or read your message in the wrong tone. The number one rule: EVERYTHING is fine (I'm not shouting. See?).
So that is Minnesota Nice in a nutshell. A tool that can be used for Good or Evil. An inherent politeness that borders on the frustrating. A deep insecurity. And now you know.
Today's song of the Day is in process. I'm not feeling the right one. If you really need one now, Jack Johnson, Good People will do for now:
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Good_People/21865857
Right now I'm feeling a little bad because at the service about how MN nice is not nice, a nice woman came up and introduced herself. I told her my name, and she started calling me Alice. I did not correct her. I didn't want to make her feel bad, and I didn't know if I would see her again. I realize this was the wrong thing to do. But Midwesterners aren't great with awkward either, it's a flaw in the people pleasing gene. Mapped to make everything nice.
Minnesota Nice is an expected politeness, an inherited people-pleasing gene; letting others go first, opening doors, deferring to others when making a decision about social locales. Minnesota nice is nice, but I think it also brings to light an underlying self esteem issue that Midwesterners have as a whole. The premise is nice, make others feel good, so they like you. Minnesota Nice also carries with it a connotation of shallow, passive-aggressive behavior that leaves one open to manipulation. Minnesotans would die like martyrs just to prove a point, without having to say it, as long as they were the nicer one in the situation. They will exhaust themselves helping others and baking "bars," just so people won't think they don't care. They will put other families before their own, giving all they have, just to have the appearance of being a nice, wonderful person, while their own family falls to the wayside. People talk about that too.
With this Minnesota Nice expectation comes some stress. Often I will sit at a stoplight, waiting to turn left or right. If I am the first one at the light, I fear that somehow, even though the light is red and we are bound by law, I am holding up the person behind me. In my mind they get angrier and angrier, and it's my fault, because I am in front of them. Almost invariably, when I finally get up the nerve to confront the seething person by looking in my rear view mirror, there is no one even behind me. If they are there, they are oblivious to me. So Minnesota Nice becomes this constant quest of "how can I make everything easy for those around me," as if it is my job. Also stressful is sitting in, say an office waiting room. You're expected to make small talk. I'm not one for small talk, I don't like talking about the weather. I will give this to Minnesotans: they usually begin the conversation with a joke about themselves, to put everyone at ease, myself included. Because that would make other people comfortable. But after a few sentences, awkward pauses dot the conversation, and no one knows if the polite thing to do is continue the conversation, or if the other person is getting uncomfortable (see my first entry, "Searching for Jobs and Chutzpah"...these are "Bob" situations).
It seems like a wonderful thing, this Minnesota Nice, and it is, when one is in a new situation. People are warm and inviting. But getting into a real friendship is harrowing business. One can't just say, "this is the kind of friend I am, these are my faults" to a forming friend. These things have to come out slowly, over time. You can't stress someone out with any issues you may have with yourself. You can't show imperfections until well after the 5th or 6th lunch date. Many times, you invest the initial 4 months trying to get to know someone, and when they FINALLY start showing you who they are, it's not always pretty, or worth it, and sometimes you never get below their "nice." Sometimes (thank you, Gertrude Stein), there is no there, there.
The other issue about Minnesota Nice I didn't even realize until the last few years is the manipulation and actual insult that Minnesota Nice can bring. I worked in a very stressful place as a caregiver, and one of my coworkers would come and vent about Minnesota Nice on a regular basis. She was from Europe, and she just didn't understand this concept. Just say you messed up. Just say what you want from her and she will do it! There is this sense, and maybe it is heightened in the health care field, that you need to show people you care about others more than they do. You are a better person because of how you care for others, and your whole life is devoted to it. People use it as credentials; "because I work with the needy, I have a more weighted opinion." She also felt like it was lying. She didn't feel like she knew any really honest people, because everyone is trying so hard to be nice, that the truth never comes out at all.
The manipulation is different than the dishonesty. The manipulation comes from those that know what Minnesota Nice entails, and use it for sympathy, attention, food, you name it. Minnesotans are ridiculously easy to guilt. They'll fall for that game, as I have often done. But, taking over hot dishes and bars doesn't even help, because the helper won't ask what's going on. They won't delve into how else they can help; food solves everything. This works out well for the manipulator, because there really is no problem anyway. Other manipulations come from people who, in their quest to be nice, simply cannot show their true personality; they act differently with each friend they have, and in a group social event either don't go, or say little, because they have to be a different person with each friend. This is the people-pleasing gene. They always have to look like the good guy, or they always are in need of help. They pick a role in the friendship that will make the other person feel good about themselves, and the boundaries are set. This creates HUGE problems in a social group, because one friend thinks they know the friend in question, but then they hear a completely different side or issue from another. This brings up gossip, each friend calling the others to see what they were told, and the last resort usually is confronting the friend in question, which Minnesotans aren't typically prone to do. That would be rude.
Here's a perfect example of Minnesota Nice, a real texting conversation between my Minnesotan friend that moved to Tennessee. We'll call her D:
Me: We HAVE to get together and have lunch while you're visiting!
D: Totally! Where do you want to go?
Me: You're the one visiting, what places do you miss? You have to chose.
D: You have to choose, because you know what's there, and what's affordable and what's close. I do miss the ginger dressing at Saji-Ya, but I also like the Good Earth, the French Meadow and Shish.
Me: Well that is just plain not helpful. ;) Where is the French Meadow? I've never been there.
D: It's in Minneapolis, I can't believe you've never been there! It's all natural and delicious.
Me: That may be a little undesirable, geographically speaking (yes, this is how we text. We text for hours, when we could call in 10 minutes, and we both HATE abbreviations).
D: Well, they are all good to me. You pick.
Me: YOU pick! You're the one visiting!
D: Ok, how about you decide between Saji-Ya and the Good Earth?
Me: Fine. Saji-Ya. How's 11?
D: Great. Does Saji-Ya do lunch? Can we do 12:30?
Me: I'll check. (20 minutes later). Yes, they do lunch.
D: Ok, then Saji-Ya at 12:30. Unless you want to do something else.
Me: NO! That's it. Saji-Ya at 12:30. I'm so excited to see you!
D: Me too!
Ok, so that conversation is typical, and really happened. Apparently we have all the time in the world to make decisions. On the actual day, this is the texting that took place:
D: I'm running late and changing plans. Will 3:00 work for you? We could have an earlier dinner, or a late lunch.
Me: Sure! (20 Minutes go by). Uh-oh; Saji-Ya is closed from 2-5. We need to find another place.
D: Gah! ok. How about Shish?
Me: Where is Shish?
D: Somewhere on Grand. I can't remember. By MacAlester somewhere.
Me: Ok, I will google it. I can do that.
D: Are you sure? We could go somewhere else.
Me: I'm sure! I'm not having THAT conversation again. :P I will meet you at 3 at Shish on Grand.
D: Sounds great!
Believe it or not, this is progress. You can clearly see that I made a decision both times. Yay me. Plus, I told her that she was not being helpful, and she didn't cry. Yay her! :) This is why you use emoticons when texting Minnesotans, so they don't EVER get the wrong idea or read your message in the wrong tone. The number one rule: EVERYTHING is fine (I'm not shouting. See?).
So that is Minnesota Nice in a nutshell. A tool that can be used for Good or Evil. An inherent politeness that borders on the frustrating. A deep insecurity. And now you know.
Today's song of the Day is in process. I'm not feeling the right one. If you really need one now, Jack Johnson, Good People will do for now:
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Good_People/21865857
Right now I'm feeling a little bad because at the service about how MN nice is not nice, a nice woman came up and introduced herself. I told her my name, and she started calling me Alice. I did not correct her. I didn't want to make her feel bad, and I didn't know if I would see her again. I realize this was the wrong thing to do. But Midwesterners aren't great with awkward either, it's a flaw in the people pleasing gene. Mapped to make everything nice.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
May the Force Be With Me. The Work Force.
I am up at 5:30am today. No idea why. I did meet with a store yesterday and had the all important, dignity boosting pee test taken, to ensure I don't do drugs. Yay. I told the interviewer I have never even smoked a cigarette or a joint, and I don't know if he just sees a lot of junkies or what, but he giggled, and said, "seriously?" Then he quickly quipped "that's awesome." It was a very informal interview. I found myself joking a lot. I kept thinking of Chandler Bing, and tried not to be as funny (i.e. "you said duties....hee heee heee"). I don't think he has a lot of faith in me, but that's OK (why do we have to capitalize OK? It's not an anacronym), I'll show him. I was offered a job, working M-F 5am-9am. This is perfect for me. I can work around it, I can be done by 9, and money will still come in. Plus I can stay after sometimes and make more money. Win-win-win-win. He seems a bit unsure if I am going to be comfortable working those hours. I told him I was a bit of a ridiculous morning person, and my housemates would probably enjoy having me out of the house in the mornings. At my old job, I was always singing or bouncing by 6. My awake nighters never understood me. And my nickname in Austria was Red Bull, because I didn't need any. I will let your imagination marinate on that a little bit. So yay, one job confirmed (hmmm, after the drug test, confirmed....I don't see a problem there). I move back into the force of the working. What is that? Is Doom shaking a little in its shoes?
Since I haven't been working, I have noticed just how much I used to spend frivolously. There were many lunches and coffees, which I don't really regret, but I used to have this habit of going to Target or Walgreens, and buying like $50 worth of stuff, and just leaving it in my back room, still in the bags. When I moved, I had so much unopened stuff that I totally forgot buying, it was ridiculous. I ended up donating like....yeah all of it. I was just having this conversation with my mom. She has recently joined the work force also, in the form of assisting in yearbook photos while insane mothers come and pull their 5th grade daughters out of class to dress them up like little hussies and hover (Ferris Bueller's Day Off: "My sister wears too much makeup; people think she's a whore.") Suddenly old habits and people seem just so ridiculous. She also realized when she stopped working how she would mindlessly shop. I never thought I was a shopping type of girl, but I guess you don't have to buy designer stuff to be an autobot shopper. I was good at putting money away and paying down my debt, too, but I bought a LOT of stuff I didn't need, or even want, as it turned out. I don't do that now, because I can't. I don't see that as a habit that will come back. I don't know, though. Sometimes I just want to go get something, even if its small. But I don't. So I think we're good. Ha! This is that ambivalence that pervades me....and that doesn't look like a word.
English is such a funny language. I read once that they interviewed people on the other side of the world who didn't speak a word of English, and they asked them to pick the most beautiful word, from a list (I don't know how many words were on the list). The majority of them picked Diarrhea. I found this odd, until my best friend told me that when she was a child she had an imaginary friend named Diarrhea. She was a ballerina and wore a pink tu-tu. I don't think she sees her much anymore. I ask about her sometimes, because I'm a good friend. :P I wonder if my friend is reading this post! Ha! I'll be hearing about this, I'm sure.
Today's song may require a bit of explanation: I've chosen The Sound of Settling by Death Cab for Cutie. I don't feel that I am settling, as I am grateful for any job at all, and this one actually will work really well for me, schedule wise. But somewhere deep inside, this rings a little.
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/The_Sound_of_Settling/7280094
Since I haven't been working, I have noticed just how much I used to spend frivolously. There were many lunches and coffees, which I don't really regret, but I used to have this habit of going to Target or Walgreens, and buying like $50 worth of stuff, and just leaving it in my back room, still in the bags. When I moved, I had so much unopened stuff that I totally forgot buying, it was ridiculous. I ended up donating like....yeah all of it. I was just having this conversation with my mom. She has recently joined the work force also, in the form of assisting in yearbook photos while insane mothers come and pull their 5th grade daughters out of class to dress them up like little hussies and hover (Ferris Bueller's Day Off: "My sister wears too much makeup; people think she's a whore.") Suddenly old habits and people seem just so ridiculous. She also realized when she stopped working how she would mindlessly shop. I never thought I was a shopping type of girl, but I guess you don't have to buy designer stuff to be an autobot shopper. I was good at putting money away and paying down my debt, too, but I bought a LOT of stuff I didn't need, or even want, as it turned out. I don't do that now, because I can't. I don't see that as a habit that will come back. I don't know, though. Sometimes I just want to go get something, even if its small. But I don't. So I think we're good. Ha! This is that ambivalence that pervades me....and that doesn't look like a word.
English is such a funny language. I read once that they interviewed people on the other side of the world who didn't speak a word of English, and they asked them to pick the most beautiful word, from a list (I don't know how many words were on the list). The majority of them picked Diarrhea. I found this odd, until my best friend told me that when she was a child she had an imaginary friend named Diarrhea. She was a ballerina and wore a pink tu-tu. I don't think she sees her much anymore. I ask about her sometimes, because I'm a good friend. :P I wonder if my friend is reading this post! Ha! I'll be hearing about this, I'm sure.
Today's song may require a bit of explanation: I've chosen The Sound of Settling by Death Cab for Cutie. I don't feel that I am settling, as I am grateful for any job at all, and this one actually will work really well for me, schedule wise. But somewhere deep inside, this rings a little.
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/The_Sound_of_Settling/7280094
Friday, September 18, 2009
Some Ramble or Other About the Aesthetic and Emotional Pleasure of Letters
I love mail. Good old fashioned mail. I have a pen pal and today I sent off a package. I love dressing up packages so that they're fun to get. I wrap everything in brown paper. Then you can write all over it, or you can tie it up in string, so that when the person gets it, invariably they are singing "My Favorite Things" for the rest of the day. Who doesn't love mail? Email is the tool of the day, and I'm not disparaging it, but when you're in college (even today), the only thing that makes you feel really really amazing is a care package from home, or a letter from someone put in your mailbox. Even if that letter is from your roommate, and she could have just told you. Mail makes you feel loved. It is a concrete thing that you can hold in your hand and know that someone was thinking about you.
You may wonder what started this pen pal craze of mine in 2009. Well, I saw the movie Julie and Julia, and while Julie's blog was interesting and fun, I was more captivated by Julia and her pen pal. She always had a letter in her hand, she was always writing one. No matter the letter, no matter where she was, letters came and they were like the newspaper. I'm sure as she got older she probably resorted to email like the rest of us, but I like to think that she always wrote letters.
I used to have lots of penpals. Living in a tourist area almost guarantees it. I had friends from camp every year, and an assignment in the 4th grade where we were given a pen pal. Mine was Elizabeth, and we actually wrote for a year or so. That was fun. Many of my international friends and I still write, though admittedly, it is more often through email or facebook that I do my correspondence. Also, I had all of their addresses in a memory book that was passed around when I was in highschool, and it was lost for 10 years. I got it back this year, and now I wonder who will remember me, and why I don't remember some of them!
Letters are such a great way to remember people. I often deleted emails from my grandmother, but I am fairly certain I have most, if not all the letters she ever wrote me, for birthdays or any reason. I was so proud when I became able to read her writing. I have her to thank also for the meticulous way I write now :).
I want a song to go with letters, but if you notice, most songs are about sad letters. That's not good. My Baby Wrote Me a Letter would be ok. Please, Mr. Postman...hmmm. Maybe. Hmmm. Brad Paisley's Letter to Me is sweet. I don't know, a song about mail is just not hitting today. We'll see what comes up.
So today is a worry-free zone, as my lovely friend reminded me yesterday. Today I write letters and I don't worry about not working. Hopefully I'll hear something today, but I am not sitting by the phone. There is a beautiful fog out in the park this morning, and geese and turkeys. I'm going to go for a walk with another lovely friend and enjoy the day. Many a day have I wasted by sitting inside, staring at the sunlight, worrying about my future and destroying the present. When I look back on this year, will I remember anything but the worry? My friend and I have much to worry about, but she reminds me that it won't help anything and now is the time for action. Can waiting be an action? Maybe my action will be to get a pedicure. Or a massage. Let's start with the walk :).
Today's Song of the Day is:
Heavenly Day, Patty Griffin
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Heavenly_Day/49054
Did you see that one coming?
You may wonder what started this pen pal craze of mine in 2009. Well, I saw the movie Julie and Julia, and while Julie's blog was interesting and fun, I was more captivated by Julia and her pen pal. She always had a letter in her hand, she was always writing one. No matter the letter, no matter where she was, letters came and they were like the newspaper. I'm sure as she got older she probably resorted to email like the rest of us, but I like to think that she always wrote letters.
I used to have lots of penpals. Living in a tourist area almost guarantees it. I had friends from camp every year, and an assignment in the 4th grade where we were given a pen pal. Mine was Elizabeth, and we actually wrote for a year or so. That was fun. Many of my international friends and I still write, though admittedly, it is more often through email or facebook that I do my correspondence. Also, I had all of their addresses in a memory book that was passed around when I was in highschool, and it was lost for 10 years. I got it back this year, and now I wonder who will remember me, and why I don't remember some of them!
Letters are such a great way to remember people. I often deleted emails from my grandmother, but I am fairly certain I have most, if not all the letters she ever wrote me, for birthdays or any reason. I was so proud when I became able to read her writing. I have her to thank also for the meticulous way I write now :).
I want a song to go with letters, but if you notice, most songs are about sad letters. That's not good. My Baby Wrote Me a Letter would be ok. Please, Mr. Postman...hmmm. Maybe. Hmmm. Brad Paisley's Letter to Me is sweet. I don't know, a song about mail is just not hitting today. We'll see what comes up.
So today is a worry-free zone, as my lovely friend reminded me yesterday. Today I write letters and I don't worry about not working. Hopefully I'll hear something today, but I am not sitting by the phone. There is a beautiful fog out in the park this morning, and geese and turkeys. I'm going to go for a walk with another lovely friend and enjoy the day. Many a day have I wasted by sitting inside, staring at the sunlight, worrying about my future and destroying the present. When I look back on this year, will I remember anything but the worry? My friend and I have much to worry about, but she reminds me that it won't help anything and now is the time for action. Can waiting be an action? Maybe my action will be to get a pedicure. Or a massage. Let's start with the walk :).
Today's Song of the Day is:
Heavenly Day, Patty Griffin
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Heavenly_Day/49054
Did you see that one coming?
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Productivity on a Tuesday: A Lesson in Self Preservation and Promotion
So I haven't written in a few days (channeling Michael Scott: "Dear Diary, I'm sorry I haven't written in a few days, there's been a lot of things to handle (that's what she said). XOXO, Michael Scott"). And I begin with digression. Fantabulous (gummi word....ewww sticky).
I'm writing in the evening, which is new. It may account for my extra random comments. I've been fairly productive the last few days. No, it is not because I turned 30. I hate seeing that on paper. It wasn't so bad; my parents came from Michigan and took me out to lots of meals. I was paraded around Don Pablos in a sombrero (that was only OK because she said I was turning 16). They came to offer mortal support. Yes, mortal support. I had the hardest time turning 30 because I still had 2 things on my to-do list that weren't done before 30; skydiving and getting my SCUBA certification. It was nice to have them around (my parents), and I was able to relax a little bit about my situation in life. We went to church on Sunday and the message was about Minnesota Nice, and how it's not really nice. How things are "fine" with Minnesotans, and living your life with inner flair, like a pepper, rather than having to spice it up like a potato. I get the message, I liked the message, but I'm not searching for prestige or a better job or the next best thing. I'm searching for survival, and to get out of debt. It was still encouraging, though. I enjoyed it.
So my parents left on Monday afternoon after a trip to Ikea and the cafe there. They took the scenic route home, which my mother, at least, does not recommend, on account of the desolation and wildlife. That sounds perfect to me. :) I spent Tuesday back in the saddle, but with a better outlook. I went back to my alma matter and found out what I need to do to finish my degree, and how much it will cost. I could do it in one semester, if I had the money. I'm within 20 credits of an Associates, which I would like to turn in to a Bachelors. I then decided to go into Borders and apply there. I got sidetracked at Williams Sonoma. I walked in and a lovely woman greeted me. I shopped for a few minutes and then asked whether they were hiring. She said they were hiring part time and seasonal Christmas staff in the next couple weeks. I filled out an application and chatted with her for a few minutes. I don't know if I will get it, but it was nice to actually get some face time, rather than putting myself out there hanging, ignored. I did also apply at Borders, but that is all online, and I hang out there again. The "sure thing" had mentioned a possible interview on Thursday, but nothing has been confirmed. It doesn't feel sure. I'm moving on. It's a company of mostly men, and they are slow to do the administrative stuff, I guess (no offense). I've decided it's just not going to happen and move on. If it does happen, yay. If not, well, that's for another day. I am really getting sick of applications. Seriously. The same info, the same numbers and references. The same the same the same. Oh well. Girl's gotta eat.
So I didn't wallow, still not wallowing. I'm 30. Wallowing is easy. You can sit and obsess about stupid things like the way "obsess" doesn't really seem like a word. You can watch 3 movies in a row. You can check facebook all day, and from your phone when you finally decide to get offline. You can research trivial things like what the heck Minnesotans do at a "Booya." Lots of stuff. I've got wallowing down to an art, I don't even need the junkfood anymore. But there are days when wallowing is just not the thing to do. You can still watch movies and research the origin of the "Pandowdy" but it has a purpose (annoying side note: Pandowdy is a dish the first American settlers made. It's like a pie, but halfway through cooking you "dowdy" or smash up the top and mix it in with the inside). You can write an article about it. Put on the Irish music and dance for 20 minutes...as long as no one is home. The point is to not sit and obsess over the unknown. I feel a Donald Rumsfeld quote coming on..."we know the knowns and we know the unknowns, but there is also the unknown unknowns, and we don't know what those are..." There's not much I can do but keep trying. It's not nearly as heart wrenching when you can actually talk to someone. No limbo...well some limbo, but the chance to make an impression.
So there it is. That's what has been going on. There's a lot more in the noggin, but I'll get to it.
Here's the song of the day today (tonight), in honor of sitting here by candlelight and being 30. Cheers!
The Weepies: Nobody Knows Me at All
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Nobody_Knows_Me_At_All/185475
I'm writing in the evening, which is new. It may account for my extra random comments. I've been fairly productive the last few days. No, it is not because I turned 30. I hate seeing that on paper. It wasn't so bad; my parents came from Michigan and took me out to lots of meals. I was paraded around Don Pablos in a sombrero (that was only OK because she said I was turning 16). They came to offer mortal support. Yes, mortal support. I had the hardest time turning 30 because I still had 2 things on my to-do list that weren't done before 30; skydiving and getting my SCUBA certification. It was nice to have them around (my parents), and I was able to relax a little bit about my situation in life. We went to church on Sunday and the message was about Minnesota Nice, and how it's not really nice. How things are "fine" with Minnesotans, and living your life with inner flair, like a pepper, rather than having to spice it up like a potato. I get the message, I liked the message, but I'm not searching for prestige or a better job or the next best thing. I'm searching for survival, and to get out of debt. It was still encouraging, though. I enjoyed it.
So my parents left on Monday afternoon after a trip to Ikea and the cafe there. They took the scenic route home, which my mother, at least, does not recommend, on account of the desolation and wildlife. That sounds perfect to me. :) I spent Tuesday back in the saddle, but with a better outlook. I went back to my alma matter and found out what I need to do to finish my degree, and how much it will cost. I could do it in one semester, if I had the money. I'm within 20 credits of an Associates, which I would like to turn in to a Bachelors. I then decided to go into Borders and apply there. I got sidetracked at Williams Sonoma. I walked in and a lovely woman greeted me. I shopped for a few minutes and then asked whether they were hiring. She said they were hiring part time and seasonal Christmas staff in the next couple weeks. I filled out an application and chatted with her for a few minutes. I don't know if I will get it, but it was nice to actually get some face time, rather than putting myself out there hanging, ignored. I did also apply at Borders, but that is all online, and I hang out there again. The "sure thing" had mentioned a possible interview on Thursday, but nothing has been confirmed. It doesn't feel sure. I'm moving on. It's a company of mostly men, and they are slow to do the administrative stuff, I guess (no offense). I've decided it's just not going to happen and move on. If it does happen, yay. If not, well, that's for another day. I am really getting sick of applications. Seriously. The same info, the same numbers and references. The same the same the same. Oh well. Girl's gotta eat.
So I didn't wallow, still not wallowing. I'm 30. Wallowing is easy. You can sit and obsess about stupid things like the way "obsess" doesn't really seem like a word. You can watch 3 movies in a row. You can check facebook all day, and from your phone when you finally decide to get offline. You can research trivial things like what the heck Minnesotans do at a "Booya." Lots of stuff. I've got wallowing down to an art, I don't even need the junkfood anymore. But there are days when wallowing is just not the thing to do. You can still watch movies and research the origin of the "Pandowdy" but it has a purpose (annoying side note: Pandowdy is a dish the first American settlers made. It's like a pie, but halfway through cooking you "dowdy" or smash up the top and mix it in with the inside). You can write an article about it. Put on the Irish music and dance for 20 minutes...as long as no one is home. The point is to not sit and obsess over the unknown. I feel a Donald Rumsfeld quote coming on..."we know the knowns and we know the unknowns, but there is also the unknown unknowns, and we don't know what those are..." There's not much I can do but keep trying. It's not nearly as heart wrenching when you can actually talk to someone. No limbo...well some limbo, but the chance to make an impression.
So there it is. That's what has been going on. There's a lot more in the noggin, but I'll get to it.
Here's the song of the day today (tonight), in honor of sitting here by candlelight and being 30. Cheers!
The Weepies: Nobody Knows Me at All
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Nobody_Knows_Me_At_All/185475
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Faith, Green Eggs and Flat Cake: A Deep Conversation for a Thursday Morning.
"You really shouldn't be worrying about this. It's in the bag. They're not calling because they're busy, because they need you." My boyfriend reassures me as he walks out the door back to work. I'm a professional worrier. I didn't use to be. It's been a week, and my "sure thing" has not called. True, there was a holiday in there, and a weekend. I'm just anxious to be doing something with my hands. I've been enjoying writing, and I think I'll keep it up, but I write for sanity, not for money. I could take the approach of, "they must be afraid of me. They must think I'm out of their league" for all the jobs that have not even bothered to pick up the phone and call me. I start obsessing over where I went wrong on my resume, the psychological tests, the "reasons for leaving." My last job was tricky. I had to be available 24 hours a day, and I lived in. After 3 years of that I was burnt out and had constant heart burn and chest pain. So I write, "working 24 hours a day for 3 years affected my health." I bet this is scary for an employer. Also I had one workman's comp claim (I REALLY should have had two, when that TV fell on my head and I couldn't speak correctly for like a year), and I hear rumors that potential employees want to see if you're "that" kind of employee.
I used to not worry about anything. Believe me, I had a lot to worry about, but I just didn't. At the time I was encouraged by an observation from John Piper, a pastor here in the twin cities that was in a theological war with another pastor here in the twin cities, and my college friends and I decided to pick sides. I picked John Piper, a 5 point Calvinist who can spend a year on one chapter in Romans. I adored him, and I still highly respect him. My college friends and I were busy living in our little bubble of Christianity, not so much trying to figure out our own faith as the faith of our group. We used to joke that Piper's church was like a soap opera; you could miss church for a year and when you came back he was only 2 verses past where you left off. He's a brilliant man. His theology runs deep. The main contention was that this other pastor, Greg Boyd, had a theory he thought would console people and skeptics. He said bad things happen because God doesn't know the future, so how could he prevent it? I had a really hard time with limiting God, so I picked another camp. I remember being in a Christian bookstore, and someone was reading the back of Boyd's book, a collection of letters to his father, and the sales person came up and began talking to this customer, bragging that they know him, they go to his church, how brilliant he is. It all just kind of made me ill. I went hard core the other way, as did Piper, to escape this idea. Many sermons would be aimed directly at Boyd, and while I love Piper, for a time it felt like his teaching was more about proving someone else wrong than moving on to rejoicing. I think he felt like he helped create a monster, as they both were professors at the same school, and the school had to decide what allowance of interpretation was allowed. But I digress.
Somehow eventually I realized I'm not a 5 point Calvinist, and I didn't necessarily need to pick a side. People were so up-in-arms about this situation, I realized I was more passionate about the fight amongst believers than I was about furthering my own faith. I still hold Piper in high regard, and I cling to the "Future Grace" he brought so well to light, but I don't go there anymore; it's more like a reminder of a former time. It's odd.
Nevertheless, I was stuck in Florida in a no-win situation in the winter of 2001. I had brought a bunch of Piper's books with me to encourage me and to continue learning. One day I read about worry. He brought up the typical Bible verses on worry (you know, Jesus starts asking people if there is a point to worrying; if it will make you live longer, etc). I was faced with a slowly dying man before me, and this hit home to me. If he worried, it wouldn't make him live longer, and his end was imminent. If I worried, I wouldn't live longer and who knows what my end would be? Then Piper brought up another point. Leaving tomorrow's worries to tomorrow, because today had enough trouble. He drew the paralel to Moses and the Isrealites wandering in the desert. They had a lot to worry about, even if it was their own fault (like me). He provided them with manna, which they ate every day (leave it to humans to complain about eating the same food every day). The funny thing about manna is that you can't keep it. It's not a left-over type of deal. There was new manna every morning, and if you tried to preserve yesterday's manna, it would rot. They were given what they needed for the day. Each day they were given what they needed for that day's struggles. So I took that to heart and I didn't worry anymore. And I had a lot to worry about. But I just didn't.
After my time in Florida was done, I remember praying this ridiculous prayer: "Lord, I'm tired. If it's ok with you, could I just have smooth sailing for a while?" And I did. And I got comfortable with my easy life, jobs and money came to me, I was an independent girl who didn't have any worries, but I only looked at what was in front of me. So I didn't notice when my health started failing because of my high stress job, I was always taking one day at a time. I didn't notice when I burnt out and became bitter and irritated at the job I loved. And when I finally took a step back and looked behind me, I saw a path of destruction that I had been leaving behind in my quest for a smooth life and a "present day" look. So I realized something else when I left my last job; I realized that nowhere, in all the literature or encouraging things I had read, in the discussion of Calvinism vs. Skepticism was I supposed to ignore the past. I was only supposed to not worry about the future.
Faith is like a recipe. It looks easy on paper. The directions seem pretty obvious. But suddenly, once you start cooking, you realize they didn't really tell you anything about how to do it. So you try something, it may work it may not. You change the order of things. You add the baking powder later, then earlier. Sometimes you skip ingredients, sometimes you add your own. Most dishes never taste the same twice, and it may only be that way because of how you feel. You have to make the recipe and have faith that something good will come from it. You make it again, learning from what you did the last time. And nobody quite makes the same dish the same way. For instance, my friend and former boss was just commenting on facebook that she got this recipe from a friend and it's a new favorite, but she hasn't quite made it taste exactly like hers yet. Same ingredients, different feel.
So I have faith. I have faith that I have skills and intelligence and humor. I have faith that I will live, somehow, no matter what happens; I've been in worse situations. I have faith that eventually I will learn what I am supposed to, and I will work for someone or for myself, and that something good will come of it, even if I mess with the ingredients and change the order around. My eggs may come out green, my cake may flop in the oven, but in the end, it's the fact that I spent time in the kitchen that counts. I don't know if this makes sense to anyone else, and I know it's a little deep for a Thursday morning. Sorry.
Today's song of the day is Don't Worry, by Bob Marley
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Don_t_Worry/22489911
I just saw how Ironic that looks. If you know anything about my life, the fact that I picked reggae today, with this entry is just so weird.
I used to not worry about anything. Believe me, I had a lot to worry about, but I just didn't. At the time I was encouraged by an observation from John Piper, a pastor here in the twin cities that was in a theological war with another pastor here in the twin cities, and my college friends and I decided to pick sides. I picked John Piper, a 5 point Calvinist who can spend a year on one chapter in Romans. I adored him, and I still highly respect him. My college friends and I were busy living in our little bubble of Christianity, not so much trying to figure out our own faith as the faith of our group. We used to joke that Piper's church was like a soap opera; you could miss church for a year and when you came back he was only 2 verses past where you left off. He's a brilliant man. His theology runs deep. The main contention was that this other pastor, Greg Boyd, had a theory he thought would console people and skeptics. He said bad things happen because God doesn't know the future, so how could he prevent it? I had a really hard time with limiting God, so I picked another camp. I remember being in a Christian bookstore, and someone was reading the back of Boyd's book, a collection of letters to his father, and the sales person came up and began talking to this customer, bragging that they know him, they go to his church, how brilliant he is. It all just kind of made me ill. I went hard core the other way, as did Piper, to escape this idea. Many sermons would be aimed directly at Boyd, and while I love Piper, for a time it felt like his teaching was more about proving someone else wrong than moving on to rejoicing. I think he felt like he helped create a monster, as they both were professors at the same school, and the school had to decide what allowance of interpretation was allowed. But I digress.
Somehow eventually I realized I'm not a 5 point Calvinist, and I didn't necessarily need to pick a side. People were so up-in-arms about this situation, I realized I was more passionate about the fight amongst believers than I was about furthering my own faith. I still hold Piper in high regard, and I cling to the "Future Grace" he brought so well to light, but I don't go there anymore; it's more like a reminder of a former time. It's odd.
Nevertheless, I was stuck in Florida in a no-win situation in the winter of 2001. I had brought a bunch of Piper's books with me to encourage me and to continue learning. One day I read about worry. He brought up the typical Bible verses on worry (you know, Jesus starts asking people if there is a point to worrying; if it will make you live longer, etc). I was faced with a slowly dying man before me, and this hit home to me. If he worried, it wouldn't make him live longer, and his end was imminent. If I worried, I wouldn't live longer and who knows what my end would be? Then Piper brought up another point. Leaving tomorrow's worries to tomorrow, because today had enough trouble. He drew the paralel to Moses and the Isrealites wandering in the desert. They had a lot to worry about, even if it was their own fault (like me). He provided them with manna, which they ate every day (leave it to humans to complain about eating the same food every day). The funny thing about manna is that you can't keep it. It's not a left-over type of deal. There was new manna every morning, and if you tried to preserve yesterday's manna, it would rot. They were given what they needed for the day. Each day they were given what they needed for that day's struggles. So I took that to heart and I didn't worry anymore. And I had a lot to worry about. But I just didn't.
After my time in Florida was done, I remember praying this ridiculous prayer: "Lord, I'm tired. If it's ok with you, could I just have smooth sailing for a while?" And I did. And I got comfortable with my easy life, jobs and money came to me, I was an independent girl who didn't have any worries, but I only looked at what was in front of me. So I didn't notice when my health started failing because of my high stress job, I was always taking one day at a time. I didn't notice when I burnt out and became bitter and irritated at the job I loved. And when I finally took a step back and looked behind me, I saw a path of destruction that I had been leaving behind in my quest for a smooth life and a "present day" look. So I realized something else when I left my last job; I realized that nowhere, in all the literature or encouraging things I had read, in the discussion of Calvinism vs. Skepticism was I supposed to ignore the past. I was only supposed to not worry about the future.
Faith is like a recipe. It looks easy on paper. The directions seem pretty obvious. But suddenly, once you start cooking, you realize they didn't really tell you anything about how to do it. So you try something, it may work it may not. You change the order of things. You add the baking powder later, then earlier. Sometimes you skip ingredients, sometimes you add your own. Most dishes never taste the same twice, and it may only be that way because of how you feel. You have to make the recipe and have faith that something good will come from it. You make it again, learning from what you did the last time. And nobody quite makes the same dish the same way. For instance, my friend and former boss was just commenting on facebook that she got this recipe from a friend and it's a new favorite, but she hasn't quite made it taste exactly like hers yet. Same ingredients, different feel.
So I have faith. I have faith that I have skills and intelligence and humor. I have faith that I will live, somehow, no matter what happens; I've been in worse situations. I have faith that eventually I will learn what I am supposed to, and I will work for someone or for myself, and that something good will come of it, even if I mess with the ingredients and change the order around. My eggs may come out green, my cake may flop in the oven, but in the end, it's the fact that I spent time in the kitchen that counts. I don't know if this makes sense to anyone else, and I know it's a little deep for a Thursday morning. Sorry.
Today's song of the day is Don't Worry, by Bob Marley
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Don_t_Worry/22489911
I just saw how Ironic that looks. If you know anything about my life, the fact that I picked reggae today, with this entry is just so weird.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Mr. Wilde, I Really Must Protest
Like the new banner today? Someone made it for me. It's awesome (sorry, Irish friends, it's outstanding!). It's kind of a big deal :).
Yesterday was Labor Day, so I took the day off. Yes, that is a joke. But I did vacate my worries and fears for a day. That was kind of fun. I watched some of the marathon of The Office on TBS, and I was able to enjoy the fact that I don't have a boss like Michael Scott. He's alright as a character, even as a friend (hmm...maybe acquaintance), but thank Heaven I don't work for him. Anyway, to the point of what I did yesterday (nerd alert: you may want to skip this part if you see yourself as "cool"...wait, what am I saying. If you see yourself as "cool," leave now, as "cool" people find the bright side a thorn in theirs.), it was satisfying. I got my free credit report and went over all 23 pages meticulously, making notes all over the margin. I took the letter that came last week, about which I wrote an entire blog entry (incidentally, this card claims perfect performance on my credit report), and I wrote them a letter back, on their paper. I told them I reject their terms, I reject them as a creditor, and I reject their customer service, which has done a very poor job defending their arbitrary "policies." I cut up all 6 cards they sent me (I only needed one in the first place, there's another place you can save money!) into 1/2 centimeter pieces and put those in the letter as well. That was fun. I only owe them $380.00. I'll be done soon enough. I wrote an extra effigy on the back of the envelope, telling them to lord their arbitrary policies over someone else, and I addressed it to the "Arbitrary-Bad-Business-Account Services" department. I wonder if they will get the right message. I'm sure they get a lot worse, but I felt better.
As I write this, I have an aged cat screaming at me. I am eating cereal and, much like Lady Catherine DeBurgh, she must have her share in the conversation. Now, before you put me in the category of "Cat Woman," You should know she's not my cat. That's right. My boyfriend had a pre-existing cat and dog when I came along. Each morning she starts howling between 5 and 7am. You'd think she was starving to death. Each morning I see her bowls are full with food and water, she's eaten some of the plant leaves, and there is no reason for such a display. I really should film it, and send it to AFV. She's looking for the gourmet canned catfood, so that she can lick the gravy off the top and be done with it. She doesn't even eat it. The pets here are the most spoiled pets on the planet; they only drink bottled water, they have the most expensive treats and food, they get served extra servings of the good stuff once a day, and don't even mention a leash to the dog; he doesn't know what to do with it. He assumes that it's meant for him to douse it in pee. At least he knows it's his. But I digress.
If you know me, you know that I like Oscar Wilde quips and plays. A friend sent me a quote the other day, to assist in the plight of my life (how dramaaaatic). Here's the quote, and my subsequent ambivalence about it:
"It is better to have a permanent income than to be fascinating." - Oscar Wilde
Here is where I find him charmingly befuddled (random quote from "Family Guy, please forgive it); I don't disagree that a permanent income is better than wit, but why would he of all people say this? His entire income came from being witty and fascinating. It seems to me the only people able to get a job in this economy are those that are fascinating, which I thought I was...clearly I have not thought this through. Maybe I spoke prematurely; maybe I should just tell you I'm ambivalent and leave it at that. The trouble is, many of those that read this blog may interpret ambivalence as some sort of apathy. I'm not apathetic, I am definitely ambivalent. According to the freedictionary.com, ambivalence is "the coexistence of opposing attitudes and feelings...to a person, object or idea." It's not that I don't care, I'm just torn about it in my mind. I hate to say it, but I feel like fascination and income are inter-dependent. That is just sad. But what of we who have fascinating features (I don't mean to sound narcissistic, I find fascination in the world and write it down, this is what I mean...besides, I don't see me drowning because I love the way my reflection looks) and still spend hours each day trying to network and apply and be part of the work force in America? A fascinating person could be a killer, a psychopath, a Caliban. To an employer, it doesn't matter. The more charming and ego-feeding a person, the better chance of getting a job.
Why does this thought repulse me so much? The thought of going into a place where I don't even really want to work, just to say "yes, I think management is always right, and I never question it. No, I have no desire for advancement..." makes me physically ill. The management has to know that these people are lying, but it's what they want to hear. This is a huge flaw in American business. It allows the poor of heart and those with low morals into the work force, only to advance and continue their pattern of unethical behavior, only to end up in situations like Enron, or the financial collapse of 2008. YET, businesses have not learned that it is better to hire an honest, hard working person with ambition than a robot who can tell a joke. So, Mr. Wilde, this is my answer. In order to achieve a permanent income (even one that may collapse because of your "fascination"), one must be fascinating. There is no place for an honest, hard working, realistic person in American business. People who are pure of heart are not what makes the big bucks, as Mr. Wilde was well aware. I think that's been the underlying frustration this entire time. The paradox of background and drug tests against the art of flattery and fascination.
So today, I continue on. I weigh the gray area, and decide if I am willing to say what they want to hear, so that I may continue to survive. It could be worse; I could have to find a speech to impress Michael Scott!
Today's Song of the Day is by Toby Mac; Lose My Soul, especially verse 2. Here, I'm going to cut and paste verse 2. It's good.
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Lose_My_Soul/319227
video: http://www.tangle.com/view_video?viewkey=fe90b530a0b632a409ad
Here's verse 2:
The paparazzi flashes, and that they think that it's you,
But they don't know that who you are is not what you do,
True, we get it twisted when we peak at the charts,
Yo before we part from the start,
Where's your heart?
You a pimp, hustler?
Tell me what's your title,
America has no more stars, now we call them idols,
You sit idle, While we teach prosperity,
The first thing to prosper should be inside of me.
We're free...
Not because of 22's on the range,
But Christ came in range, we said yes now we changed,
Not the same, even though I made a fall,
Since I got that call, no more Saul, now I'm Paul.
PS: This video cracks me up. I'm not money hungry (I often say I hate money), I'm just looking to survive here, but this is kinda cool.
"Satan on the Economy"
http://www.tangle.com/view_video?viewkey=291a832979049a0f54b2&mui=6974c0a9b90143e37db255f6dee6ff9d
Yesterday was Labor Day, so I took the day off. Yes, that is a joke. But I did vacate my worries and fears for a day. That was kind of fun. I watched some of the marathon of The Office on TBS, and I was able to enjoy the fact that I don't have a boss like Michael Scott. He's alright as a character, even as a friend (hmm...maybe acquaintance), but thank Heaven I don't work for him. Anyway, to the point of what I did yesterday (nerd alert: you may want to skip this part if you see yourself as "cool"...wait, what am I saying. If you see yourself as "cool," leave now, as "cool" people find the bright side a thorn in theirs.), it was satisfying. I got my free credit report and went over all 23 pages meticulously, making notes all over the margin. I took the letter that came last week, about which I wrote an entire blog entry (incidentally, this card claims perfect performance on my credit report), and I wrote them a letter back, on their paper. I told them I reject their terms, I reject them as a creditor, and I reject their customer service, which has done a very poor job defending their arbitrary "policies." I cut up all 6 cards they sent me (I only needed one in the first place, there's another place you can save money!) into 1/2 centimeter pieces and put those in the letter as well. That was fun. I only owe them $380.00. I'll be done soon enough. I wrote an extra effigy on the back of the envelope, telling them to lord their arbitrary policies over someone else, and I addressed it to the "Arbitrary-Bad-Business-Account Services" department. I wonder if they will get the right message. I'm sure they get a lot worse, but I felt better.
As I write this, I have an aged cat screaming at me. I am eating cereal and, much like Lady Catherine DeBurgh, she must have her share in the conversation. Now, before you put me in the category of "Cat Woman," You should know she's not my cat. That's right. My boyfriend had a pre-existing cat and dog when I came along. Each morning she starts howling between 5 and 7am. You'd think she was starving to death. Each morning I see her bowls are full with food and water, she's eaten some of the plant leaves, and there is no reason for such a display. I really should film it, and send it to AFV. She's looking for the gourmet canned catfood, so that she can lick the gravy off the top and be done with it. She doesn't even eat it. The pets here are the most spoiled pets on the planet; they only drink bottled water, they have the most expensive treats and food, they get served extra servings of the good stuff once a day, and don't even mention a leash to the dog; he doesn't know what to do with it. He assumes that it's meant for him to douse it in pee. At least he knows it's his. But I digress.
If you know me, you know that I like Oscar Wilde quips and plays. A friend sent me a quote the other day, to assist in the plight of my life (how dramaaaatic). Here's the quote, and my subsequent ambivalence about it:
"It is better to have a permanent income than to be fascinating." - Oscar Wilde
Here is where I find him charmingly befuddled (random quote from "Family Guy, please forgive it); I don't disagree that a permanent income is better than wit, but why would he of all people say this? His entire income came from being witty and fascinating. It seems to me the only people able to get a job in this economy are those that are fascinating, which I thought I was...clearly I have not thought this through. Maybe I spoke prematurely; maybe I should just tell you I'm ambivalent and leave it at that. The trouble is, many of those that read this blog may interpret ambivalence as some sort of apathy. I'm not apathetic, I am definitely ambivalent. According to the freedictionary.com, ambivalence is "the coexistence of opposing attitudes and feelings...to a person, object or idea." It's not that I don't care, I'm just torn about it in my mind. I hate to say it, but I feel like fascination and income are inter-dependent. That is just sad. But what of we who have fascinating features (I don't mean to sound narcissistic, I find fascination in the world and write it down, this is what I mean...besides, I don't see me drowning because I love the way my reflection looks) and still spend hours each day trying to network and apply and be part of the work force in America? A fascinating person could be a killer, a psychopath, a Caliban. To an employer, it doesn't matter. The more charming and ego-feeding a person, the better chance of getting a job.
Why does this thought repulse me so much? The thought of going into a place where I don't even really want to work, just to say "yes, I think management is always right, and I never question it. No, I have no desire for advancement..." makes me physically ill. The management has to know that these people are lying, but it's what they want to hear. This is a huge flaw in American business. It allows the poor of heart and those with low morals into the work force, only to advance and continue their pattern of unethical behavior, only to end up in situations like Enron, or the financial collapse of 2008. YET, businesses have not learned that it is better to hire an honest, hard working person with ambition than a robot who can tell a joke. So, Mr. Wilde, this is my answer. In order to achieve a permanent income (even one that may collapse because of your "fascination"), one must be fascinating. There is no place for an honest, hard working, realistic person in American business. People who are pure of heart are not what makes the big bucks, as Mr. Wilde was well aware. I think that's been the underlying frustration this entire time. The paradox of background and drug tests against the art of flattery and fascination.
So today, I continue on. I weigh the gray area, and decide if I am willing to say what they want to hear, so that I may continue to survive. It could be worse; I could have to find a speech to impress Michael Scott!
Today's Song of the Day is by Toby Mac; Lose My Soul, especially verse 2. Here, I'm going to cut and paste verse 2. It's good.
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Lose_My_Soul/319227
video: http://www.tangle.com/view_video?viewkey=fe90b530a0b632a409ad
Here's verse 2:
The paparazzi flashes, and that they think that it's you,
But they don't know that who you are is not what you do,
True, we get it twisted when we peak at the charts,
Yo before we part from the start,
Where's your heart?
You a pimp, hustler?
Tell me what's your title,
America has no more stars, now we call them idols,
You sit idle, While we teach prosperity,
The first thing to prosper should be inside of me.
We're free...
Not because of 22's on the range,
But Christ came in range, we said yes now we changed,
Not the same, even though I made a fall,
Since I got that call, no more Saul, now I'm Paul.
PS: This video cracks me up. I'm not money hungry (I often say I hate money), I'm just looking to survive here, but this is kinda cool.
"Satan on the Economy"
http://www.tangle.com/view_video?viewkey=291a832979049a0f54b2&mui=6974c0a9b90143e37db255f6dee6ff9d
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Stand Down, Grasshopper: A Lesson in Waiting
Those of you who follow my blog will notice today that my blog looks different, and is in a new location. This morning I was trying to explain to my boyfriend my level of fear and panic about all the things in my life that I don't control (like everything), and he noted that I'm not looking at the bright side, as I typically do. He's right, I've always been a bright side kind of girl (you'd be surprised at some of the bright sides I've found in bizzare situations). So, he has given me an assignment to write all the things I have accomplished, so that I will stop being psycho and freaking out about everything. Can you imagine, ME being tough to live with? :P Thus, the new name and the new look to the blog. Somehow it became a mission statement. I know I need to learn patience; this is why I haven't asked for it, because I can't handle getting it! :) I'm no dummy!
So here we go:
-I got my rejection email from Macy's today. They're right; I'm far to qualified for their part time job, and would want to advance; they should fear my advancement, because it is imminent.
-I am a published writer! I have a blog. It may be random bits of meltdown, but it's mine, and I enjoy spending time with it (I almost wrote thyme...apparently I'm in garden withdrawl).
-I am an experienced photographer with jobs lined up, and jobs under my belt (though, as a type A perfectionist, I always think I could have done better....wait. My boyfriend, over my shoulder, is humming something about sabotage, and taking points off for deviation, so skip that last parenthesee...parentheses? What is the word that goes there?)
-I spend my free time learning. I will not be defeated by America's obsession with mushy brains and TV saturated culture
-I have travelled. This year alone I've seen Ireland and Mexico. That's a good year. I've seen Austria, Prague, Bratislava, various towns in Germany and the Netherlands, Norway, Jamaica and Canada. In each place I learned that I am not defined by what I do or what people think, because no one there knew me, so it didn't matter.
-I have great friends. Friends that don't try to fix everything, but let me freak out and love me anyway. Laugh with me, cry with me, Irish dance with me in pubs in Dublin far into the night.
-I have amazing family, who are getting to know me better through this blog. I have spent a lot of my adult life away from them physically. But they're great people who let me be myself and encourage me, even if they would rather I gave up and came to live with/near them.
-I'm fairly intelligent. I can keep a conversation going without looking like a total fool....well usually. There are a few exceptions that will remain nameless, or already discussed in this blog earlier (ooh ooh! Remember the time I called a potential employer to follow up on an app, and couldn't tell if it was a man or woman by their name on the voicemail, so I ended up panicking, jumping up and down waiting for the beep b/c I couldn't use my salutation? That was hilarious...it came out like ".......hi!").
-I can sing (again, with one exception in Dublin; thank you, wonderful Irish musician friends for seeing me for more than that moment), and enjoy singing when I do (though try to keep my voice down for the neighbors; a courtesy they don't share :P)
-I can play piano. I can really play piano, and I love pounding on it when I'm freaked out (though I haven't in a while). I also have been known to write some tunes and even a couple of songs!!
-My health has steadily improved since I left my previous job, and almost seems manageable. I have a lot more days where I feel good.
-I no longer have mold in my house, and symptoms that are ignored by my landlord/employers. Plus my house is not slowly sliding down the hill in the back, and no one is ignoring that either.
-I can sit with my boyfriend and have fun, intelligent, witty conversations, and we don't seem to get bored with each other. That's nice.
-I am not alone. It may feel that way; it may feel like no one knows I exist and no one returns my calls or letters, but I am not alone. Just because I have more time than everyone else to stare at my phone does not mean I am alone.
-I am not a loser. I am funny and smart, and I have the love of a turtle. I think. Turtles are hard to read. I definitely have the love of a dog, and the tolerance of a cat. That's a big deal.
-I can COOK. I can Bake. I can really make some delicious food.
-I have a garden that gives me ample food and opportunity to photograph it's inhabitants. Due to this phenomenon, I have become much less afraid of crawlies and bugs. Spiders are still a force, though. Working on that one.
I have always known that my life holds many paradoxes; take the name of this blog. "Is This Really My Life: Bright Side Blogs." I'm a constant yin and yang, always contradicting myself, but still being true. I'm actually ok with that. I know I make little sense to the world, but to me I'm mappable. :)
So I have a "shoo-in" position that is apparently waiting for me (annoying side note: I always wrote "shoe-in" until Thursday, when I learned it's "shoo-in" from an aged term in horse racing; when a horse was rigged to win, all you had to do was "shoo" him to the finish line...learning all the time). I went in on Thursday and applied for it, on a 4x6 note card, shortest application ever. I joked with the guy behind the counter, I was smooth and funny, I did my hair, I wore a nice outfit, and I have not had a call. Keep in mind this is the guy that said all I had to do was fill out the app and I was in. There's no reason for no call right now :) I bet he's on vacation. On the bright side, I don't have to ask for next weekend off, when my family comes to visit. That should make things easier. See? Back to my old self already.
Today I drink my tea to all of those people in limbo, just waiting for something to happen; the zombies that wander until something comes to interrupt their waking sleep. I'm not much for waitng; it's not my thing. Maybe that's why I've been waiting so long, because I need to learn the art of waiting. See, paradox, yet it is what it is. Cheers!
Song of the day:
Stand Down Margaret by English Beat, as a fun reminder to myself.
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Stand_Down_Margaret/11691502
So here we go:
-I got my rejection email from Macy's today. They're right; I'm far to qualified for their part time job, and would want to advance; they should fear my advancement, because it is imminent.
-I am a published writer! I have a blog. It may be random bits of meltdown, but it's mine, and I enjoy spending time with it (I almost wrote thyme...apparently I'm in garden withdrawl).
-I am an experienced photographer with jobs lined up, and jobs under my belt (though, as a type A perfectionist, I always think I could have done better....wait. My boyfriend, over my shoulder, is humming something about sabotage, and taking points off for deviation, so skip that last parenthesee...parentheses? What is the word that goes there?)
-I spend my free time learning. I will not be defeated by America's obsession with mushy brains and TV saturated culture
-I have travelled. This year alone I've seen Ireland and Mexico. That's a good year. I've seen Austria, Prague, Bratislava, various towns in Germany and the Netherlands, Norway, Jamaica and Canada. In each place I learned that I am not defined by what I do or what people think, because no one there knew me, so it didn't matter.
-I have great friends. Friends that don't try to fix everything, but let me freak out and love me anyway. Laugh with me, cry with me, Irish dance with me in pubs in Dublin far into the night.
-I have amazing family, who are getting to know me better through this blog. I have spent a lot of my adult life away from them physically. But they're great people who let me be myself and encourage me, even if they would rather I gave up and came to live with/near them.
-I'm fairly intelligent. I can keep a conversation going without looking like a total fool....well usually. There are a few exceptions that will remain nameless, or already discussed in this blog earlier (ooh ooh! Remember the time I called a potential employer to follow up on an app, and couldn't tell if it was a man or woman by their name on the voicemail, so I ended up panicking, jumping up and down waiting for the beep b/c I couldn't use my salutation? That was hilarious...it came out like ".......hi!").
-I can sing (again, with one exception in Dublin; thank you, wonderful Irish musician friends for seeing me for more than that moment), and enjoy singing when I do (though try to keep my voice down for the neighbors; a courtesy they don't share :P)
-I can play piano. I can really play piano, and I love pounding on it when I'm freaked out (though I haven't in a while). I also have been known to write some tunes and even a couple of songs!!
-My health has steadily improved since I left my previous job, and almost seems manageable. I have a lot more days where I feel good.
-I no longer have mold in my house, and symptoms that are ignored by my landlord/employers. Plus my house is not slowly sliding down the hill in the back, and no one is ignoring that either.
-I can sit with my boyfriend and have fun, intelligent, witty conversations, and we don't seem to get bored with each other. That's nice.
-I am not alone. It may feel that way; it may feel like no one knows I exist and no one returns my calls or letters, but I am not alone. Just because I have more time than everyone else to stare at my phone does not mean I am alone.
-I am not a loser. I am funny and smart, and I have the love of a turtle. I think. Turtles are hard to read. I definitely have the love of a dog, and the tolerance of a cat. That's a big deal.
-I can COOK. I can Bake. I can really make some delicious food.
-I have a garden that gives me ample food and opportunity to photograph it's inhabitants. Due to this phenomenon, I have become much less afraid of crawlies and bugs. Spiders are still a force, though. Working on that one.
I have always known that my life holds many paradoxes; take the name of this blog. "Is This Really My Life: Bright Side Blogs." I'm a constant yin and yang, always contradicting myself, but still being true. I'm actually ok with that. I know I make little sense to the world, but to me I'm mappable. :)
So I have a "shoo-in" position that is apparently waiting for me (annoying side note: I always wrote "shoe-in" until Thursday, when I learned it's "shoo-in" from an aged term in horse racing; when a horse was rigged to win, all you had to do was "shoo" him to the finish line...learning all the time). I went in on Thursday and applied for it, on a 4x6 note card, shortest application ever. I joked with the guy behind the counter, I was smooth and funny, I did my hair, I wore a nice outfit, and I have not had a call. Keep in mind this is the guy that said all I had to do was fill out the app and I was in. There's no reason for no call right now :) I bet he's on vacation. On the bright side, I don't have to ask for next weekend off, when my family comes to visit. That should make things easier. See? Back to my old self already.
Today I drink my tea to all of those people in limbo, just waiting for something to happen; the zombies that wander until something comes to interrupt their waking sleep. I'm not much for waitng; it's not my thing. Maybe that's why I've been waiting so long, because I need to learn the art of waiting. See, paradox, yet it is what it is. Cheers!
Song of the day:
Stand Down Margaret by English Beat, as a fun reminder to myself.
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Stand_Down_Margaret/11691502
Thursday, September 3, 2009
How Credit Card Companies are Ticking Me Off!
Today I received my 4th notice from a credit card (all separate cards), notifying me that, because of the economy and no fault of my own, my interest rate is increasing on my balances. How am I supposed to get out of debt? Today was a doozy, because this card had a fixed rate of 8.7 percent when I opened it. In December of 08, they said my payment was late (I did it online, but it didn't go through for whatever reason) and increased my interest rate to 12.24. I'm within $500 of paying it off. So now, they send me a letter, saying that my VARIABLE rate is increasing to 16.99% through no fault of my own, and I can contest, but they'll close my account. Does this make sense to anyone else? I haven't received anything that says I don't have a fixed rate anymore. Last month I got a letter on my 6.5% interest card saying they will no longer extend me any credit, but I can keep paying, though my account will be closed. WHY SHOULD I? You guys keep screwing me over! So now, my "low" interest rate cards are closed, and my revolving balances are all increasing their interes rate. Because of the economy. The fact that my credit score is over 700 makes it easy for them to mess with me. They think I'll just pay it, because no one else is in this economy. HEY, CREDIT CARD BUSINESSES, HERE'S AN IDEA: How about less commercials, and keeping the people who owe you money able to pay it back? I think Capital One can afford to air only 4 commercials a day, instead of 12. Why am I paying for your bad economy and all the people who aren't paying their bills? I don't have a job!
I don't use my cards anyway. I don't care if they close. I'm just trying to get out from the ones with balances (which is 5 now, instead of 11...that's better, but still hard to squirm under their greed). Does anyone have any tips for me? I know to pay minimums on all but one, and try to pay off one at a time, but right now with my circumstances, I'm paying minimum anyway, on everything!
What this means is that between all my credit cards, I'm paying 95 dollars a month TO BE IN DEBT. Are you kidding me with this? I'm paying 95 bucks a month to OWE someone. How depressing is that!?!?!?!
I'm looking for help. Grants, free money, etc :) I hear the government has a certain amount of money each year they have to give away...how do I find these bubbling springs of cash? I just don't know what to do now. I have to get out of debt! I would go to a place to do that, but I haven't found a free financial service yet, or one that is reasonable.
What happens if I just give up and don't pay it? I'm reminded of a song, "The Night I Punched Russell Crowe" by Gaelic Storm. In the second verse, after he punches Russell, Russell's bodyguard runs up and says, "run boy, Chuckie run and don't stop until you get to Mexico." Is that the answer? Am I forced to become an ExPat because greedy American Credit Cards are running me into the ground? What is the equivalent of punching a credit card company in the nose?
I'm just talking out my rear, but seriously, a girl just CAN'T catch a break! If anyone out there wants to loan me 10,000 at 8%, I could pay it off in 3 years....300 bucks a month (800 profit for you!), at 10%, 305 a month (1000 profit for you!). Hey, it's about what I am paying now :) Let me know! :P Right now, 55% of my monthly payments are going to debt! That's just WRONG! :P
I wasn't going to write about finance today, I was going to tell a funny story about how I applied for a job today and they gave me a 5x7 index card as an application, and then I went to the store to buy Turtle food, and realized in line that I didn't have my wallet. But I've been totally sideswiped by credit. Sorry, people that read my blog (both of you! just kidding!). I will be funny again, or at least ridiculous. Jeopardy is on. Then Cash Cab is calling. I'm GOING to be on that show someday. Maybe trivia shows are my ticket to debt free! :) Or, I could have a TV show; "How to be Unrealistic." "Dream Talk" or "Fantasy Island".....oh wait, there's already a TV show called that :) Well, I'll just keep pressing on, as I do :)
I don't use my cards anyway. I don't care if they close. I'm just trying to get out from the ones with balances (which is 5 now, instead of 11...that's better, but still hard to squirm under their greed). Does anyone have any tips for me? I know to pay minimums on all but one, and try to pay off one at a time, but right now with my circumstances, I'm paying minimum anyway, on everything!
What this means is that between all my credit cards, I'm paying 95 dollars a month TO BE IN DEBT. Are you kidding me with this? I'm paying 95 bucks a month to OWE someone. How depressing is that!?!?!?!
I'm looking for help. Grants, free money, etc :) I hear the government has a certain amount of money each year they have to give away...how do I find these bubbling springs of cash? I just don't know what to do now. I have to get out of debt! I would go to a place to do that, but I haven't found a free financial service yet, or one that is reasonable.
What happens if I just give up and don't pay it? I'm reminded of a song, "The Night I Punched Russell Crowe" by Gaelic Storm. In the second verse, after he punches Russell, Russell's bodyguard runs up and says, "run boy, Chuckie run and don't stop until you get to Mexico." Is that the answer? Am I forced to become an ExPat because greedy American Credit Cards are running me into the ground? What is the equivalent of punching a credit card company in the nose?
I'm just talking out my rear, but seriously, a girl just CAN'T catch a break! If anyone out there wants to loan me 10,000 at 8%, I could pay it off in 3 years....300 bucks a month (800 profit for you!), at 10%, 305 a month (1000 profit for you!). Hey, it's about what I am paying now :) Let me know! :P Right now, 55% of my monthly payments are going to debt! That's just WRONG! :P
I wasn't going to write about finance today, I was going to tell a funny story about how I applied for a job today and they gave me a 5x7 index card as an application, and then I went to the store to buy Turtle food, and realized in line that I didn't have my wallet. But I've been totally sideswiped by credit. Sorry, people that read my blog (both of you! just kidding!). I will be funny again, or at least ridiculous. Jeopardy is on. Then Cash Cab is calling. I'm GOING to be on that show someday. Maybe trivia shows are my ticket to debt free! :) Or, I could have a TV show; "How to be Unrealistic." "Dream Talk" or "Fantasy Island".....oh wait, there's already a TV show called that :) Well, I'll just keep pressing on, as I do :)
I dreamt in Sit-Com Last night
Last night I dreamt many things, quickly.
I dreamt I was destitute and tried to sneak back to my old job (residential) to sleep in the garage, but the staff had taken it over. So I went to a water park to hide out, but my nephew kept going down the slide unattended, knocking into people. He's almost 4, but in my dream he was younger, and swam like a fish. Why were those people standing at the base of the slide anyway? The more I think about this dream, the more I think it had to have been at the Mall of America. I was meeting a friend there to go shopping (appearance shopping only) at Target. As we wandered, we noticed they only sold Renaissance and Pirate clothes. I'm sorry about the randomness; I'm trying to remember it all. While at Target (wearing an emerald green, V-Cut dress reminiscent of Renaissance Festival, but sewn strangely in the back, and a size 4), all I could pay attention to were the pictures on the walls behind the displays; mountains in Montana, Praries in Wyoming, nature shots turned into signs. Then I heard people arguing. It was Jesse and Becky from Full House, the TV show. Jesse was trying to support his family, but hated working at Target; he wanted a job he loved, or he wanted a job at Target that was better, or less visible; he'd take either. Becky was trying to be understanding, while telling him to get over it, and that his hair looked good. The manager seemed to love holding this over Jesse's head, and gave him the option of Animal Wrangler (apparently Target herds Elk now) or stock boy. I remember seeing the battle within him; so proud, not wanting either of those things but unsure what to do about it, but wanting to provide for his family. It was surreal. Then I woke up. I have no idea what that means. It seemed important, though, at the time.
I have a regional store around the corner that I decided to investigate. My boyfriend's company has an account with this store, and a guy that manages the account. Yesterday Tim called this guy and told him I was looking for work. He told me to come in and fill out an app and it was pretty much mine, and I could pick from 2 positions. I am extermely grateful, and I really look forward to working again, but this situation also re-iterates the frustration I've been having; I've been killing myself looking for work, and someone I know makes a phone call and I'm in? That was easy.
Why does America work this way? Why is it all "Who you know?" Do we really not see merit unless someone can vouch for you? That is so sad. I wonder if all humans are like that in every country. I wonder if I'm like that? I don't think so. Maybe that will be my next question for my international friends. I am intrigued.
So I am going back to work sometime in the near future. It's a foot-in-the door job, but I am so psyched to be doing anything. This job seems to let you work the same shifts every week, so I could also work around it easily, if something else comes up. It pays more on the weekends, so guess when I'll be working? :)
Today I clean the house, perhaps roller-blade a bit and drink my tea to the employed. Oh yeah, and I apply for this job. Cheers!
Today's song of the day: Simple Life by The Weepies. I LOVE the Weepies.
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Simple_Life/51728
I dreamt I was destitute and tried to sneak back to my old job (residential) to sleep in the garage, but the staff had taken it over. So I went to a water park to hide out, but my nephew kept going down the slide unattended, knocking into people. He's almost 4, but in my dream he was younger, and swam like a fish. Why were those people standing at the base of the slide anyway? The more I think about this dream, the more I think it had to have been at the Mall of America. I was meeting a friend there to go shopping (appearance shopping only) at Target. As we wandered, we noticed they only sold Renaissance and Pirate clothes. I'm sorry about the randomness; I'm trying to remember it all. While at Target (wearing an emerald green, V-Cut dress reminiscent of Renaissance Festival, but sewn strangely in the back, and a size 4), all I could pay attention to were the pictures on the walls behind the displays; mountains in Montana, Praries in Wyoming, nature shots turned into signs. Then I heard people arguing. It was Jesse and Becky from Full House, the TV show. Jesse was trying to support his family, but hated working at Target; he wanted a job he loved, or he wanted a job at Target that was better, or less visible; he'd take either. Becky was trying to be understanding, while telling him to get over it, and that his hair looked good. The manager seemed to love holding this over Jesse's head, and gave him the option of Animal Wrangler (apparently Target herds Elk now) or stock boy. I remember seeing the battle within him; so proud, not wanting either of those things but unsure what to do about it, but wanting to provide for his family. It was surreal. Then I woke up. I have no idea what that means. It seemed important, though, at the time.
I have a regional store around the corner that I decided to investigate. My boyfriend's company has an account with this store, and a guy that manages the account. Yesterday Tim called this guy and told him I was looking for work. He told me to come in and fill out an app and it was pretty much mine, and I could pick from 2 positions. I am extermely grateful, and I really look forward to working again, but this situation also re-iterates the frustration I've been having; I've been killing myself looking for work, and someone I know makes a phone call and I'm in? That was easy.
Why does America work this way? Why is it all "Who you know?" Do we really not see merit unless someone can vouch for you? That is so sad. I wonder if all humans are like that in every country. I wonder if I'm like that? I don't think so. Maybe that will be my next question for my international friends. I am intrigued.
So I am going back to work sometime in the near future. It's a foot-in-the door job, but I am so psyched to be doing anything. This job seems to let you work the same shifts every week, so I could also work around it easily, if something else comes up. It pays more on the weekends, so guess when I'll be working? :)
Today I clean the house, perhaps roller-blade a bit and drink my tea to the employed. Oh yeah, and I apply for this job. Cheers!
Today's song of the day: Simple Life by The Weepies. I LOVE the Weepies.
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Simple_Life/51728
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
How Shaun of the Dead Explains the World.
Today is my 243rd consecutive day without a job. It's not all bad. I've seen a lot of the world this year, all of it new. I've taken up some new hobbies and had fun taking a lot of pictures. It gets harder to enjoy these things when the savings account continues to dwindle well into the "Red Zone" of uneasiness. I'm trying really hard to not worry. Worry doesn't help in this situation, it just exacerbates it (Ed from Shaun of the Dead: "What's that mean?!?"). Shaun of the Dead is a great movie; so many people go through life with the same routine, the same disappointments, the same weaknesses. Those that get the chance to come out of their sleep learn that life is really wonderful. If they can survive the waking. Plus it's super funny.
Yesterday was a perfect example...of why I didn't write. I was in a real mood yesterday, feeling like an absolute loser, and I just didn't know how it was going to come out if I wrote. All these things were exacerbated ("what's that mean?") by the fact that my mouth still hurts from some dental work last week and I got a bill while they're waiting for my insurance. Put that one in the circular file. I spent the morning running down the list of loser-like qualities that I have. I honestly don't think the job thing would be so scary if I weren't turning 30 soon. This led to bigger loser-ish items (sorry for the gummi word). If you look at my life from the point of view of the movie industry, for example, I look pretty darn pathetic. I'm 30 (almost), I don't have a job, my parents can't even plan a birthday party for me because my friends are all over the place, and seem to change every couple of years. The fact that my parents are trying to help me by throwing me a birthday party is so sweet, but for some reason, it keeps making me cry. I may as well be Jay or Silent Bob, sitting on the couch doing nothing or hanging out at the mall looking for chics. You know what I mean; if I were in the movies, I'd be of little consequence or value to the main character, who has a job and a life. Maybe Dupree was a better example. At least Jay and Silent Bob had adventures that resulted in hilarity. This is how I spent my morning yesterday. Good times.
In the middle of one of these pity parties my boyfriend came in. He said all the right things and let me cry some more, then told me I needed to get out of the house. He took me on an errand for work, and we ended up going to 2 different stores. I kept my tears controlled for the most part as we wandered through the first store, which was out of everything he needed (thus 2 stores). It boggles my mind when I walk through these stores. So many of the employees just sit there, zombie like, with their mouths hanging open. Shaun of the Dead got it so right with the zombies; he didn't even know people were zombies because he was acting like one every day with the same routine, etc. I'm watching all these sloppy employees, dressed in wrinkled clothes, staring, mouths open into the wild yonder, and all I can think of is, "How did you get a job? Show me how to be like you." Because they are everywhere. Aaaaaand the nausea returns.
I revisited the Macy's application with my boyfriend. It's basically a psych test of over 400 questions, many repeated to see how you'll answer the same question. Some of them were really situation based, so I would put neutral; In some situations that is appropriate, in some it is not. I think this is where I messed up. I should have taken a stand one way or the other, but some questions were too vague and open ended. I was talking to a friend a while back when I was applying somewhere else with a test like this, and he was like, "just answer how they want to hear, it doesn't matter." Why? Why should I answer like I am a perfect, completely black and white person without flaw? For some answers I will not apologize; I think employers have an obligation to their staff to keep them affirmed and praised, so that retention improves, and they are willing to be part of the team. I think criticism is helpful when delivered with praise, and brought in a team atmosphere, rather than pointing out someone's mistakes and not giving them credit for what they do right. Is this where I went wrong? Do I care?
My brain knows that I am valuable to any company. I know I work hard. I know I can do a lot of different tasks, and be very helpful. My brain knows that if I don't fit the psychological profile at Macy's, I don't want to be there. But here's the kicker. It's my feelings that overrun in these situations. Why wouldn't Macy's want me? Why wouldn't any of these places want me? I was open and honest, as I often am, and I am completely resentful of the way I have to conform, lie, up-sell myself and generally exaggerate my ENTIRE being, so that a company will take a second look at me. Right now, my feelings tell me that I am on my own; no one knows I exist, no one feels I'm worth a 20 minute meeting. Even convicts can get jobs, they even have people to help them. That's not a road I'm willing to travel.
Last night I was up in the middle of the night, again worrying about the future. I can't stop the future, I have no choice but to believe it is going to be good. I've only missed like 2 credit card payments in my life (here's the rundown on my finances...I know I don't get me either: I was an idiot in college with credit cards, a talent I learned from my all-too-useless fiancee (sorry, buddy. You screwed up a lot for me), resulting in credit card debt of over 24,000. In my last position, I got great at money and budgeting, and brought that number down by half. So I'm at half, but that is still a lot for me, especially with no job. So I've been making minimum payments all year, which amounts to about $550 a month, with a consolidation in there also, and gets me nowhere with my debt. That's almost rent for a crappy apartment, or rent with a roomate for a nice place. This is money I loathe paying. All I need is to win a bout 10 grand in the lottery, and pay it all off. I don't even want a million. Just give me 10-20 grand, and I'm set for long enough). If I start missing payments now, I have NO idea what will happen to my pretty credit score, how I will live, etc. it's freaking me out. I've always been that independent girl who figures it all out somehow, but it's not happening right now. Luckily, I have a boyfriend that doesn't mind paying the rent, so all I have to worry about is my crap and putting gas in my car. He doesn't seem to mind, at least when I am sane and not crying because of a midlife crisis at 30 (does that mean I'll only be 60?).
Anyway, these are the thoughts that plague me when I'm not looking. I'm still a human, an American, a smart chic (nobody beats me at Cash Cab), a funny one (looks aren't everything), I can be cute. I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!!!
Here are yesterday's scams:
Scam #1:
Transam Associates provides precise medical transcription of voice files that doctors dictate for hospitals, clinics and doctor offices.
Transam Associates also conducts its own training program that prepares individuals for the medical transcription profession. This training is done online in the comfort of your own home. A personal trainer is provided to guide individuals in the training program through a Live Chat environment.
As a recruiter for this national transcription service, I am seeking full-and part-time, home-based medical transcriptionists. We are committed to providing a work environment where medical transcriptionists can grow and be respected for the professionals they are.
This is for entry level individuals and if you are not yet qualified, we'll provide tuition FREE training and a personal trainer that you'll need to become qualified. Once you meet our criteria, which will be defined for you before you begin, you will be certified by us as an
accomplished medical transcriptionist and can begin to work for Transam
Associates, Inc. Our special books and software are required.
There's your scam flag right there!!! I googled this, and it seems to be one of the oldest scams, comes through YahooHotJobs so it looks real. Apparently they just keep you in training, don't give you jobs, and you have to buy their software for $500.00, which is just an audio player.
Scam #2:
Hi Elle,
I came across your contact information and I was wondering if you would be interested in looking into an opportunity that we have available in the Travel Industry. This position can be either Full or Part time so keep in mind, even if you are not interested in a full time position this business makes a great “Plan B” source of extra income into your checking account. Income to pay your car payment, electric bill or even your house payment, etc. Position SummaryLeisure Travel Consultant (LTC) Summary:
As a Leisure Travel Consultant you will be in charge of promoting travel packages and travel club memberships. You will work with cruise lines, resorts, and specialty travel packages from around the world. And, you get paid for it!
I believe this one came from HotJobs also (when you post your resume, it's up for grabs for any jack-hole that wants to screw you over, FYI). When I emailed her back asking for more information, and adding the disclaimer that if there is a startup fee I'm not interested, she emailed me and said before she told me anything, I'd have to send my resume and contact information. HELLO, it's on Hotjobs, where you found me. I googled this one, and apparently you get travel at wholesale prices, but you only make money if you recruit people....pyramid style. *sigh*
So, in honor of a new day and a new search with new hopes, today's song of the day is "Sunshine in a Bag" by the Gorillaz. Well, just the first minute or so.
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Sunshine_In_A_Bag/8789003
Yesterday was a perfect example...of why I didn't write. I was in a real mood yesterday, feeling like an absolute loser, and I just didn't know how it was going to come out if I wrote. All these things were exacerbated ("what's that mean?") by the fact that my mouth still hurts from some dental work last week and I got a bill while they're waiting for my insurance. Put that one in the circular file. I spent the morning running down the list of loser-like qualities that I have. I honestly don't think the job thing would be so scary if I weren't turning 30 soon. This led to bigger loser-ish items (sorry for the gummi word). If you look at my life from the point of view of the movie industry, for example, I look pretty darn pathetic. I'm 30 (almost), I don't have a job, my parents can't even plan a birthday party for me because my friends are all over the place, and seem to change every couple of years. The fact that my parents are trying to help me by throwing me a birthday party is so sweet, but for some reason, it keeps making me cry. I may as well be Jay or Silent Bob, sitting on the couch doing nothing or hanging out at the mall looking for chics. You know what I mean; if I were in the movies, I'd be of little consequence or value to the main character, who has a job and a life. Maybe Dupree was a better example. At least Jay and Silent Bob had adventures that resulted in hilarity. This is how I spent my morning yesterday. Good times.
In the middle of one of these pity parties my boyfriend came in. He said all the right things and let me cry some more, then told me I needed to get out of the house. He took me on an errand for work, and we ended up going to 2 different stores. I kept my tears controlled for the most part as we wandered through the first store, which was out of everything he needed (thus 2 stores). It boggles my mind when I walk through these stores. So many of the employees just sit there, zombie like, with their mouths hanging open. Shaun of the Dead got it so right with the zombies; he didn't even know people were zombies because he was acting like one every day with the same routine, etc. I'm watching all these sloppy employees, dressed in wrinkled clothes, staring, mouths open into the wild yonder, and all I can think of is, "How did you get a job? Show me how to be like you." Because they are everywhere. Aaaaaand the nausea returns.
I revisited the Macy's application with my boyfriend. It's basically a psych test of over 400 questions, many repeated to see how you'll answer the same question. Some of them were really situation based, so I would put neutral; In some situations that is appropriate, in some it is not. I think this is where I messed up. I should have taken a stand one way or the other, but some questions were too vague and open ended. I was talking to a friend a while back when I was applying somewhere else with a test like this, and he was like, "just answer how they want to hear, it doesn't matter." Why? Why should I answer like I am a perfect, completely black and white person without flaw? For some answers I will not apologize; I think employers have an obligation to their staff to keep them affirmed and praised, so that retention improves, and they are willing to be part of the team. I think criticism is helpful when delivered with praise, and brought in a team atmosphere, rather than pointing out someone's mistakes and not giving them credit for what they do right. Is this where I went wrong? Do I care?
My brain knows that I am valuable to any company. I know I work hard. I know I can do a lot of different tasks, and be very helpful. My brain knows that if I don't fit the psychological profile at Macy's, I don't want to be there. But here's the kicker. It's my feelings that overrun in these situations. Why wouldn't Macy's want me? Why wouldn't any of these places want me? I was open and honest, as I often am, and I am completely resentful of the way I have to conform, lie, up-sell myself and generally exaggerate my ENTIRE being, so that a company will take a second look at me. Right now, my feelings tell me that I am on my own; no one knows I exist, no one feels I'm worth a 20 minute meeting. Even convicts can get jobs, they even have people to help them. That's not a road I'm willing to travel.
Last night I was up in the middle of the night, again worrying about the future. I can't stop the future, I have no choice but to believe it is going to be good. I've only missed like 2 credit card payments in my life (here's the rundown on my finances...I know I don't get me either: I was an idiot in college with credit cards, a talent I learned from my all-too-useless fiancee (sorry, buddy. You screwed up a lot for me), resulting in credit card debt of over 24,000. In my last position, I got great at money and budgeting, and brought that number down by half. So I'm at half, but that is still a lot for me, especially with no job. So I've been making minimum payments all year, which amounts to about $550 a month, with a consolidation in there also, and gets me nowhere with my debt. That's almost rent for a crappy apartment, or rent with a roomate for a nice place. This is money I loathe paying. All I need is to win a bout 10 grand in the lottery, and pay it all off. I don't even want a million. Just give me 10-20 grand, and I'm set for long enough). If I start missing payments now, I have NO idea what will happen to my pretty credit score, how I will live, etc. it's freaking me out. I've always been that independent girl who figures it all out somehow, but it's not happening right now. Luckily, I have a boyfriend that doesn't mind paying the rent, so all I have to worry about is my crap and putting gas in my car. He doesn't seem to mind, at least when I am sane and not crying because of a midlife crisis at 30 (does that mean I'll only be 60?).
Anyway, these are the thoughts that plague me when I'm not looking. I'm still a human, an American, a smart chic (nobody beats me at Cash Cab), a funny one (looks aren't everything), I can be cute. I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!!!
Here are yesterday's scams:
Scam #1:
Transam Associates provides precise medical transcription of voice files that doctors dictate for hospitals, clinics and doctor offices.
Transam Associates also conducts its own training program that prepares individuals for the medical transcription profession. This training is done online in the comfort of your own home. A personal trainer is provided to guide individuals in the training program through a Live Chat environment.
As a recruiter for this national transcription service, I am seeking full-and part-time, home-based medical transcriptionists. We are committed to providing a work environment where medical transcriptionists can grow and be respected for the professionals they are.
This is for entry level individuals and if you are not yet qualified, we'll provide tuition FREE training and a personal trainer that you'll need to become qualified. Once you meet our criteria, which will be defined for you before you begin, you will be certified by us as an
accomplished medical transcriptionist and can begin to work for Transam
Associates, Inc. Our special books and software are required.
There's your scam flag right there!!! I googled this, and it seems to be one of the oldest scams, comes through YahooHotJobs so it looks real. Apparently they just keep you in training, don't give you jobs, and you have to buy their software for $500.00, which is just an audio player.
Scam #2:
Hi Elle,
I came across your contact information and I was wondering if you would be interested in looking into an opportunity that we have available in the Travel Industry. This position can be either Full or Part time so keep in mind, even if you are not interested in a full time position this business makes a great “Plan B” source of extra income into your checking account. Income to pay your car payment, electric bill or even your house payment, etc. Position SummaryLeisure Travel Consultant (LTC) Summary:
As a Leisure Travel Consultant you will be in charge of promoting travel packages and travel club memberships. You will work with cruise lines, resorts, and specialty travel packages from around the world. And, you get paid for it!
I believe this one came from HotJobs also (when you post your resume, it's up for grabs for any jack-hole that wants to screw you over, FYI). When I emailed her back asking for more information, and adding the disclaimer that if there is a startup fee I'm not interested, she emailed me and said before she told me anything, I'd have to send my resume and contact information. HELLO, it's on Hotjobs, where you found me. I googled this one, and apparently you get travel at wholesale prices, but you only make money if you recruit people....pyramid style. *sigh*
So, in honor of a new day and a new search with new hopes, today's song of the day is "Sunshine in a Bag" by the Gorillaz. Well, just the first minute or so.
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Sunshine_In_A_Bag/8789003
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)