Job Hunter

I was laid off two months ago. The company I was working for was purchased and the buyer saw my position as redundant. My first reaction was anger and disbelief. After three and a half years in a place, devoting my time, energy, knowledge, and every part of me that I could to a job that I hoped would repay in kind and have it not pan out hit me like a cinder block in the chest. I took a few days to process it, pulled myself up by my metaphorical bootstraps, and got on with it.

Part of getting on with it was reminding myself that even though I was tossed out the door, I did have almost four years of experience being an admin. assistant. That job gave me a variety of experiences that I’m glad to tout on my resume, or an interview if I should be so lucky. I’m an excited and devoted employee, any company would be lucky to have me… if I could just get that far.

My goal in the past two months has been to apply to a new job, or do something for my job hunt every weekday. For the most part I have been successful, but often times I get disheartened by the feeling that I’m continually sending resumes into a vast abyss and getting nothing back.

I have had the good fortune of getting to interview with four companies in the last two months, and as of this post have been told “thanks but no thanks” by three of them. The thing that frustrates me most is not not getting any responses to the resumes I send out, but the length of time between the interview, the day they say they’ll tell you their decision, and the day that you actually hear back from them. I would prefer they tell me as soon as they know so I can get on with my search rather than continue to delay the inevitable and keeping my hopes up. No one likes to be the bearer of bad news; no on benefits from delaying. As a mature and professional candidate I will accept your decision, maybe I will be disappointed, but life goes on. That’s the beauty of the modern age and the invention of email. Most if not all job seekers will have an email address, and what a perfectly painless way for the company to deliver the news?

Letters

I forgot to send my grandmother her birthday card. I’ve become too busy to drop a card to my grandmother two days before her birthday. Most family members I send an e-card to them right around the day of their birthday is cheaper and more earth-friendly that way. However, it is also further proof to me that the art of letter writing is dying.

I have actually been thinking about this a lot lately. With my purchase of an iPhone, my parents learning how to text message, and emailing sometimes being a faster way to get a hold of some one than calling them we are more connected than ever these days. But the passion seems to have fallen out of those communications. It’s everyday and mundane, but we love it. Call me nostalgic, but I like going out to my mail box to find more than bills and junk.

When I was in high school I had a few pen pals. People I’d met at different functions and wrote back and forth with about monthly. This was in the late ‘90s when internet was starting to become a normal thing in the American household and I could have just as easily written emails back and forth but it wouldn’t have been the same. There’s something that goes in to sitting down and writing a letter to some one: picking out the stationary, what pen you’ll use, what you are and aren’t going to mention. There is so much more effort in that then writing 140 characters or less about your morning coffee. And really, if you think about it, not many people care about the mundane day to day things that we do in our life. In fact, there’s a line that we cross all too frequently in our over connectedness.

I’m not saying that I want to go back to a day when letter writing was the main form of communication, I would just like to revive the hand-written word. It shouldn’t be a dying art, but sadly it is.

The Gym Synthesis

What I’m about to describe to you feels vaguely pretentious. But I tell you, it’s as far from it as we can get. I joined a gym in the beginning of March, a month away from my birthday when I always feel like I’m getting old and I need to do something drastic. I realize joining a gym isn’t a drastic change in a life, but getting my butt off the couch and to that gym on a regular basis is. Anyway, everything is going great I’m getting to the gym after work 3-4 times a week for the most part and I am physically feeling a lot better. But at some point I realize that I can’t just keep going in and doing the same thing over and over again because I’ll get bored and stop making all of this progress so I sign up with a personal trainer.

Already, I feel pretentious to mention that I have a personal trainer. It seems that only movie stars or people with a lot of money have a personal trainer… and there’s a good reason for that. Personal trainers can be quite expensive. Somehow I talked myself into employing the services of one because I am not a gym rat and left to my own vices likely would make much slower progress. My personal trainer, who I will call JT, is a 19 year old all-star football player type but a genuinely nice guy.

When I started up with JT he asked me what my goal was, I said I of course want to lose weight, but I want arms like Michelle Obama. He just smiled at me in a way that made me wonder if he knew who she was or even what her arms looked like. I’m sure he would have carried on his marry way if he did or not. So the basic plan for each one hour session is I come in and we work on a muscle group (arms, legs, or core) until I’m utterly exhausted and unable to further use said muscle group.

Yesterday it was arms and shoulders and as I’m struggling through a third set of incline pushups he declares “It is my goal for you to do a full push up.” I can’t help but think, “Well, good for you.” I have never in my 28 years done a full push up and never really had any goals to the contrary. And then I am suddenly aware while doing weight assisted pull ups that he is likely to reach his goal dragging me kicking and complaining the whole way. After all, isn’t that what I signed up for?

Is there such a thing as TOO crafty?

I had some one tell me that I was too crafty for my own good. At first, I wasn’t sure what she meant, and then I thought about it. I realized what she meant was that I’m dividing my focus among too many things trying to be amazing at all of them with only being good at most of them. I love to make jewelry, I love to write, I love to travel, I love planning events. I like to sew, I like to garden, and at times I enjoy working for an online high school, but where do my passions fall? I know I’m not one dimensional, no one is, but for me to be ultimately successful with any one of my endeavors involving something I love to do, then it’s quite likely I’ll need to buckle down and focus on the thing that I want the most.

So my good friend, and coworker, MINIGirl asked me: Why do you have to choose? My initial thought was: Yeah, why do I have to choose? But the reality is: do I want to be a Jack of all trades, but a master of none?

So, how do I decide? Why does it feel like so much of what I decide is going to define me as a person? A big part of me wants to just cut loose from the traditional work world and endeavor to pursue all of the things I love and some how make a living by doing it. What would my life look like if I did do that? Do I really have that kind of drive an initiative to achieve what I feel like I deserve? How long am I willing to be the starving artist before I can achieve something that may never come?

Welcoming the End of 2009

I keep saying that I can’t wait for this year to be over. What a horrendous 365 days this has been. I’m done, ready for the good things to start spilling in. Therein lies the rub. At some point I have to stop counting the bad things and tallying the good things, and when the bad things seem to start piling too high I need to look back at my list of good and hope that they balance out. Because in reality if I let myself get thrown off, if I allow the scales to become unbalanced then what view of my life am I left with? I have to remember to see all of the trees in the forest, and the beauty of the forest as a whole.

Tigger

It can be frightening, really, if one stops to think about it for a moment about how brief a pet’s life is when compared to the span of a human’s life time. When I adopted Tigger from Hubby’s mom back before he was hubby the thought never entered my mind that she wasn’t always going to be there with me. As years wore on and my life’s circumstances changed she was always right there, a static and predictable aspect of my home life. It seemed though, that there was always room for more love in my life. Anyone who knows me will agree that I’m an un abashed animal lover and if I could I would open my home to many more than I currently have. Which is why when Hubby and I moved in to a house we adopted a dog, and then six months later another cat.

I feel a bit guilty, in retrospect, for being selfish and bringing more animals into our home, but at the time I couldn’t have known how Tigger would react. With the two other animals in the picture and vying for Hubby and my affections Tigger became more reclusive choosing to spend her time alone in the sleeping in the bay window or on the back of the couch in the other room rather than in my lap or on the cushion next to me. We joked that she was just becoming a crabby old lady cat, but I made sure that her spot next to me was available at night, and most times she took it.

A month ago Tigger started throwing up every two hours or so and acting very lethargic. It wasn’t like her at all, and it worried me. Hubby and I drove out to the emergency vet hoping it was something easily cared for. After two hours and inconclusive x-rays we drove home with her still sick and instructions of hopefully care for her to make her better.

The next day Hubby came home for lunch to check on her to discover that she was still throwing up regularly. He took her back to the emergency vet to have blood tests done. Her blood pressure was so low they had difficulty drawing her blood, but what little they did get confirmed that she had developed feline diabetes and her body was essentially shutting down. I was at work, crying my eyes out trying to decide what to do. She was my baby, she had always been there for me even if she didn’t know why, and here I had put her life in question because I wasn’t paying attention. Maybe that’s just my guilty conscience talking.

In the end my amazing boss drove me to the emergency vet so I could be there with Tigger and Hubby and make the decisions necessary. Ultimately, it came down to five days in the veterinary ICU and a lifetime of two insulin shots a day for her or end her suffering. If money hadn’t been a factor I would have done anything possible to make her healthy again. But, as it is with everything in life there are no guarantees. And as I held her, and looked down at her I asked her what she wanted. Unquestioningly, I know she wanted us to let her go. So, we did.

Ultimately, she lived a good eleven years and was a very happy spoiled cat for most of them. I know we made the right choice to let her go because it was what she wanted. I still miss her terribly, but I know she’s in a better place now.

The Bibliophile's Dilemma

As 2009 loomed around the corner I had decided to abstain from the annual tradition of having a New Year’s Resolution. This decision came mostly as a result of my own cynicism and a deep seeded bitterness that “they never really work out anyway”. In past years my resolutions have been either loosely worded with vague meaning (i.e. “I will take better care of myself.”), or something that I have been working on for a long time (i.e. “I will try to buy more organic produce.”) and would likely continue to work on it with out any though to “that’s my resolution!”. In the end, like most resolutions and attempts to better one’s own life, they work out or they don’t. So we can’t say that I necessarily resolved to not make a resolution, because that’s just silly, but the fact that it’s the beginning of a new year and the fact that I stumbled upon this article has sparked a thought in me.

It has been a goal of mine, as it is with many bibliophiles, to read the classics. I am sad to discover that I have only read a mere eight books on that list. At least four of the books were in the top ten. I want to increase the number of books on the list that I have read, but it is not going to happen easily – I am a slow reader and am part of a book group that tends to read more recent publications. On top of that it is impossible for me to read two fiction books at the same time – I tend to get the plots confused. (I know what you’re thinking how did this woman graduate from college with an English degree? Very careful planning. ) I know, I know it’s all the same excuses to not accomplish the aforementioned goal, but I didn’t set a time line on it, nor did I necessarily resolve to do it. Just because I want to at some point accomplish this, and it just happens to be at the beginning of a New Year, that doesn’t make it a resolution. Right? Perhaps purely by my say so it is not a resolution but more of a desire for accomplishment.

Now my internal devil’s advocate says, who dictated that those books find their way to the list of top 100 books of all time? I am sure that these choices were based upon some literary prowess based on style, plot development, word usage, and proper punctuation, but you have to know that someone somewhere would disagree with their choices. It looks like Time Magazine did on a few. So then, what is a book lover to do? Follow someone else’s arbitrary list, or determine one of my own?
That’s it. I know exactly what my non-resolution for 2009 will be. I will read whatever I want to read.

NaNo Insane Mo

Well, it’s come to that time of year again: National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I have a love hate relationship with November for this reason. This year, like the last two years I have attempted this, I have no idea what to write. Since here we are at mid-October I’m trying to be proactive and come up with something before Nov. 1 rolls around the corner and smacks me square on to my keister. The reason I keep submitting to the glorious torture of NaNoWriMo, other than that I fancy myself a writer, is that the first year I did it, 2004, I was able to complete the challenge of 50,000 words in one month. That in and of itself is what keeps taking me back to the wondrous suffering of the month. The idea that I came up with in 2006 was very half hearted and not well developed at all, and 2007’s effort was developed but probably not enough to carry my interest through to the end.

So, I have made the goal that NaNoWriMo 2008 I will finish. We’ll ignore the fact that that’s what I said last year. And the year before that. This month, I have been trying to prepare myself for the NaNoWriMo by writing unnecessarily verbose emails to friends, family, and coworkers, I find myself eavesdropping on conversations trying to think if it would be a good plot point or story line, and of course I’m totally writing off every idea I come up with thinking I couldn’t get a full novel out of it. Except for one.

When I was in college I took a course in Creative Non-Fiction. Most people make no differentiation between Non-Fiction and Creative Non-Fiction, but oh glory is there a big difference. What you find in text books and newspapers is Non-Fiction, Creative Non-Fiction is how one might qualify a memoir or travel writing for example. My professor explained it that the story is all based on fact and things that really happened but if you can’t remember all of the details (what someone was wearing, how many people were in the room, etc.) certain parts can be fictionalized as long as it is 95% factual and it had to “read like fiction”. I’ve been thinking of trying this for my NaNoWriMo novel writing it much like the book I am reading right now (Eat, Pray, Love) but my main challenge with that is I wonder if my life is really interesting enough to replicate on paper, and after checking my bank account I’m pretty sure I can’t afford to bank roll a trip of self exploration to a different country let alone a hotel for a night.

So I have fifteen days left to decide what I want to write 50,000 words about. Try it, it’s not an easy task.

Democratic Debacle

Things are getting pretty heated in the Democratic race for the presidency. Everyone knows that. Unless, of course, you have been living in a subterranean cave on a tiny island with no outside contact. The thing that strikes me the most is that everyone I have talked to about it is firmly planted on one candidate or the other, no one seems to be waffling like me, and with the Oregon primary in two weeks and it quickly gaining more importance than it’s ever had before, I really feel as if I should set down an official decision for myself.

To be honest, previously when asked I would sheepishly reply that I was a Hillary supporter, but that decision on my part was almost completely superficial. My opinion was based on three things: 1) she is a woman, and hey so am I! 2) If her presidency is anything like Bill’s was it would put us back into a good place as a country (for a moment let’s ignore the whole infidelity thing), it would take us out of the recession in the very least. 3) To be so strong as to cope with Bill’s infidelity under such a fine microscope and keep her head about her, I would have no qualms about her handling the country’s crises in a similar calm and direct fashion. I realize that these things are all opinion and not fact based on my part at all, which causes me to look back at Obama. Obama’s whole platform is change. I think everyone agrees that is what this country needs. He seems to be a strong, even tempered person with strong ethics. But where do we go from there.

Ultimately what it comes down to is: I am an uninformed voter, and it’s my own fault for being that way. What I really want is to know their stance on the issues I care about and what is most important to them. Yeah they can sit there and blabber about education, the environment, and what they will do about the cost of gas, but if really those are all just campaign promises unless they personally feel strongly about it then IT WILL GET DONE. I am currently trying to read through the issues pages on each of the candidates web sites. Hillary’s issues page seems to be arranged in a way that shows what is important to her, Obama’s is in alphabetical order.

I am trying to avoid being influenced by anyone else’s personal opinion and therefore avoiding other political websites for the moment, but we shall see when the time comes.

Driving Me Crazy

Since starting my newest assignment a little over a month and a half ago in downtown Portland I have experienced a new joy: our light rail system, lovingly called MAX (Merto Area Transit).

At 7 in the morning I leave my house, still encased in the morning darkness of early fall, I have an easy drive with nice light traffic. The opposite is usually the case once I get on the train. The start of the week is normally fuller than the end, but by the time I get on there is little chance of me getting a seat let alone finding an open wall to lean against while I read. It pleases me from an ecological sense that so many people take advantage of this form of transportation rather than driving to downtown.

My choice to take the MAX every day instead of driving was both ecological as well as economical. I'll be honest, it's more so the latter if one takes the following into consideration. Gas is now at $2.95/gallon and the drive is 10 miles each way, parking downtown can be a little stressful to find first of all and can cost upwards of $10 a day, taking all of that into consideration driving myself downtown could get expensive really quickly and I would like to keep more of my paycheck. At $2.05 per ride (less if a monthly pass is purchased and you ride the MAX more than 37 times in a month), and for me a three mile drive to the station, the exchange is well worth it.