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| Monday, November 30, 2009 |
| December Gives Me Heartburn |
I'm sure everyone else experiences this too. It isn't JUST the rich foods, the tasty desserts, the overload of holiday delight, I'm sure of it. It is the pressure. I love the holidays. I love the ambiance that this time of year brings. But, I hate HATE the commercial pressure. I'm almost positive that my sons would understand, and be okay with Christmas not being over the top, or just getting one or two things... however, I know that they would secretly hope that isn't the case. Heartburn. I have the expense of fixing my car, paying my rent, the car payment, the insurance, the utilities, doctors, food, gas, student loans, and three little men that are growing out of their clothes faster than I am capable of replacing them .. heartburn. Now, I have to figure in purchasing Christmas gifts. I am gainfully unemployed. Well, sort of. I am on the payroll of two different independent contracted companies (meaning little miss pays her own taxes), chiropractor and physical therapy. I have heard nothing from the chiropractor this week, and do not start at the physical therapy office until Friday. If you earn over 30% of your unemployment insurance you are denied. There goes the money for this week... because I did work 8 hours last week. *sigh* Perhaps I am not cut out for this Adult life. Heartburn. I don't mean to whine. I really have nothing to whine about. My neighbor just below me lost her son three weeks ago. He had Downs Syndrome and went for a valve replacement for his heart. She brought him home, had him here for three days, and ended up taking him to Primary Children's hospital. He passed away from a blood clot. He was 13. I hear her crying on her balcony often. I found myself sitting on her couch at midnight last night, watching home video's of her son. She said she had been doing pretty well, until she went shopping for Christmas. I didn't know what to say. I just brought her head to my shoulder and held her hands and felt horribly guilty for selfishly and secretly being grateful that my sons were alive. Things seem really hard and really oppressive all over. I know this isn't the happiest post in the world. It is, however, from my heart. Jedidiah had a little best friend that lived nearby. She came over one day to tell him goodbye. She said she and her sisters, baby brother and mother were going to live in their car, they had been evicted. Her momma lost her job. There were six of them. When I spoke to her mother, she said that they were going to live with her boyfriend's mother, but the stipulation was that they had to be gone most of the time. She said they were packed into two very small rooms, but she was happy she wouldn't have to live in her car. I am grateful that somehow, we were blessed with the resources we needed to get by these last few months. I am grateful to know that even if we hadn't been, we would have somewhere to go. I am sorry I seem melancholy. I am missing my family. It's strange, all those years I didn't see anyone, there were miles and miles of land, stone, water and an entire country to blame. Living in Alaska was really hard. Really lonely. But sometimes I feel more lonely here. I know it works both ways. I guess my excuse now is transportation. The bus only goes so far, and it doesn't go as far south as those southern folks. The northern folks, yes.. but only during certain times of the day, on certain days. Its really hard adjusting yourself to public transportation... Tomorrow I am interviewing for another position as a chiropractic assistant. I am going to ride the bus from one end of the valley to the other checking on my resumes. I will have my morning ritual of coffee and meditation, and it will be a bright new day. I will take a tablespoon of Pepto and deal with my December heartburn. It was not my intention to bring anyone down. I think maybe having too much time on my hands makes me concentrate on the difficulty of life. |
posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 4:44 PM  |
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| Saturday, November 07, 2009 |
| Job Hunting. A Joy. |
Rising early, filling out applications, completing the resume, drinking coffee. Sounds pretty bleak. Also, it isn't really a proper sentence, nor is it a proper opening to a paragraph. But, since when have I ever cared what the rules were. Does anyone even really know what the rules are these days, anyway? I haven't seen nor read proper grammar or punctuation since the birth of text messaging.
Back on point. An arduous ride to the mall, where I am filled in with news of woe. I wondered for a few months at the prospect of changing the boundaries of an already flimsy relationship to one where power is ultimately transferred. So I was glad to hear I was not the chosen one. A friend was renting her home, and chose a different tenant, who was willing to pay more. I was truly happy for her, as it will absolutely relieve some burden she has been shouldering.
I missed the Friday movie date with my friends. Something we only just recently began to do. This time they were going to watch a flick that my boyfriend and I planned to see together. I decided not to go, because I promised him I wouldn't see it without him present. This had happened, regretfully, once before. Unfortunately, it was a movie based on a book that I really loved. Now the mere mention of the title leaves a rustic bitter taste in my mouth.
I went, instead to the Mall to turn in applications. I was thinking at my age, with my professional-ish back ground, I could land a job in any one of those little shops. I wandered in to one that features and focuses on women's clothing and accessories. I was excited and nervous. I had never worked in retail, and really thought I might find that it was something I would enjoy. The girl fidgeting with a sweater, trying to fold it in that boxy, organized, mall fashion.. lit up like a Christmas tree and welcomed me like I was the long lost sister she never had. Until I told her I was there to apply for work.
Then it was absolutely on. First, they were out of applications. This line was delivered in a sickly sweet dagger to the throat voice that sent chills up my spine. I just smiled, saying I already had an application, and resume, and could I speak to the manager of the store if she is in, please? She all but threw the sweater on the counter as she went into 'the back'. I thought I was going insane. Why on earth would this very seemingly nice normal person behave in such a way to a prospective peer?
Because. I was competition. I had just barely handed my application and resume to the manager, when she sized me up and said she absolutely would love to welcome me to her team. BUT. But, they would only pay minimum wage, hours were only guaranteed by my own will to compete with my co-associates, and it was temporary. Very Temporary. I think perhaps this was her way of intimidating young, floundering applicants that thought, way cool a job at the mall. Then I realized.
This job is so not for me. I need to feed myself and three kids. I could absolutely apply. I could absolutely compete. But I need guarantees. So I gingerly took the application back. Smiled at the vicious, seething, sweater folding lioness, and held my head high as I exited the building.
My head was so full of what to do at that point, I wandered to the transfer station and decided to wait for the bus. I really wasn't sure where I thought I might be going. I knew I wanted to head back north, maybe turn in my resume at some different spa's maybe a chiropractor's office.. I really didn't know. I sat on the concrete slab that resembled a bench and plugged my headphones into my head. There were people there, of coarse, waiting as well.
For some reason, the bus intimidates the hell out of me. I think maybe because when I went from Kindergarten to first grade, I thought I would be riding the early bus home with my siblings, so I ran and boarded it during last recess thinking everyone else was wrong. I didn't really know I had boarded the wrong bus, and couldn't figure out why no one was recognizable.. and big. The bus began pulling out by the time my six year old instinct told me I was on the wrong bus. I was too scared to say anything, because I thought the driver would yell at me. So I sat frozen. My teacher had come out before we could pull out on the highway. Apparently someone had radio'd all of the buses and described me. I was humiliated.
So, when the very first bus pulled up, all I noted was the number on the side. I didn't pay attention to the direction it was running. I had been palming my money with a sweaty hand for nearly fifteen minutes awaiting its arrival. When I stepped into the aisle, something hit my gut like a rotting tomato. I just knew, just knew for some reason, I had boarded the wrong bus. So I sat down. I looked around. Nothing on the inside tells you where you are going. I was alone, and didn't really want to bother the driver. So, I just sat as he pulled out, then began to panic when he turned the wrong direction. Hands shaking, face red as a beet, I pulled the 'rip' cord as soon as I realized. It was maybe a half a block from the mall.
Embarrassment surged, so I chose to walk it off. I called my father and spoke to him. He advised me to write a selling statement at the top of my resume, like an advertisement. He explained that this was a good way to draw interest for the reader, because the reader no doubt, is presented with hundreds of resumes for any given job. I told him about my bus debacle. He laughed. He said he was sure he didn't know anyone in this world that had more fun than me. This lifted my spirits considerably.
I crossed the street then crossed again. My boyfriend called to offer words of encouragement. I text him that I had got on the wrong bus. His bolstering, his understanding, gave me courage to try again. He cautioned me to catch the bus on the east side of the road. He said he loved me, that he didn't think me an idiot for catching the wrong transit.
Feeling loads better, and finally on the right bus, I formulate a plan. I will go to the school and visit with the ladies in career services about job opportunities. Along the way, I ran into my recruiter, who hugged me and told me I looked beautiful. Then I went in and picked up the job listings I had come for. The girls made such a fuss over me, my ego was boosted, and I felt ready to conquer the world. I love visiting my school.
I decide to just take the listings and map out a plan. To write proper cover letters, resumes geared to the job I am seeking, and hit the ground running Monday. I board the bus adding mapping out a bus route to the list.
Job hunting. A joy. |
| posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 7:43 PM |
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| Wednesday, November 04, 2009 |
| Gaaaaaaaaaarumph! Sigh. |
Gasping and twisting, tearing off her too warm covers.. she dumps herself with a thud off the side of the bed. She finds her knees, peaking up over the side, he still snores. She illuminates her cell phone. "Good Grady, six o'clock." There is a strange loud siren issuing from the kitchen. She half crawls to the door, pulling herself up by the handle. Halfway down the hall she knocks at her son's door.. he pops his head out from under the covers, blinded and swollen eyed."Is that your alarm?" He shuffles out the door to the kitchen. Its his cell phone. She scratches her head, turns and waddles down the hall, pausing to wake up the other two. She crawls back to bed, drifting, drifting, drifting... slipping off to sleep, her words following after. There is a shout outside her door, bringing her upright, and breaking her dreamy thought. She clambers once again (because clambering is what people do when they are in that state of half sleep) through the door and into the hallway. Her younger two boys are engaged in a wrestling match, interrupted, bulging eyes at the beast towering over them. "Sorry, mom," "Sorry." They both jump to resume readying for school. STOMP STOMP STOMP her feet carry her down the hall once again. She prepares coffee with one eye open, then frumpily slumps on the corner of the couch to wait. The boys are ready, they come and hug her about the neck on their merry way to school.
She pours the cream, noting its almost empty, adds a tibbit of sugar.. not much as she isn't big on the sweet, and dumps coffee into her mug. It splashes her robe a bit, but she doesn't take much notice.. a housecoat is a housecoat.. when else will it become dirty if not in the house where it is worn? She settles herself at the computer, checking email, catching up on the news of the weird, wild and furry. Then posts a bit. Information for clientele. Interesting information at that.
She enjoys her coffee while listening to soft bits of violin and piano issue from the speakers. She finds her spirits lifted and emboldened and lifted, thinking to herself how much she love love loves coffee. She pours another cup, contemplating her carpet. No one has vaccuumed in a bit. Apparently the vaccuum is broken. She would see about that vaccuum today. Looking around, its as if she is looking into the world of another being. She sees the big bruise on the lateral dorsal portion of her right foot and wonders.. what happened there... She sees beheaded action figures lying splayed on the couch cushions, the jenga pieces built castle high, the overflowing trash can, the crumbs idle on her countertops. It is all too embarrassing when someone arrives in a strange place to find it filthy and no longer wish to dine or have coffee, but to wake up in that place, realizing it is your own.. strange dose of reality.
She is on her feet, in her bedroom, pulling on brazier, pants, shirt and socks, she is pulling the vaccuum out of the water cupboard. She is unscrewing, unleashing, de-dusting, and emptying the dirtbunnies from its winding tubes, its wheels and cogs. She replaces the belt and washes the collector cup. She replaces its filter, once yellow, now dingy scary gray. She walks to the store picking multi purpose cleaner, coffee creamer, squishy body sponges, body wash and carpet freshener daintily off shelves, humming a bit as she goes. The air is crisp, clean, citrus, fresh cut watermelon. She is bouncing in her shoes. Inspiration upon her. She wants to hand flowers to people at random.. gerber daisies, roses, baby's breath. She wants to smile at the crotchety, the angry, maligned and miserable. It is decidedly beautiful, decidedly wonderful.. and the very air smells of it.
Home she arrives, and he is awake. She makes him coffee, carefully percolates it on the stove. He is in the shower when she delivers the first hot steaming cup. She draws her eyebrows, lines her eyes, moistens her lips and shakes out her hair. She selects an outfit, a little haphazard.. black shirt, blue jeans, hoodie, sneakers.. mismatched socks. One is the color of melon.. the other hot pink. They both say 'no boundaries' in gray across the toe, she assumes this is enough. Taking her wallet, loading her phone with music for the walk, she meets him at the door. They speedwalk to the bus stop. Speed walk for her, slow jaunt for him. They smoke and joke a bit. She is being contradictory, overly bubbly, and he is annoyed but doesnt let it show. They board the bus.
There is a man, so excited about the details of a game. Someone slam dunked over the top of someone else and it was really something when you think of the size of that guy. She sighs and looks out the window. There is a heater vent near her leg blowing hot relentless devils breath into her face. She likes the adventure, but the bus makes her anxious. Along they ride, quiet. Not really conversing so much. She points out some houses that have been up for rent for months. Houses she thinks they could find happiness in. Perhaps. If they dig.
They are at the bus stop. He tells her of the times he has to walk along the dirtpath when it is full of water. She feels upset about this, because she just really wants him to buy some good shoes, but he won't. He never will.
She walks with him all the way to his workplace. They chat. He has to clock in, they hug and kiss, then he is gone. She puts her giant head phones on. She listens to the happy strum of guitar, the sweet words of love, the tapping of the drum and smiles softly. She passes a woman wearing a tie died shirt, saturating the world with patchouli, cough. She sees a bent geriatric woman being gently extracted from a car by a bent geriatric fellow. They are both smiling and giggling. She sees a huge sea bird. A gull? It eats french fries from the parking lot next to Sonic. She shops and walks and walks and shops. There is an unexpected marsh. She has driven through here so many many times.. never having seen it. So she sits in the grass, watches the water sparkle along through the brambles, the weeds, the cat tails, her back to the wall of traffic the wall of humanity.
Her feet take her from shop to shop. There is a nice woman, wanting so badly for her to buy something. The woman suggests little jackets and courderoy pants, the woman suggests large print flower skirts, and shirts that flap funny about the armpit.
She smiles, turns, she wishes she were younger, fairer, richer, something.. something.. something else. Then she goes. She leaves it there, behind her. She doesn't need to compete.
Eventually her feet bring her home. She scrubs, she cleans, alongside her little men. She cooks them pear cinnamon pancakes, eggs and bacon for dinner. She tells them she is going back to work. She tells them she needs to find a job, that they are going to need to be more responsible. They listen seriously, then one begins to cry. He thinks she is going away. That she is not coming home ever again, she feels terrible, not really knowing how he came to such a deduction. She cradles his little bird-like body, cooing and shushing. Its okay little monkey its okay. She explains that her job will be for a certain number of hours a day, that it will mean she will not be home for those hours, but she will be home, she will be home, she will be home... every every day.
They load the dishwasher. They play Jenga. They shower and rest their heads.
She realizes suddenly she forgot about the flowers. She forgot the random people. She blew it off.
Gaaaaaaarumph! Sigh. |
| posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 5:08 PM |
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