Good Deed #14: Stop Counting!

Because I often have trouble keeping track of my own keys, and online passwords, I've decided to give my cluttered brain a break, and quit counting my good deeds! Fact is, I've done more than I have listed, I just find myself too tired, and feeling too self-absorbed when I number them.

So this last officially counted one, is actually two. One good deed for my mother, and one for me.

Tonight, all I wanted to do was slip in and out of consciousness, i.e. lay my lazy ass on the couch and nap sporadically... but I knew my mother needed her roots touched up, and I had already purchased the product. I'm pretty sure she wanted me to do them last night, because she asked if the "beauty shop" was open, but after she saw my eyes drooping and heard me yawn repeatedly... I think she didn't want to bother me. So tonight I called her and told her there was a cancellation and she could come whenever she wanted.

My mother hardly ever wears makeup... not even mascara; and claims to not know how to do her hair. She grew up with 60's stick straight long, brush-and-go hair... so it's very possible that she's telling the truth. Her former stylist did a great job with her cuts and colors, but she also worked where I was so unethically cut from the budget, so she quit seeing her. A display of loyalty? I'm not sure, but I do know that she doesn't need to go about town looking like a bag lady! I called my new hair guy and got her a hair cut appointment last week, but I think she has cut the coloring out of her budget too, so I am now her very budget-friendly (free) colorist. And I love it! Fact is, I considered becoming a cosmetologist when I was young, but felt it wouldn't stimulate my intellectual cravings enough. That may or may not be true, but working with a bunch of women who consider missing a Prada shoe sale the end of the world, would not have suited my personality.

I dyed her roots, washed her hair in the kitchen sink with the sprayer; blew her hair dry, and styled it. She looked great! And even those no-fuss women appreciate feeling pretty once in awhile... so her smile was suitable pay for me.

My other good deed is for me. The stop counting thing. I was feeling more pressure to remember them and write them in a blog... which was taking away from the pleasure of doing them. So, I'll stick to my plan to become a better me, a better person... and just blog about life as life goes on; no matter how good or how bad it may be.

The $9 Sweater and the 6 Year Old Skirt

Thank God it's Friday! I am ready for a break from my daily work wardrobe challenge! I had been going into the office every weekday since I was officially hired, and let's just say my wardrobe doesn't support a five day work week. Today, I wore my new $9 black cashmere sweater, and a 6 year old skirt. The sweater is a classic V-neck, and will be in style until it unravels from excessive wear... but the skirt... well... I may very well have been the only woman in America wearing that tired style. But, it fit, and it was an appropriate length for a conservative-leaning business atmosphere. Gotta do what ya gotta do, and I gotta wear clothes to work!

The projects kept getting handed to me today. I have no idea how these people manage to get so much done, or, how they have managed to get things done without another person on staff. One of the first things the director said was that "you just have to accept that your work will never be done here." I took mental note of that immediately, because I don't like unfinished business in my life. I knew I would have to set my own boundaries. A few years ago, I worked as a regional director of sales and training; overseeing 15 different locations, and answering to the corporate entity. My work was never done there... and I wound up working nearly 24 hours a day. No... I was not paid for my exhausting efforts hourly. People who work those types of jobs never are. My boss was an avid golfer schmuck, who left me to carry my load and his, while he spent sunny afternoons working on his short game. I wound up practically working myself to death; acquiring anxiety and depression, chronic sleep deprivation, terrible eating habits, and an all-consuming hatred for my job. I hadn't set boundaries... and if I would have... I probably would have been fired. After thinking I was going to die from a heart attack, alone, in a cheap handicap hotel room in Fort Wayne, Indiana... I quit, and it was the best decision I ever made.

Since I started this job, I made a point to leave my briefcase in the car... to not "bring my work home." It is very tempting to work "off the clock" so I can become the super hero they couldn't possibly let fly away; but after my previously mentioned experience, I know this would be cheating myself, both personally and financially. Balance. I have to maintain balance. It is hard to fight the urge to work like a mad woman, considering I have been without work for so long, and this job is definitely one worth working hard for; but I have to.

Next week I set a more efficient, and wardrobe friendly schedule. I will be working my 15 hours in 3 days, instead of 5. Practically, this saves money on gas, and allows me to get more work done in one day. Selfishly, this prevents me from having to find 2 more outfits, getting ready (which costs money) 2 more days, keeps me from rushing home from work to change into my ceramics clothes, and allows me more than one day off. Working 5 days there, plus my Saturday "man-sitting" meant I was working 18 hours a week... in 6 days. Not an ideal management of time. I cleared it with the director before I left, and they did tell me I could make my own hours, so it shouldn't be a problem. We'll see how the rest of the staff receives it when I get to work on Tuesday.

My day ended with an interview with a marketing and media representative for another non-profit. Their organization is wanting to expand their services, and a relationship with the organization I'm working with could be mutually beneficial. I may have just scored my first networking connection for them. While I was rubbing elbows with these "big wigs," I realized how short I have sold myself the last couple years. My most recent employment endeavors definitely did not let me perform at levels matching my capability. I'm not saying I am a nose-in-the-air-better-than-you kind of person... I hate those people! But what I have realized, is that I have almost made excuses for my intelligence, because pretty girls aren't supposed to be smart, or have opinions on anything other than shoes and handbags. And saying that, just made me uncomfortable. I don't even think I'm that pretty. I'm just me. I care more about who I am on the inside, than on the outside, because the inside is what I have created, the exterior is just a result of complicated genetics. But if I truly care about my inside, why don't I acknowledge my brain... why do I almost hide it? The girls I worked with at the salon spa seemed to hate me for being smart, and I'm a peace-loving kind of girl... so I confess to dumbing it down... and that sounds bitchy to me. I hope someone understands what I'm saying, because I just got confused trying to explain it.

Anyway... I think the point was supposed to be that my co-workers at my new job seem to embrace new ideas, intelligence and hard work; and even though I'm doing it in a $9 sweater and a 6 year old skirt... I feel like a million bucks!

Mrs. B and Sloppy Joe

Seven days. I have survived seven days as a semi-employed person, without getting lost in the maze of the hallway, getting confused over whom I have or haven't contacted, and, most importantly... getting canned! To "celebrate" my successful seven day survival... I received my first paycheck! HALLELUJAH! I may not have arrived just yet... but my train is nearing the station! This is the first paycheck I've held in my sad, and very empty, little hands since April 25, 2008!

I got my first dose of "office politics" today. I was asked to contact a marketing consultant, because the Director finds her personally difficult to work with, and thought that because this marketing woman didn't know me, that maybe she wouldn't be such a (word that starts with a "b"). Well. She was very wrong. I was appalled at the verbiage this supposed marketing expert used. She felt it necessary to point out how ridiculous it was for the organization to expect anyone to attend the event... more than twice. I was left to wonder why on earth anyone had ever chosen to consult her for anything other than the imminent end of the world. I tried to be "fluffy" with her... stroke her exaggerated ego, and appease her pseudo-genius; caring none at all if she felt I was sincere. After our "lovely" conversation, I returned to the Director's office to report the miraculously marvelous (cough cough) ideas this marketing b-word suggested.

"I can certainly understand what you were saying," I said.

"Uh-huh. So it's not just me!"

I rehashed the tennis-match telephone call, but refrained from telling her exactly what I thought of this woman I was forced to speak with. I've worked in catty, conniving work places... and I would rather not have to relive those experiences, so I have made a point to keep things as neutral as possible. Besides, it's always the bottom of the totem pole that gets buried and forgotten... and I need this job!

"You've got to tell Danielle this... come on." She said with a smile, as we began marching through the hallway maze.

Ugh. Here I go. Here we go.

A little circle gathered as the Director and I told the co-workers about "Ms. B's" pleasantries on the telephone. Thankfully, Danielle seemed to accept it as a legitimate complaint. Danielle said she felt that because Ms. B must think we are "pee-ons," that she speaks to us differently; concluding that this was not acceptable. No it wasn't... but I was letting it go before I found myself tangled up in a pile of cat claws!

After work, I came home, spun around in 3 circles; transforming from Betty Businesswear to Clay-Covered Clara... and headed off to the studio. It's safe to say I've gone a bit overboard with making the most of my extra studio time, and have completely lost count of how many pieces I'm working on and what stages they are in. I think I have three... no... four... waiting to be glaze-fired, and approximately four more awaiting a bisque fire. Add to that, four that I have drying on my shelf... and I have my own art show! Don't I wish!

I am definitely still a novice when it comes to working with ceramics, and I have no delusional expectations that my work would ever be called "exquisite." I do it for fun. To release my neglected creative energies from my previous life as a peace-pipe smoking, pro-peace-love-and-happiness, save-the-planet beatnik from the 60's. I don't even have a "plan" when I begin working with a slab of clay. I wait for it to "speak" to me, and tell me what it wants to be.

NO!

I am not on drugs.

Right now I am just trying to learn by trial and error, and master the few skills I have acquired through my casual pursuit of ceramics. This go-round, I've been experimenting with carving methods, with no rhyme or reason; as you can see from the picture below... well... okay... above. Apparently, I'm not cool enough to know how to place photos within my text!

Anyway...

After I finished playing in the mud, I came home to my sloppy house, and made Sloppy Joes. I spied a can of "Manwhich BOLD" on the shelf at the grocery store and found myself hypnotized by the imagined taste of these spicy sloppy joes. Next thing you know, I have a can in my cart, and I'm anxiously waiting for my leftovers to run out so I can eat them in real life! Tonight was the night. And they were tasty! Of course I had to alter the "recipe," so I added diced yellow onion. It was 1/4 of and onion, and it needed to be used, I swear!

Sloppy. That's what I've become, at home, since I've been mingling with the outsiders in the outside world. My current state of scattered-about-ness is nothing that can't be remedied with an hour of cleaning with the music cranked. It just appears sloppy. Like my dinner... which I did, by the way, eat at the table. I have not become irreparably uncivilized... I'm just adjusting to my new life as an almost working woman. I promise I'll clean up my act by Saturday. Swear.

Survival Tips...

Just a quick post to pass on some potentially helpful information to you readers in the hopes that someone, anyone, survives this devastating economy without losing everything they own!

A not-so-well-known, but very helpful job posting site:

http://www.indeed.com/

And a soon-to-be-well-known shared housing site:

http://www.nationalsharedhousing.org/index.html

It's All About the Green

I got to "sleep in" this morning. Didn't get out of my incredibly comfortable bed until 8:15 a.m. Well, actually, I did get out of it an hour and fifteen minutes earlier... to turn off the alarm clock. I'm almost embarrassed about how exhausted returning to work, part-time, has made me. It's not the work itself that is killing me; it's the long-forgotten daily getting ready routine that has been the most powerful shock to my system. Having no money, and, no where to go, for almost a year leads to a life most often spent on the couch, in sweats, with uncombed hair. What's the point of spending money on water for showers, shampoo, conditioner, styling products, electricity for blow dryers and curling irons, makeup, and laundry detergent for the clothes you put on; if you are broke as a joke, and a virtual shut-in?

My first hour of work was spent out of the office, interviewing an acquaintance of mine for the major project I have been assigned to. It had been well over a year since we had seen each other, and you always feel better when others see you at your best, so I used that as motivation to "get pretty" today. I decided to wear my new green cashmere sweater I had purchased Monday night, with my favorite black skirt and boots. My cheery green sweater is one of my greatest triumphs of late... originally priced at $90. Reduce that price by 90%, and you get to cozy up with $9 cashmere! Boy was I glad I took the time to overcome my visual A.D.D. long enough to find that fuzzy little treasure in the clearance rack at Kohl's.

That's the crazy cycle you get trapped in when you endure an extended period of time unemployed. You don't have any money, so you don't spend any. That's all fine and good. But, when you haven't purchased any clothes, let alone business clothes, in over a year, you either have to hope you don't get fired for wearing a tired pair of blue jeans, or gamble some cash on securing a permanent job and purchase a work-appropriate wardrobe. We are (hopefully) near the end of winter, and my job assignment is only confirmed until April, so I only picked up a few things: two $9 cashmere sweaters, one black and one green; a 70% off brown cardigan, and a sale-priced pair of brown patterned dress pants to avoid looking like I'm attending a funeral every day after work. I'll use those pieces to create "new" outfits from the few things I have in my closet.

One of my semi-estranged relatives sent a "Congratulations" card for my recent college graduation containing a check for $50, a very kind and unexpected gesture! I also had a $30 Kohl's gift card from Christmas to help offset my costs. There is something very humbling about shuffling around your finances, and negotiating a pair of pants from yourself. As much as I would love to believe that employees are judged by their contribution, and not their outward appearance, I think we all know this isn't true. So to make money... I had to spend money. The woman at the checkout gave me the usual "Would you like to open a Kohl's charge account and save $20 today" speech... I knew it was coming. "Think of it as a savings account. They send you discount coupons every month that even apply to clearance items," she says. A pretty good sell, however, why in the hell would I want a credit card, when I don't have a job? And don't they ask you about your employer anyway? What would I put there? God?

"Thank you for the offer, but I've been out of work for a very long time. The only reason I am here today is because I think they prefer me to come to work with pants on."

"Ohhhh. I understand completely, you have to have clothes to wear to work! Hopefully it turns into something permanent for you," she declared after I explained that my new job was temporary.

If there is to be a silver lining found in this economic nightmare, I think it is compassion. Because this disaster has affected everyone... rich or poor, I think people have begun to look outside of themselves, outside of their own lives, long enough to realize that we are all suffering, and being kind to one another helps to ease the pain. I watched Oprah today, because it was "Putting a Face on the Recession," an interview based show about fellow Americans who suddenly found themselves on the streets, some despite formerly making six-figure incomes. Parents who won't tell their adult children that they are now homeless to avoid burdening them. Single mothers living in homeless shelters, praying that one of the hundreds of strangers around them doesn't harm their children. People just as desperate for work as I have been for ten months. People just trying to survive.

On Friday I will receive my first paycheck in ten months! I'd really like to frame it, so I won't have to worry about forgetting what a paycheck actually looks like... feels like; but that beautiful piece of paper will need to be in the bank! Oh do I long for the day when I won't have to race to the bank in a "please don't bounce, checks" panic! A day when I don't have to analyze every spent dollar more intently then the federal government overseeing the GM bailout. A day when I can put on that $9 green cashmere sweater with a smile, and say, "You got me through through some hard times," and hopefully got me a (permanent) job!

FAT Tuesday!

It's Fat Tuesday. Day of the Packzi, mysteriously pronounced poonch-key. A glorious day at Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but a mere excuse to eat fruit-filled, fattening sugary treats here in the Midwest. I had already consumed 6 blueberry and powdered sugar packzis my mother bought me last week; and I was left wondering exactly which Tuesday it was that I was supposed to be celebrating with these seasonal fancy doughnuts... last Thursday. I couldn't remember which day was officially "fat," but I sure felt fat every day that I ate one of these delicious pastries.

I had a comical day on the job. I dressed to impress; wearing my new pants, shoes, and cardigan, only to find that half the staff, including the director I am assisting, were out of the office. An hour into the work day, a co-worker, who was in the middle of a big print job for the director, got a call from her son's school to pick him up because he was running a fever. She brought her urgent project to my desk, and asked me to complete it for her. I was fairly excited to be her "pinch hitter," considering she is the least outgoing in the office. I'm assuming this is because she's busy pinch-hitting for everyone else. My task was to customize and print about 50 award certificates for an educational program the director is conducting in the local schools. Easy enough.

Or not.

I had never in my life worked with this type of printer, and somehow I managed to immediately find the paper tray to load the card stock I needed to use. I was feeling pretty confident. I marched back to my desk, hit the print button, and gleefully awaited the emergence of my first completed color certificate from the printer. But, suddenly, there were very strange noises travelling across the office...

Paper jam.

The only other co-worker in the office was very busy. She handles a monumentous amount of work daily, but she also had payroll to complete today. I did not want to bother her... but I could not let the ball drop simply because I was too shy and embarrassed to ask for help. I was praying that my running joke with the maintenance man, "Everything is broken. EVERYTHING," hadn't become my reality today. I opened every openable compartment. Pulled out a piece of mangled card stock, and quietly returned to my desk to resume printing.

Paper jam (still).

Are you flippin' kidding me?

I was forced to ask Danielle to assist me. And after we wrassled paper, pushed every button, open and closed trays, powered down, and powered up the printer... and tried to print two more times; she concluded that the weight of the paper made it necessary to load in another tray. She was actually quite kind about the situation, and declared her own detest for the printer, which I forgot to mention sits upon a tall filing cabinet, making it necessary for me to stand on my tip-toes just to read the display. After the printer problem was solved, finishing the project, my first pinch hit, was an out of the park home run. Done. Yes. Thank you.

Next task: rewriting my public appointment calendar. This is my first time working with Microsoft Outlook, the program we use to track our working calendars... a critical need, considering my in and out of office hours vary according to which project I am working on, and I'm part-time. I thought I completed this task Friday. In fact, I was very proud of myself for figuring out how to not only schedule my regular hours and appointments, but also recurring appointments. I was feeling s-m-a-r-t. Too bad I clicked the wrong button. I made a schedule alright, but it was only for my own eyes to see, on my own computer. Not feeling so smart now.

The next thing on my growing longer by the minute to do list, was sending a fax to a local high school principal. Fair enough. I can do this. Danielle was working feverishly, while speaking with the CEO, as the fax machine started screaming, "You MUST dial a one when calling this number," over and over. WHERE IS THE CANCEL BUTTON!!!! My eyes were racing across the machine front, couldn't I please find this damn cancel button before I have to DIE from embarrassment?!

"Do you need some help over there, Mona?" Danielle asked in a sympathetic tone.

"No. (Laughing) I finally found the cancel button." I replied. There is a certain area code in this state that some jackass decided would randomly require dialing a "1." Everytime I have tried to guess "to dial, or not to dial," I have been wrong. My previous job required a lot of dialing to this particular area code, so I grew to expect the frustration... I just don't particularly enjoy it.

Carol had also asked me to contact a publishing company again to write up another quote for a potential pamphlet order. This is very time sensitive because the pricing deal ends on Friday, and the project runs full-force in March. Carol was out of the office today. It's imperative that I complete any and all projects thrown my way if I'm going to successfully negotiate a permanent position in April, when my temporary assignment ends. This is why I'm feeling so much pressure! Not only is this the first job I've managed to land in 10 months, the pay, and the people are great, and it's a non-profit organization. My dream job. If I'm going to make this dream come true... I've got to shine, not make the printer jam and the fax machine scream! Unfortunately, the representative we have been working with did not respond to my email or voice mail while I was in the office.

A few other snafus I forgot to mention... sending out a mass email in Outlook, only to discover it uses semi-colons, not commas to seperate email addresses. Also, I incorrectly transferred a call to the CEO. It rang her desk, then went on hold. Danielle had to help me with that too. I also spent the majority of my day with my own phone set to forward calls to voice mail. Luckily, I only had one in office call, so I was only embarrassed by this one time.

In my defense, there has beenabsolutely no training provided, and the staff, including the CEO, make sincere light of this fact and have shared their own stories of office equipment bloopers. In fact, the two directors both confess to being unable to properly transfer calls, so I shouldn't feel that intellectually incompetent. But as I said, the pressure is immense for me, because not only do I want to keep this job, I NEED to keep this job. I literally can't afford to go another ten months without work. I'm not feeling this heat from anyone at work. It's my own private hell. The one I've resided in alone these past ten months. I've decided to put my faith into this position becoming permanent, and scale back my job search until my end of assignment April assessment with the organization. I don't expect to be offered full-time, but if I could convince them to allow me even 20 hours a week, I could survive until a permanent full-time opportunity with them arose. Considering the permanent part-time worker is not returning from her leave, there should be a legitimate opportunity for a permanent position.

My day concluded with an over-the-phone interview for an upcoming community project. The woman I was interviewing was "having one of those days too," so we shared a laugh about it. Completing an interview gave me a true feeling of success. One of my tasks is to help them reach their 100 interviews goal. They had 40 when I started, and today's interview was my second, so there are 58 more to go. I'd love to be able to finish all 58... again, to prove my worth, but I'm not so sure that is a real possibility, considering a new task gets brought to my desk a couple times a day.

So... to celebrate making it out of the office without a fatal paper cut, critical missed call, or destroying an expensive printer, I decided to pick up more packzis when I stopped at the grocery store on the way home. This time, cherry-filled and glazed. I was obligated to celebrate "Fat Tuesday," wasn't I? Okay... so maybe I was just seeking comfort from some tasty doughnuts. But, I enjoyed my "celebration," twice. Before, and after, a very satisfying nap.

On the Table...

That's where my breakfast was today, instead of my lap! I also forced myself to work out, despite getting a minute amount of sleep. I'm not sure that it's normal to yawn throughout your entire aerobic workout, but I did, and I've never been sure that I am "normal."

I'm off to work. This morning will be my first day reporting to duty with a completed project for the director. It wasn't very complicated, but being able to produce something tangible gets me one small step closer to proving I'm an asset to the organization, and negotiating my worth. So far, this job seems like the right fit for me... I just need to convince them to keep me on board between now and April. I haven't worked a part-time job in years, and never have worked a temporary position, but easing back into the "Land of the Working People" seems a much smoother transition from "Nothingville."

It will be a short day. Three hours to perform, and then I'm off to craft dirt in the ceramic studio. I've got three finished pieces that will be waiting for me to judge their beauty, or lack of! My grandmother already placed an "order" for one of my plates, offering to pay for my time and materials... but I'm thinking she deserves a freebee.

Off to the hairdryer with me...

Good Deed #13: Resume Service

It's Sunday. MY day. Day of rest. Day of cleaning. Day of eating and watching stupid movies on Lifetime... whatever I want it to be. I settled into my pile of life-saving throw blankets on the couch, and got ready to lazily decide what to do with my day, when I opened my email.

Last night, my brother and I were talking on the phone, and before we hung up, he had mentioned that he was trying to get his resume in order. He joined the ranks of the unemployed about eight weeks ago. Having played the "Resumes in Space" game as an unemployed person for the past ten months, I am very familiar with how daunting the task of writing a resume, and customizing it for every job you apply for can be. Knowing how unbelievably competitive it is here for any type of work, I didn't want my brother to lose the job race because of a bad resume.

"If you need any help with your resume, I'd be happy to do whatever I can. At this point, I'd consider myself a semi-professional resume writer!"

I didn't think he'd take me up on it, but sure enough, there was his resume in my email box, just waiting for my examination. My brother has a Ph.D! Unfortunately, his credentials are most suited to the auto-industry... which we all know is breaking down bolt by bolt every day. Some alternative careers he is considering are professorship, and solar energy design and production. But these days, us unemployed people are prepared to stock lipstick at Walgreen's to avoid homelessness... regardless of the magnitude of our education or work experience.

My last class at the university was "Practical Writing." We wrote press releases, professional letters and memos, business brochures, instruction manuals, and you guessed it, resumes. At first I thought the class would be a tedious bore, but the skills mastered have been rather advantageous. Learning the tricks, and silly unwritten rules of resume writing, like which buzzwords are "out," sure comes in handy when you are out of work and competing against thousands of people for lipstick stocking jobs at Walgreen's.

My brother's resume was awful! The information itself, was of course, impressive, but the format was not going to get him where he wants to be. I tried to just look at it, and then spend the day watching garbage on T.V. and eating garbage... but I just couldn't! So there I was... fixing my brother's resume, before I had even combed my hair or finished my coffee. I forwarded the revised version in a more appealing and appropriate format, with an email containing the "secrets" to successful resume writing.

Resumes are always critical to getting the job you want... but these days, many of us are simply trying to get the job we need! Now that technology has robbed us of being able to make an in-person impression, it is critical that your resume is free of errors, and in a format that stands out but is still appropriate. If you use resources at the library, or on the internet, make sure they are current. The resume game is ever-changing. There are actually trends in resume wording and format. If you can't afford a professional service (they are pricey!), at least find a few friends to review your resume, and maybe even find one that has experience in resume writing. And if you do actually have the opportunity to send a "hard copy" of your resume, don't forget that you have to have it on the fancy-shmancy paper. Don't get crazy and buy some pink and blue polka dotted stuff! Keep it simple, and professional, and make sure your envelope matches! Yes, this stuff is expensive... but it's tax deductible, so keep track of your job hunting expenses!

Hidden Treasure

For about a month now, I have been on a mission. Trying to get all of my "junk" sorted. Sorting through old boxes of unorganized madness from years gone by; particularly the year that I moved out of my apartment in a procrastinated panic and just shoved any and everything I could fit into random boxes... only to have them sit for 7 years.

I knew there were lots of important papers in those boxes. Papers with information an ill-intended person could use to rob me of my $115 savings account. And somewhere in those random boxes, I knew there were many little treasures. Some I would want to keep, and many that I would like to hock on Ebay for a quick, and much-needed buck.

Transporting the boxes of junk from my mother's house to my house, led to the typical messy aftermath that seems to occur every time I take on one of these "get your shit together" projects. You know, when you set out to organize the closet, and suddenly your bed is piled high with clothes, shoes are everywhere, and your once peaceful room is now a chaotic disaster?! I can't be the only one who does this...

I was smart enough to bring a couple boxes at a time, in hopes of preventing said disaster. This worked quite well, until I got to my gigantic old hanging file box. Within minutes, my home office desk had disappeared under a pile of papers, old checkbooks, junkmail, homeless office supplies, and appliance manuals. The task became so insurmountable, that I simply turned the light off, and turned my back on the mess for about ten days. After an evening spent cleaning my house, I am proud to say that I have officially conquered Mail Mountain. My desk is not only clear, it has returned to its previously organized state, and was even sanitized.

During my cleaning rampage, I managed to clean out both drawers of my bedside table. Something that had been eating at me for a shameful 15 months! I just could not find time to tackle such a mess! And wouldn't you know, it took me about 20 minutes to sort through, and clean them. Weird stuff was in there. Lots of pizza coupon flyers, casino flyers, and other junk mail. I must have shoved that stuff in there to give a visitor the misconception that I was more organized and tidy than Ms. Martha Stewart herself. Now I'm stuck with an empty bottom drawer. What ARE you supposed to keep in your bedside table? Besides old pizza coupons, of course!

For any of you that haven't figured this out already, the less junk you have, the easier your junk is to manage! And the more organized your junk is... the less likely you are to accumulate more! I'm not quite a professional Junk Manager, just yet, but I'm getting there. Not having a job, and watching the economy sink like the Titanic, makes junk management a necessity. It provides you with a meaningful task, and, if you're lucky, a few bucks from your hocked hidden treasures. The rewards are plentiful. Less chaos. More room for the things you literally treasure, money earned from what you sell and tax-deductible donations, the receipient of your junk actually appreciates it, and you save yourself from buying something you already had, but couldn't locate.

My work here is not done. I still have a box of random treasures waiting to be listed on Ebay, and my Sanford and Son garage will definitely have to be cleaned and organized once Spring finally arrives, but my efforts are paying off. I've made $100 off of my unwanted junk so far, which sadly enough, is a lot of cash to me right now... and each time I open a closet, or a drawer and can actually find what I'm looking for gives me a sense that I'm becoming a real grown-up!

Poll Position

As usual, my poll passion dwindled as the days awaiting my reader responses crept along. Either I don't have many readers, or you shy people don't like answering polls! I'd love to believe that latter, but I'm okay with my own reality... really.





Anyhow...





Let's talk about the polls and my position on the results.



We'll start with "What Do You Want Most in 2009," with a whopping two responses. It was a tie between "a job" and "love." I want the job, and I think I know who wants "love." I'd say either response is an honorable one, and if I did, in fact, have a job, a permanent, pay-check producing job... I may have chosen "love" as well. A funny little thing, this thing called "love." This past nine months has been the first time in my adult life that I have had all of the time in the world for it, love, and just about zero desire to seek it! Maybe I'm taking this survival thing to the extreme, maybe I haven't yet decided that I'm ready for it, and maybe I haven't found the one... but one thing is for sure: I still really want that job! And sadly... I know that I am one of hundreds of thousands that feel this exact same way. I want to be able to bring something to the table in a relationship, other than an empty wallet and stomach! And let's face it, love don't pay the bills!



And now... "Where Do You Most Often Eat Your Meals?" 3 responded (myself included) "on the couch," and 1 "at the dining room table." Hardly a large enough pool to provide a truly scientific argument... but, I feel an adequate representation of our eating habits today. Since my first acknowlegment of my own failure to make proper use of my DINING room table, I confess to only sitting at it about three times to eat. Something about sitting at a table with three empty chairs and eating a meal alone reduces the enjoyability of it. I have tried to sit there, simply enjoying a nice hot meal, alone, but I can't help but feel a nagging need to be doing "something else." Doing "something else," like searching for jobs on the internet, checking emails, or reading through research seems inappropriate at the table, and somehow very acceptable on the couch. I'm very aware of my own need to intently focus on the simple pleasures of life, therefore allowing yourself the true enjoyment of them... but I just can't seem to declutter my mind long enough to savor each grain of my oatmeal, or each sweet sip of my "freshly-squeezed," but sat in a cardboard container on a grocery store shelf for three days, orange juice. Even when my Mother and I had dinner here the other night, I refused the grace of my dining room table, this time appeasing her desire to watch T.V. up close and personal.

Eating at the table together is something I think is very UNDER-rated for parents and children. Sharing breakfast, or dinner, at least a few times a week, strengthens the bond of family, and implies a feeling a love and togetherness that every child needs. I can say this, because it is something I longed for. Even television families have ceased to eat at the table together, and look how "filthy" T.V. has become! I'm not saying eating meals at the table together will save the world, but if I even have a temporary visitor, I'm going to cherish that time at the table together.

Good Deed #12: Hot Potato (s)

Being unemployed and freaked out financially for ten months makes the cliche, "Waste Not, Want Not" ring in your ears like a full-blast alarm clock on a hungover Monday morning. I grew up poor, and never quite reached "independently wealthy" status, so I am not a waster by nature; but finding ways to maximize everything I have, even though it isn't much, can be tricky!

I've had leftover "Ham Chunks" in my freezer since December 14th. Leftovers from my post-graduation dinner the night before. "Ham Chunks" is what I wrote on the freezer bag, and it pretty much summed up the contents. I trimmed that ham bone... well... to the bone! So here I had a bag of ham chunks, delicious ham chunks, begging me to find them a purpose, every time I opened my freezer door.

SCALLOPED POTATOS AND HAM!

Bingo! Ah-hah! Eureka! An excellent use for these meager, but edible chunks of ham. I fired up the internet to find a recipe, simply for guidance, because I am not one that will willingly follow a recipe. The tricky part was finding a simple one. Simple meaning: I have the ingredients.

I TRIED to follow the recipe. For a minute. But, measuring the potatos to exactly 4 cups wasn't okay with me. I had to use each potato entirely, as not to waste, so I exceeded the 4 cups. Exceeding the 4 cups of potatos, surely means you have to exceed the amounts of everything else, and since I was adding my coveted "ham chunks," and some finely diced sharp cheddar cheese to the recipe, I decided to double the amounts of the other ingredients. Yeah, I could have spent a half an hour perfecting the exact equation to replicate the recipe per my altered main ingredient... but in my opinion, that takes the art out of cooking! And who says the shmuck that wrote the recipe has the only solution to tasty scalloped potatos? If that were the case, why the hell does Rachel Ray, Martha Stewart, and that southern woman whats-her-face have their own cooking shows? Why do cookbooks have their own section in Barnes and Nobles?

Anyway... I cooked up my potatoes, ham chunks, and sharp cheddar cheese; and as the aroma filled my kitchen, then dining room, and finally, the living room, the longing to devour them grew ever more intense! I had to wait one very, very long hour, before my golden-browned, cheesy, baked ham chunks and potatos could be consumed. My brother happened to call just moments after I removed them from the oven, kindly distracting me long enough to let them cool.

I ate two small bowls of them. So very delicious. I had to share!

Mother had brought over a pan of lasagna on Wednesday to celebrate my new job, and I had eaten all but the three big portions I sent her home with, despite her attempted refusal. What a literally warm surprise it would be for her to have a heaping bowl of hot scalloped potatos and ham delivered to her recliner!

I had just begun watching "48 Hours," and when the first commercial break came along, I rushed out the door in my unzipped snow boots with my steaming bowl of potatos, and keys to mom's house in hand. This is one of the many little joys of living next door to my mother. I can deliver her a tasty meal, without missing a minute of my television program of choice. In fact, I even had enough time to compliment her on her haircut before I left.

Shortly after returning home, she sent me a text that read, "DELICIOUS!"

"And you can't even taste the poison, can ya?" I replied.

We have a potentially disturbing on-going joke that anything either of us fixes for the other is poisoned. The joke used to be an "out" in the event that the food wasn't very tasty, or someone (me) hadn't followed the recipe, putting the deliciousness of the food at risk right from the start. But changing times, require even jokes to change, and now I claim she is poisoning me to get her paws on my "wealth" in these troubled economic times. When I first suggested this, she immediately said, "But you don't have any life insurance."

"That was kinda creepy, mom."

Good Deed #11: Shovelling the...

SNOW!

It's Saturday. The day that I sit with dear Chester so his wife can enjoy the afternoon with their daughter without worrying about his welfare. Their daughter drives about an hour and a half to visit, and with our current winter storm, I half-expected Virginia to call and cancel. To my surprise, I heard not a peep from neither Virginia nor her daughter, so I drove off into the snow-covered streets for my afternoon "man sitting."

The snow was rather deceiving... small, wispy flakes that tricked you into believing that they were only there for a dusting of things... but there were so darned many of them, and when assisted by the blustering wind... they turned the sky white and buried the roadways!

As Chester and I settled into our Saturday routine, a nagging need to shovel the driveway and walk kept tugging at my mind. I didn't want Chester to think he was alone, and I certainly didn't want anything to happen to him while I was outside tending to the trickery of the snowflakes. But, I just couldn't sit there, able-bodied, and not shovel the snow.

To minimize the risk of Chester being alone, I decided I would shovel swiftly, with a keen ear... just in case. The shovel at the side of the house was some silly thing... I'm sure designed to make shovelling easier, however, this ergonomic snow remover was slowing down my swift shovelling for sure! I was now battling the sneaky snow that kept landing on the tips of my eyelashes, only to melt wetly upon my eyes. I was battling the wind, the wind that was making me unsure that I would hear Chester's cry for help. I was battling this silly shovel... worry... and time. My simple task was growing ever more complicated, but I could not stop halfway down the drive! What sense would that make? What good is half a good deed?

I'm quite sure that I was only gone for a short time, and I managed to get the walkways and the driveways cleared without anything disastrous happening to myself or Chester. I took off my boots and my snow dampened coat, straightened up my disheveled hair, and decided today would be the first day that Chester ate or drank for me.

I poured his sip-cup full of grape juice, and pulled a sugar-free strawberry jello cup from the refrigerator. Despite his earlier denial of being thirsty, he eagerly reached for his cup, and took a few healthy gulps of grape juice. Chester's eyes were examining me. His big, blue eyes studied my face as if he were looking for something familiar about it.

As he ate the first bite or two of jello that I spoon fed him, his eyes seemed a bit softer. Inside I was thinking how pretty his eyes were; a soft, slate blue, with a hint of his soul's sweetness in the light that sparkled about them. For some reason, the words weren't wanting to be spoken. But when I thought of how wonderful kind words can feel, I knew I had to say them.

"You have beautiful eyes, Chester." I said them, and it didn't hurt one bit. As I fed him another spoonful of jello, his eyes gazed into mine... as if he were wishing to say something to me. I've heard that Chester was quite a proper man, and maybe he wished to thank me, as most proper people would, but this mattered not to me. What mattered to me was that Chester was awake. He was eating and drinking, and thank God, breathing.

I've learned that Chester was a well-respected teacher for 33 years. He was a talented athlete, and an avid golfer. An excellent cook, and butcher's son, Chester taught his wife all she knew about cooking. He is a proud father, and grandfather. A good... proper man. And I just know that though he may not speak much, and even though he relies on others for his care... that man is still inside his withered exterior. I know his brain still holds memories, curiosity, and emotion.

I realized how difficult it can be to get our own needs met, when we are of able mind and body, and this is why I am drawn so compassionately towards Chester. I thought of how many times I had failed to ask another for help when I was in need, and wondered if Chester refused his own needs to avoid the same sense of burden that I often felt myself. I knew all to well the silent pain of feeling neglected, and I could never wish that for another... especially one who was no longer able to care for himself, knowing he had spent over 90 years dedicated to his students, his wife, and family.

Spending Saturdays with Chester allows his wife the opportunity to enjoy the afternoon, soaking up all of life's simple pleasures, all the while knowing that they may soon escape her, and her dear Chester. Spending these days gives me a sense of preparedness for the future care of my own family as they grow dependent upon the care of others, and gives me a great sense of comfort knowing that the power of kindness is... immeasurable.

IN!

Well... it looks like I'm "IN." Employed... even if it is only a part-time, temporary position. Despite filling out tax forms, and finding out that I have my own desk... I still can't believe it! And I almost didn't make it to my first day.

I was expecting to have a hard time falling asleep at a "normal" time, considering life has been anything but normal for the last ten months. But, what I wasn't expecting was to awake from my recently attained sleeping state to an absolutely gut-wrenching pain. Panic set in immediately, since I had consumed a product containing peanut butter in the early evening. The thought of having to call in sick to work on my FIRST day, or have to pray I didn't shit my pants in the office was terrifying. The excruciating pains came in waves for the next two hours, completely destroying my intention to be well-rested and energetic on my initial day on the job.
I survived my unexplained discomfort, with minimal incidence, and aside from feeling pain more associated with a serious need to eat, I felt pretty good when I got up. But I didn't get up as early as I had planned, so my tender tummy had to suffer through the day without one crumb of food, and just a cup of coffee. I couldn't have risked showing up late!

My first hour or so was spent filling out the tax forms, so that was my first clue that an actual paycheck might be in my future. Then came the building tour, including the break room, so they must be keeping me around long enough to eat lunch there at least once. Afterward, some storage space was cleared at a part-time employee's desk (who was away on leave) for me to utilize, and a request was placed to get me a key card and organization email account. A desk? Really? That means that I'll be around long enough to need a place to park my rear.

I spent the next couple hours scheduling interviews with community members. While I was making appointments, news came in that the part-time employee on leave was not returning. Sniff. Sniff. I smell opportunity here...

I worked a whopping five hours today, and am returning again tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. for a few hours before my ceramics studio time. Friday I have a couple interviews scheduled, and Saturday afternoon I'll be sitting with Chester. Hardly a busy schedule for you "normal" people, but the first week of my life in almost a year that requires reference to my formerly empty planner!

Everyone I worked with today seemed quite nice, and my tasks are rather interesting... so, I'm still looking for the "catch," but my new career adventure is slowly becoming more of a reality for me. Desperately searching for work for such a lengthy amount of time, in an economy that reports job losses in the thousands on a daily basis, leaves one a little suspicious and almost jaded when a real opportunity to finally stabilize your finances again arises. So for now, I'll just plan on seriously busting my ass in the hopes of creating a permanent opportunity for myself, and perhaps finally ending this less-than-fun adventure in the Land of the Unemployed.

Nervous Nelly!

Nervous Nelly. This is my new identity. My new affliction. After 302 days without a job, 302 days of struggling to maintain a sense of hope... I find myself very nervous, and in complete disbelief that tomorrow, yes, tomorrow, morning is my first day at my new job.

At least I think so.

This whole experience has been down right bizarre! I "found" the job by simply placing a profile on a volunteer web site; my intention being to volunteer. Within a week I was being advised to turn in a resume for an upcoming part-time, temporary position. Last week I met with the Human Resources director who told me that the women I had met with for a volunteer orientation had told her to hire me, and that they were very impressed with me. As I sat there, I realized how much my ability to "sell myself" is lacking. Thankfully they had had the opportunity to interact with me and form their own opinions, because if it were up to me to tell them how extraordinarily qualified and fabulous I am... I'm afraid I would have failed. During our meeting, they assured me that they will work around my ceramics class, are understanding of the fact that I really need a full-time permanent job and "will be happy" for me if I do get one, but did want me to know that I could very well wind up working for them permanently. The pay will be three dollars more an hour than the job I lost in April. WHAT? Where is the catch? What is this? Are they really planning on abducting me and conducting illegal scientific research on my body parts in an undisclosed underground labratory in Mexico?

I feel terrible that I simply don't believe this is true! Is being unemployed in this faltering economy really that powerful? I suppose it must be! The old cliche, "if it's too good to be true..." keeps haunting me, so perhaps my refusal to celebrate, or even believe that I have a job is a defense mechanism to avoid serious disappointment. But IF this is real, and if I can make this job turn into something permanent, I'll be able to continue my ceramics, attend my paralegal schooling full-time, and the big score: PAY MY BILLS!

I report to duty at 9 a.m. I haven't even bothered myself with the "what do I wear" dilemma yet. I'll probably save that for 3 in the morning when I'm tossing and turning and unable to sleep because I'm full of anxiety. At least I know what to expect from myself. And maybe after the paperwork is filled out, maybe then I'll actually be able to say outloud, "I have a JOB!!"

Got My Mind On My Money And My Money On My Mind

I've got my mind on my money, and my money on my mind! Trying to find any and all ways to make sure I can keep my house and my shorts! Thankfully, I'm one of those weird people who almost welcomes pressure... as I seem to work best in "Oh Shit!" mode; so I have somewhat welcomed the challenge.

My Ebay sales are going pretty well. I managed to finally unload my over-priced and under-used scientific calculator I was forced into buying for a statistics class in college! A big score at $25.00 in sales. Another item landed a mere 99 cents... but that pays better than dust, so I'll take it!

My ceramics production is at an all time high, and at this pace, I may very well have twenty pieces completed by the end of the workshop. I've been working with a new design that has gotten many "oohs" and "ahs" from the other artists in the workshop... so I am gambling on the fact that someone would buy them! There is a gift shop upstairs, and a few community art events coming up in Spring... so there is hope to at least recoup the cost of my class, and perhaps even generate a little profit.

There is hope on the horizon for employment! I have a job interview tomorrow afternoon. It is for a business that is in the building phase, so official employment wouldn't likely begin until May or later. Not ideal for someone who desperately needs a steady income, but, the job, if I got it, would be dependable, and recession-proof. I'm a little nervous about it, do to the fact that I know at least 12,000 people have applied for the jobs at this place. That means I really, really, really have to impress! I would kill to have enough money to buy a new suit for the interview, but that's just not going to happen. So I picked through my closet, and tried on every pair of dress pants I own to find the ones that fit the best. I'm still not sold on the top I selected. I'd prefer to wear a button down one, but those weren't looking great to me, so I believe I may go for a classic fit purple sweater. I can already see myself flinging clothes all about the room in a panic... tripping on hangers, sweat beading on my forehead... and probably uttering a swear word or two, moments before I have to leave.

In the morning, I'm going to my friend's grandmother's funeral. Not on the top of the fun-things-to-do list, but, something I feel I should do. He has been a great friend, and very supportive through my own hard times... being there for him during his own difficult time is just the right, and "grown up" thing to do. We have been friends for two years now, but have never been overly serious. We usually spend time speaking absolute jibberish while we flip through books, sipping coffee at Barnes and Noble. Laughing at our own intentional stupidity is our usual M.O. Sharing such an emotional time with him will add a new dynamic to our friendship. I am not sure that he will cry, but I have never seen him do so. I'm a kind of emotional girl, so if he cries... odds are I will to. And that's okay. I'll just have to be sure and regroup before I head off to my interview in the afternoon.

And with that... I'm off to bed. I've got an early, and long day ahead of me...

Good Deed #10 Pictures of You

My contact with my "dad" has been a little sparse since I finally decided to allow him a little forgiveness and explore the other half of me that had remained so mysterious throughout my life. Apparently he had to replace his computer and that led to his gap in correspondence.

Letting my dad in my life wasn't an easy decision. He and my mother split when I was just under two years old, so I have no memory of being a "family." And I'm not so sure that we ever actually were one. During my childhood, I saw him just a few times... the last being when I was all of eight years old and in the third grade. I only recall one Christmas present, and one birthday present when I was very young, and a couple phone calls when I was 18. Not only was he physically absent, he was financially aloof as well. He never paid my mother a dime in child support. These days fathers can go to prison for that, but back then I guess it didn't seem important to the courts.

When my mother went through cancer in my early 20's, I recall being very bitter towards my father. I was looking for something to blame for her illness and had decided that maybe if he paid child support, maybe if he provided any kind of support... that she wouldn't have gotten sick. And boy was I going to be pissed at God if he took my mother, who loved and supported me as best she could, and allowed my father the blessing of life. He hadn't earned it, in my young opinion.

But time has marched on, and as I have made my own mistakes, I have realized that we are all capable of blunders in life. I realized that my dad certainly wasn't a superhero, and was in fact, simply a human too. All of the years of being swept under the rug had to have taken a toll on him... it had on me... and my brother as well. In fact, when my brother and I spoke the other night, he said, "I just don't get it. Here I have spent all of this time with my paternal grandmother; I have even lived with her, and she never once mentions my father." I'm not sure that we will ever confront my grandmother about the unhealthy silence she has guarded so stealthily for over 30 years. She's 87. Do I really want to unleash the painful beast and risk killing her with guilt that she may already feel? This is what silence does. It corrodes your soul. It leaves you in a state of perplexity.

Despite swearing my father off in my early 20's... and deciding that only a lump sum of back child support paid to my mother would allow him the right to ever "know" me, I now have an open mind, and heart. In his last message he asked for a photograph of me. I can't really explain why, but sending him a photograph of me seemed so very serious. Visions of him "seeing" me for the first time in 29 years conjures up very raw emotion. Will he cry? Will he be proud? Will he be able to still see the curious and happy little girl's face that he once knew?

It took me three days to finally send a picture. And although the resentments have been won over by a healthy mission to truly understand who I am and where I came from, a small part of me is understandibly hesitant to allow myself such a vulnerability. Somebody might get hurt from this. My grandmother. My mother. My father. Myself. However, I just can't be convinced that enabling this bizarre denial of my father... of half of me isn't more destructive.

I decided to send him a picture of me in my cap and gown on graduation day. A classic choice for a "parent." How he will respond, I do not know. Part of me wishes I could secretly be there to see his reaction, but I'm sure he will send some sort of response. I found out he is living in a nearby state, and because my brother is now unemployed and has time on his hands, I'm considering suggesting a trip to meet him by train. I can tell my brother doesn't like the secrecy either, and because my father is in his 70's, opportunities to meet him aren't going to be ample and endless. I don't care to have more regret in my life... and I'm strong enough to handle whatever end this story may bring.

Good Deed #9 Head Hunter

Earlier this afternoon, I was passing the time playing a game of Scrabble. Since I finally broke my 500 point mark, TWICE, I find myself that much more obsessed with maximizing my score. Needless to say, I'm not up for idle chit chat in the side screen, but today a fellow Michigander and I wound up as opponents. It's crazy to think that out of the some 14,000 in the world people playing Scrabble, my opponent happened to reside in a city that is only 45 minutes away. And guess what? She's unemployed too!

Competition for jobs here is beyond tough. The state boasts 1 out of 10 are unemployed, and some counties are even higher... 2 out of 10. It is tempting to keep job leads to yourself, but if I'm looking at the bigger picture, I want any and everyone to survive. Somebody has to pay taxes to keep assistance programs afloat! So instead of keeping my job hunting sites to myself, I decided to share the best performing, yet somehow not so well known, site with her.

"Thanks a lot" she typed.

"You're very welcome. I know how tough it is. So I try to help whenever I can... try and save SOMEBODY!" I replied.

When there isn't much tangible hope out there, you start banking on Karma. Now if I can just convince my utility companies to accept that currency, I'll be as good as gold!

FIRE SALE!

In my quest to survive being jobless and broke in a faltering economy, I have begun hocking my unused belongings on Ebay. Over the past 5 years, I have tried to maintain a minimalist existence, but somehow, a few random things have managed to remain in my possession. Most of them have been sitting in boxes at my mother's house, waiting for someone to want them, and my mother likely waiting for me to find them a new home.

Going through unorganized boxes of "junk" isn't most people's idea of a good time, but, I've found it to be like a fun little treasure hunt! When I had moved back to my mother's temporarily inbetween places a few years ago, I hastily shoved all sorts of things into boxes: old mail, things I wanted to keep, and stuff I didn't want anymore. Considering we are in the age of "identity theft," getting papers with personal information in the right place is rather important, and generating income from things I don't need can only help my quest for survival... so it's worth the effort. And since I'm hoping to land a job from one or both of my upcoming interviews, now is the time to have my very own "fire sale."

My first listings were made last week and will end tomorrow night. I'm happy to report that I just got my first bid on an item... a whopping 99 cents! This particular item does have two "watchers" so I am hoping the auction action heats up over the next 20 hours. Selling things on Ebay is very similar to playing the slots at the casino. You put a little money in, hit a few buttons, and hope for a "jackpot!" What makes it even more exciting is the uncertainty of what items will sell. I have found that the things I didn't expect people to buy landed me the most cash. My most lucrative sale back in 2005 was a "Dukes of Hazard" Colorform set originally purchased at a garage sale in the 80's for 50 cents. It sold on Ebay for $25! Hell of a profit margin!

I'm not expecting to make enough money off of my "junk" on Ebay to live off of, although that would definitely be pretty damn nice! I'm just facing the hard cold fact that in four weeks, I'll be out of cash, and the bills will still be sitting in my mailbox wondering how they will get paid. If you would have asked me how long I thought I could survive being unemployed financially when this whole fiasco began last April... I would have said "a couple months." But, here I am, semi-triumphantly still afloat, some nine months later. Creativity, a good sense of humor, and desperate determination have been the keys to my survival... and fuel my "damned if I'm givin' up now" attitude. For anyone else who is experiencing the "joy" of being unemployed... let me honestly say that if you don't give up, you can and will get through it!

OMG

Oh...
My...
God!

I have TWO interviews next week! Tuesday and Wednesday! One job I actually think they are going to offer me right then and there! It is a temporary part-time job, but, it's a JOB, and it's with a non-profit organization! The people I have been working with (volunteering) there are all about me finding work. Very supportive and kind.

Why does this have me excited enough to use teenage text lingo? Because the money is running out in just a couple weeks! My tax return will hold me over, but not for long. Most of you know that supporting yourself and a household tends to cost a little more (a lot more) than $900 a month... and being held captive in your own financial prison sucks!

Paranormal States

I had good intentions of going to bed early last night, but I got an unexpected phone call from my brother. He recently joined the ranks of the unemployed, and since I have become a near expert in the "field," we spent the majority of our time on the phone discussing the "do's" and "don'ts." Hopefully he will be able to escape the web of misinformation I so often found myself tangled in, and skip the feelings of hopelessness and despair that sometimes kept me up all night.

Once I finally made it to my bedroom, I stumbled upon an episode of "Paranormal State." AHHHHH! I strangely enjoy that show. I love how the episodes I watch are always on around 2 a.m., during their typical "dead time" in which the show's researchers feel paranormal activity is at its peak. I also enjoy the spooky vibe my basement door mysteriously acquires when I sneak pass it on my way to the bathroom... during commercial breaks. My personal views regarding the existence of good or evil spirits is somewhere in the middle. I'm not convinced either way. But just as a kid at summer camp enjoys a good fireside ghost story... I kind of like the spook factor watching shows like that gives me.

Staying up to watchback-to-back episodes of the show led to my own paranormal state. Just a few days ago, I was a normal person in training, and found myself almost on a normal schedule. Not only was I awake during "dead time," I had stayed up past dead time! I wonder what the time after dead time is called? Super dead time? Deadly dead time? Dead as a doornail dead time?

Needless to say, I got a later than normal start to my morning. Breakfast was more appropriately called brunch, and my energy level seemed to be lower than my thermostat. Like the ghosts in the show... I was just floating around, sometimes unnoticably. Sometimes I could see myself doing something, and sometimes I couldn't. Chances of getting things done today were fading.

But once I had gotten home, my phone started ringing off the hook. Wait? Can we say that anymore in the land of cell phones? Anyway, in a fifteen minute span, I had scheduled the move of that rental property's runner-up tenant, returned a phone call for a potential part-time job interview next Wednesday, and retrieved a message for another job I sent my resume into just a few days ago. Having to literally move forward to walk to the calender to write down my upcoming activites encouraged me to move forward on some other things; like getting my taxes done.

Getting my taxes done was a big debate. I don't have much money, so I couldn't spend a lot to get them done, but I also couldn't afford to have some bozo do them incorrectly and leave me with less of a return. Due to the fact that in about four weeks my money runs out, I also could not afford to waste time taking care of this. So I got on TurboTax and did them myself. I'm not sure that my tax preparation was bozo-proof, but I made my way through, and e-filed my returns with the direct deposit option; for less money than I spent last year to have someone else prepare them for me. Now the big question is: what do I do with the money?

My existence is pretty paranormal right now. I'm supposed to start paralegal training, but I don't yet know when. I may have a job, but it's temporary, and part-time. I have a little money, but that's about to run out. There is a slim chance that that may change, but I have no concrete information stating so. I basically have no idea what the future holds. So how do I prepare for it?

My instinct is to save it for the worse (and likely) case scenario of not having a job and not a dime in the bank. My other option would be to pay off my small, but still interest accruing, credit card debt and then bank the rest, but I may need that money! Currently, I have a few things listed on Ebay, and I plan to apply any money those sales generate to pay off my credit debt. But should I be banking that too and just continue paying the minimum payments? Not only is my own future uncertain, the future of the state I live in, as well as the entire country is uncertain! If I were a financial genius, I would have retired years ago, and none of this would be an issue!

I guess I'll just have to be patient. I've been patient, or kinda patient, for the last nine months... what's another month, six months... year? Right?

Good Deed #8 Squirrel Rescue

I was on my way to my ceramics class... changing the station on the radio, when... I literally caught the tail-end of a grey squirrel headed under my car. Without considering the potential risks to my own safety, I instantly slammed on the brakes.

How I did not kill that squirrel is beyond my comprehension! He had to have gotten an up-close view of my tire treads and a lung full of exhaust. Right as the guilt of committing murder was starting to settle in, I saw the squirrel dive across the curb to safety!

Saving this squirrel's life was important for two reasons: I'm like Snow White when it comes to animals, and grey squirrels are actually rather rare here. In fact, about ten years ago, a man had written a letter to the editor of our local newspaper and blamed whoever brought black squirrels to the area for the demise of the local grey squirrel population. After reading that, I made a point to look for grey squirrels when I was outside. I didn't see a single one for a several years! And since becoming aware of this issue, I have only seen about a half dozen.

Not only would the squirrel have died, I would have died. I won't even kill a spider. I kindly let them outside to explore the natural world that they were intended to live in. If I would have killed that squirrel, I guarantee you that I would have cried... within 30 seconds, and I would have carried some guilt about it for quite some time. So I suppose the squirrel should get credit for a good deed as well. Had he not been capable of leaping like a gazelle escaping the jaws of a hungry lion, I would have gone into a temporary depression, and been psychologically damaged by the vision of his squirrel parts splattered on the pavement.

Just Another Manic Monday

What a Monday! Most people hate Mondays. I personally have never been one to discriminate... and usually love (or hate) all days equally. But, this Monday has been fantastic!

I felt well rested when I woke up.

I had time for a workout, breakfast and coffee before I left.

I miraculously missed hitting a cute little grey squirrel and didn't get whiplash from the sudden slamming of the brakes.

Two of my ceramics pieces turned out fucking amazing!

My remaining tax documents arrived in the mail.

I got a message about a potential job!

Met my goal of 500 or higher in Scrabble! (Yes, I am fully aware that I am a nerd.)

Two people are already watching an item I have listed on Ebay.

And... I'm not starving to death, freezing to death (although without 3 layers of clothes I would be), dying, or being foreclosed on, and I have some absolutely fabulous friends. (Thanks friends!)

Saving Mona. Mona Saving.

I have been pinching the few pennies I have left throughout my own economic crisis, but since the coldest winter on record made higher utility bills inevitable, I've had to get a little more creative.

Thankfully, I grew up poor. When you grow up poor, you learn to be resourceful. I've never been one to waste things, but even the most frugal can find new ways to save money. Not only is money "tight" right now, I'm still very unsure of when it will run out. So, my goal to save money has now become an obsession! Saving money, is saving me. Hopefully!

Yesterday, I went to my mother's house to grab a few boxes of my stuff. I swore I would never be the kid who left a bunch of junk at their mother's house, but, I did. Not a bunch, and definitely not as much as my brother did, but I still left things behind. Getting everything out has been on my to-do list for over a year. I'd like to say that I went there solely to do the right thing and take care of what I left behind, but I had an ulterior motive: selling off my things on Ebay.

Even though I don't have any really "big ticket" items, I do have things that I certainly don't need, that are of some value. Selling it on Ebay will generate some income (hopefully) and get that junk out of my life for good! My plan is to use any and all Ebay earnings only to pay bills. I have about $650 in credit card bills that will be the recipient of my Ebay "fortune." Saving me money in interest, and additional financial worry.

My second new money saving idea won't be easy for me. I am now only using half of a fabric softener sheet in the dryer. I'm a self-confessed fabric softener sheets-that-smell-good junkie! I alway use liquid fabric softener and dryer sheets... and for my bedding, I use two! These savings aren't going to prevent me from going into foreclosure, or allow me to spend an extra ten bucks on groceries, but it will make my box of dryer sheets last a little longer than usual. Although I have only done a few loads of laundry since the literal cutback, I haven't had any tragic static incidences, or found that my clothes are so stiff that they cause bloody abrasions... so I may just make this a permanent change.

That's about as sexy and exciting as it gets around here! I still haven't adjusted to having things to do and had forgotten about ceramics class times until tonight. So counting those, and my Saturday watching Chester, I have THREE obligations for this week so far. Woah! I'm not sure I can handle it!