Almostgotit.com

Creative Commons image by Mpopp

Sometimes people come across my older posts and leave comments, which my regular readers then miss. I didn’t want you to miss this one, though.

Tanya wrote:

What if you moved to another city for your husband, ended up unemployed for 2 years, and 2 of the most potentially productive and career-making years of your life (under 30, no kids)? After you had already had to give up a very promising and well-paid job in another city? And now you realize you will never have a really cool job and kids at the same time? And you are too old with too much of a broken resume to ever apply to and get into a top business school, which you have only come to realize is essential to having transferrable job skills that people actually want to hire? How do you get over that?

Tanya’s comment hit me in the gut, and I don’t want to minimize her obvious pain in any way.  She and I have had a whole lot of experiences (and feelings!) in common*, and I don’t have any easy answers for her. 

((Except that it sounds like I’m even older, have an even worse resume, so quite possibly am even more screwed! ))

Tanya sounds pretty upset.  And pissed off, too.  The last thing I’d suggest is that she “get over it.”  Being upset isn’t wrong, because it tells you something IS wrong. You can’t just ”get over” it: you can only use it.  Anger is very powerful, and while it can destroy you, it can also give you enormous strength to do important and difficult things. 

I wonder who, or what, is telling Tanya she’s too old and too broken and can’t even APPLY to business school?  Or that people will only hire her if she does something she’s already told herself is impossible?  Those are the sorts of thing our wicked inner toad people tell us.  That’s a load of garbage.  And it hurts us very much to swallow it. 

What’s worked for me? Personal and marital counselling, talking to people who are experts in job re-entry, talking to people who know how to make my resume better, taking care of myself even when I don’t want to.

Being with supportive friends is the MOST important, studies now show… even better than exercise!

So, Tanya, what are you doing to be nice to yourself?

——————-
* I am re-activating this angry post especially for Tanya.  I’d de-activated it because it’s not me at my most attractive, and I really do like men.  But sometimes, Damitol, living with them just makes me MAD.

Should you take rejection personally?  Good Lord, of course you should. You are a person, after all.

What else are you going to do, take it like a llama?

(1) Resiliance is not a moral virtue.

The amount of resilience you have is more like a hair color: It’s something you’re born with, unless you change it with chemicals.

Don’t listen when people tell you to get over it, move on, and let go. What the hell do they know? Feel what you feel. Discontent and anger are not defects, they are human. They are also very powerful tools for change, if you use them right.

(2) Success is not a moral virtue either

Success often is more like the lottery. Some people win the first time they buy a ticket, and try to convince the rest of us that winning only happens to people who believe in themselves with their whole entire hearts; other people win the lottery after buying 100 tickets, and then spend their lives urging the rest of us to keep on buying lottery tickets until it works for us, too.

The only logical conclusion to this line of thought is that people are starving in Africa  because they deserve it.  We need to stop equating vocational (and economical) success with personal virtue.

(3) … Nor does success  inevitably follow upon hard work or persistence

We also need to stop telling people that hard work and persistence will inevitably lead to vocational success. Hard work may increase the mathematical odds of success, sure, but there are no guarantees.

How unfortunate it is that we keep insisting that success comes from good character and hard work.  The American mobility myth is astonishingly persistent, despite many recent (and bipartisan) studies that debunk it.

The good news? You can stop beating yourself up, now. Being unsuccessful is not a character flaw, and there is nothing wrong with you.  Nor is there anything wrong with embracing your own experience for what it is, and moving through and past it your own way, too.   I’m sorry I can’t tell you how to succeed, nor even guarantee that you will. But on behalf of the rest of the world, please let me say: we need you just the way you are.

—————
Update:  Yesterday our local paper posted excerpts of my entry about the Knoxville shooting in several places on their website.  For a few hours it was Google City around here.  Therefore, I’d already written today’s entry when I was pinged by this article about anger, written by a licensed therapist, who took my point and ran with it quite beautifully.  So now you have it from a real expert!

Blogging may have to take a back seat again this week.

A friend of ours (I’ll call her “Joy”) died very suddenly yesterday morning. The married mother of 9-year-old “Phillip,” she was the parent with the steady income and the health insurance plan.

The family had many plans for the future, but this scenario wasn’t one of them. There was no will, few financial reserves, and though Joy’s husband “Andy” is a shrewd businessman in his own right, this hit him as an absolute broadside.

All he can do right now is weep or look stunned. And whatever he has left, his son needs it all.

Meanwhile, the rest of us are stunned too, and trying to put together the beginnings of what to do next for someone whose spouse suddenly dies.

Yesterday, amidst the busiest weekend of the church year, finding an available priest for the family was my first emergency. Today, between holiday celebrations, we’ve been arranging a funeral.

Everybody dies. And there are basic “death checklists” that virtually everyone will deal with at some point, given our universal mortality.

Most of these checklists assume a person is older, however, and without quite so many entanglements.

Where are all the other answers? (oh, help!)

And where’s the universal genius who’s supposed to be in charge of all of this, anyway?

Someone needs to reassure and manage Andy’s clients until he can do so again himself. Since Andy taught me much of what I know about webpage management, some of this may fall on me.

Andy and Phillip also need financial advice, legal advice, and health insurance. They need money and childcare and household management plans and community support. They need everything.

Nor are these homeless people, or hermits. They have friends, relatives and co-workers. They are “plugged in.” And we, the family’s network, are doing what we can.

What strikes me is how stupid, and helpless, we all still are.

Most of all, though, I vacillate between wanting to weep and wanting to yell, because God Damn it, Easter or no, this is all wrong, and Phillip needs his mother!

Photo by Goldring (Creative Commons)

A friend of mine lives in the country, and her old farmhouse is surrounded by acres of trees, which on summer nights are  full of  twinkling fireflies.  Before she built a deck off her 2nd floor bedroom, we used to climb out her bedroom window to sit on the porch roof with a bottle of wine just to watch them.

We went there on Friday.   Some of us picked blackberries while others made pies, barbequed, and laid out dozens of salads.  The house was full of people, as were both porches and the yard.  The people were mostly writers, lawyers for special causes, and other passionate folk who seem to love what they do. 

It was marvelous, like drinking limoncello straight from the bottle. 

I especially enjoyed joining the upstairs-porch crew of wonderfully-eccentric, uncensored, pissed-off women.   I came in just as a woman wearing a pink cowboy hat with sequins was half-way through an animated story about dog-poop, jerks who steal parking spaces, and other perils of downtown living. 

I didn’t catch half their names,  but it was a total trip listening to women who get even more irate about things than I do, have no interest in being reasonable, and would frankly make very alarming neighbors.

And who Just. Don’t. Care.

All of these wonderful, firefly people have something I want, and these women in particular were living something like my own suppressed female “id”,  with no apologies whatsoever. 

To be honest, it was very refreshing. 

I suspect that I too would love to tell someone that if their dog craps in my yard just ONE MORE TIME, I’m going to get out my gun and blow their fucking heads off. 

In my universe, though,  I’d just get sent to jail!!

— 
Don’t miss the cool firefly links, at right!

Bloggers.  Can’t live with them, can’t shoot them.  (Warning: grumpy post)

If a blog isn’t about the latest browser plug-in, it’s about Paris Hilton (did you know they just let her out of jail?  Something medical, apparently.)  If a blog’s not about either of these things, it’s about someone’s damn book tour.

Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to be going on a book tour.  But if that time ever comes in my life, would someone please remind me not to be so breezily “as-if” about it, e.g.,  as if everyone else reading my blog is either a fellow book-tour-er or else a no-life, craven fan?  How about a little humility and gratitude?  I mean, allowing for the fact that blogging is already such an exhibitionist and self-indulgent exercise.

Here’s what we need:

New Medications for Women, Bloggers, Women Bloggers, and Paris Hilton

The Food and Drug Administration has just announced the following drugs have been released for trial in the US. These new medications are available only by prescription.

• D A M I T O L
  Take 2 and the rest of the world can go to hell for up to 8 hours.
• ST. M O M ‘ S W O R T
  Plant extract that treats mom’s depression by rendering preschoolers unconscious for up to six hours.
• E M P T Y N E S T R O G E N
  Highly effective suppository that eliminates melancholy by enhancing the memory of how awful they were as teenagers and how you couldn’t wait till they moved out.
• P E P T O B I M B O
  Liquid silicone for single women. Two full cups swallowed before an evening out increases breast size, decreases intelligence, and improves flirting.
• D U M E R O L
  When taken with Peptobimbo, can cause dangerously low I.Q. causing enjoyment of country western music.
• F L I P I T O R
  Increases life expectancy of commuters by controlling road rage and the urge to flip off other drivers.
• M E N I C I L L I N
  Potent antiboyotic for older women. Increases resistance to such lines as, “You make me want to be a better person … can we get naked now?”
• B U Y A G R A
  Injectable stimulant taken prior to shopping. Increases potency and duration of spending spree.
• Extra Strength B U Y-O N E-A L
  When combined with Buyagra, can cause an indiscriminate buying frenzy so severe the victim may even come home with a Donnie Osmond CD or a book by Dr. Laura.
• J A C K A S S P I R I N
  Relieves headache caused by a man who can’t remember your birthday, anniversary or phone number.
• A N T I-T A L K S I D E N T A
  spray carried in a purse or wallet to be used on anyone too eager to share their life stories with total strangers.
• S E X C E D R I N
  More effective than Excedrin in treating the, “Not now, dear, I have a headache,” syndrome.
• R A G A M E T
  When administered to a husband, provides the same irritation as ragging on him all weekend, saving the wife the time and trouble of doing it herself.

– Derived from something I saw posted on a coffee shop bulletin board this morning.  With my newfound determination to respect  copyrights, here’s a source but very much doubt it’s the original one — see also here and here)

These are just so exactly perfect.

• As I let go of my feelings of guilt, I am in touch with my inner sociopath.
• I have the power to channel my imagination into ever-soaring levels of suspicion and paranoia.
• I assume full responsibility for my actions, except the ones that are someone else’s fault.
• I no longer need to punish, deceive, or compromise myself, unless I want to stay employed.
• In some cultures what I do would be considered normal.
• Having control over myself is almost as good as having control over others.
• My intuition nearly makes up for my lack of self-judgment.
• I honor my personality flaws for without them I would have no personality at all. Joan of Arc heard voices, too.
• I am grateful that I am not as judgmental as all those censorious, self-righteous people around me.
• I need not suffer in silence while I can still moan, whimper and complain.
• As I learn the innermost secrets of people around me, they reward me in many ways to keep me quiet.
• When someone hurts me, I know that forgiveness is cheaper than a lawsuit, but not nearly as gratifying.
• The first step is to say nice things about myself. The second,to do nice things for myself. The third, to find someone to buy me nice things.
• As I learn to trust the universe, I no longer need to carry a gun.
• All of me is beautiful, even the ugly, stupid and disgusting parts.
• I am at one with my duality.
• Blessed are the flexible, for they can tie themselves into knots.
• Only a lack of imagination saves me from immobilizing myself with imaginary fears.
• I will strive to live each day as if it were my 50th birthday.
• I honor and express all facets of my being, regardless of state and local laws.
• Today I will gladly share my experience and advice, for there are no sweeter words than “I told you so!”
• False hope is better than no hope at all.
• A good scapegoat is almost as good as a solution.
• Just for today, I will not sit in my living room all day in my underwear. Instead, I will move my computer into the bedroom.
• Who can I blame for my problems? Just give me a minute…. I’ll find someone.
• Why should I waste my time reliving the past when I can spend it worrying about the future?
• The complete lack of evidence is the surest sign that the conspiracy is working.
• I am learning that criticism is not nearly as effective as sabotage.
• Becoming aware of my character defects leads me naturally to the next step of blaming my parents.
• To have a successful relationship, I must learn to make it look like I’m giving as much as I’m getting.
• I am willing to make the mistakes if someone else is willing to learn from them.
• Before I criticize a man, I walk a mile in his shoes. That way, if he gets angry, he’s a mile away and barefoot.

Posted several places online, including here.  No attribution given.  Please let me know if you know the original source!

For Tanya

I forget
What I started out to be at twenty-two, or what I wanted, or who I was
But I hadn’t decided yet when he left for Canada.
So a year later I went to Canada too

And lay there on that borrowed couch staring at the ceiling
From August until January,
Finally leaving those two roach-infested rooms
To work for nothing
Because immigration law said I couldn’t work for money
Or go to school either, as it turns out.

So instead I held a Godbaby
in a filthy abandoned storefront
Made into a church, east end of the city
Full of women who stood,
And children who ran around
Except for the boy pounding
Meaningless notes
On an out-of-tune piano
While the women cut eyes over at me.

This white woman
Trying in vain to sing along
As the only man there preached the christening
Telling us all to repent 
Of female sin that made these babies,
(And drove the men off too, apparently.)

I still didn’t know anything
When my own baby came who didn’t sleep
I couldn’t put him down for almost a year.
I cried at night
Because holding a baby meant I didn’t sleep either
And none of our friends had babies
And my support group lived 3000 miles away.

Immigration finally let me get a job,
So first I nursed the baby while I typed. 
Then I left him with his father which was better still
But I always had to rush home
Because that father had to go back to the library and would be angry but worse
Would be frightened if he couldn’t keep at it keep up keep studying keep working.

We moved to Tennessee,
And I kept writing for Canada
Until once at the printers
My 6-year-old pushed the baby’s stroller
down the stairs
And I realized that
“Mothers! You can work at home!”
Is a myth.

A few more cities, 
and suddenly I was forty.

I sure don’t remember
deciding that by forty I’d be done with everything
Unless I was willing to start all over yet again, right at the bottom
No matter how many times I’ve done it already.

I discovered that many employers prefer beginners in their 20’s
Or employees who don’t mind being beginners forever.

I’d like to point out
That without the kind assistance
Of all the men who promised to pull strings,
The guy in New York would have hired me. 
He invited me to visit
Spend time with his artists
Stay in his apartment
Wear New York Black,
Attend all his festivals.

And considering
How old and unwanted I am in this town
I said

“Maybe…”

But get real.

I’m married, with kids. 

I’m not buying any tickets to Manhattan.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch,

They’ve told me
“You’re so talented.” 
“We’d love to see you again.” 
“Excellent presentation.” 
“How soon can you start?” 
“You’ll be hearing from me, first thing Monday.”

But I don’t hear from them.

Not for weeks, I don’t.  Sometimes months.
And when I finally do, it’s been “no” every time. 
Over and over, and I just don’t understand it.

So I freelance a little
Despite the male colleague
who called it “Bitch Work”
And the other
Who asked me to put out his fires 
Without billing for my time.
I billed him anyway, of course,
because I did the work
And he made money because of it.

Another boss called it “gender griping.”

Oh, This Gender is Griping, all right.

They all want the milk
without buying the cow 
And while it’s taken me a while,
I’m tired of breast-feeding so many people
(This is my body, given for you…)

Another torn-up woman had this to say.
There’s no need to buy the whole pig either
When all you want from time to time

Is a little sausage.

—–
Creative Commons images: “Teats” by R Catalano; “Piano” by Gotmikhail; “Fishnets” by Fenchurch;  ”Pig pen” by James Michael Hill; “Stairs” by Compound Eye

“Don’t burn bridges” is good advice.  So is “getting it off your chest.”  I wonder how one manages this balance in a no-longer-anonymous blog without getting in trouble?  (the applicable blogging term is “dooced”..)

That said, my own personal favorite interview “worsts”:

(1) Members of the interview committee arguing with each other, during my interview, about what they need and want, obviously never having agreed on what they want in the new hire.  It was like watching a really horrible ping-pong game…

(2) Having the computer crash during a timed writing test, with no one else around.  After wasting a few minutes trying to fix it, I wasted several more minutes wandering around the offices looking for someone else who could.  I then asked if having the computer crash was part of the test.  It wasn’t… but for making them laugh, I not only got more time, but was called back for another round of interviews. 

Amounting, alas, to naught…

(3) Being promised a job and then finding it had gone to someone else.  After two sets of interviews, for two separate jobs at The Institution That Shall Not be Named, each of two over-enthusiastic unit directors virtually offered me the job, though later (quite a bit later!) I found out the formal offer had gone to someone else.

Nor does this include

(4) The broken verbal promise of a full-time, salaried position  in yet another part of the same Institution, this time made to me by the Institute’s absolute top guy – which was rescinded 7 months later as “never having been,” but only after they’d also got 7 more months of virtually free labor out of me. (Moral:  ALWAYS get it in writing!!!!!!)