Especially compared to Florida. Hot, sticky, Republican, over-crowded, strip-malled, big-bugged (and how) Florida.
The family part of this trip was uneventful, thank goddess. They all seemed to be on their best behavior, which was good (who cares what they say after we go home?). It was a hoot to see an alligator floating in the water with just his bumpy head and snout sticking out, just like in the comics. It was also wonderful to see egrets and pelicans and a number of birds I couldn't pick out of a lineup, but were cool nonetheless.
It wasn't cool to see so many Bush-Cheney bumperstickers. It wasn't cool to drive on four-lane highways that seemed to be crowded all the time. It wasn't cool to have no access to organic fruits or vegetables. (It also wasn't cool to come home to a rejection letter, but I digress.)
But otherwise, it was a very successful trip. We came, we saw, we got the hell outta there before state officials found out big dykes were in town.
Altogether now: Whew!
Monday, June 13, 2005
Thursday, June 09, 2005
At least that went well...
Went to the temp agency this morning, and it wasn't the huge exercise in futility I had feared. While there aren't a lot of temp gigs around, there are enough to have some hope of something, and perhaps with an organization that has other jobs I may be able to weasel--uh, work--my way into eventually. One never knows.
Plus, I did well on the software tests they gave me and they already called my references (who said the rep sounded impressed with me), which makes me unreasonably happy (I needed a little ego boost, pathetic or not, okay?).
Must get back to the "vacation" prep--happy weekend to you!
Plus, I did well on the software tests they gave me and they already called my references (who said the rep sounded impressed with me), which makes me unreasonably happy (I needed a little ego boost, pathetic or not, okay?).
Must get back to the "vacation" prep--happy weekend to you!
It's all practice, right?
Am heading off to a local temp agency this morning, to see what, if anything, this gal can do while she waits for the employers of the world to wake up to the fact that Ann Podolske is available. (That's today's line, and I'm sticking to it.)
I've done temp work in-between real jobs before, and find it helpful to be doing something each day instead of waiting for the phone to ring/e-mail to appear. Besides, I think making a little money would help keep the financial insecurity goblins at bay.
Problem is, the rep I spoke to said that her agency, like most in the area, is primarily a temp-to-hire agency, meaning they don't do so much in the way of temp work as in permanent placements.
If they placed writers/editors, that wouldn't be bad, but they place a lot of administrative/secretarial type folks, and while my mother did that kind of work for a large part of her life, I am not interested in maintaining her tradition of doing work that doesn't pay/challenge just for security's sake. She's the Child of the Depression, not me.
(At least that's today's line, and I'm sticking to it.)
Of course, if the employers of the world realize I'm available and still do nothing to procure my fabulous self (okay, I don't boast, but I just got three letters of recommendations from former colleagues and am basking in their high opinion of me--it'll pass, believe me), then I'll consider following in Mother's footsteps.
Best go get in my corporate drag du jour....
I've done temp work in-between real jobs before, and find it helpful to be doing something each day instead of waiting for the phone to ring/e-mail to appear. Besides, I think making a little money would help keep the financial insecurity goblins at bay.
Problem is, the rep I spoke to said that her agency, like most in the area, is primarily a temp-to-hire agency, meaning they don't do so much in the way of temp work as in permanent placements.
If they placed writers/editors, that wouldn't be bad, but they place a lot of administrative/secretarial type folks, and while my mother did that kind of work for a large part of her life, I am not interested in maintaining her tradition of doing work that doesn't pay/challenge just for security's sake. She's the Child of the Depression, not me.
(At least that's today's line, and I'm sticking to it.)
Of course, if the employers of the world realize I'm available and still do nothing to procure my fabulous self (okay, I don't boast, but I just got three letters of recommendations from former colleagues and am basking in their high opinion of me--it'll pass, believe me), then I'll consider following in Mother's footsteps.
Best go get in my corporate drag du jour....
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Forty and counting....
Yes, sirree, I have 40 resumes out in circulation. Almost as many resumes as I have years on this earth, but am trying not to dwell.
And the response? Well, as I've noted already, not exactly encouraging.
Did revise my resume for each of the jobs I applied for this week, just to see if using a standard resume was working against me. Am also going to meet with a friend who works at a local college next week, to see what the possibilities are there. (As well as to get a sense of what salaries are like, not to mention the working environment and so on--there's one very expensive school in the area that's infamous fo paying absolute peanuts, so you can't be too careful.)
Yes, I'm networking. In a very low-key way. Low key in that I'm only "networking" (I call it "talking") with people I like.
Otherwise, I'm also trying to get geared up to clean the house. My inner hausfrau isn't exactly jumping up and shouting, "Let's go!" so it's been a struggle. It has to be done, however, for we're leaving the house and the herd to a petsitter this weekend, and I don't want her to think us complete slobs. (We can be, but we also have some pride.)
That we're heading down to Florida this weekend to visit Linda's parents is not exactly thrilling. But, if Linda can go to two funerals in Wisconsin in the dead of winter, I can head down to Florida during hurricane season. Right?
Boy, this is boring even me. Time to clean!
And the response? Well, as I've noted already, not exactly encouraging.
Did revise my resume for each of the jobs I applied for this week, just to see if using a standard resume was working against me. Am also going to meet with a friend who works at a local college next week, to see what the possibilities are there. (As well as to get a sense of what salaries are like, not to mention the working environment and so on--there's one very expensive school in the area that's infamous fo paying absolute peanuts, so you can't be too careful.)
Yes, I'm networking. In a very low-key way. Low key in that I'm only "networking" (I call it "talking") with people I like.
Otherwise, I'm also trying to get geared up to clean the house. My inner hausfrau isn't exactly jumping up and shouting, "Let's go!" so it's been a struggle. It has to be done, however, for we're leaving the house and the herd to a petsitter this weekend, and I don't want her to think us complete slobs. (We can be, but we also have some pride.)
That we're heading down to Florida this weekend to visit Linda's parents is not exactly thrilling. But, if Linda can go to two funerals in Wisconsin in the dead of winter, I can head down to Florida during hurricane season. Right?
Boy, this is boring even me. Time to clean!
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Anybody home?
I'm beginning to wonder if something is happening to my resumes/cover letters as they wend their way to prospective employers. Is "Dear Mr. [Hiring Manager's Name]" somehow being revised to read "Dear Mr. Snub-Nosed Sea Pig"?
Or is my list of particulars being similarly morphed into insults to myself or others? Does my ability to "conceive, edit, and write a broad array of management publications" become my ability to "fabricate, obfuscate, plagiarize, and toss together cheesy, useless products that nobody reads"?
What else could be going on here? My goddess, I have serious skills, people, and they're being ignored on a tragic (for me) scale.
Linda is sensing my despair. She sent me an e-mail today telling me basically to visualize a successful job hunt, as opposed to what I have been doing: Visualizing my descent into abject poverty. So here goes:
"I am sitting at my desk, looking at so many great job offers that I don't know which one to take. The reason being they are all great. Of course, I'll easily choose the one that is best for me.
"I am working with great colleagues and for a boss I really enjoy and with whom I like to work. I am doing work I love and am paid a salary that is beyond my wildest dreams. And I have a very short commute to and from work."
That about covers it, eh? Let's see if this helps....
Or is my list of particulars being similarly morphed into insults to myself or others? Does my ability to "conceive, edit, and write a broad array of management publications" become my ability to "fabricate, obfuscate, plagiarize, and toss together cheesy, useless products that nobody reads"?
What else could be going on here? My goddess, I have serious skills, people, and they're being ignored on a tragic (for me) scale.
Linda is sensing my despair. She sent me an e-mail today telling me basically to visualize a successful job hunt, as opposed to what I have been doing: Visualizing my descent into abject poverty. So here goes:
"I am sitting at my desk, looking at so many great job offers that I don't know which one to take. The reason being they are all great. Of course, I'll easily choose the one that is best for me.
"I am working with great colleagues and for a boss I really enjoy and with whom I like to work. I am doing work I love and am paid a salary that is beyond my wildest dreams. And I have a very short commute to and from work."
That about covers it, eh? Let's see if this helps....
Monday, June 06, 2005
Them that has, get....
I have to catch up with my bills AND clean the house--doesn't today, Monday, seem the perfect day for such things?
Not that I've done anything yet, mind you. Had to apply for a job that leapt out at me on this morning's e-mail first. It's at Harvard, so of course all of my state-school insecurities have been having a field day. Morning. I know, I know--I should really worry more about all of the brain cells I murdered while at that state school, rather than the school itself (which is a fine institution and I shouldn't be ashamed of it; my behavior while there, well that's another story....).
And I'm all better now (and, God willing, will remain so), so why worry?
No, I haven't a snowball's chance with that job, so why torture myself. It just seemed so perfect--it entailed research on business solutions to global poverty. Yes, I could apply all this business expertise I've been amassing all these many years to a humanitarian issue.
Humanitarianism and writing/research: Does it get much better than that??
Well, no, it doesn't. So I applied, even though I realize a job like that will likely draw 1,000s of resumes and while I am qualified, I got a report on my resume that this morning that said it stunk.
Problem is, it was also attached to an offer to "fix" said resume for $75.
I'm afraid I don't find that a Kosher combination, so am sticking with my stinky resume for now.
On other fronts, I spent part of the morning stewing about something I read in The Berkshire Eagle over breakfast. It was a front-page article on how Nantucket is becoming an island equivalent of a gated community for the super-nouveau riche of our age. What really got me was a quote from the guy who made his $500 million fortune from Yankee Candle (whose name I've forgotten in the hopes that it will vanish along with his story). He wasn't surprised that Nantucket was filling up with rich folks like himself, for "successful people like to be with successful people." Besides, there he can have a "nice" bottle of wine without having to worry about it, citing the fact that he could spend $300 for said bottle of wine while the guy at the next table would likely spend $400.
So, these birds of a feather flock together so they can indulge themselves in peace, basically. No poor or even middle-class people around to ruin their fun. Awaken what's left of their conscience, if any.
While I don't begrudge anyone the occasional indulgence (one look at me, and you'd know I walk that talk), but when indulgence becomes a way of life, I find myself turning away. Doesn't help that another paper carried a headline about the starvation "epidemic" sweeping across Africa.
Problem is, I can't help but thinking about how much food $300 could buy, much less $400.
That's just the way I think, I suppose; learned that at my mother's knee. When she was a little girl (during the Depression, as I may have already told you), she asked her mother why the richest family in town did nothing to help all the people on breadlines. "They didn't get rich thinking that way," she replied.
Guess not. And they sure won't start thinking that way as long as they hide themselves away in swanky island ghettos, will they?
Oh my--now I am in a state. Time to hit the stack of bills on my desk. Woo!
Not that I've done anything yet, mind you. Had to apply for a job that leapt out at me on this morning's e-mail first. It's at Harvard, so of course all of my state-school insecurities have been having a field day. Morning. I know, I know--I should really worry more about all of the brain cells I murdered while at that state school, rather than the school itself (which is a fine institution and I shouldn't be ashamed of it; my behavior while there, well that's another story....).
And I'm all better now (and, God willing, will remain so), so why worry?
No, I haven't a snowball's chance with that job, so why torture myself. It just seemed so perfect--it entailed research on business solutions to global poverty. Yes, I could apply all this business expertise I've been amassing all these many years to a humanitarian issue.
Humanitarianism and writing/research: Does it get much better than that??
Well, no, it doesn't. So I applied, even though I realize a job like that will likely draw 1,000s of resumes and while I am qualified, I got a report on my resume that this morning that said it stunk.
Problem is, it was also attached to an offer to "fix" said resume for $75.
I'm afraid I don't find that a Kosher combination, so am sticking with my stinky resume for now.
On other fronts, I spent part of the morning stewing about something I read in The Berkshire Eagle over breakfast. It was a front-page article on how Nantucket is becoming an island equivalent of a gated community for the super-nouveau riche of our age. What really got me was a quote from the guy who made his $500 million fortune from Yankee Candle (whose name I've forgotten in the hopes that it will vanish along with his story). He wasn't surprised that Nantucket was filling up with rich folks like himself, for "successful people like to be with successful people." Besides, there he can have a "nice" bottle of wine without having to worry about it, citing the fact that he could spend $300 for said bottle of wine while the guy at the next table would likely spend $400.
So, these birds of a feather flock together so they can indulge themselves in peace, basically. No poor or even middle-class people around to ruin their fun. Awaken what's left of their conscience, if any.
While I don't begrudge anyone the occasional indulgence (one look at me, and you'd know I walk that talk), but when indulgence becomes a way of life, I find myself turning away. Doesn't help that another paper carried a headline about the starvation "epidemic" sweeping across Africa.
Problem is, I can't help but thinking about how much food $300 could buy, much less $400.
That's just the way I think, I suppose; learned that at my mother's knee. When she was a little girl (during the Depression, as I may have already told you), she asked her mother why the richest family in town did nothing to help all the people on breadlines. "They didn't get rich thinking that way," she replied.
Guess not. And they sure won't start thinking that way as long as they hide themselves away in swanky island ghettos, will they?
Oh my--now I am in a state. Time to hit the stack of bills on my desk. Woo!
Friday, June 03, 2005
Could my latest editorial nightmare finally be over?
Ahhhh. I finally finished my latest deadline for my soon-to-be-part-time publisher.
This represents the triumph of financial necessity over the desire to tell said publisher to, in so many words, stick it.
I know, I know--the world's full of companies cutting back on employees and I am but one of many being put to pasture. Bahhh! But my mind, without my consent, keeps returning to bone-headed moves said publisher and other top executives made to bring about this sorry state of affairs, and it's made for some disgruntlement.
Okay, a lot of disgruntlement.
It certainly doesn't help that the world isn't beating a path to my door, employment-wise. Fear that I have crossed the line between "well qualified" and "over qualified" somewhere along the way (funny--it seems not that long ago that I was being told I didn't have enough qualifications at all). My, time sure flies.....
But, wouldn't you know, these things take time. I'm an aging enigma wrapped in a connundrum, people, but then again, I don't turn into a pumpkin anytime soon. So, I will keep sending off resumes and cover letters and waiting for the phone to ring. Patiently, of course.
On other fronts, I had a so-so set last night at PACE. It's been a tough week for comic thoughts, and it showed--to me, anyway. Some new stuff re being unemployed went over well, so we're getting a little gold from all of this dross.
Must go tidy up and prepare for the weekend--oh happy Friday!
This represents the triumph of financial necessity over the desire to tell said publisher to, in so many words, stick it.
I know, I know--the world's full of companies cutting back on employees and I am but one of many being put to pasture. Bahhh! But my mind, without my consent, keeps returning to bone-headed moves said publisher and other top executives made to bring about this sorry state of affairs, and it's made for some disgruntlement.
Okay, a lot of disgruntlement.
It certainly doesn't help that the world isn't beating a path to my door, employment-wise. Fear that I have crossed the line between "well qualified" and "over qualified" somewhere along the way (funny--it seems not that long ago that I was being told I didn't have enough qualifications at all). My, time sure flies.....
But, wouldn't you know, these things take time. I'm an aging enigma wrapped in a connundrum, people, but then again, I don't turn into a pumpkin anytime soon. So, I will keep sending off resumes and cover letters and waiting for the phone to ring. Patiently, of course.
On other fronts, I had a so-so set last night at PACE. It's been a tough week for comic thoughts, and it showed--to me, anyway. Some new stuff re being unemployed went over well, so we're getting a little gold from all of this dross.
Must go tidy up and prepare for the weekend--oh happy Friday!
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
The calendar says it best
Today's entry, from the Zen Calendar and Jack Kornfield:
"If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete."
I'm trying.....
"If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete."
I'm trying.....
A dastardly day
Oh my, am I ever out of sorts. Yesterday was a day for the dark side to shine, if indeed darkness can shine, and I am still unhappy about it. Received a terribly testy response to an inquiry to a gatekeeper of a comedy shop, a man who is reputed to be one of the "good ones," which, of course, led me to doubt my comic intentions/abilities and, while we're at it, my entire purpose for being (why stick to just comedy, when one's can call one's entire EXISTENCE into question?).
Then, to make matters worse, I realized that negative feedback had the exact same effect on Rory Gilmore on last night's repeats--my life is playing out like a WB drama, for heaven's sake! (That I also had a similar career-ending experience with a professor when I was an undergraduate wanna-be artist provides no comfort at all, none.)
To add to my dismay, I saw in the paper that one of the big winners of the weekend's soapbox derby is one of the kids who was being screamed at the loudest by his father--and he and his proud (if hoarse) papa got a big, "Ain't we grand?" photo in the paper. And no word of what happened to the girl in the pink cart.
Where is the justice in that?!
Then, I realized that I missed my favorite 12-step meeting (since I was too busy watching my life unfold on "The Gilmore Girls"), and that the PACE comedy open mic is this Thursday--tomorrow night! The problem? This means it has been a month--a month--since the last show, the show I missed because I had a job interview the next day.
And, of course, I haven't had a job interview since.
What is the matter with me?! Quite a lot, apparently.
This Chinese proverb, from Monday's Zen Calendar, offers a tad of solace:
"To be uncertain is to be uncomfortable, but to be certain is to be ridiculous."
Well, then--at least I'm not ridiculous. There's hope for me yet!
Then, to make matters worse, I realized that negative feedback had the exact same effect on Rory Gilmore on last night's repeats--my life is playing out like a WB drama, for heaven's sake! (That I also had a similar career-ending experience with a professor when I was an undergraduate wanna-be artist provides no comfort at all, none.)
To add to my dismay, I saw in the paper that one of the big winners of the weekend's soapbox derby is one of the kids who was being screamed at the loudest by his father--and he and his proud (if hoarse) papa got a big, "Ain't we grand?" photo in the paper. And no word of what happened to the girl in the pink cart.
Where is the justice in that?!
Then, I realized that I missed my favorite 12-step meeting (since I was too busy watching my life unfold on "The Gilmore Girls"), and that the PACE comedy open mic is this Thursday--tomorrow night! The problem? This means it has been a month--a month--since the last show, the show I missed because I had a job interview the next day.
And, of course, I haven't had a job interview since.
What is the matter with me?! Quite a lot, apparently.
This Chinese proverb, from Monday's Zen Calendar, offers a tad of solace:
"To be uncertain is to be uncomfortable, but to be certain is to be ridiculous."
Well, then--at least I'm not ridiculous. There's hope for me yet!
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
The usual emotional rollercoaster
Memorial Day, as usual, was fraught. Found myself tearing up at the aged WWII vets, my typical practice when confronted with anyone who looks like my dear departed father. The guy wearing the three-sizes-too large shirt really got me--my dad wore shirts that fit him 60 pounds ago till the end of his life. Was he frugal or in denial?
Trust me--he was in denial. Mother cornered the frugality market in our household. The Great Depression was a cataclysmic event for her--she went from relative luxury (well, Midwestern Calvinist style--still wearing a hairshirt, but it was of wonderful quality) to relative penury overnight. Made her distrust money almost as much as Republicans.
Dad's working-class family likely didn't see any change in their fortunes, Depression or no Depression--they muddled along on the same barely-making-it strata their entire working lives. As a result, Mother worried about money, Dad's experience taught him that no matter what crunch they found themselves in, it would somehow work out. To say they had different money styles would be, as the old saying goes, a "masterpiece of understatement."
As it turns out, Dad was right. Something to remember these soon-to-be jobless days of 2005.
While we're talking tears, I also cried when the marching band went by--I'm a former band geek, and there's something about a line of clarinets (one of my former instruments) that chokes me up almost as much as the WWII vets. Noted no one was marching with a tenor sax as my band director used to make me do--he didn't like me, that was plain, and I believe making me march with a big ol' sax was one way to make me pay (I was first chair and would not relinquish my throne to his pockmarked son for one good reason; certainly, considering my rocky adolescence, he had more reasons than that).
So yes, it was a Memorial Day--remembering dead dads, tyrannical teachers, and more. Woo!
It was not just a day of remembrance, it was a day of new experiences as well. Saw my first soap box derby, and while I think I wanted to do it as a kid, watching yesterday's spectacle of family strife and ambition play out on Locust Street certainly erased that "wish" from my list.
Not that every parent behaved badly--there was one dad who offered nothing but sweetness and support to his indifferent-yet-winning daughter (she had a pink car with flames--how cool is that?), but enough parents coached their kids into pre-race cowers and screamed from the sidelines to make me think, "There but for the grace of God...."
What a weekend! Am almost glad to be back in my office, facing my one remaining deadline.
Almost.
Trust me--he was in denial. Mother cornered the frugality market in our household. The Great Depression was a cataclysmic event for her--she went from relative luxury (well, Midwestern Calvinist style--still wearing a hairshirt, but it was of wonderful quality) to relative penury overnight. Made her distrust money almost as much as Republicans.
Dad's working-class family likely didn't see any change in their fortunes, Depression or no Depression--they muddled along on the same barely-making-it strata their entire working lives. As a result, Mother worried about money, Dad's experience taught him that no matter what crunch they found themselves in, it would somehow work out. To say they had different money styles would be, as the old saying goes, a "masterpiece of understatement."
As it turns out, Dad was right. Something to remember these soon-to-be jobless days of 2005.
While we're talking tears, I also cried when the marching band went by--I'm a former band geek, and there's something about a line of clarinets (one of my former instruments) that chokes me up almost as much as the WWII vets. Noted no one was marching with a tenor sax as my band director used to make me do--he didn't like me, that was plain, and I believe making me march with a big ol' sax was one way to make me pay (I was first chair and would not relinquish my throne to his pockmarked son for one good reason; certainly, considering my rocky adolescence, he had more reasons than that).
So yes, it was a Memorial Day--remembering dead dads, tyrannical teachers, and more. Woo!
It was not just a day of remembrance, it was a day of new experiences as well. Saw my first soap box derby, and while I think I wanted to do it as a kid, watching yesterday's spectacle of family strife and ambition play out on Locust Street certainly erased that "wish" from my list.
Not that every parent behaved badly--there was one dad who offered nothing but sweetness and support to his indifferent-yet-winning daughter (she had a pink car with flames--how cool is that?), but enough parents coached their kids into pre-race cowers and screamed from the sidelines to make me think, "There but for the grace of God...."
What a weekend! Am almost glad to be back in my office, facing my one remaining deadline.
Almost.
Friday, May 27, 2005
A little sunshine today....
Though it didn't last, I saw some sunshine this afternoon while running errands in beautiful downtown Florence. I was grateful to see it, for if our local weather mavens are to be believed, it will be the last sun I will see this month. (Maybe next month, too.)
Not to worry, I'm not going to lapse into a sarcastic commentary on the use of the term "spring" to describe this time of year, tempting though it may be. Instead, I'm going to note that I applied for another couple of jobs today, bringing my grand total somewhere near 30 (I've had a few outright rejections so far, so am not sure whether to count those). Today's favorite application was for a news reporter post at my hometown paper. It may pay less (okay--a lot less) than what I make now, but it may be interesting--which is a lot more than I can say for some of the work I've done lo these many years for my shrinking publisher. Also got a follow-up letter from a university development job, so there's a little hope there, too.
Ran across a riot of a job on a media jobs site that entailed following crazed people on a trek across the desert for four to six weeks--the "reporter" would follow along in his/her RV, posting two articles a day on such vital topics as local microbrews (in the desert?!) and mushrooms (I kid you not) and beyond.
Yeah, not exactly a perfect job for a 45-year-old sober person (though I bet it wouldn't be hard to get people to sample beer for me), but it certainly was the most entertaining job prospect I've seen so far.
Elsewise, I've been kept busy going through all of the mail and other nonsense that accumulates on one's desk while away, and think I'm finally on top of it. Should be able to get back to work on my one remaining deadline next week. Altogether now: Woo!
Sorry. Didn't mean to let any sarcasm in this entry. Couldn't be helped.
Till next week, then.
Not to worry, I'm not going to lapse into a sarcastic commentary on the use of the term "spring" to describe this time of year, tempting though it may be. Instead, I'm going to note that I applied for another couple of jobs today, bringing my grand total somewhere near 30 (I've had a few outright rejections so far, so am not sure whether to count those). Today's favorite application was for a news reporter post at my hometown paper. It may pay less (okay--a lot less) than what I make now, but it may be interesting--which is a lot more than I can say for some of the work I've done lo these many years for my shrinking publisher. Also got a follow-up letter from a university development job, so there's a little hope there, too.
Ran across a riot of a job on a media jobs site that entailed following crazed people on a trek across the desert for four to six weeks--the "reporter" would follow along in his/her RV, posting two articles a day on such vital topics as local microbrews (in the desert?!) and mushrooms (I kid you not) and beyond.
Yeah, not exactly a perfect job for a 45-year-old sober person (though I bet it wouldn't be hard to get people to sample beer for me), but it certainly was the most entertaining job prospect I've seen so far.
Elsewise, I've been kept busy going through all of the mail and other nonsense that accumulates on one's desk while away, and think I'm finally on top of it. Should be able to get back to work on my one remaining deadline next week. Altogether now: Woo!
Sorry. Didn't mean to let any sarcasm in this entry. Couldn't be helped.
Till next week, then.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
It's cold, it's damp, it's WONDERFUL
It is wonderful indeed to be home in New England again, even if I got stuck in various airports on my way home from New Orleans (was supposed to fly through Dallas/Ft. Worth, but thanks to the weather yesterday, I flew through Miami--which, is aptly named "MIA" in airport code) and didn't get home until 2:00 this morning.
Yes, this morning.
So, I am not exactly the sharpest cheddar in the cheesehouse AND I'm sleepy--watch out world, here I come!!
The conference was worthwhile, for I picked up quite a few quotes, stats, and case studies that will help perk up future stories. It also helped reinforce some of my feelings regarding being a business journalist, for the organization hosting the show treated the press like pariahs--which, I suppose we are (who wants the truth, when the marketing people have so much happier news to share?).
In fact, the press were treated progressively worse by this organization. On day one, "we" had a room, but it didn't have any tables and chairs (for basis of comparison, I've been to conferences in the past where we not only had a room with tables and chairs, we also had Internet access and printers and fax machines at our disposal). But, on day two, the room itself was shut (it was now posted as being a "Quiet Room," whatever the heck that is), and there was a sign by a table (laden with press releases that had the news value of a candybar wrapper) reading simply, "Press Area."
So, we were to huddle by the table? And do what, exactly?
Maybe I'm just disappointed. I was supposed to introduce myself to the director of communications for this outfit in the hopes of landing one of the rare freelance gigs his association offers folks like me, but I didn't. Well, I did introduce myself, but only to say hello and thanks for the press pass. The problem was that I attended a session led by this man, and he distinguished himself as (1) having no sense of humor; (2) having an ego roughly the size of Texas, and (3) being the kind of guy that takes himself more seriously than Supreme Court justices do.
I've worked for people like that before, and you know--life is too damn short to court such people, too short by far.
But this I know: If things ever got so desperate on the financial front that it came down to: You butter up this guy or give your doggies away, I'd butter him up as only a Wisconsin gal can. In a heartbeat.
Where are my scruples? My principles?? Where my dear dogs are concerned, let's just say I agree with a post I saw on the wonderful Web site Dooce (http://www.dooce.com/archives/daily/05_23_2005.html) in which Heather Armstrong, the site's diva, was confronted with the illness of her dear dog Chuck. She and her husband had "the talk" about how much they would spend to save him, and they came to the conclusion that: "We'd sell our cars! We'd sell our house! We could start a meth lab in the basement! ANYTHING!"
I hear that, sister, loud and clear--where Linus and Shwea are concerned, money is no object. Neither is pride.
(But please, dear God, don't let it come to that!)
Yes, this morning.
So, I am not exactly the sharpest cheddar in the cheesehouse AND I'm sleepy--watch out world, here I come!!
The conference was worthwhile, for I picked up quite a few quotes, stats, and case studies that will help perk up future stories. It also helped reinforce some of my feelings regarding being a business journalist, for the organization hosting the show treated the press like pariahs--which, I suppose we are (who wants the truth, when the marketing people have so much happier news to share?).
In fact, the press were treated progressively worse by this organization. On day one, "we" had a room, but it didn't have any tables and chairs (for basis of comparison, I've been to conferences in the past where we not only had a room with tables and chairs, we also had Internet access and printers and fax machines at our disposal). But, on day two, the room itself was shut (it was now posted as being a "Quiet Room," whatever the heck that is), and there was a sign by a table (laden with press releases that had the news value of a candybar wrapper) reading simply, "Press Area."
So, we were to huddle by the table? And do what, exactly?
Maybe I'm just disappointed. I was supposed to introduce myself to the director of communications for this outfit in the hopes of landing one of the rare freelance gigs his association offers folks like me, but I didn't. Well, I did introduce myself, but only to say hello and thanks for the press pass. The problem was that I attended a session led by this man, and he distinguished himself as (1) having no sense of humor; (2) having an ego roughly the size of Texas, and (3) being the kind of guy that takes himself more seriously than Supreme Court justices do.
I've worked for people like that before, and you know--life is too damn short to court such people, too short by far.
But this I know: If things ever got so desperate on the financial front that it came down to: You butter up this guy or give your doggies away, I'd butter him up as only a Wisconsin gal can. In a heartbeat.
Where are my scruples? My principles?? Where my dear dogs are concerned, let's just say I agree with a post I saw on the wonderful Web site Dooce (http://www.dooce.com/archives/daily/05_23_2005.html) in which Heather Armstrong, the site's diva, was confronted with the illness of her dear dog Chuck. She and her husband had "the talk" about how much they would spend to save him, and they came to the conclusion that: "We'd sell our cars! We'd sell our house! We could start a meth lab in the basement! ANYTHING!"
I hear that, sister, loud and clear--where Linus and Shwea are concerned, money is no object. Neither is pride.
(But please, dear God, don't let it come to that!)
Friday, May 20, 2005
Beignets et cafe, here I come!
I'm off to New Orleans tomorrow for a business trip/beignet binge. Hope to amass enough editorial to see my sole remaining publication through the year--perhaps enough to write a few freelance ditties as well.
Am having a day of wonderment/worry over my situation. For a little while, I felt elated that I am going to be doing something new; a little while later I became fearful that this new thing isn't going to appear any time soon. Then an e-mail arrived from a friend with this command enclosed: "Enjoy the time off!"
But then, what if the "time off" is indefinite? I'd enjoy it if I knew in 1.5 months I would be shaking the hand of my future manager/director/editor, excited about the fabulous opportunity that awaits me--but what if that great glorious moment doesn't arrive for three months? Five?? A year?!! (Dare we say it: Never??!!)
Can't enjoy that much time off, at least not with two mortgages to feed, a new car--and, last but not least--a partner who has issues about supporting deadbeat girlfriends.
Not that she's ever supported me financially, mind you, but I know this was one of her biggest problems with past girlfriends (she asked me about my financial situation before she asked me on a date, for heaven's sake).
So, I'm torn, that's what I am--but not about going to N.O. My company has already paid for this trip, so I need to just show up and enjoy what might be my last "fun" trip for a while. (No, the upcoming trip to Florida does not qualify--that's a "duty calls" trip, if ever there was one. Linda made two trips to NE Wisconsin in the dead of winter; the least I can do is go to Florida in hurricane season.)
Won't be checking in for a while (don't think I'll want to pay what they charge for Internet access in the hotel, but one never knows)--I'll be back Thursday the 26th.
Am having a day of wonderment/worry over my situation. For a little while, I felt elated that I am going to be doing something new; a little while later I became fearful that this new thing isn't going to appear any time soon. Then an e-mail arrived from a friend with this command enclosed: "Enjoy the time off!"
But then, what if the "time off" is indefinite? I'd enjoy it if I knew in 1.5 months I would be shaking the hand of my future manager/director/editor, excited about the fabulous opportunity that awaits me--but what if that great glorious moment doesn't arrive for three months? Five?? A year?!! (Dare we say it: Never??!!)
Can't enjoy that much time off, at least not with two mortgages to feed, a new car--and, last but not least--a partner who has issues about supporting deadbeat girlfriends.
Not that she's ever supported me financially, mind you, but I know this was one of her biggest problems with past girlfriends (she asked me about my financial situation before she asked me on a date, for heaven's sake).
So, I'm torn, that's what I am--but not about going to N.O. My company has already paid for this trip, so I need to just show up and enjoy what might be my last "fun" trip for a while. (No, the upcoming trip to Florida does not qualify--that's a "duty calls" trip, if ever there was one. Linda made two trips to NE Wisconsin in the dead of winter; the least I can do is go to Florida in hurricane season.)
Won't be checking in for a while (don't think I'll want to pay what they charge for Internet access in the hotel, but one never knows)--I'll be back Thursday the 26th.
Till then, all good!
Thursday, May 19, 2005
The "Smartest Guys in the Room?" I don't think so.
The "Slimiest Guys in the Room"--now that fits. Saw the documentary regarding the Enron debacle last night, and it held few surprises. Must say I was shocked at the attitude of the brokers who were manipulating power supplies in California to raise electricity prices--they didn't just not give a rat's ass about how they were hurting people in the process of lining their pockets, they seemed genuinely amused and gratified by it all.
Linda, she who has worked in brokerage firms many, many years, was not surprised by the brokers' attitudes. "They're all like that, to one degree or another," she told me.
Whoa--methinks "trader" and "pond scum" should be synonyms from here on in (though that may be an insult to pond scum).
On other fronts, I dusted off my bike, pumped up the tires, and actually drove the thing to the nearest P.O. this afternoon. Felt superior as all heck as I pulled up next to the post office boxes, where an enormous SUV was parked (I know, I know, I drive everywhere all the time--who am I kidding??).
Felt good to feign exercise, even of a minor sort. Though I must say, I seemed to have hit the bike path during the caterpillar rush hour--I was bobbing and weaving most of the trip (and no, they don't post "Caterpillar Crossing" signs, as well they should).
Might hop on the bike the next time I need to drop off another rash of resume attempts. I think my bike is okay for short dashes, but I'm not sure my tires are up to a long trip. Plus, all of the gears are not in working order, and all of the "chrome" is now, er, distressed. But then--what do I expect? I've had that bike since I lived in Brooklyn, which was sometime in the very late 1980s.
It's old and a wee bit rusty, but it gets the job done (yes, before you say it, it is a lot like your humble correspondent).
Speaking of getting the job done, I was pleasantly surprised by the local career center. They hooked me up with a fabulous Web site that has helped me find all sorts of interesting jobs--well, interesting in theory, anyway (nobody has the guts to mention salary, and that's rarely a good thing). The few jobs that did mention salary mentioned a number that I recall from a job I took in 1990--actually, it was $1,000 less than the job I took in 1990.
Last but not least, today is Lee and Jane's last day. They were my publisher and managing editor, respectively, for the past 10+ years, and I am going to miss working with them more than I can say. I know I'll have to lower my expectations regarding income if I'm to work in this part of the world--that I can do. But I think I'll also have to lower my expectations regarding my management and my colleagues, for Jane and Lee have been spectacular to work with and for--and I don't think a person gets that lucky twice.
Yet, one never does know....
Linda, she who has worked in brokerage firms many, many years, was not surprised by the brokers' attitudes. "They're all like that, to one degree or another," she told me.
Whoa--methinks "trader" and "pond scum" should be synonyms from here on in (though that may be an insult to pond scum).
On other fronts, I dusted off my bike, pumped up the tires, and actually drove the thing to the nearest P.O. this afternoon. Felt superior as all heck as I pulled up next to the post office boxes, where an enormous SUV was parked (I know, I know, I drive everywhere all the time--who am I kidding??).
Felt good to feign exercise, even of a minor sort. Though I must say, I seemed to have hit the bike path during the caterpillar rush hour--I was bobbing and weaving most of the trip (and no, they don't post "Caterpillar Crossing" signs, as well they should).
Might hop on the bike the next time I need to drop off another rash of resume attempts. I think my bike is okay for short dashes, but I'm not sure my tires are up to a long trip. Plus, all of the gears are not in working order, and all of the "chrome" is now, er, distressed. But then--what do I expect? I've had that bike since I lived in Brooklyn, which was sometime in the very late 1980s.
It's old and a wee bit rusty, but it gets the job done (yes, before you say it, it is a lot like your humble correspondent).
Speaking of getting the job done, I was pleasantly surprised by the local career center. They hooked me up with a fabulous Web site that has helped me find all sorts of interesting jobs--well, interesting in theory, anyway (nobody has the guts to mention salary, and that's rarely a good thing). The few jobs that did mention salary mentioned a number that I recall from a job I took in 1990--actually, it was $1,000 less than the job I took in 1990.
Last but not least, today is Lee and Jane's last day. They were my publisher and managing editor, respectively, for the past 10+ years, and I am going to miss working with them more than I can say. I know I'll have to lower my expectations regarding income if I'm to work in this part of the world--that I can do. But I think I'll also have to lower my expectations regarding my management and my colleagues, for Jane and Lee have been spectacular to work with and for--and I don't think a person gets that lucky twice.
Yet, one never does know....
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
My "inner hausfrau" has been unleashed!
My first day as our new cleaning lady was yesterday, and I must admit, the house sparkles. I don't really know what happened, but about a half-hour into the job I found myself cleaning like a woman possessed. Used to consider myself a "just tackle the most obvious piles of dirt" kind of gal, but not any more.
I think it's my Swiss ancestry coming to the fore--those folks are tidy as tidy can be, aren't they?
Also, it took forever. Maura, our former cleaning lady, usually took about two hours to clean our house. Me, I took four hours, and could have kept going ("I could have cleaned all day, I could have cleaned all day, and still come back for more!"). Crazy.
And though I like to think I'm in some sort of physical condition, I woke up aching this morning--from cleaning the house! A little three-bedroom ranch, for heaven's sake!!
The best part? I don't have to do it again for two weeks. Color me happy.
Still haven't heard back from 96% of the 24 organizations I've applied to--either they're all taking their sweet time, they're not the sorts to keep people posted (which speaks volumes), and/or I am barking up the wrong trees. Am heading to the local jobs center today with a friend, in the hopes that they'll have some resources that may help boost my effectiveness somehow. Ordered a couple of books yesterday on writing/communications careers, in the hopes I've somehow missed some tremendous possibilities due to ignorance. Also ordered Edith Wharton's autobiography, for I applied for a job at her "cottage" in the Berkshires, and what I've read of her intrigues me.
So, if I can't find work, I can at least learn something, eh? (And not just how to clean houses, please God.)
I know, I know--this career business takes time. I don't want to find myself in the occupational equivalent of a "marry in haste, repent at leisure" scenario--I want to find work that I really want to do, for a purpose that I can endorse (not just endure), and for a salary that reflects my worth.
Or a reasonable facsimile.
I think it's my Swiss ancestry coming to the fore--those folks are tidy as tidy can be, aren't they?
Also, it took forever. Maura, our former cleaning lady, usually took about two hours to clean our house. Me, I took four hours, and could have kept going ("I could have cleaned all day, I could have cleaned all day, and still come back for more!"). Crazy.
And though I like to think I'm in some sort of physical condition, I woke up aching this morning--from cleaning the house! A little three-bedroom ranch, for heaven's sake!!
The best part? I don't have to do it again for two weeks. Color me happy.
Still haven't heard back from 96% of the 24 organizations I've applied to--either they're all taking their sweet time, they're not the sorts to keep people posted (which speaks volumes), and/or I am barking up the wrong trees. Am heading to the local jobs center today with a friend, in the hopes that they'll have some resources that may help boost my effectiveness somehow. Ordered a couple of books yesterday on writing/communications careers, in the hopes I've somehow missed some tremendous possibilities due to ignorance. Also ordered Edith Wharton's autobiography, for I applied for a job at her "cottage" in the Berkshires, and what I've read of her intrigues me.
So, if I can't find work, I can at least learn something, eh? (And not just how to clean houses, please God.)
I know, I know--this career business takes time. I don't want to find myself in the occupational equivalent of a "marry in haste, repent at leisure" scenario--I want to find work that I really want to do, for a purpose that I can endorse (not just endure), and for a salary that reflects my worth.
Or a reasonable facsimile.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Does unemployment show?
Went to the vacuum cleaner store today to buy more vacuum bags for my debut tomorrow as our official cleaning lady (all aflutter, that's me), and the woman running the store asked me if I needed a job.
How the heck did she know?
That's the ticket--I'll start selling home filtration systems just after I finish my career as a "Financial Advisor."
On that topic, I received a request in the mail from a national financial services company over the weekend to consider careers in the insurance industry.
This company, too, has Web sites galore devoted to detailing the dirty deeds it has done to consumers (and agents).
With opportunities like these, why worry?
How the heck did she know?
That's the ticket--I'll start selling home filtration systems just after I finish my career as a "Financial Advisor."
On that topic, I received a request in the mail from a national financial services company over the weekend to consider careers in the insurance industry.
This company, too, has Web sites galore devoted to detailing the dirty deeds it has done to consumers (and agents).
With opportunities like these, why worry?
A good show does a comic good....
Must say, last night's show at Jimmy Tingle's Off-Broadway was a winner--there was a fairly large, ready-to-laugh audience, (most of) the comics were in top form, and yours truly only hit a few dead spots in her set. (And what few dead spots I hit were more than compensated for by the response to my "keeper" bits, I'm happy to report).
Not only that, four friends--four friends indeed--made the drive from Western Mass to see the show. That was perhaps the best part of the evening, though dinner at the Indian restaurant across the street before the show was pretty darn phenomenal, I must say.
It sure as hell is a drive, going to/from Boston--I was one pooped puppy on the way home last night, grateful as grateful can be I wasn't driving (thank you, Jennifer, she who definitely killed last night).
Today, however, the adrenaline of last night's show is long gone, replaced by a growing anxiety that I am not going to find a job any time soon. To fight that, I'm going to apply to three more jobs today, go to the local state jobs/career center Wednesday, and start a comedy/writing class, too.
If I don't find work, it's not for lack of trying, this I know.
On other fronts, I learned that I'm a candidate for oral surgery this morning. (Yes, I scheduled a dentist appointment for first thing Monday. No, I don't know what I was thinking.) The root canal was badly done, or so it seems--glad somebody is finally willing to opine on how this happened.
Whatever. The result is that I am probably going to pay an oral surgeon to save my molar instead of going to Las Vegas for my Peace Corps reunion. The times being what they are, I need to make such decisions.
And tomorrow, I get to start my side career as our cleaning lady. And then Thursday, my beloved boss is officially out of his job, along with my favorite managing editor/Buddhist.
Yeah, this is not an easy week to keep my sunny side up. But I'm trying....
Not only that, four friends--four friends indeed--made the drive from Western Mass to see the show. That was perhaps the best part of the evening, though dinner at the Indian restaurant across the street before the show was pretty darn phenomenal, I must say.
It sure as hell is a drive, going to/from Boston--I was one pooped puppy on the way home last night, grateful as grateful can be I wasn't driving (thank you, Jennifer, she who definitely killed last night).
Today, however, the adrenaline of last night's show is long gone, replaced by a growing anxiety that I am not going to find a job any time soon. To fight that, I'm going to apply to three more jobs today, go to the local state jobs/career center Wednesday, and start a comedy/writing class, too.
If I don't find work, it's not for lack of trying, this I know.
On other fronts, I learned that I'm a candidate for oral surgery this morning. (Yes, I scheduled a dentist appointment for first thing Monday. No, I don't know what I was thinking.) The root canal was badly done, or so it seems--glad somebody is finally willing to opine on how this happened.
Whatever. The result is that I am probably going to pay an oral surgeon to save my molar instead of going to Las Vegas for my Peace Corps reunion. The times being what they are, I need to make such decisions.
And tomorrow, I get to start my side career as our cleaning lady. And then Thursday, my beloved boss is officially out of his job, along with my favorite managing editor/Buddhist.
Yeah, this is not an easy week to keep my sunny side up. But I'm trying....
Saturday, May 14, 2005
New England hospitality?
I dunno. Last night's show at a lovely coffee house, Cafe Koko in Greenfield, wasn't really a hit. There were people there, they were paying attention, but they just didn't seem to be in the mood for laughter. Bemused expressions, the occasional head shake, yes--but laugh out loud? Not this bunch.
Too bad, for I love the place and think its owners are great people (and not just because they're former Peace Corps Vols, though that doesn't hurt).
Tomorrow, Jennifer, Holly, and I are off to Boston/Somerville, for the Women In Comedy show. Here's hoping the folks over there are ready to laugh.
I know I'm ready to laugh--with the job hunt weighing eternally on my mind, I am looking forward to a nice night of distraction.
On other fronts, had a lovely lunch chez Holly's with Jennifer, too. It was supposed to be a "let's figure out our set lists" lunch, but since we didn't know how much time we're going to have, it was near impossible to do that. So we talked/listened instead. Good times, for the most part.
When I got back from lunch, I had to book our trip to visit Linda's parents in Florida. In June. Yes, it's going to be all sorts of fun, and I'm just hoping we all get through this with the least amount of trauma possible.
Let's just say her parents failed Parenting 101, especially the part where you protect your child from harm. So, visiting them is more fraught than even the usual lesbian couple visiting straight family visit. (Much more.)
They are getting old--teetering on the brink of oblivion, actually--so Linda thought she should visit.
Here's hoping (and praying) we both don't regret this trip.
Too bad, for I love the place and think its owners are great people (and not just because they're former Peace Corps Vols, though that doesn't hurt).
Tomorrow, Jennifer, Holly, and I are off to Boston/Somerville, for the Women In Comedy show. Here's hoping the folks over there are ready to laugh.
I know I'm ready to laugh--with the job hunt weighing eternally on my mind, I am looking forward to a nice night of distraction.
On other fronts, had a lovely lunch chez Holly's with Jennifer, too. It was supposed to be a "let's figure out our set lists" lunch, but since we didn't know how much time we're going to have, it was near impossible to do that. So we talked/listened instead. Good times, for the most part.
When I got back from lunch, I had to book our trip to visit Linda's parents in Florida. In June. Yes, it's going to be all sorts of fun, and I'm just hoping we all get through this with the least amount of trauma possible.
Let's just say her parents failed Parenting 101, especially the part where you protect your child from harm. So, visiting them is more fraught than even the usual lesbian couple visiting straight family visit. (Much more.)
They are getting old--teetering on the brink of oblivion, actually--so Linda thought she should visit.
Here's hoping (and praying) we both don't regret this trip.
Friday, May 13, 2005
Odd "opportunities"
Seems that once you post your resume on the Web (I think I'm on five job boards as of today), you become fair game for desperate recruiters.
I say "desperate," for today I was approached by an international financial services firm to become a "Financial Advisor." Me, a financial advisor?! Surely, you jest!
Just because I have been taught by (often painful) experience to never say never (I am a lesbian who was convinced she was heterosexual for 30 years, after all), I checked out the "opportunity." I didn't just look at the clever and catchy recruiting materials on the firm's Web site, I also Googled the company and came across a site that served to nip this budding financial advisor's career in the bud.
The firm is being sued for deceptive sales practices, and from what I could discern, "advisors" are truly glorified sales agents who are pressured to sell unsuspecting clients the firm's over-priced, not-terribly-rewarding products.
In other words: Forgetaboutit. I read somewhere once that a survey of professions and their rewards found that certified financial planners are a content lot, but I think those that find the career rewarding likely inform people about their many alternatives while suggesting only products/services that are truly in their best interests.
Yes, I am an idealistic soul--hopelessly naive, if you insist. And though I do avoid major declarative sentences where my future is concerned, I think you could safely bet I am not going to become a Financial Advisor any time soon.
On happier fronts, yesterday I sent out my first query letter, even though it took forever and a day to get it to land where I wanted it to (the publisher's firewall kept bouncing my attempts back). Chasing down freelance writing gigs always seemed too fraught and frustrating to me back in my full employment days, but these days, in my "never say never" frame of mind, I am willing to give it a try. Yesterday's attempt is the first of many--I'll see what, if anything, comes of it all, then decide whether or not this is an option for my future care and feeding. Can't hurt, right? Besides, it forces me to focus on what I really, truly know--and can write about with assurance. A good thing, indeed.
Well, today my last update for my managing customer service guide is due, so work I must. It's a bittersweet thing, a final deadline. I've always admired the organizations that do customer service well, and have enjoyed doing my little bit to help more people become good customer service providers. May be stating the obvious, but it's a dying art....
I say "desperate," for today I was approached by an international financial services firm to become a "Financial Advisor." Me, a financial advisor?! Surely, you jest!
Just because I have been taught by (often painful) experience to never say never (I am a lesbian who was convinced she was heterosexual for 30 years, after all), I checked out the "opportunity." I didn't just look at the clever and catchy recruiting materials on the firm's Web site, I also Googled the company and came across a site that served to nip this budding financial advisor's career in the bud.
The firm is being sued for deceptive sales practices, and from what I could discern, "advisors" are truly glorified sales agents who are pressured to sell unsuspecting clients the firm's over-priced, not-terribly-rewarding products.
In other words: Forgetaboutit. I read somewhere once that a survey of professions and their rewards found that certified financial planners are a content lot, but I think those that find the career rewarding likely inform people about their many alternatives while suggesting only products/services that are truly in their best interests.
Yes, I am an idealistic soul--hopelessly naive, if you insist. And though I do avoid major declarative sentences where my future is concerned, I think you could safely bet I am not going to become a Financial Advisor any time soon.
On happier fronts, yesterday I sent out my first query letter, even though it took forever and a day to get it to land where I wanted it to (the publisher's firewall kept bouncing my attempts back). Chasing down freelance writing gigs always seemed too fraught and frustrating to me back in my full employment days, but these days, in my "never say never" frame of mind, I am willing to give it a try. Yesterday's attempt is the first of many--I'll see what, if anything, comes of it all, then decide whether or not this is an option for my future care and feeding. Can't hurt, right? Besides, it forces me to focus on what I really, truly know--and can write about with assurance. A good thing, indeed.
Well, today my last update for my managing customer service guide is due, so work I must. It's a bittersweet thing, a final deadline. I've always admired the organizations that do customer service well, and have enjoyed doing my little bit to help more people become good customer service providers. May be stating the obvious, but it's a dying art....
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Every silver lining has a cloud....
No, I can't take credit for that "silver lining" bit, that comes from a friend who has cornered the glass-half-empty market, bless her heart.
However, I did realize there was a bright spot to the recent "restructuring" of my work--we will be around for our friends' 10-year anniversary in late June. We were originally going to be at a conference followed by a vacation in California, but since I really don't need to go to the conference for work, and we don't really need to be spending big money on a holiday in these uncertain times, we decided to skip the whole thing. As a result, we get to celebrate with Val and Joan. And the week we were going to spend in California is now going to be spent in the Berkshires.
Silver lining, indeed.
On the other hand, a college friend who lives in Wisconsin told us about an opportunity to volunteer in June for a Frank Lloyd Wright weekend in Milwaukee that sounded fabulous--and would be, if we could spend money on a flight to the old sod (again, in these uncertain times). I would need to find a job/freelance gig really soon to make that possible; in other words, it ain't gonna happen.
I know, I know--atrocious grammar for a supposedly educated person, but sometimes, "ain't" fits. For example: "I ain't what I oughta be, and I ain't what I'm going to be. But I ain't what I was!" (From a sign over a western bar--surprised?--noted in Transitions: Strategies for coping with the difficult, painful, and confusing times in your life, by William Bridges.)
And it looks like I'm going to have to pass on this year's Peace Corps reunion in July, too. Kind of a drag--but I've missed them before and lived, so am choosing not to dwell.
At least for today.
(It probably didn't hurt that we saw "Off the Map" last night--definitely a movie that gives one a vision of making do with very little. Now, if only I looked more like Joan Allen....)
However, I did realize there was a bright spot to the recent "restructuring" of my work--we will be around for our friends' 10-year anniversary in late June. We were originally going to be at a conference followed by a vacation in California, but since I really don't need to go to the conference for work, and we don't really need to be spending big money on a holiday in these uncertain times, we decided to skip the whole thing. As a result, we get to celebrate with Val and Joan. And the week we were going to spend in California is now going to be spent in the Berkshires.
Silver lining, indeed.
On the other hand, a college friend who lives in Wisconsin told us about an opportunity to volunteer in June for a Frank Lloyd Wright weekend in Milwaukee that sounded fabulous--and would be, if we could spend money on a flight to the old sod (again, in these uncertain times). I would need to find a job/freelance gig really soon to make that possible; in other words, it ain't gonna happen.
I know, I know--atrocious grammar for a supposedly educated person, but sometimes, "ain't" fits. For example: "I ain't what I oughta be, and I ain't what I'm going to be. But I ain't what I was!" (From a sign over a western bar--surprised?--noted in Transitions: Strategies for coping with the difficult, painful, and confusing times in your life, by William Bridges.)
And it looks like I'm going to have to pass on this year's Peace Corps reunion in July, too. Kind of a drag--but I've missed them before and lived, so am choosing not to dwell.
At least for today.
(It probably didn't hurt that we saw "Off the Map" last night--definitely a movie that gives one a vision of making do with very little. Now, if only I looked more like Joan Allen....)
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
What to make of it all?
The job hunt continues--three more resumes/cover letters are out into the ether, making a total of 20 tries to date. Only one response so far, but who's counting? (Okay, I am--can't help myself.)
Also got a "Thanks, but no thanks" letter from a job I forgot I applied for--that shows how invested I was in that prospect, eh?
It's still exciting, contemplating the many ways my years of pounding a keyboard may be applied "out there." Of course, I also allow myself to contemplate the possibility that no one will find my skills the least bit compelling, but then again, how could that be?
(One must buck oneself up when job-hunting--you can see I'm doing a stellar job, no?)
Well, the animals are getting restless--it's feeding time somewhere, dammit--so close I must.
Also got a "Thanks, but no thanks" letter from a job I forgot I applied for--that shows how invested I was in that prospect, eh?
It's still exciting, contemplating the many ways my years of pounding a keyboard may be applied "out there." Of course, I also allow myself to contemplate the possibility that no one will find my skills the least bit compelling, but then again, how could that be?
(One must buck oneself up when job-hunting--you can see I'm doing a stellar job, no?)
Well, the animals are getting restless--it's feeding time somewhere, dammit--so close I must.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Don't want to burst anyone's bubble, but...
Early this morning, my partner Linda emerged from the basement with an armload of laundry. She appeared to be annoyed, and asked me in all seriousness, "How often do you do laundry?! What is it--every week?"
She capped this with a revelation that one might think only a heterosexual male could come to, but here it is: "It's, like, never-ending!"
I haven't laughed that hard in weeks.
So, dear readers, if you've been laboring under the illusion that women in same-sex couples do not struggle with the utter cluelessness of their spouses where housework is concerned, think again.
On other fronts, I have not cornered the sharp-as-a-tack market, so am truly in no position to judge. In fact, if I had a place to bring my brain in for a tune-up, I would. The problem? I have been scrambling to finish a project I thought was due last Friday, but, it turns out, it isn't due until the 1st of June.
Though it's disconcerting to be so far off the beam, this discovery has lightened my load. Now, I can concentrate my efforts on The Comedy and The Job Hunt, not necessarily in that order. Happy Day!
She capped this with a revelation that one might think only a heterosexual male could come to, but here it is: "It's, like, never-ending!"
I haven't laughed that hard in weeks.
So, dear readers, if you've been laboring under the illusion that women in same-sex couples do not struggle with the utter cluelessness of their spouses where housework is concerned, think again.
On other fronts, I have not cornered the sharp-as-a-tack market, so am truly in no position to judge. In fact, if I had a place to bring my brain in for a tune-up, I would. The problem? I have been scrambling to finish a project I thought was due last Friday, but, it turns out, it isn't due until the 1st of June.
Though it's disconcerting to be so far off the beam, this discovery has lightened my load. Now, I can concentrate my efforts on The Comedy and The Job Hunt, not necessarily in that order. Happy Day!
Monday, May 09, 2005
Wracked with ambivalence....
Well, it's been a while since I've checked in, largely because I spent most of last week out at the cottage, where the fastest dialup speed is somewhere near that of paint drying. Let's see, what's been happening?
First: The interview. I cannot say for certain how the interview went, though there are a lot of reasons why the job would be cool and a lot of reasons why it would sap the life force out of me in a matter of weeks. The cool: Varied, challenging work; chance to learn about magazine production; nice offices; and only two business trips a year. The worrisome: One-and-a-half hours' commute (each way--yes, three hours/day in the car); cubicle/workstation, not real office; 40-hour work week; time sheets; and very little autonomy (they call it "collaborative," some may call it "control freaks with red ink"). The unknown: Salary and benefits (they are among Fortune's 100 best places to work and have a lot of cool benefits on their Web site; that said, I learned in the interview that one of these cool benefits--telecommuting--is not available for this position. One wonders what else is/isn't available, you know what I mean?).
Sign from God or sign of mental instability? While waiting for the managing editor who was going to interview me (yes, I got there way early), I sat in a reception area that was next to a huge fish tank. In the tank, at the bottom, was a bright yellow tropical fish on its side, breathing its last. It stared at me the whole time I waited, and I had a hard time not staring back, thinking it was saying, "Don't do it! This could be you!!"
Second: The dentist. I entered the dentist thinking I was going to find out why my root canal has gone bad after only four years. Instead, I left the dentist with an appointment for another root canal and a nagging feeling I have been sold a bill of goods by a guy with no neck. Here's the thing: My original dentist sent me to this place, I thought, to learn why my root canal failed; instead, they took x-rays and came back to tell me I needed my root canal redone--no word on why. When I asked, they gave me the standard "These things happen" line, even though the literature in their waiting room said that root canals are supposed to last the life of the tooth. That, and the fact that the hygenist chided me for not being happy to be there (even saying that if my attitude didn't improve, she was going to send me outside and make me come back in until I got it right--as if I would come back in if she sent me outside, for pity's sake) and the dentist looked like a steroid-abusing Arnold wanna-be, set what was left of my teeth on edge.
The rub? I have been getting increasingly miffed about this, for the lame excuses and evasions peddled in that endonontics office were very similar to those I've heard in the past from contractors doing (shoddy) work on our house. In fact, it was so similar, I found an analogy leaping to mind (Linda's the analogy czar around here, usually). Here it is: If I put 30-year shingles on my roof and they failed after four years, I would call the contractor. If he sent another contractor who looked at the roof and said, "Yes, you need a new roof--that will be $[Insert an obscene sum here]," that would be about the scenario I encountered Friday.
I would be the lamest consumer in the world if I just said, "Okay, put on a new roof," right? What of the manufacturer's liability for selling 30-year shingles that last just four? What of the original contractor's role in their performance?? Well, that's the way I feel about this root canal business and I've got a call into my dentist to tell him I was not impressed by the place he sent me, or how my failed root canal is being handled.
Being Midwestern, Catholic, and the youngest in my family, I find being assertive as comfortable as a hair shirt, but happily, I find the prospect of rolling over for Dr. No-Neck and his pesky hygenist even more discomforting, so here goes....
That's enough for now, don't you think? Am looking at a very busy workweek, but it ends with comedy--so there's hope!
First: The interview. I cannot say for certain how the interview went, though there are a lot of reasons why the job would be cool and a lot of reasons why it would sap the life force out of me in a matter of weeks. The cool: Varied, challenging work; chance to learn about magazine production; nice offices; and only two business trips a year. The worrisome: One-and-a-half hours' commute (each way--yes, three hours/day in the car); cubicle/workstation, not real office; 40-hour work week; time sheets; and very little autonomy (they call it "collaborative," some may call it "control freaks with red ink"). The unknown: Salary and benefits (they are among Fortune's 100 best places to work and have a lot of cool benefits on their Web site; that said, I learned in the interview that one of these cool benefits--telecommuting--is not available for this position. One wonders what else is/isn't available, you know what I mean?).
Sign from God or sign of mental instability? While waiting for the managing editor who was going to interview me (yes, I got there way early), I sat in a reception area that was next to a huge fish tank. In the tank, at the bottom, was a bright yellow tropical fish on its side, breathing its last. It stared at me the whole time I waited, and I had a hard time not staring back, thinking it was saying, "Don't do it! This could be you!!"
Second: The dentist. I entered the dentist thinking I was going to find out why my root canal has gone bad after only four years. Instead, I left the dentist with an appointment for another root canal and a nagging feeling I have been sold a bill of goods by a guy with no neck. Here's the thing: My original dentist sent me to this place, I thought, to learn why my root canal failed; instead, they took x-rays and came back to tell me I needed my root canal redone--no word on why. When I asked, they gave me the standard "These things happen" line, even though the literature in their waiting room said that root canals are supposed to last the life of the tooth. That, and the fact that the hygenist chided me for not being happy to be there (even saying that if my attitude didn't improve, she was going to send me outside and make me come back in until I got it right--as if I would come back in if she sent me outside, for pity's sake) and the dentist looked like a steroid-abusing Arnold wanna-be, set what was left of my teeth on edge.
The rub? I have been getting increasingly miffed about this, for the lame excuses and evasions peddled in that endonontics office were very similar to those I've heard in the past from contractors doing (shoddy) work on our house. In fact, it was so similar, I found an analogy leaping to mind (Linda's the analogy czar around here, usually). Here it is: If I put 30-year shingles on my roof and they failed after four years, I would call the contractor. If he sent another contractor who looked at the roof and said, "Yes, you need a new roof--that will be $[Insert an obscene sum here]," that would be about the scenario I encountered Friday.
I would be the lamest consumer in the world if I just said, "Okay, put on a new roof," right? What of the manufacturer's liability for selling 30-year shingles that last just four? What of the original contractor's role in their performance?? Well, that's the way I feel about this root canal business and I've got a call into my dentist to tell him I was not impressed by the place he sent me, or how my failed root canal is being handled.
Being Midwestern, Catholic, and the youngest in my family, I find being assertive as comfortable as a hair shirt, but happily, I find the prospect of rolling over for Dr. No-Neck and his pesky hygenist even more discomforting, so here goes....
That's enough for now, don't you think? Am looking at a very busy workweek, but it ends with comedy--so there's hope!
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
A job interview?!
Yes, a little over two weeks into my job hunt, and I've got me a real, live job interview. My first, but goddess willing, certainly not my last. To get this opportunity, I sent my resume in over one of those online job boards a little over a week ago (which isn't nearly as satisfying as putting together a cover letter-resume combo and slipping them into the mail as we used to do back in the days when I last job-hunted/before the Internet, but I digress), then today acing the phone (weed out the wackos) interview phase.
Friday morning, 10:30 a.m., I meet with a managing editor. For an hour. Yikes! If I somehow pass this stage, I then get interviewed by a panel--a panel--of editors. Oh, and take an editing test.
Am getting a wee bit wracked with anxiety just typing this, but I guess that's to be expected.
Job hunting IS nerve-wracking, no?
But having an interview will be good practice, regardless of how it comes out--and it will be at the end of the week, so I can start fresh next week (if it all goes to heck in a handbasket, or something).
Friday is going to be a beaut, let me tell you--job interview in the morning, dentist appointment in the afternoon. Yes, besides job hunting, I get to deal with an abscessed tooth. And there's the little matter of a deadline on Friday, too, but that is more than I can contemplate right now. EEEK!
Ah life!
Friday morning, 10:30 a.m., I meet with a managing editor. For an hour. Yikes! If I somehow pass this stage, I then get interviewed by a panel--a panel--of editors. Oh, and take an editing test.
Am getting a wee bit wracked with anxiety just typing this, but I guess that's to be expected.
Job hunting IS nerve-wracking, no?
But having an interview will be good practice, regardless of how it comes out--and it will be at the end of the week, so I can start fresh next week (if it all goes to heck in a handbasket, or something).
Friday is going to be a beaut, let me tell you--job interview in the morning, dentist appointment in the afternoon. Yes, besides job hunting, I get to deal with an abscessed tooth. And there's the little matter of a deadline on Friday, too, but that is more than I can contemplate right now. EEEK!
Ah life!
Friday, April 29, 2005
Friday it is--AIEEEEE!
I have a minor little gig tonight, emceeing a musical benefit. That I have never emceed before (except at a talent show during a retreat--for a group who believes spirituality and talent are not mutually exclusive), did not bother the rep from the organization benefiting from the benefit, so I said I'd do it.
Of course, I'm regretting that decision now. There are many things that could go wrong, true, but it could also go right--the folks at the charity are very laid-back (at least according to the aforementioned rep), so I'm going to strive for that state of being, too. I'm also supposed to stick to emceeing--no comedy. Of course, I expect to inject a comment or two, for why ask a comic to emcee if you want no comedy?
It's no big deal, really--I had a show as recently as last night, so I got The Comedy out of my system. It went well, but for a very drunk woman towards the front who demanded every comic's attention. Well, of course, that meant she eventually became every comic's target, and I'm almost ashamed to say, I joined the fray. But it was so perfect, the opportunity she provided, I couldn't not jump in....
What was it, you wonder? Well, I find explaining jokes tough sledding, but let's say I used my line about being popular as a straight girl--"I was young, had long blonde hair, and a drinking problem. If that doesn't spell 'popularity,' I don't know what does!"--and used the drunk woman (who, bless her, happened to have long, blonde hair) as a case in point. The crowd roared, and I think even the woman found it funny.
Thank goddess! It was a risky move (for me), and it paid off. Whew!
Well, I must get going. We're having the water turned on today at the cottage, so we can retire the porta potty till the winter, brush our teeth, shower, and so forth. Hygienic happiness will soon be ours....
Of course, I'm regretting that decision now. There are many things that could go wrong, true, but it could also go right--the folks at the charity are very laid-back (at least according to the aforementioned rep), so I'm going to strive for that state of being, too. I'm also supposed to stick to emceeing--no comedy. Of course, I expect to inject a comment or two, for why ask a comic to emcee if you want no comedy?
It's no big deal, really--I had a show as recently as last night, so I got The Comedy out of my system. It went well, but for a very drunk woman towards the front who demanded every comic's attention. Well, of course, that meant she eventually became every comic's target, and I'm almost ashamed to say, I joined the fray. But it was so perfect, the opportunity she provided, I couldn't not jump in....
What was it, you wonder? Well, I find explaining jokes tough sledding, but let's say I used my line about being popular as a straight girl--"I was young, had long blonde hair, and a drinking problem. If that doesn't spell 'popularity,' I don't know what does!"--and used the drunk woman (who, bless her, happened to have long, blonde hair) as a case in point. The crowd roared, and I think even the woman found it funny.
Thank goddess! It was a risky move (for me), and it paid off. Whew!
Well, I must get going. We're having the water turned on today at the cottage, so we can retire the porta potty till the winter, brush our teeth, shower, and so forth. Hygienic happiness will soon be ours....
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Adieu, Dodge Magnum.....
Hello, Pontiac Vibe!
Yes, I traded in my brand-new Inferno Red midlife crisis mobile for a mini-SUV in a color called Moonstone (sort of a metallic brown, like my hair).
Sensible? You bet! A little sad? Ditto!
Saw a black Magnum while running errands today in my oh-so-sensible car and felt a pang--a pang!
That's rather embarrassing, isn't it? I'm emotionally attached to my former car. What am I, 45 going on 16?!
Of course, it may not be the car--it's more likely what it represented: Financial freedom, security, and FULL EMPLOYMENT.
Yes, I was emotionally attached to all of that. (Who wouldn't be?) At this time, it helps for me to remember that I didn't L-U-V the job I am watching fade away, but I certainly L-U-V'd the pay.
That said, even with a (still) fairly full work load, I have managed to get 10 resumes out to prospective employers, and have queried a few of my professional contacts as to their need for freelance help. No nibbles, yet, but it's way early--I've been at this job hunting business a little over a week, so it's a little soon to worry.
Right?
No, you're absolutely right: It's not too early to worry--it's never too early, is it? I've been worrying up a storm for over a week now, and I firmly believe I HAVE NOT YET BEGUN TO WORRY. The worst worries are those that wake me up at 3:15 a.m. Have had about three of those in the past week.
Worries aside, losing (most of) my job has given my sense of well-being a real boost. I have been touched by the support I'm getting from Linda, my family of origin, friends, and coworkers. Got a call from an editor I haven't worked with for years yesterday--she had just heard the news and gave me a pep talk about my "crazy skills." Another editor sent me a job posting she found on the Internet that she thought I'd be perfect for--and indeed, it looked good, so I sent in a resume.
Spoke to my last remaining aunt and uncle in Wisconsin on Sunday (they've owned a Vibe for a couple of years and I wanted to see how they felt about it--they loved it, I'm happy to report). Well
they were very sweet and supportive and I consider them my golden age cheerleading squad.
And Linda, she gave me a card over the weekend that bore the inscription, "I believe in you, I know you'll find a way no matter what!"
Right back atcha, Sweetie--all of you, in fact.
Yes, I traded in my brand-new Inferno Red midlife crisis mobile for a mini-SUV in a color called Moonstone (sort of a metallic brown, like my hair).
Sensible? You bet! A little sad? Ditto!
Saw a black Magnum while running errands today in my oh-so-sensible car and felt a pang--a pang!
That's rather embarrassing, isn't it? I'm emotionally attached to my former car. What am I, 45 going on 16?!
Of course, it may not be the car--it's more likely what it represented: Financial freedom, security, and FULL EMPLOYMENT.
Yes, I was emotionally attached to all of that. (Who wouldn't be?) At this time, it helps for me to remember that I didn't L-U-V the job I am watching fade away, but I certainly L-U-V'd the pay.
That said, even with a (still) fairly full work load, I have managed to get 10 resumes out to prospective employers, and have queried a few of my professional contacts as to their need for freelance help. No nibbles, yet, but it's way early--I've been at this job hunting business a little over a week, so it's a little soon to worry.
Right?
No, you're absolutely right: It's not too early to worry--it's never too early, is it? I've been worrying up a storm for over a week now, and I firmly believe I HAVE NOT YET BEGUN TO WORRY. The worst worries are those that wake me up at 3:15 a.m. Have had about three of those in the past week.
Worries aside, losing (most of) my job has given my sense of well-being a real boost. I have been touched by the support I'm getting from Linda, my family of origin, friends, and coworkers. Got a call from an editor I haven't worked with for years yesterday--she had just heard the news and gave me a pep talk about my "crazy skills." Another editor sent me a job posting she found on the Internet that she thought I'd be perfect for--and indeed, it looked good, so I sent in a resume.
Spoke to my last remaining aunt and uncle in Wisconsin on Sunday (they've owned a Vibe for a couple of years and I wanted to see how they felt about it--they loved it, I'm happy to report). Well
they were very sweet and supportive and I consider them my golden age cheerleading squad.
And Linda, she gave me a card over the weekend that bore the inscription, "I believe in you, I know you'll find a way no matter what!"
Right back atcha, Sweetie--all of you, in fact.
Monday, April 25, 2005
What fresh hell is this?
If ever there were a time for Dorothy Parker's wit and wisdom, this is it.
This morning, I found a voice mail on my office phone that was left yesterday from the remaining publisher at my soon-to-be-partial employer.
May I say that in the 14 years I have toiled for this outfit, I have never received a weekend call. (One of the benefits of the publishing biz is that there are no emergencies--one certainly doesn't go into it for the money/prestige!)
The home office is aflutter about a publication that didn't get done last week. I am going to try to finish it off first thing today, but wonder: Did they expect me to work as well as I always have the week I learn they're letting (most of) me go?
As my friend Jennifer is wont to say, "The humanity!"
Fresh hell, indeed!
This morning, I found a voice mail on my office phone that was left yesterday from the remaining publisher at my soon-to-be-partial employer.
May I say that in the 14 years I have toiled for this outfit, I have never received a weekend call. (One of the benefits of the publishing biz is that there are no emergencies--one certainly doesn't go into it for the money/prestige!)
The home office is aflutter about a publication that didn't get done last week. I am going to try to finish it off first thing today, but wonder: Did they expect me to work as well as I always have the week I learn they're letting (most of) me go?
As my friend Jennifer is wont to say, "The humanity!"
Fresh hell, indeed!
Friday, April 22, 2005
Feeling better now...
Do wonder about myself at times. Was gripped with sadness and despair yesterday, yet today I feel hopeful--excited, even.
Thursday: See Ann. See Ann sob. Sob Ann, sob.
Friday: See Ann. See Ann giddy. Giddy, Ann, giddy.
Here's the thing: Just got back from my friend Hilary's house, and she and her partner Amy have me all revved up about doing The Comedy in P-town. I have been wondering if this job drama/trauma is my HP's way of saying, "Would you think about doing something else for a change?" (To paraphrase my bit on erectile dysfunction--I'd explain, but life's too short.) I have spent a good 20+ years (!) of my life editing, and it may be time to do something else--not to the exclusion of editing, perhaps, but in addition to it.
It may be feasible, it may not. That remains to be seen, but the prospect of a combination editing-comedy career cheers me up like nothing else that has happened this week, and I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts.
What a week, eh?!
Thursday: See Ann. See Ann sob. Sob Ann, sob.
Friday: See Ann. See Ann giddy. Giddy, Ann, giddy.
Here's the thing: Just got back from my friend Hilary's house, and she and her partner Amy have me all revved up about doing The Comedy in P-town. I have been wondering if this job drama/trauma is my HP's way of saying, "Would you think about doing something else for a change?" (To paraphrase my bit on erectile dysfunction--I'd explain, but life's too short.) I have spent a good 20+ years (!) of my life editing, and it may be time to do something else--not to the exclusion of editing, perhaps, but in addition to it.
It may be feasible, it may not. That remains to be seen, but the prospect of a combination editing-comedy career cheers me up like nothing else that has happened this week, and I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts.
What a week, eh?!
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Sadness descending....
The events of the week are starting to sink in. I may soon no longer be working in shorts and a t-shirt, a snoring dog at my feet. I may have to leave my beasts each morning and return in the late afternoon/early evening as countless other people do, leaving the dogs' mid-day romp to dog sitters, not me. I'm almost weeping at the prospect.
I know for a fact I will soon be reporting to someone besides my dear "boss" (he never liked that word) and friend Lee. That brings tears to my eyes and onto my keyboard.
Change is inevitable, true. But sometimes change just sucks. And this change Sucks the Big One, as we used to say in high school.....
I know, I know--this too shall pass, and if one door closes, another soon opens. It's just I haven't been in life's hallway like this for a long, long time, and I'm not very happy about it. I'll get over it, not to worry....
I know for a fact I will soon be reporting to someone besides my dear "boss" (he never liked that word) and friend Lee. That brings tears to my eyes and onto my keyboard.
Change is inevitable, true. But sometimes change just sucks. And this change Sucks the Big One, as we used to say in high school.....
I know, I know--this too shall pass, and if one door closes, another soon opens. It's just I haven't been in life's hallway like this for a long, long time, and I'm not very happy about it. I'll get over it, not to worry....
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Ch-ch-ch-changes....
Well, yesterday was a Monday for the record books--my boss was let go, my colleague and managing editor was let go (and she's 70), and I, too, apparently will be seeing much less work (like, say, 63% less) from my publisher.
Woo!
So, I guess it's time for me to start job hunting, something I haven't done since, say, 1990. Yes, 1990. I've been lucky, this I know--so, the question becomes, "What exactly do I want to do with this odd grab-bag of skills and interests I've developed over the past 25 years in the workaday world?"
That's today's question. If I don't have any good prospects in about three months, the question will become, "Who will pay me the most to do something--anything--to keep kibble in my babies' mouths?!"
Here's hoping it doesn't come to that. Linda, goddess bless her, has already discussed the worst-case scenario (her speciality) with me, and it looks like this--I lose the car, we lose the cottage, and everything else is the same. In other words: Things could be a LOT worse.
Yet tonight I'm meeting with a couple comic friends to discuss The Comedy--this could be a challenge, no? Have some new material on Bush's tax cuts finally "trickling down" to my level--yep, when you lose your job, your tax burden goes waaaaaaaay down....
Yes, I need to work on that.
So, that's the big news this week. Here's hoping things don't get much more interesting than that (though I am going to talk to the president of my company this morning and that could be an experience the likes of which I may need to discuss). We shall see....
One last thing: Can you believe what a linguistic chameleon I am (see entry below)? I'm more Yankee than Midwestern these days, and that just seems wrong--and where did that Southern bit sneak in from? The farthest south I've ever lived was Chicago!
Guess that's what happens when you move around a lot...and drink heavily....and move around some more....
Woo!
So, I guess it's time for me to start job hunting, something I haven't done since, say, 1990. Yes, 1990. I've been lucky, this I know--so, the question becomes, "What exactly do I want to do with this odd grab-bag of skills and interests I've developed over the past 25 years in the workaday world?"
That's today's question. If I don't have any good prospects in about three months, the question will become, "Who will pay me the most to do something--anything--to keep kibble in my babies' mouths?!"
Here's hoping it doesn't come to that. Linda, goddess bless her, has already discussed the worst-case scenario (her speciality) with me, and it looks like this--I lose the car, we lose the cottage, and everything else is the same. In other words: Things could be a LOT worse.
Yet tonight I'm meeting with a couple comic friends to discuss The Comedy--this could be a challenge, no? Have some new material on Bush's tax cuts finally "trickling down" to my level--yep, when you lose your job, your tax burden goes waaaaaaaay down....
Yes, I need to work on that.
So, that's the big news this week. Here's hoping things don't get much more interesting than that (though I am going to talk to the president of my company this morning and that could be an experience the likes of which I may need to discuss). We shall see....
One last thing: Can you believe what a linguistic chameleon I am (see entry below)? I'm more Yankee than Midwestern these days, and that just seems wrong--and where did that Southern bit sneak in from? The farthest south I've ever lived was Chicago!
Guess that's what happens when you move around a lot...and drink heavily....and move around some more....
Well, whattaya know?
Your Linguistic Profile: |
| 45% General American English |
| 25% Yankee |
| 15% Upper Midwestern |
| 10% Dixie |
| 5% Midwestern |
What Kind of American English Do You Speak?
Saturday, April 16, 2005
How did this happen?
I'm painting again. We have a house the size of a postage stamp, but I'm wearing my painter's white pants and splattered-with-paint men's shirt and waiting for the primer to dry.
It's amazing how long it takes to paint a tiny, tiny house. And how BORING it is--again, I find myself wondering, "How did my father do this for a living?" I also understand why he ate bowls of ice cream the size of small building after a day on the job--if I had to do that every day, you bet I'd have a big ol' incentive waiting for me at the end. (And, as my father before me, ice cream would definitely be my treat of choice.)
The good news is, once I finish the kitchen walls, I am off the house painter's hook until fall, when we start in on the bedrooms.
For it is cottage season at long last--we're heading out there today (after I put a coat of paint over the primer, mind you). So no more house chores!
Unfortunately, that doesn't mean there aren't any cottage chores to do--I'll be painting the deck out there sometime soon, mark my words. So springtime means I switch from being a house painter to being a cottage painter. Sigh.
Do love this home-ownership business (it beats living in an apartment with noisy neighbors and no dogs), but it has a downside. It's called: NO FREE TIME.
Ah--the primer's dry. Time to get back to work. Happy weekend to you all......
It's amazing how long it takes to paint a tiny, tiny house. And how BORING it is--again, I find myself wondering, "How did my father do this for a living?" I also understand why he ate bowls of ice cream the size of small building after a day on the job--if I had to do that every day, you bet I'd have a big ol' incentive waiting for me at the end. (And, as my father before me, ice cream would definitely be my treat of choice.)
The good news is, once I finish the kitchen walls, I am off the house painter's hook until fall, when we start in on the bedrooms.
For it is cottage season at long last--we're heading out there today (after I put a coat of paint over the primer, mind you). So no more house chores!
Unfortunately, that doesn't mean there aren't any cottage chores to do--I'll be painting the deck out there sometime soon, mark my words. So springtime means I switch from being a house painter to being a cottage painter. Sigh.
Do love this home-ownership business (it beats living in an apartment with noisy neighbors and no dogs), but it has a downside. It's called: NO FREE TIME.
Ah--the primer's dry. Time to get back to work. Happy weekend to you all......
Friday, April 15, 2005
A quote for our times....
I must say, every so often a quote comes up that sums up what's going on so well it bears--no, demands--repeating. This is from the economist John Kenneth Galbraith:
"The modern conservative is engaged in one of man's oldest exercises in moral philosophy; that is, the search for a superior moral justification for selfishness."
This from the man who also gave us the gem: "In the long run, we're all dead."
Thanks to Molly Ivins (another sage) for unearthing this quote--it appeared in her oh-so-timely Working for Change article, "You're Getting Screwed: Tax changes that missed the headlines impact your bottom line." If you want a little moral indignation to go with your day, go to http://www.commondreams.org/views05/0415-24.htm for the full story.
"The modern conservative is engaged in one of man's oldest exercises in moral philosophy; that is, the search for a superior moral justification for selfishness."
This from the man who also gave us the gem: "In the long run, we're all dead."
Thanks to Molly Ivins (another sage) for unearthing this quote--it appeared in her oh-so-timely Working for Change article, "You're Getting Screwed: Tax changes that missed the headlines impact your bottom line." If you want a little moral indignation to go with your day, go to http://www.commondreams.org/views05/0415-24.htm for the full story.
When it works....
Had a great show last night in Connecticut despite my misgivings earlier in the day. (Shows what I know--for the 2,459th time, eh?)
The audience was mostly women on a "girl's night out," and happily, they were glad to see yours truly (they weren't so accommodating to the comic who came before me, so I was a little nervous). They even liked my line about gay marriage, "Give me equality or give me a god-damned dyke deduction!" A minor miracle.
The emcee, Darren (?--I am so bad at names it kills me), chalked it up to the it being "hate men" night at the club (which, considering that the audience laughed uproariously at the women comics and sort of kept to themselves when the men were up, we all found hilarious).
Because it was (sort of) the truth.
To top it all off, I had a lovely burger and fries before the show, so I was happy no matter what.
A fulfilling day in the life of a part-time comic, indeed.
The audience was mostly women on a "girl's night out," and happily, they were glad to see yours truly (they weren't so accommodating to the comic who came before me, so I was a little nervous). They even liked my line about gay marriage, "Give me equality or give me a god-damned dyke deduction!" A minor miracle.
The emcee, Darren (?--I am so bad at names it kills me), chalked it up to the it being "hate men" night at the club (which, considering that the audience laughed uproariously at the women comics and sort of kept to themselves when the men were up, we all found hilarious).
Because it was (sort of) the truth.
To top it all off, I had a lovely burger and fries before the show, so I was happy no matter what.
A fulfilling day in the life of a part-time comic, indeed.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Rockin' robins....
There were two pudgy--and I mean ROTUND--robins in one of our dogwood trees this morning, and Linda thought they might be expecting.
Pregnant robins in the front yard--if that doesn't say "Spring," I don't know what does!
It's been sunny and beautiful, if a little cool, and life is good. Have had too much work this week to really go out and enjoy the spring, but I hope to make up for this over the weekend. We're going to take our maiden spring voyage out to the cottage, have a little cookout, and maybe even launch the kayaks (if the lakes are open, that is). We might even spend the night, but as we don't have running water yet, that's a big MIGHT. (Not that I'm a princess, mind you, but I do like my daily shower.)
Have a comedy show tonight, and I don't have any idea of how much time I have or what, exactly, I'm going to do. Need to mix things up a little, that's for certain, for I'm a little bored--BORED--at the prospect.
Of doing comedy?! (That can't be good, can it?)
Here's hoping it's some sort of sophomore slump or something. I'm in year two of The Comedy, after all--the initial rush is past, and now it's getting a little more real.
And, I must admit, I am still annoyed at a comic who slammed the UCONN Huskies women's basketball team Saturday night. If he were a bigger man (and I mean that in every way possible), they wouldn't threaten him, but apparently, they do.
Cheap shot, anyway.
But then, I pick on poor, defenseless homophobes, so am I any better?
You bet your bippy, as they used to say on "Laugh In"....
Pregnant robins in the front yard--if that doesn't say "Spring," I don't know what does!
It's been sunny and beautiful, if a little cool, and life is good. Have had too much work this week to really go out and enjoy the spring, but I hope to make up for this over the weekend. We're going to take our maiden spring voyage out to the cottage, have a little cookout, and maybe even launch the kayaks (if the lakes are open, that is). We might even spend the night, but as we don't have running water yet, that's a big MIGHT. (Not that I'm a princess, mind you, but I do like my daily shower.)
Have a comedy show tonight, and I don't have any idea of how much time I have or what, exactly, I'm going to do. Need to mix things up a little, that's for certain, for I'm a little bored--BORED--at the prospect.
Of doing comedy?! (That can't be good, can it?)
Here's hoping it's some sort of sophomore slump or something. I'm in year two of The Comedy, after all--the initial rush is past, and now it's getting a little more real.
And, I must admit, I am still annoyed at a comic who slammed the UCONN Huskies women's basketball team Saturday night. If he were a bigger man (and I mean that in every way possible), they wouldn't threaten him, but apparently, they do.
Cheap shot, anyway.
But then, I pick on poor, defenseless homophobes, so am I any better?
You bet your bippy, as they used to say on "Laugh In"....
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Worst suspicions confirmed
My Linda and I, living in Massachusetts as we do, discussed the option of getting married a bit (we've been together over a decade, so we are well past the "rush to the altar" phase of development). We did not approach it as a testament to our undying love (please), but rather as something that might offer enough benefits to make jumping through yet another bureaucratic hoop (we're also domestic partners in NYC and partners to a civil union in Vermont, so we know from bureaucratic hoops) worthwhile.
Well, it wasn't. The last straw was a panel discussion on gay/lesbian marriage hosted by a local law firm, which appeared to be suggesting that getting married was a lot more trouble than it was worth.
Well, they were right--and this was validated by a cover story in yesterday's Daily Hampshire Gazette. It offered a blow-by-blow of the hassles facing "married" gay and lesbian couples (the onus of filing as married in Mass while filing as single for the IRS, which doesn't recognize queer unions), as well as a lovely chart showing everything that "married" gay and lesbian couples don't get as compared to heterosexual married couples.
A discouraging confirmation of our suspicions, but a confirmation nonetheless.
So, we'll just stick with being domesticated and civilized, and leave the marrying to straight folks. Sigh.
And I'm going to keep working on my comedy bit about getting a dyke deduction, once I can figure out how to make it funny rather than furious (which is where I get stuck with such things--same reason I can't make funny about G.W. Bush).
Speaking of funny re G.W., we watched Whoopi Goldberg's HBO special last night, and she had some great bits on him, his cabinet/advisers, and the whole "moral values" crowd. Her imitation of Condi Rice's smile was priceless (and her explanation for it was funny, if revolting). Watch it. See what I mean....
Well, it wasn't. The last straw was a panel discussion on gay/lesbian marriage hosted by a local law firm, which appeared to be suggesting that getting married was a lot more trouble than it was worth.
Well, they were right--and this was validated by a cover story in yesterday's Daily Hampshire Gazette. It offered a blow-by-blow of the hassles facing "married" gay and lesbian couples (the onus of filing as married in Mass while filing as single for the IRS, which doesn't recognize queer unions), as well as a lovely chart showing everything that "married" gay and lesbian couples don't get as compared to heterosexual married couples.
A discouraging confirmation of our suspicions, but a confirmation nonetheless.
So, we'll just stick with being domesticated and civilized, and leave the marrying to straight folks. Sigh.
And I'm going to keep working on my comedy bit about getting a dyke deduction, once I can figure out how to make it funny rather than furious (which is where I get stuck with such things--same reason I can't make funny about G.W. Bush).
Speaking of funny re G.W., we watched Whoopi Goldberg's HBO special last night, and she had some great bits on him, his cabinet/advisers, and the whole "moral values" crowd. Her imitation of Condi Rice's smile was priceless (and her explanation for it was funny, if revolting). Watch it. See what I mean....
Monday, April 11, 2005
Happy Birthday dear beastie!
This will be lost on people who don't have animals (or animals they adore, anyway), but my first dog Shwea turned eight today--eight! Can't believe it's been that long since I first picked her sleeping carcass up off the vinyl floor of the kitchen in her Southampton birthplace.
Yes, she was sleeping then, and she's sleeping now. (Not a live wire, that Shwea). So far, we've celebrated by counting off nine banana slices (one for each year and one to grow on) and popping them into her waiting/gaping mouth. (She loves her bananas. Loves watermelon more, but it's too early in the season for such delicacies.) Dunno what else we'll do to mark the occasion, but I have an idea it may involve the steak leftover from last night's supper. (It was a little tough, but of course, Shwea won't care--she's easygoing where such things are concerned.)
Happy birthday, girl, and many happy returns!
On other fronts, I had a very good show at the Elks club on Saturday night, even though the crowd looked a lot like the folks at the Chinese restaurant who gave me pause. The moral of the story is that you never can tell, I guess (you'd think I would have learned that by now, and not just from The Comedy).
Never said I was quick, did I? (My picture could be above "slow learner" in the dictionary, though it might be more appropriate to stick my picture about the phrase "late bloomer.")
If I bloomed much later, I'd be dead.
Have a lot of work facing me since I was away in NYC or prepping for my colonoscopy most of last week, so it's going to be a whirlwind five days--and I have a show Thursday night. Time to get busy....
Yes, she was sleeping then, and she's sleeping now. (Not a live wire, that Shwea). So far, we've celebrated by counting off nine banana slices (one for each year and one to grow on) and popping them into her waiting/gaping mouth. (She loves her bananas. Loves watermelon more, but it's too early in the season for such delicacies.) Dunno what else we'll do to mark the occasion, but I have an idea it may involve the steak leftover from last night's supper. (It was a little tough, but of course, Shwea won't care--she's easygoing where such things are concerned.)
Happy birthday, girl, and many happy returns!
On other fronts, I had a very good show at the Elks club on Saturday night, even though the crowd looked a lot like the folks at the Chinese restaurant who gave me pause. The moral of the story is that you never can tell, I guess (you'd think I would have learned that by now, and not just from The Comedy).
Never said I was quick, did I? (My picture could be above "slow learner" in the dictionary, though it might be more appropriate to stick my picture about the phrase "late bloomer.")
If I bloomed much later, I'd be dead.
Have a lot of work facing me since I was away in NYC or prepping for my colonoscopy most of last week, so it's going to be a whirlwind five days--and I have a show Thursday night. Time to get busy....
Saturday, April 09, 2005
All better (or close enough).
Slept in but good this morning (almost till 10:00!), and woke up feeling close to my old self. Think just about all of the chemicals are out of my system, as is most of the air out of my lower intestine (sure hope so--have a comedy benefit tonight and don't want to have to worry about subterranean blasts in the midst of it all).
Took a walk with Linda and the dogs today, too--wasn't able to do that for the past week, between being out of town then being on a heavy laxative schedule. It's a gorgeous time of year--warm enough to wear very light clothing, but not warm enough for all of the bugs to come to life--and I'm enjoying it while it lasts.
Haven't really worried too much about tonight's show--am most concerned about finding the place, an Elks Club in the wilds of Connecticut. Have been remembering my dad's Elks Club for the past hour or so--it wasn't just an Elks Club as far as I was concerned, it was an after-school program. Dad would take me there after school so he could both do his baby sitting duties and get some cribbage and cocktails in with the "boys"--Dr. Z and Big Howie--till supper time. I would sit a barstool or two away, drinking my Orange Nehi and Rocky Road chocolate bar, playing dice or Solitaire until Mom called and asked us to come home. Sometimes Bruno the bartender would play with me--he was a sweetheart, and perhaps planted the seed of fondness for bartenders that I have until this very day.
Waxing nostalgic over an Elks' Club--yes, it's come to this (blame the colonoscopy, if that makes you feel better).
Took a walk with Linda and the dogs today, too--wasn't able to do that for the past week, between being out of town then being on a heavy laxative schedule. It's a gorgeous time of year--warm enough to wear very light clothing, but not warm enough for all of the bugs to come to life--and I'm enjoying it while it lasts.
Haven't really worried too much about tonight's show--am most concerned about finding the place, an Elks Club in the wilds of Connecticut. Have been remembering my dad's Elks Club for the past hour or so--it wasn't just an Elks Club as far as I was concerned, it was an after-school program. Dad would take me there after school so he could both do his baby sitting duties and get some cribbage and cocktails in with the "boys"--Dr. Z and Big Howie--till supper time. I would sit a barstool or two away, drinking my Orange Nehi and Rocky Road chocolate bar, playing dice or Solitaire until Mom called and asked us to come home. Sometimes Bruno the bartender would play with me--he was a sweetheart, and perhaps planted the seed of fondness for bartenders that I have until this very day.
Waxing nostalgic over an Elks' Club--yes, it's come to this (blame the colonoscopy, if that makes you feel better).
Friday, April 08, 2005
Well, it wasn't the worst thing that's ever happened....
Happy day, the colonoscopy is over--and the dear doctor didn't find a thing on his trip through Ann's Colonland: Yippie! Am still a wee bit wozy and as gassy a lassie as you'll ever meet, but otherwise I feel fine (considering I also have my period, of course).
Yup, Mother Nature came to town just before my procedure (isn't she swell?), so I was never sure if the cramps I was having while being, uh, investigated were due to the colonoscopy or dear Aunt Flo. They were plentiful, though, so perhaps it was some sort of tag-team effort. Very uncomfortable. Very.
And when the nurse kept telling me to breathe deeply through each cramp, I tried, but it didn't seem to do a hell of a lot of good. Don't remember too much else (and pray I wasn't whiny--I hate whiny).
Discomfort aside, I'm just glad it's over and peace of mind is mine--at least until the next one. Unfortunately: Though I was under the impression that colonoscopies are once-every-decade affairs, the doctor told me he suggests an every-five-years schedule.
Come to think of it, 2010 does seem a lifetime away--goddess willing, Aunt Flo will be kinder next time (if not out of town permanently).
Yup, Mother Nature came to town just before my procedure (isn't she swell?), so I was never sure if the cramps I was having while being, uh, investigated were due to the colonoscopy or dear Aunt Flo. They were plentiful, though, so perhaps it was some sort of tag-team effort. Very uncomfortable. Very.
And when the nurse kept telling me to breathe deeply through each cramp, I tried, but it didn't seem to do a hell of a lot of good. Don't remember too much else (and pray I wasn't whiny--I hate whiny).
Discomfort aside, I'm just glad it's over and peace of mind is mine--at least until the next one. Unfortunately: Though I was under the impression that colonoscopies are once-every-decade affairs, the doctor told me he suggests an every-five-years schedule.
Come to think of it, 2010 does seem a lifetime away--goddess willing, Aunt Flo will be kinder next time (if not out of town permanently).
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Nothing says the bloom is off the rose....
...quite like a colonoscopy! That's my own deranged take on the procedure that I will be undergoing tomorrow. In a word: AIEEEEE!
Am on a liquid/jell-o/Gatorade diet today, which is not a bad thing, considering I was in NYC Monday-Wednesday and didn't exactly eat like a sparrow. I ate a lot of wonderful foods, and even though I have a head cold and couldn't taste flavors as well as I would have liked, everything I ate was delicious!
Took some pills at 10:00 a.m. that are going to start the "cleansing" process--figure I'd better blog before they work their magic, for from what I've heard, I won't be spending much time in my office soon.
But for the cold, New York was great--saw some friends, got some useful info at the conference, and even tried an open mic. It was very much like the "too many cooks" open mic Jennifer and I attended last month, with me getting a spot near the end of a long line of comics--the main difference being I subjected two of my friends, Val and Joan, to the entire ordeal. (It's one thing to subject oneself to a comic marathon; it's quite another to subject one's innocent friends.) I owe them--BIG TIME.
It wouldn't have been bad if most of the comics were funny, but most of them weren't. And as they were mostly young white men, they covered very similar territory--and a lot of it wasn't exactly girl-positive (another reason Val and Joan's valor was much appreciated). The good news is I thought about telling my boss about the show, but decided it was probably for the best that I didn't--too bad I didn't extend the same courtesy to Val and Joan.
And I noticed that most of the comics didn't stick around after their time was done--which meant by the time I got up there, the room was almost empty. Once I opened my set, however, some people came in from the bar, so at least Val and Joan weren't alone. I think I did okay, but I was so tired and embarrassed (for what I was subjecting Joan and Val to), I don't really remember.
Yup--another walk on the tedious side, thanks to the joy that is The Comedy. Sigh.
Tonight is Jennifer's open mic, but I doubt I'll be going--between the prep for tomorrow's procedure and my liquid-only diet, I don't think I'll be in the mood. I think one should do comedy on a full stomach.
But then, I think I should do everything on a full stomach. That's the Podolske way.
One last thing--realized last night that for all my travels and experimentation over the years, my food tastes are pretty darn pedestrian. In fact, if I were forced to choose a "last meal," the main course would likely be pizza. Linda told me I was on my own for dinner last night, and I knew it was going to be my last solid food for about a day-and-a-half, so I thought long and hard about what I wanted to eat. And the first thing I thought of was pizza. Pepperoni pizza, no less.
However, I'm not a complete Philistine. If it was truly my last meal, I'd want to have pistachio creme brulee for dessert. That would be a last meal that would definitely make imminent death a little easier to take....
Am on a liquid/jell-o/Gatorade diet today, which is not a bad thing, considering I was in NYC Monday-Wednesday and didn't exactly eat like a sparrow. I ate a lot of wonderful foods, and even though I have a head cold and couldn't taste flavors as well as I would have liked, everything I ate was delicious!
Took some pills at 10:00 a.m. that are going to start the "cleansing" process--figure I'd better blog before they work their magic, for from what I've heard, I won't be spending much time in my office soon.
But for the cold, New York was great--saw some friends, got some useful info at the conference, and even tried an open mic. It was very much like the "too many cooks" open mic Jennifer and I attended last month, with me getting a spot near the end of a long line of comics--the main difference being I subjected two of my friends, Val and Joan, to the entire ordeal. (It's one thing to subject oneself to a comic marathon; it's quite another to subject one's innocent friends.) I owe them--BIG TIME.
It wouldn't have been bad if most of the comics were funny, but most of them weren't. And as they were mostly young white men, they covered very similar territory--and a lot of it wasn't exactly girl-positive (another reason Val and Joan's valor was much appreciated). The good news is I thought about telling my boss about the show, but decided it was probably for the best that I didn't--too bad I didn't extend the same courtesy to Val and Joan.
And I noticed that most of the comics didn't stick around after their time was done--which meant by the time I got up there, the room was almost empty. Once I opened my set, however, some people came in from the bar, so at least Val and Joan weren't alone. I think I did okay, but I was so tired and embarrassed (for what I was subjecting Joan and Val to), I don't really remember.
Yup--another walk on the tedious side, thanks to the joy that is The Comedy. Sigh.
Tonight is Jennifer's open mic, but I doubt I'll be going--between the prep for tomorrow's procedure and my liquid-only diet, I don't think I'll be in the mood. I think one should do comedy on a full stomach.
But then, I think I should do everything on a full stomach. That's the Podolske way.
One last thing--realized last night that for all my travels and experimentation over the years, my food tastes are pretty darn pedestrian. In fact, if I were forced to choose a "last meal," the main course would likely be pizza. Linda told me I was on my own for dinner last night, and I knew it was going to be my last solid food for about a day-and-a-half, so I thought long and hard about what I wanted to eat. And the first thing I thought of was pizza. Pepperoni pizza, no less.
However, I'm not a complete Philistine. If it was truly my last meal, I'd want to have pistachio creme brulee for dessert. That would be a last meal that would definitely make imminent death a little easier to take....
Monday, April 04, 2005
Not the best of times, not the worst of times...
Had a just okay show at Jimmy Tingle's Off Broadway last night. Part of it was whatever is causing me to feel as though I have a brick lodged in my sinuses (I'm beginning to suspect allergies rather than a cold), part of it was the fact that there were more comics than there were people in the audience.
Linda thought it might be because the women's NCAA final four semi-finals were last night, but I'm not so sure. (It certainly wasn't because of "The L Word"--it had to be one of the worst episodes I've ever seen....and that's saying a lot, trust me!)
In sum: It's not easy doing The Comedy for seven people, especially with a head full of stuffing.
But otherwise, it was a good night. Well, except for Jennifer, who had to cancel due to a stomach virus she picked up just as she was starting to feel more human after her horrible cold (whenever I feel bad about my stuffed-head syndrome, I think of poor Ms. Myszkowski's ailments and realize I don't have it so bad). Jennifer did manage to contribute mightily to the night anyway, for she suggested directions that we were able to follow without a hitch.
And I was driving!
It's a minor miracle folks, and also a testament to my friend and navigator Holly Givens, who was ready, willing, and able to go off to Boston with me on a moment's notice. What a trooper!
And while I wasn't thrilled with my performance, I was asked back for the month of May--so that means something (good, I hope). Holly was invited back, too.
So, all things considered, it was a good night. Though I must admit, I'm happiest about driving to Boston and back without any drama/trauma.
I think it's the car....
Won't be posting for the next couple of days--I'm off to NYC, and that means work during the day, and catching up with old friends during the night. In other words: It's not the sort of trip one drags a laptop along on--won't have time for such things. Am going to try to go to an open mic on Tuesday night--will report on that upon my return Wednesday.
Till then--all good!
Linda thought it might be because the women's NCAA final four semi-finals were last night, but I'm not so sure. (It certainly wasn't because of "The L Word"--it had to be one of the worst episodes I've ever seen....and that's saying a lot, trust me!)
In sum: It's not easy doing The Comedy for seven people, especially with a head full of stuffing.
But otherwise, it was a good night. Well, except for Jennifer, who had to cancel due to a stomach virus she picked up just as she was starting to feel more human after her horrible cold (whenever I feel bad about my stuffed-head syndrome, I think of poor Ms. Myszkowski's ailments and realize I don't have it so bad). Jennifer did manage to contribute mightily to the night anyway, for she suggested directions that we were able to follow without a hitch.
And I was driving!
It's a minor miracle folks, and also a testament to my friend and navigator Holly Givens, who was ready, willing, and able to go off to Boston with me on a moment's notice. What a trooper!
And while I wasn't thrilled with my performance, I was asked back for the month of May--so that means something (good, I hope). Holly was invited back, too.
So, all things considered, it was a good night. Though I must admit, I'm happiest about driving to Boston and back without any drama/trauma.
I think it's the car....
Won't be posting for the next couple of days--I'm off to NYC, and that means work during the day, and catching up with old friends during the night. In other words: It's not the sort of trip one drags a laptop along on--won't have time for such things. Am going to try to go to an open mic on Tuesday night--will report on that upon my return Wednesday.
Till then--all good!
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Mother Nature's run amok
We went walking today by the Mill River, and woo, was the water high. We had to walk far up and away from the usual trails, since they all were well under water. I was freaking, fearing that one of my furry friends was going to be swept away, but happily, everyone behaved themselves.
Except Linda, who threw a ball out far enough for it to get swept away, and Shwea almost went in hot pursuit.
That would have been the end of Shwea (and perhaps, Linda).
Otherwise, I woke up feeling a little less than perky--okay, less perky than usual--but am now feeling better. Still, am looking forward to tonight's show in Somerville. Here's hoping it all goes well! (Or legs are broken, we kill, or whatever those lovely showbiz expressions are....)
Except Linda, who threw a ball out far enough for it to get swept away, and Shwea almost went in hot pursuit.
That would have been the end of Shwea (and perhaps, Linda).
Otherwise, I woke up feeling a little less than perky--okay, less perky than usual--but am now feeling better. Still, am looking forward to tonight's show in Somerville. Here's hoping it all goes well! (Or legs are broken, we kill, or whatever those lovely showbiz expressions are....)
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Hostile, if accommodating
Despite some pushback on my material, I had an overall good show last night in Winchendon--which, according to a local, is also known as "Winchentucky." Wondered about all the pickup trucks in the parking lot--and the "Bush for President" bumper sticker didn't exactly warm my heart.
Yeah, they were really primed for a recovering alcoholic lesbian act, let me tell you!
The beauty part is I didn't give a damn what they thought. Is this a sign of progress on the self-esteem front, or reckless disregard for personal safety? I hope it's the former, for I felt blissfully unmoved by the reaction to some of my material.
And listening to my recording this morning, the times where the crowd drew back were more than compensated for by the times they lost their little minds. Homophobic, but in hysterics--can't help but like that.
The irony to me is that this was a benefit for a used/abused/abandoned animal shelter--from dogs to horses to whatever. So, these people love the heck out of animals of all shapes and sizes, but a human being suggests there may be more than one way to be human, and they draw back in horror.
Or silence. (Same thing if you're a comic, IMHO.)
Oh well, I did 15 minutes and they were good. It was wonderful prep for my show tomorrow in Sommerville with Jennifer.
If I could just shake this throat thing (my voice is still in the lower registers), life would be perfect.
But this is good.
Yeah, they were really primed for a recovering alcoholic lesbian act, let me tell you!
The beauty part is I didn't give a damn what they thought. Is this a sign of progress on the self-esteem front, or reckless disregard for personal safety? I hope it's the former, for I felt blissfully unmoved by the reaction to some of my material.
And listening to my recording this morning, the times where the crowd drew back were more than compensated for by the times they lost their little minds. Homophobic, but in hysterics--can't help but like that.
The irony to me is that this was a benefit for a used/abused/abandoned animal shelter--from dogs to horses to whatever. So, these people love the heck out of animals of all shapes and sizes, but a human being suggests there may be more than one way to be human, and they draw back in horror.
Or silence. (Same thing if you're a comic, IMHO.)
Oh well, I did 15 minutes and they were good. It was wonderful prep for my show tomorrow in Sommerville with Jennifer.
If I could just shake this throat thing (my voice is still in the lower registers), life would be perfect.
But this is good.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Not out of the woods yet....
Woke up feeling much more human this morning, but had a voice that suggests I have somehow been smoking a pack-and-a-half a day without my knowledge.
Besides being stunned at the memory of smoking like a chimney (I easily doubled that consumption on drinking occasions, and as I've noted, there were several of those in the bad ol' days), I am still a little wary as to my health. It does feel as though I will successfully vanquish this bug in time for tonight's and Sunday's performances, not to mention Monday's travel, but I'm not counting on it.
Being the superstitious type, I'm not going to put this belief in my future well-being into declarative sentence form: That would be asking for it. BIG TIME. (Like bronchitis on top of sinus infection asking for it, in case you're wondering.)
The good news is my voice can warble up into the higher registers (almost into Aunt Bea territory--if you don't know who Aunt Bea is, ask one of your elders), so losing an octave or two to a cold is not bad news for me or for the people who have to listen to me speak.
Which, goddess willing, they'll be doing in Winchendon tonight. Better go get some work done, so I can flit off tonight work-anxiety free....
Besides being stunned at the memory of smoking like a chimney (I easily doubled that consumption on drinking occasions, and as I've noted, there were several of those in the bad ol' days), I am still a little wary as to my health. It does feel as though I will successfully vanquish this bug in time for tonight's and Sunday's performances, not to mention Monday's travel, but I'm not counting on it.
Being the superstitious type, I'm not going to put this belief in my future well-being into declarative sentence form: That would be asking for it. BIG TIME. (Like bronchitis on top of sinus infection asking for it, in case you're wondering.)
The good news is my voice can warble up into the higher registers (almost into Aunt Bea territory--if you don't know who Aunt Bea is, ask one of your elders), so losing an octave or two to a cold is not bad news for me or for the people who have to listen to me speak.
Which, goddess willing, they'll be doing in Winchendon tonight. Better go get some work done, so I can flit off tonight work-anxiety free....
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