Deuces

Space. That's another definite plus of my job-loss. Today I purged myself of many a company thing.  I handed over just about the last of it all- the last of the artifacts that were used daily in my job. At first, I was afraid to let them go.  It meant it was real- that I was no longer needed by the company.  But after a few days of waiting to be rid of it all, I was excited to start anew. I couldn't let the keys go fast enough.  Those keys that lock up all the things I held in my hands each working day.  As they left my hands and passed to my ex, I felt a sigh of relief.  I smiled.  I felt light as a bird. I said good-bye to my ex- both verbally and mentally.  And while I know I will continue in the friendships I have made at my last post, things will never be the same again.  Ever. I will never be able to erase from my mind what it felt to feel so incredibly desolate.  I won't be able to purge that sense of isolation from it all, and how quickly I went from be

Last night I started a list of things I won't miss about my job. I thought it would make me feel better, but I didn't like the negative thoughts and energy I was allowing to consume my mind.  Instead, I opted to start listing, each day, things and moments that are great about not rowing with the other slaves of the workforce. On today's list is blueberry pancakes.  Loving pancakes is a recent thing.  Maybe we can thank Cynthia, Letty and Julia- my cardio, lifting and yoga instructors for that.  I crave that carbohydrated goodness.  And anything with "cake" as a part of its word geneology is awesome in my book. My husband would make me pancakes each weekend.  Breakfast in bed- one of his romantic specialties on a lazy Saturday and Sunday morning. They were a treat.  And now, I am having this treat just about every day. To wake up and not be in a rush.  To wake up and mix my own batter and smother that batter in indigo-colored blueberries- awesome. My cats

How annoying that I blog about being laid off.  But since I've been working since the tender age of 16, I will revel in the opportunity to navigate this experience with you. If you don't like it- have a cookie.  That does wonders for my interest level. Today is the suckiversary of one week into the world of being a leach on society's system.   I am draining the universe of it's resources and contributing nothing but a daily blog.  I am stealing from the pie that feeds our children's school systems.  I am taking your hard earned cash-money and pilfering it for my own selfish needs.  Thank You.  Thank You.  Thank You. The week has been shockingly busy.  Too busy. Phone please stop ringing.  Emails keep a'comin.  I have been sorting through handing my accounts over to the survivor and making sure she knows what's up.  I have medical appointments to make to ensure I don't lose the money I have invested into my healthcare and Flexible Spending Account. 

"Cynthia-  I saw you checking out my man when he bent down.  I saw you smiling his way, and come over to talk to him.  I considered punching you in the face, but before I had a chance, you kicked my ass and yelled at me." Oh Cynthia.  How is it that you manage to make Mondays come faster each week?  Hmmm? And no matter how much I would love to wallow in my sorrow of job-loss, you beckon me from my jammies and comfort food. I dress. I grab a bottle of water. And I head for the gym. Lloyd and I have been taking your Monday night class for several weeks now.  We hate it.  We love it.  We hate it.  We love it.  We can't decide. You make us get so low with those weights, and you always keep us guessing. The reps keep a'comin.  There's hardly time to breathe. Push-ups always seemed significantly easier in junior high P.E.  Has the exercise changed over the years?  Why would I prefer to fall on my face than lift my body and more times?  That can't be a good t

I was laid off.  Yep', we all know it now. We know I blubbered like a small child.  We know I have gone from the extremes of bummed-out'ness (yes, it's a word) to blissful optimism. What we don't all know is how awesome the people I love have been to me, and I am sitting here with a spoon and vanilla-bean ice-cream to prove it.  Compliments of my girlfriend who picked it up for me along with a huge brownie this afternoon.  That is love.  That is family. The day I was laid off I went to see my brother who watched me well up as I told him I wasn't kidding about being laid off- "I swear, Chris." He said: "Aww, man.  That sucks, Snoops.  I'm really sorry." And he wanted details.  And I gave them.  I knew he really cared.  Not someone who asks just as a way of going through the motions.  And he offered "you know you can always come live with us if you really need to."  And I knew he meant it. He and I walked into Subway that after

I don't want to write about being laid off. But I am.  Because that's what I know today, and it is what I cannot shake. I don't know if it's the whole not having a job thing that troubles me.  What is difficult is suddenly finding myself in a situation where I second guess my calling in life.  I have officially moved from a stage of denial to a stage of bummer-mode. I am bummed that what I felt I was great at is not what I am doing.  And perhaps in another time period it will be, once more.  But today I am feeling like I have lost a piece of my identity.  And let's face it, my identity is awesome. It is, right?  

Day 4 is better than days 1-3.  I think. I am still in denial.  I went to the storage unit yesterday where I keep all my work materials and I tidied it up.  Someone said- "Don't do any more work for them" but it felt good to me.  It felt good to feel busy.  It felt good to know I would be turning over my materials to a survivor in a respectable fashion.  The survivor did not make me redundant.  The survivors of this have more work cut out for them.  They have less people to call and commiserate with from time to time.  They have less man-power.  They have more back-breaking work and longer workdays for their salaried positions. Perhaps if I could just get to stop feeling sorry for them, I could enjoy feeling sorry for myself. And I have been feeling sorry for the other employees that were victims of the "re-organization".  They are in stages "Anger" and "Traumatized". Of course it is all relative, isn't it?  I read on a web article

Day 3 starts with me looking for a new position.  Day 3 is exhausting and I've only put in a solid uno-punto-una horas of job seeking. Last night I opened up the resume that landed me my ex.  Let's just call it the ex. I can't bear to say it's name right now (sob, sob). I looked at that resume and it looked so foreign.  I hadn't seen it since I landed the ex.  Like running into your old boyfriend at the mall when you have that just-out-the-salon look and you decided to put on make-up.  You feel like you are truly moving on. But what was really, super awesome was looking at that resume and seeing how much has changed in the last 2+ years.  Like seeing that old sweetheart and noticing his hair line has receded and he has put on a couple of kilos, as well.  It just feels good. Of course, it means a lot of work for me to edit that document.  But I was able to add so many things.  So many things I have learned to do over the last couple.  So many great experiences. 

Day 2 starts late day 1.  It is evening.  My prime-time.  This is when stuff gets dunzo and I am coming off the 24 high.  24 hour fitness, that is. Lloyd came in earlier after an honest day's work.  I sullenly looked at him looking for sympathy I didn't need.  I said "I meant to clean today, but I didn't quite get around to it.  I was laid off yesterday"  He replied "it's okay. You're entitled to a day to do nothing".  I reminded him several more times today that I had been laid off.  I will play that card as long as possible.  I've never played that hand before and I won't lie- the attention is thrilling. I am in stage 2 of the career break-up.  I am not sure what everone else calls that stage, but for me it is "Delusions".  In this stage I tell myself this is a great thing.  It's an opportunity to go out there and find a better boyfriend- er', career.  Much like a split, I convince myself I just might be better of

Yesterday I cried. I sat with a head honcho and a HR manager for the company I have been working for as they broke the news that my position had been made redundant.  In essence, I was jobless "effective immediately". I didn't cry right away.  My eyes didn't swell until I spoke and looked at their sympathetic faces.  I could see this was hurting them, perhaps just as much as it was hurting me. I have never really been laid off before.  Kinda' once.  Via letter.  But I knew that was coming and I was eager to get the Hell out of Dodge on that one anyway.  I already had a teaching job lined up elsewhere at the time and I was living with my mom.  That means, I had a cell phone bill, student loan, and little else to pay at the time.  Today, is a whole 'notha story with a mortgage, 6 mouths to feed (yes, my cats count), and utilities, credit card debt, and the rest of that stuff that comes in a white envelope each month.  Do I feel a sense of panic? No.  Alt

When I was a little girl I wanted to be Laura Ingall's Wilder.  I read each and every book in the "Little House on the Prairie" series.  Oh.... I loved to read. And then I would read some more.  I could spend hours curled up with a book.  And "Little House" were among my favorites.  I remember I had this bonnet.  There's a picture here somewhere.....  and I wanted nothing more than a simple life.  I loved the idea of calling my daddy "pa" (which I never did, because he would have thought that was weird) and I would put on these simple dresses.  I cried when Mary went blind.  I used to get so mad at Nelly.  I would make these little beds out of pillows and blankets in the corner of my room, and read under a night-light.  I can attribute my near-sightedness and need to wear glasses by age 14 on little Laura Ingalls.  Little Laura- how I stared at the pages of your life for hours on end.  My first American Idol.

My husband is great (dear, you must have known I would blog about this...) Last night I convinced him to attend one of the exercise classes with me at our gym. "Are there men in the class, or just women?", he asked. I didn't lie to him.  I told him there was generally a token male or two, but the other 15 attendees would be chicks. He was reluctant, but he went.  I showed him how to set-up his step.  I showed him where to pick up his barbell and weights.  I saw him scan the room and breathe a sigh of relief as the other 2 men walked through the glass door.  He was at ease. And then it started.  The techno beats filled the air, and sweat started pouring.  Within minutes I was getting tired, and I could see him in the large mirrors reflection giving me the look of death.  He wanted to punch me in the shin- which was an indicator that he was feelin' the burn, too. I was so proud of him during that class.  I could see the many times he wanted to stop or slow down,

So I have been keeping tabs on my readers.  Yes. You. I have been holding you accountable. I can check every now and again where my readers are coming from.  Basically, I like to see what countries I'm reppin'.  It helps me to know whether my UK counterparts are really missing Lloyd and I. Congratulations, Brits- in the words of Simon Cowell: "You're moving through to the next round." But sometimes I get quite a shock when I get random stats showing random countries where I don't know anyone.  Well.  Unless one of you is sneaking weekends away to Indonesia.  Anyone??  Anyone??  Bueller?? And then I have a fun mind-game going on where I get to wonder who in Indonesia, Canada or Germany stumbled upon my blog.  I will wonder what keyword they typed into their google or gogle' or googlefreudan toolbar that led them to me.  Was it badonkadonk? Perhaps. Keywords are a funny thing.  I certainly stumble onto strangers blogs all the time when searching for c

The Big Cheese scared some people.  Literally.  That's what I've heard several say: "She scares me".  I suppose I could see where they were coming from.  The Big Cheese had a sense of control over us: she monitored, she advised, she stared intently when you spoke to her giving a slight sense of unease.  As she focused her attention on you, you wondered what she was thinking.  You know those people??  The ones you can't read?  But despite this, I liked the Big Cheese.  No. I like her.  Present tense.  Like. Recessions suck.  This much we know.  They cause people to lose jobs and all that fear and anxiety and sadness that they feel is shared among colleagues, friends and peers. To say goodbye to a co-worker, a friend, a mentor is.... sad.  Is there a better word for it?  I'm not sure. The Big Cheese was our boss' boss' boss's boss.  I am not sure if she knew others called her the Big Cheese.  She has a name, naturally.  But when she wasn't ar