The Fourth Grade

Today is September 11th.  In an effort to avoid being too sad, I have avoided Facebook and major media today.  Last year I wrote a long post about that day and how I felt.  Today I felt sad and also old.  In the morning, around the time that the second plane hit, people were talking about where they were.  Most of my co-workers were in high school.  I am not a great writer and anything to mark today feels pretty trite, so I thought that I'd borrow from a few other people.

In the fourth grade, to cement my uber-nerd status, I memorized the Gettysburg Address for extra credit.  I'm not sure why my teacher had this on the extra credit list at the beginning of the school year, but it was the longest and hardest thing on the list, so I decided that I would memorize it.  I actually still know the majority of the speech.  This section has always reminded me of today:

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.

And, today has always reminded me of the poem "Funeral Blues"* by W.H. Auden:

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

I'll feel better tomorrow, but maybe still old.  I hope you will too.

*When I googled the poem for its full text I found that it was written as a satire of a politician's death.  I'm going to pretend that I don't know that.  My favorite line has always been "let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves," especially today.

Seriously?

Last night I was talking to my sister and I learned that you can buy babies from people called "Baby Brokers."  These are real and surprisingly legal.  Apparently, there are places in the country where it's still 1950 and there are "homes" for girls and young women who are hiding their pregnancies.  These homes are called "Baby Farms" by the adoption community.  Seriously--not joking.  Anyway, if you decide that you want to adopt an infant, you hook up with a Baby Broker and they go out to the open market to all the Baby Farms and they find you the cheapest baby on the market that fits your criteria.  It kind of sounds like buying a used car from CarMax.  Both the Baby Broker and the Baby Farm take a portion of the proceeds and you get a baby.  This probably won't come as a surprise, but non-white babies are sold at a discount.  Again, seriously...  I don't think that we will go the Baby Broker route, however I do want to talk to one (kind of just to say that I did).  Conveniently, there's a Baby Farm just across state lines from me.  My sister said that there is usually a surplus of black babies * and they actually need families to adopt them.  A majority of adoptive parents are white and when they are going the Baby Farm route they usually want something "perfect," hence the discount.  I'm sure there will be more weird things as we go further into the adoption world, but this one seems unbelievable.  However, one of my nieces was left to die in a gutter when she was just hours old, so I guess things like buying black babies on sale really shouldn't surprise me.

I have dreams of a little girl with Afro-puff pigtails, just like I dreamed when I was pregnant.  Is that weird?

At work today I had to move desks.  There are new people coming out of training, so they are reorganizing where everyone sits.  I had just gotten everything situated with my old desk and I was comfortable with the people that I sat near (something that took a long time for me) and now I have all these new people.  Tall Paul (who has to be closer to 7 feet than 6 feet)  is my immediate desk neighbor, and he seems nice enough.  Next to Tall Paul is Anger-Management-Issue Dave.  I don't know Anger-Management-Issue Dave well, however I have been told that he is really distracting, since he has a tendency to bang his fists down on his desk when calls are going well.  So, that's going to be lots of fun.  Tall Paul is so tall, I may just pretend that he is a wall.**

I've also discovered that Dora the Explorer taught me more Spanish that I thought.  Since I've been trained for all the international plans at work, my phone is messed up and I am gated*** to answer the "press 2 for Spanish" calls.  These poor people are so confused.  I have "¿Necesita un traductor?" written out phonetically at my desk and then I say in my horrible accent "un momento por favor," and then I call the AT&T Language Line and pray to get one of my two favorite translators who actually have some financial vocabulary, otherwise things are very hard.  They are trying to fix my phone, but until then I'm doing about 2/3 of my calls in Spanish.  Dora did teach me all the numbers and most of the letters of the alphabet, so I'm good there.  If anyone calls needing a backpack, I'll be set too.  

Now I'm going to go reclaim the Roku and finish watching the BBC series "Sherlock."  The Husband will not be pleased, as he is currently watching "Dr. Who."  However, he's already watched at least 20 hours of "Dr. Who" this week, so it's my turn.  

*There's a sentence I never thought that I would write.
**I did not intend for that sentence to rhyme that much.  
***That's cool call center speak.  Each of our extensions comes with a list of skills in the system and when it works properly, you are only supposed to get calls related to skills that you have.  This reduces the amount of calls that need to be transferred and allows us to resolve the customer's issue in one call.  However, it sucks when your phone is gated improperly. 

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...it's a secret

This is a big secret (which is why I'm putting it out on the Internet for the whole world to read, but really, I think only 4 people read my blog), so I apologize for not telling those of you who know me in real life.*  The Husband and I are going to meet with an adoption attorney in the near future to see what our options are with regard to adopting another child.  Regardless of what the attorney has to say, we probably won't move forward with starting the adoption process for at least another year; we just want to know what our options are.  We think that we will be looking at an adoption through the county or state.  Because of my mental illness, we're disqualified from an international adoption and I'm guessing that a person looking to do a private adoption probably wouldn't pick us.  Although I would love to do an international adoption, they are incredibly expensive and an adoption through the state or county is much more practical for us financially. 

Why adoption?  I'm guessing that is a question that I will have to get used to hearing a lot.  There are a lot of reasons.  As the aunt to four adopted children, I think that I have a different take on adoption than others may.  It's weird--I've watched my sister go through three previous adoptions and basically felt nothing and then this time when I was looking at the pictures from Haiti something moved in my heart and I thought that this is something that I really want.  There is one little girl in particular and I saw her picture, which looked both happy and said at the same time and something inside me said "I need one."  The idea of another child has been creeping into my mind for awhile now.  For me adoption is the only reasonable option.  I can't have another baby.  I'm doing well, but I can't imagine coming off my medication for any length of time.  Being pregnant on my medication is also not practical.  I also worry about postpartum depression, which I know I had with Sweet Pea.  I worry all the time about having passed my bipolar disorder to Sweet Pea and I can't knowingly do that to another child.

So, that's the news...  For those that may want some specifics--we want a girl so Sweet Pea will have a sister.  We could care less about race, however we want a child age 3 or under (I would like one under age 2, because I still want a baby).  We are in the thinking stages of adopting a child with special needs.  I am more sold on that than The Husband, but I have been thinking about this for longer.  Should you talk to me in real life, don't mention this to The Husband** or my parents.***

And now to work things...

Remember back on June 15 I told you about this girl that is marginally in charge of me that I really don't like but was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt?  It's official now.  I don't like her.   She is one of the most contrary people that I have ever met.  In a recent training class she got into an argument with a guy about the flavor of Arby's curly fries.  (Her position was that curly fries are flavorless--curly fries are many things, but flavorless isn't one of them.)  I think that she argues for the sake of arguing.  She's also just mean.  During the same training class she admitted how she loves giving participants bad news, especially telling them that stuff has expired and that they can no longer sell their shares.  I hate delivering bad news.  In my past positions it was my responsibility to move heaven and earth for my participants.  Telling them no is really hard and I can't believe that someone would enjoy ruining someone's day like that, especially when people are counting on this money.  Finally, and to me the worst, this girl has talked openly in a negative way about kids with autism and down syndrome in a room full of people--I was hoping the someone with a child with one of those conditions would call  her out.  I was biting my tongue (almost literally) so hard at that point because her comments were so ignorant and insensitive.  We aren't going to be friends, I'm never going to like her and I've decided that I don't have to try. 

That's the news for now--I think about writing all the time.  I just need to get better about sitting down and actually doing it.

Remember...it's a secret.

*I think that sentence might suck--the parenthetical probably doesn't help...oh well

**He would be thrilled that it's now on the Internet

***Not that any of you talk to my parents, but it's not time for them to know yet. 

I'm going to go be old now*

I'm writing on my iPhone on the way home from my niece's wedding, so we'll see how far I get. Everyone is asleep but me and we've stopped in TN for the night.

I'll probably write a longer post about it, but Emily's wedding provided so much joy and sorrow and emotion. It was one of those times when you really understand what "my cup overfloweth" means. Emily was so beautiful as a bride that I cried when we saw here before the wedding. I also can't remember when I've seen my sister so happy. In the midst of all the happy, I felt some meloncolia.

I turned 35 this year and for the most part I don't even think about my age. However, watching Emily and Paul and all their friends last night with abandonment and no self image issues, it hit me like a ton of bricks that I would never be like that again--I am old now. It's kind of funny because I've always been so self conscious and never liked dancing because I feel like everyone is staring at me. Finally last night they played "At Last" by Etta James and I was actually feeling like dancing, but then I couldn't find The Husband.

I wish, just once in my life, that I could have danced like these kids at the wedding. Say what you want about bad modern parenting, but these kids all looked like they were beloved by their families and that the armor of their self esteem was firmly in tact. That is what I want to be when I grow up.

Tune in next time when I cry and write about my complicated tmrelationship with my sisters...

*There's a reward if you know from where I stole that title.

Vignettes

Last night I had a panic attack.  I don't have them often, my anxiety is usually more of a general feeling than a full scale attack.  But last night as I tried to go to sleep I had the horrible feeling of being unable to breathe, combined with cold sweats, the shakes, and basically feeling like I was going to die.  I ended up coming downstairs with The Husband, who was still awake and watching "Battlestar Galactica."  I made him change to sometime more cheerful and I ended up sitting up on the couch watching "Annie" until I could breathe again and then started to feel like I might be human.  I was terrified to try taking one of the Pams.  I'm not sure what caused the attack.  Hopefully it's just an isolated thing and I'm better now.

Since I had a bad night last night I decided that I would watch some bad television this morning, because bad television is the best kind, and Hulu said that I would like the show Breaking Pointe*, which is a reality show on the CW about the inner workings of Ballet West in Salt Lake City.  There are lots of people dating other people and drama with the up and coming 19 year old and the older principal dancer.  Although I don't have the best eye, I think that the dancing isn't terrible.  It's fabulous.

I have always wanted to be able to dance, but I've never been graceful.  I have horrible posture and issues with people looking at me and I think that I've lacked grace since I was a child.  I also walk like a herd of elephants is trampling down the hallway.  I grew up with a good friend who was a wonderful dancer.  She danced 5 days a week when we were in school and then danced in college and now has her own studio and company and is pretty awesome, in my opinion.  When the husband and I were first married, we took ballroom dance lessons and I wasn't terrible at it.**.  Granted, no one was going to mistake me for an extra in the movie "Strictly Ballroom,"*** but I never fell down.  It's the little things.

Since I can't tell you a lot, I thought that I'd give you a few vignettes of my time at work.

The first is the guy who only eats blueberries.  I don't know what he does--he's not in my department, but I've seen him several times around the building and he always has a pint of blueberries, which he is eating.  He's a pretty big guy and I've only ever seen him eat blueberries, but he eats the whole pint at a time.  One day, as I left work he was standing outside the building and I thought that he was smoking (which you're only supposed to do in the smoking area), but no, he had another pint of blueberries.  How many pints does he go through a day?  Is there some medical reason for this?  Is there a new blueberry diet that I should know about.  I have so many questions.  I tend to notice little things like this and I always want to ask the person about it, but I don't have the guts to do something like that.  Also, it's probably kind of rude to ask people about their blueberry habits. 

There's also the engaged couple that needs to get a room.  They are like those annoying people from your high school that used to make out like no one was watching between classes and were always blocking access to your locker.  They are the reason that you carried all your books in your backpack at all times.  You cannot escape from them.  And they have followed me to work.  They also don't work in my department, but they are on my floor, so they frequently block my access to the microwave at lunch time.  I've taken to eating things cold, because it's just easier.  One nice thing about these people is that everyone notices them, so we all talk about them.  If I knew them, I would let them know how they are damaging their careers--I kind of can't believe that their managers haven't said anything to them, but I could easily see them thinking that everyone else has a problem and just ignoring any comments.

Finally, we had this paratrooper-like invasion of the IT guy this week.  I work in a locked environment--everyone needs an electronic key to get anywhere and your key will only open the doors of areas where you're supposed to be, so it's pretty rare to see other people in the department.  However this week we were invaded from a very scary IT guy who needed us all to install a new printer.  He came barreling in with his wavy hair, held back by sunglasses like a headband, and started demanding that people print stuff.  Apparently, no one had told him that this was a phone environment because at least 2/3 of us were on calls and we're not allowed to just hang up on people.  Our inability to comply with his instructions made him yell louder, which didn't make the managers too happy.  The managers were also unhappy about the unscheduled time trying to fix a problem that none of us knew that we had.  My computer still won't do what he wants.  I was forced to call other IT people, who didn't really understand what I needed.  They ended the call (which lasted almost an hour) by telling me that it would take "a long time" to fix my problem.  Super. 

So, that's some highlights from this week.  Now I'm going to go back to the Breaking Pointe website and indulge in some bad Internet, to go with my bad television. 


*I'm always amazed at how well Hulu and Netflix know me--they are my friends.

**Not being terrible is my measuring stick--it's a pretty low bar (or maybe I should say barre).

***If you've not seen this film, go to Netflix now and watch it. 

A String Around My Finger

I don't have enough for a whole post, so I'm writing this here to jog my memory for next time.

Remind me to tell you about the guy who only eats blueberries (no joke) and how we were hijacked by the printer guy (I was scared by his wavy hair that was held back by sunglasses being used as a headband). 

Poke me if I wait to long before I fill you in.

Gag Order

There are so many things that I'd like to tell you about the Mothership, but I can't.  Since they are a large and publicly traded company, there are lots of rules.  One specially deals with social media, so although no one reads this, I still want to be careful. 

I can tell you about my new favorite game--accent guessing...

One of my favorite parts of my job is getting to talk to people from around the world.  I think this may be unique to me because many of my colleagues find this annoying, but I think its fascinating.  I have to fight the urge to ask lots of questions when I get someone on the phone from a cool country, because we're not supposed to do that.  I'm thinking about getting a little map with pushpins so I can mark off all my countries.  I've started a game with myself, accent guessing, where I try to guess where people are from before my system brings up their address.  Some accents are easier, like Ireland.  Yesterday I had someone from County Cork who could have come directly from the set of "Darby O'Gill and the Little People."  Some are harder, like trying to tell the difference between someone from Boston and someone from Providence.*  It makes the day go faster and I can imagine what people are doing.  My last call today was from New South Wales in Australia and the guy sounded exactly like Crocodile Dundee.

My new office also has a whole cast of characters that I wish I could tell you more about.  I'm currently fascinated with Argyle Socks Guy.  Argyle Socks Guy doesn't work in my department, but he comes down to visit the guy who sits next to me during his (ASG) breaks.  He is always wearing these really thick argyle socks** like my dad used to wear, that never matched anything.  Argyle Socks Guy's socks never match either; that is, they match each other, but with no regard to any of his other clothing.  I want to ask all kinds of questions--are his feet cold, thus warranting the wearing of really thick socks in the summer?  Are argyle socks his "thing?"  How many different pairs does he have?  Does he have some kind of foot condition that they help correct? 

Sometimes there's a lot of time between calls from leprechauns and crocodile hunters, and these are things I think about. 

*I'm doing it domestically too, by region, state and city.  The Husband says its impossible to discern an exact location from anyone from the Midwest, however, I have the company name as a clue. 

**I'm also impressed with my really creative name

“We’d be outraged if we weren’t so exhausted.”

The title quote is from Hossam Bahgat, director of the Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights, describing what he calls "the smoothest military coup."  Things in Egypt are terrible, but because I am totally irreverent, when I read that quote on CNN.com this afternoon I wanted to print it out and stick it to my desk.  I didn't though, since it kind of sounds like I have a bad attitude.  Taken out of context, it's awesome on so many levels.  I want to put it on bumper stickers and t-shirts.  It could become the new motto for apathetic people everywhere.*

Things at work are getting easier and I thought that I'd share two big differences between my new Triangle and BCFG

• My chair is really comfortable.  I think that we all have these really expensive Herman Miller Aeron chairs that I hear sponsoring various shows on NPR.  I just Googled them and they cost over $800 a piece.  (I'm sure there was some kind of volume discount.)   As you will remember, the chair in my former Triangle was the most uncomfortable chair on the planet.  (And I managed to destroy one chair simply by sitting on it, which is probably up there in my top ten most embarrassing moments ever.  Chairs should not collapse when you are sitting on them.)  This one may be the best desk chair there is.
• We have real Half and Half.  And real coffee.  And tea.  And hot chocolate.  And even purified water with crushed ice that is the perfect size.  It's like they thought of every one's beverage preferences.  The people at BCFG had serious coffee addictions--much worse than my previous addiction to Diet Coke.  You would think that if you drank that much coffee that it would be good coffee, however, that was not the case.  It was this horrible 50% caffeine, 50% decaf from the grocery store.  They also had powdered creamer.  Powdered cream should be against the law.  The Mothership has really good single-serve coffees and teas and, best of all, real half and half.  As my sister said "real half and half  says 'we appreciate you--now get back to work'."**

The one negative right now is that I'm not so sure about this one person who is marginally in charge of me.    I seem to get on her nerves.  Everyone else likes her, so maybe she has to grow on you, or maybe she just hates me for some unknown reason.  I'll keep you posted. 

I'm tired.  (But thankfully, not outraged.)

*Or for people like me who are just really tired.  Like really tired.  

**No idea where the period was supposed to go in that sentence. 

I am a Prairie Dog

I passed my Series 63 this morning.  Thanks to you all for putting up with me when that's all that I would talk about.  I will now triple guarantee that my registration is correct and I should be done taking exams for the rest of my career.  (I have no desire to go for the Supervisory Principal designation.) 

I am done with training at work and settling in to my new triangle, where we are all prairie dogs.  I work in a large, open plan room, where we all sit in pods with desks shaped like triangles.  (I wish I could take a picture for you--it's very hard to explain.)  We are like prairie dogs--poking our heads up over the walls when we need something.  Right now, I have my head poking up a lot.  This job is harder than I thought that it would be.  There's talking and listening and typing and reading all at the same time.  I have greater compassion and admiration for anyone who has worked in a call center before.  It's hard--I underestimated it.  Thankfully, I still enjoy it.  Each call is different and the novelty of talking to people from all over the world hasn't warn off yet.  I hope it never will.

In other news, I am feeling better.*  After the horrible PAM experience, I was too nervous to try another anti-anxiety medication, so I just had to stick it out, waiting to see if the mood stabilizers would work.  Thankfully they did.  I'm not 100% yet, but I'm really close. 

I promise to write more now.  I've sat down to write postings many times, but every time I started to write I would tell myself that I needed to study.  I'll start taking notes about cool things at work.  My manager, whom I like, is about my age and very cool.  He majored in Pop Culture.  Someday I'm hoping that I'm good enough friends with him to ask him what kind of a job he intended to get with that Pop Culture degree**.  He also wears Doc Martin boots to work almost every day, so it's like a little reminder of happy college days every time I see his feet. 

I don't have to go into work for another 3 hours, so I'm going to watch some bad TV.  I love bad TV. 

*I'm hopeful that now that my exam is over I will finally feel truly well. 

**I'm thinking that would be a bad way to start off our employee/manager relationship.  He does know more about "The Simpson's" than any other person I've met. 

Exam Eve

I was going to make him say "Agents, Issuers and Banks are exempt from registration as broker-dealers," but that was too many words.  Good luck will have to do. 

72!

I just completed my first practice exam with a score of 72%--the lowest passing exam score.  That is kind of amazing, since I thought that I was getting about 50% of the questions right as I was taking it.  Apparently Ryan Gosling, and my former client, are correct and I have lots of knowledge. 

For anyone wondering abut the PAMs, my doctor is reluctant to try anything else since the PAMs have made me feel so bad.  I've decided to stick it out and do the best I can with my current drugs.  I feel a little bit more stable already, so I think I'll be okay.

Time to iron...

Something I needed (other than more Diet Coke)*

I'm talking an end of chapter study break (and also getting more Diet Coke) and I decided to make myself something.

My absolute and all-time favorite client said that to me at our last meeting prior to her retirement.  It's one of those things that I've just tucked away for times that I've needed it.**  I used to want to say it to The Man.  Something would go wrong and I'd want to snap back "Oh yeah--well _______ _______ says I have so much knowledge, so what do you think about that?"  Anyway it makes me feel better.

By the way, you have so much knowledge too. 

*Do you think I could get Diet Coke to sponsor me?  Then maybe I wouldn't have to retake this exam. 

**She did not preface it with "Hey Girl," if you were wondering. 

Don't press the red button

I'm training in a live system.  There are no dummy accounts.  Since I will soon have the authority to place trades they went ahead and built my screen with this big red button that says "Submit Order."  Supposedly the red button isn't supposed to work, but...live system...we can't test that out.  I live in fear every day that I'm going to submit an order by accident and sell someones shares.  Whomever built the system didn't think things through because the "Model Transaction" button is right next to the "Submit Order" button.  We model transactions in training all the time to see what would happen if a trade was placed.  I'll also model transactions all the time when I'm actually working to give people different scenarios to execute their trades.*  If I'd built the system, I'd have put the "Model Transaction" button as far away from the "Submit Order" button as possible to try and prevent accidental pushings, but (as usual) no one asked me.  Bottom line--click carefully and enjoy the little panic attack that you have every time you model a trade thinking "did I just hit that red button by accident?"

Last night I discovered that my body does not tolerate the "Pam" family of drugs.  Lorazepam, Diazepam, and all their friends in the benzodiazepines family.  These drugs are supposed to reduce anxiety, but they make mine worse.  I think that I've said this before, but I feel like I'm living in a constant state of "fight or flight."  The Pam drugs are supposed to relax you, and for me they relax my body, but not enough to sleep, and they certainly don't quiet my mind.  I had an extremely bad experience last night--I would describe it as feeling like you  needed to run away from a lion, but then finding that your legs wouldn't work.  Thankfully the Pam that I took last night was a fast acting one, so it wore off quickly.  I ended up huddled on the couch, alone in the dark, eating Oreos** until it wore off.  This morning I called my doctor, whom I seem to have stumped.  He asked me if I could make it through the weekend, which I can.  He wants to think about it, and hopefully on Monday he'll have come up with a non-Pam anxiety drug.  Or, if I can stick it out for about two weeks, I'll know if the increased dosage on my mood stabilizer is working, and then maybe I won't need anything else.  Do you all get tired of reading about my pharmacology?  It helps me to write it down.  The Husband isn't a great listener when it comes to this stuff. 

For some good news--I don't think I broke my tooth.  I think that I just broke some bonding off my tooth.  According to the dentist, my teeth are too big for my mouth, so before I got braces they had to pull several teeth to make room for everything.  After I got my braces off, my teeth were bonded to make them the same size and shape of everyone else's teeth.  After careful examination, it looks like I just ground off some binding (which is why my tooth doesn't hurt).  It is kind of annoying, so I'll have to make a dentist appointment soon to get it fixed.  Since bonding is not as hard as teeth, grinding off my binding sounds less scary to me.

The Husband just finished my  Häagen-Dazs without asking.  That wasn't very nice.  It's probably because I was correcting him regarding Facebook.  (But there's a big difference between a shareholder and a venture capitalist and it was getting on my nerves...just like everything lately.)

*Whose still with me?  I'd have lost The Husband by now.  He's currently not talking to me because I kept correcting him when he was trying to talk about the Facebook IPO.  I probably shouldn't have done that, but I didn't really sleep last night and I'm grouchy. 

**Probably not the best choice, but it made me feel better

It's called grammar people.

I probably shouldn't criticize the grammar of others.  I would be very afraid if someone took a big red pen to this blog, however lately two things have been aggravating me like nails on a chalk board.   (Or when you accidentally knock your teeth together, which bothers me more than nails on a chalk board.) 

The first is people feeling the need to omit the verb "to be."  This seems to be regional, as I'd never heard it before I moved here and now everyone says it.  For example, I would say "the garage needs to be painted."  People here say "the garage needs painted."  Where's the verb?  (Okay, I just Googled to see what kind of verb "to be" is and now I'm wondering if I'm using it unnecessarily.)  Regardless*, it sounds weird to me.

My other irritant is the phrase "I seen."  I know this one is wrong.  I like what Urban Dictionary has to say about this one:

	I seen
	What uneducated people say in place of "I saw". Dumbass: Yo, I just seen that Lemony Snicket movie! I am hearing both of these daily... In other news, I went to the doctor today.  I had a hard day and I got to his couch and just started crying.**  He had a discussion (I watched) with himself about increasing my anti-psychotic medication or my mood stabilizers.  Since I'm at the top of the safe range for the anti-psychotics he went with the mood stabilizers.  I guess at the end of the day it's better to be unstable than psychotic.  So, I've got a drug adjustment... The doctor did have a good idea--he said that since I felt bad that I should get a do-over for both my birthday and Mother's Day.  (I encourage all of you whose husbands dropped the ball to do the same)  You can get me this.  (WARNING--THIS LINK IS NOT SAFE FOR WORK OR FOR PEOPLE UNDER 18.***)

*Not irregardless, another teeth clinker

**I feel like I need to justify my crying so here's what happened...today was May Crowning at Sweet Pea's school and as part of the service we all prayed a couple decades of the Rosary.  If you are unfamiliar with it, this is how the prayer goes:

 Hail Mary, full of grace.
Our Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb,
Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.
Amen.  
  

You pray the Hail Mary a lot when you pray The Rosary and all I could think about was the line "now and at the hour of our death" (yes, Catholics are a morbid people) which was playing on a loop in my head when I was in the hospital.  I think that I had something like a flashback.  To be overly dramatic, I think that I have something like mild PTSD from my time in the hospital, which (aside for the drugs) was not good for me.  


***I bet you're really curious now.  :  )

Update

I updated my Profile or Bio or whatever you call it to reflect my new situation, just in case you want to read it.

Also, Mr.X stepped on my foot yesterday when we were hugging for the second time (because apparently we're hugging now) and I woke up this morning to my toe nail falling off.  Awesome.

That's all.

Trite or Trivializing

I've tried to come up with a title for this post, but everything that I think of is either trite or trivializing, so we'll just call it that.

R's husband passed away last Sunday, on her birthday, and today was the funeral.  I was a lovely service, but very sad, as you would expect.  He was 33 years old.  I'm glad that I had the details and that The Husband and I were able to attend.

Of course, attending this funeral meant that I was going to see lots of people from my former Triangle.  (This is where this post is going to be insensitively all about me, because I'm just like that.)  I had expected everyone (with the exception of K, who never got along with R) to be at the funeral since R worked there for over 12 years, but that was not the case.  Seriously, no one there has manners.  They never did.  Only Mama X, Mr. and Mrs. X, Mr. and Mrs. Big Cheese, and the Mole were in attendance.  We talked to Mama X before the service while the family was receiving visitors and spoke to everyone else afterwords.  I am so glad that I have a job.  My job sounds very impressive and important when I explain the details and both Mr. X and The Big Cheese were suitably impressed.  The Husband noted on several occasions how I very politely shut them down.  I didn't even know that I was doing that.  I did notice that seemed kind of in awe when I rattled off the client list that I'd be working with.  (It's an extremely impressive list--but one that I can't share this way.)  As I was talking to Mr. X and The Big Cheese, I was realizing (again--this was not a new realization) that in the ten months that I was there they never really "saw" me.  I think today, just maybe, that realized a tiny bit of what they let slip through their fingers.  I am happier now.  And now I will never see them again, unless we somehow run into each other at Whole Foods.

I am very sad for R and for her husband's family.  It has been a very emotional day.

(Also, I have a new favorite song--it's an "Alleluia" by a modern composer.  I won't make you listen to it, but I've been listening to it on my iPhone on repeat all day and it seems to be keeping the panic attacks away.  Last night I listened to Thomas Tallis on repeat all night and slept better than I have in a long time.  I need to figure out how to get the music on my iPhone to turn off after a few hours and then have the alarm wake me up, so I can always sleep like that.)

And this is why I have dreams about my teeth falling out

For at least 13 years I've had a recurring nightmare about my teeth falling out or becoming porous and disintegrating.  I've had this dream often enough that I've looked it up in several dream books/websites and dreams about losing your teeth usually accompany periods of extreme stress and they mean that you are insecure about something, worrying about failure, or abandonment.  The first tooth falling out dream that I remember clearly coincides with studying for my Series 7.  I grind my teeth when I sleep (also a sign of extreme stress).  When I was studying for my 7 I ground my teeth so hard that I chipped one of my front teeth.  After that I had a mouth guard made, which is supposed to help with my headaches and also prevent the teeth grinding.  Last night I managed to grind my teeth so hard that I chipped a tooth with my mouth guard in my mouth.  I'm still trying to figure out how on earth this was possible.  My tooth doesn't hurt--this time I seem to have taken off the corner of one of my molars.  I'll go to the dentist sometime and the dentist will grind down my tooth so it isn't sharp any more.  Right now it's just kind of annoying.  Anyway, if anyone was doubting my stress level, this should prove it.  Also, this is why I have dreams about my teeth falling out.

Today is my 35 birthday.  I'm now old enough to run for president*.  I don't really have issues with my age, so that isn't bothering me.  I am feeling kind of petulant today because I had to remind The Husband to get me a birthday cake (actually a birthday lemon meringue pie).  Since it is only one day a year, I would think that The Husband could remember to get me something.

Work is a lot of worksheets.  It's weird, but it's kind of like playing the piano.  I've memorized the majority of the commands in their precise order and I'll find myself on a certain screen and not really remember how I got there--my fingers just knew where to go.   I'm going to have to be extra careful with what I write about work, so there is probably going to be less of that.  Although I'm glad that I still will work in a triangle.

Finally, The Man called to wish me happy birthday today.  He's like my ex-boyfriend or something sometimes.

*The Husband thought that you had to be 40 and kept arguing with me, so I had to Google the Constitution and read out loud from Article II.

The Mothership

I have started to write this at least 15 times and I can't get the words out.  So, I am sitting down now with a 10 minute time limit and I'm going to write something, because writing does always make me feel better.

I've decided to call my new employer The Mothership.  It is exceedingly fitting.  Also "M" and "MS" are codes for a lot of system things and I've taught my class the mnemonic* device of "The Mothership" to help them remember.  I'm good with the mnemonic device.

Work at The Mothership is good and frustrating at the same time.  I work with a lot of very nice people, which is good.  It is frustrating because I am in training and it feels like I am going to be in training until the end of time (or June 1, which feels like it's a REALLY long time away).  I'm lucky, I guess, and all the material is coming to me very easily, but that's what makes it boring.  Today we were hand-calculating commissions on trades, so we'd understand the theory and would be better able to explain it.  I've been able to do that since college, so I breezed through my worksheet and then sat there for almost an hour, doing yet another anti-money laundering continuing education thing, while I waited for my classmates to finish.  It's like that every day.  I'm happy that it's easy, but I wish it was more challenging and that it would give my brain something to do.  I'm not doing well with idleness right now.  

I'm listening to this right now.



I'm working on memorizing it and also transposing it down about a step and a half (maybe two steps--I'm still working on it) in my head so I can sing it.  It is so soothing and I need soothing right now.

I'm not doing so well right now.  I'm so anxious that I feel like I'm going to snap in half if someone looks at me the wrong way.  I thought that the anxiety would ebb now that I'm employed and I have less to worry about, but it hasn't.  I'm stuck in this cycle to anxiety and I can't break it.  I need some drugs for that.  For the first time in my life I've kind of gone off food.  I was by myself this weekend and I barely ate anything.  I just packed lunch for myself at work and I could only stomach the idea of yogurt and strawberries.  I'm too worried to eat.  I don't even know what I'm worried about...everything...nothing...all at the same time.  I'm feeling very bipolar right now.  I hate mental illness.  I wish that there wasn't a taboo and that I could just talk about it.  I wish I could talk to work people and tell them how fragile I am feeling.  I also really want to withdrawal, which I can't do, and that's really hard.  Having a conversation at lunch is exhausting for me.  I just want to be by myself, but then when I am by myself I'm sad.  This time of year is very hard for me.  This is the fourth birthday in a row where I haven't felt well, so I believe my doctor when he says that the change of seasons really affects some people.  I'm going to the doctor on May 17th--a week from Thursday.  I can hang on until then. 

*Did you know that word started with an "m?"  Spellcheck said that it did and I had to Google it because I thought it was a different word then what I meant. 

I have the prettiest lunch!

My sisters got me a Bento Box for my birthday.  

I have always wanted one and now that I will be packing my lunch for work every day, I have good reason to have one.

Look how cute my lunch is.

Although it is tiny, it holds a lot.  I have about 3/4 cup of rice, a chicken breast, broccoli, two carrots, a bunch of grapes and a tiny pig-shaped bottle of soy sauce.  (The accessories are the best part.)  Now I feel like taking pictures of my lunch each day, but I promise this will be the only time that I make you look at it. 

Here's the little bag that I made to carry it in. 

I have the prettiest lunch!

*I cannot get the first picture to center and it's driving me crazy.  I've been trying to fix it for about 10 minutes with no success, so I'm giving up.  Imagine that it's centered, okay?

I Think I'm Going to Like It Here

A short post because I am very tired...

The new job went well.  I think that I am going to like it.  I have 6 more weeks of training and I'll be done on June 1, which is Sweet Pea's last day of school.  I think I am the most excited about all the opportunities that I will have.  It's been a long time since I've had a job with actual advancement opportunities. 

Over the next few weeks I'm sure that I'll come up with code names for everyone...I"ll have to work on that.

One brief thought--life is sure a lot like high school.  The "cool kids" still seem to sit in the back of the room.  I am not one of the cool kids and I'm sitting in the front row.  I'm okay with that--I figure that you start as you mean to go on and I have my sights set on bigger things than being cool.

Good night.

And now I have the stomach flu

I think that I spoke to soon with being all excited about the job.  Things are royally f-ed up and pretty much beyond my control to fix.  I might write about the details later, but I don't really want to think about them now.  For the first time in my life though, I am actually considering suing someone.  It is possible that a former employer did something on a form that may cost me a job, and if that's the case, I want some compensation.*  Really though, I just want all of this to be over.

I woke up this morning and started throwing up, so now I have the stomach flu.  At first I thought that it was just another manifestation of how stressed I am, but now my whole body feels like it's been hit by a truck, so I'm guessing that's the flu.  I'm really hoping that Sweet Pea doesn't get this--I'm not in the mood to have to clean up  puke right now. 

I think I'll lay on the couch some more. 

*I am imaging going into the compliance officer's office with a dueling pistol "demanding satisfaction," but since I don't have any dueling pistols, I'll refrain. 

It is not official yet...

But I have a job...  My interview this morning went very well and I received a call from the recruiters around 2:00 this afternoon.  I have completed a mountain of paperwork and now they are verifying my securities licensing and making sure that I haven't committed any felonies.  Once that all goes through, I'll get the official offer, which I am planning to accept.  I'm pretty excited because I'll also get to cancel my Friday interview in Chicago.  (I wasn't looking forward to that.)  I'll be starting Monday, which is just crazy.

My overwhelming emotion right now is exhaustion.  I am happy and I am excited, but mostly I am just tired.  I'm hoping for a good and anxiety free sleep tonight (where I don't spend any time worrying that I might be having a heart attack). 

Guess what--it looks like I will still be working in a triangle.  I got a little tour today and the desks are kind of set up in little pods--triangular shaped pods.  It must be my destiny. 

UPDATED -- The Cart Before the Horse

I have another interview tomorrow.  This one is for a position that would be okay, but isn't something that I'm super-excited about.  (Granted, I don't know a ton about the job yet, but it isn't exactly what I see myself doing.)  I've been informed that this company wants to move very quickly--they have a training class that will be starting next Monday.  Putting the cart before the horse, as usual, I am assuming that they will want to hire me.  For an unemployed person, the thought of going back to work should be fabulous.  I need to be working again--I am bored out of my mind, anxious to the point that I feel sick most of the time, and, candidly, we are running out of money.  The thought of going to work for this company on Monday is kind of terrifying.  Taking this job would mean saying no to so many possibilities and it is hard to imagine those doors closing.

Right now I am engaged in another horrible day of waiting...As time moves toward the end of the day, I am more sure that it's bad news from my first choice company.  I can't imagine any scenarios of good news when it would be taking them this long to get back to me, given the fact that I've called and emailed.  I laid everything on the line for that job and there isn't anything else that I can do.  Rejection is never fun.  Most of my rejection during this job search has been very passive-aggressive--people basically just don't get back to me.  It has still hurt a lot and I never thought that I would be out of work for this long.

I dream of good health insurance and 401(k) plans and of my anxiety subsiding to a point where I don't have headaches, and stomachaches and chest pains all the time.  I want so much to find the right job and I'm terrified that it won't find me.

UPDATE:  So, at 3:33 I got an email from Strategic Recruiting thanking me for my interest, but informing me that first choice job was going with another candidate.   I am disappointed, but relieved in a strange way.  Some of my anxiety has been lifted, since I am no longer worrying about that job.  I am still under a ton of stress--I have even gotten to the point where I don't really want to eat.  (Never in a million years did I think that I would ever be so stressed that I couldn't eat--usually I eat a lot when I am stressed.)  Since the company that I'm interviewing with tomorrow wants people to start Monday, I don't think it's outside of the realm of possibilities to receive an offer on Wednesday.  Please let this be over soon.

Finally, something I meant to post on Easter.  I have become a great fan of the blog "Pinterest, You are Drunk".  This photo was posted with the following caption:

NOTHING SAYS "HE IS RISEN" QUITE LIKE A PEEPTINI

Keeping with the same theme...

I have to sing* for Good Friday in about an hour and a half.  Today's music is probably the most difficult of the year--mostly Latin and Greek (I think there's one English piece thrown in, just to mess with us) and the majority of it was written in the 13th or 14th century.  I should be warming up and, in all sincerity, contemplating Christ's Passion.  I love church on Good Friday--it's second only to the Easter Vigil tomorrow**.  Today, however, I do not have my "head in the game," as it were.***

I sent an email this morning to my first choice job--hoping to force their hand and MAKE them tell me if I'm still a candidate.  I let them know that I'm in the final interview stage for other positions.  I am really hoping to hear something because I am going insane.  Should I ever been in the position to hire someone I promise I will not put them though this.

In the meantime--I found this piece of fabulous-ness on a friend's Facebook wall and thought that I would share it with all of you.

 http://textsfromhillaryclinton.tumblr.com/

This one is my favorite...

*I should say "I get to sing"

**Christmas Eve is my fourth favorite, if you were wondering.  First Communion (even when it's not my child) is number three.

***I do however, have this "gem" stuck in my head...my memory is a blessing an a curse.

Another thing that may only be funny to me...

I am waiting to hear if I made it to the next round of interviews for my first choice job...  Waiting is extremely hard when you already have an anxiety disorder and I've basically given up sleeping.  Seriously--how hard is it to return a phone call people?

In the meantime, I have lots of time to try and distract myself on the internet.  This is for all of you parents who had to endure hours and hours of Dora the Explorer.  (Again, this may only be funny to me.  If you don't find it funny, try not sleeping for awhile and it might become more enjoyable.)

I think I'll take some more Ativan now.

Enjoy....

Answers

I'm sure that all of you have been losing sleep, wondering what I am going to do.

First, should you ever get giant blisters, follow the advice from all the medical websites that I ended up reading and LEAVE THEM ALONE.  I thought that it was going to take weeks for mine to heal (that's how bad they were), but I kept them covered with antibiotic ointment and band-aids and they were better in a matter of days.  I also decided to suck it up and buy new shoes, so I am much happier now.  I am really trying to live a healthier lifestyle (I've been drinking spinach for breakfast and I like it), so not even The Husband complained about the shoes.*

I have been thinking, pretty much non-stop, about the job possibility and I've decided that I really want it.  I've talked to The Husband and we can make the traveling work.  There are negatives to it, of course, but also a lot of positives.  I've been thinking a lot about my stress level and what I can handle without going crazy throughout my job search.  Stress has played such a big part in my health--I wonder if things had been less stressful three years ago if it would have been as bad as it was.  In a lot of ways, this job has less stress than many of the others that I've applied for.  Due to the nature of the work, I think that I will get to leave it at the end of the day.  There will be fewer disasters at 4:30 on a Friday afternoon that I can't fix and thus spend all weekend stressing about.  I talked to the manager today.  I really like him.  (I am trying extremely hard not to get to sold on this job because I don't want to crash if I don't get it.)  When I had my phone interview last Thursday, the manager totally caught me by surprise, so he asked me to call him this week after I'd had some time to think.  I told him today that I'd done a lot of thinking about the job and the traveling and that it is something that I really want to do.**  I had several detailed questions about the position and I was trying really hard to sound smart.  I think that the manager let slip that I've made it to the next round of interviews, which will be in person and probably in Boston.  (It's very weird that they haven't met me yet.)  My fingers, toes, ankles and everything else is crossed--I will hopefully hear something next week. 

I've been feeling very happy and perky lately.  I am really hoping that this is a combination of trying to live a healthier life and feeling more positive about the job search.  I've been sleeping less, which is good.  Of course, I still feel like I can never really trust my body and every time I start to feel happy, I worry that it's the beginning of mania.  I pray that some day I will be able to feel my feelings without being scared of them. 

*I also had a coupon...

**Since I'm about ready to turn pro, or at least join the Olympic Interviewing Team, let me give some advice, should any of you have to interview again.  Tell the interviewer that you really want the job.  It will feel so weird and awkward the first time that you do it and you will totally feel like a dork.  Of course you want the job, you will be saying to yourself, they know that or why would I be putting myself through this form of torture.  I've had several people tell me that NO ONE actually asks for the job during an interview because it feels so weird.  Doing so shows how confident you are (even if you are trembling like a leaf on the inside) and the person interviewing you will get another hint of your fabulous-ness.  Because you are fabulous.

It's funny because it's in French

This may only be funny to me, but I've watched it about eight times now...

The Big Question

As many (if not all) of you will know, since you are my Facebook friends, I got a call today about a position that I interviewed for over 5 weeks ago.  My first interview was a phone interview and it was one of the first interviews that I did.  I did not feel good about it (there are still answers that are haunting me) and when I didn't hear back for such a long time, I figured that I hadn't made the cut.  Today they called and I had a nice conversation with the manager.  The position is with a good company that I have always admired.  It is an education specialist position and I know that I can do that job well.  There is one big question that I need to answer before I can move forward--do I want to start traveling again?

This job has a lot of travel--flying on a plane and staying out of town for several nights travel.  On the other hand, when I'm not traveling, I'd get to work from home again.  Since it's with a big company, I'm guessing that I'd have good benefits again.  (Benefits, I have missed you so...)  Parts of traveling used to be fun (although I rarely flew before).  The independent part of me would be happy to do that again.  But then I think of Sweet Pea and I wonder how she would do.  Part of me thinks that it would be better to have quality time with her, not quantity.  If I were making more money again we'd be able to do so much more fun stuff.  However, The Husband is bad at some things.  What would they eat when I was gone?  Tonight Sweet Pea got all upset because The Husband was doing her shower wrong.  (I was really angry because I was on the phone with my mom and had to get off to fix the shower situation.)  This summer I had planned to try out for the symphony chorus and I have been looking forward to that--I think that it's going to be hard (if not impossible) to commit to something like that if I'm gone a lot again.  On the other hand, this job will pay well.  I'm pretty excited at the thought of getting paid well again.  I don't want to make the wrong decision like I did with my triangle.

I'm putting the cart before the horse, since I don't have an offer or even the guarantee of another interview, but what do I do?

I took a walk. Wearing different shoes. And now I have giant blisters.

So, in an effort to be more healthy and to enjoy the beautiful weather (that makes me think a blizzard must be on the way, and not the Dairy Queen kind, although that would be tasty), I decided to take a walk.  Because it is warm out, I decided to wear some capri pants (even though I may have the whitest legs known to man), which made me decide to wear some different shoes.  Which (as you have inferred from the title of the post) gave me giant blisters all over my heels.  This is reinforcing my need/desire for new shoes.  I feel really bad buying anything (even gas and groceries) while I'm not working, but I think that I may be at critical mass here.  Of course, now my feet hurt too bad to go try on shoes or take another walk...which I guess is okay because I'm sure about the blizzard, even though the weather people disagree. 

I have another interview this afternoon.  I've lost count now with the number of interviews that I've had.  (At least, if I get called, the unemployment people won't be able to say that I haven't been trying.)  Today's has promise.  It is a small company, but they look like they are stable and growing.  Unfortunately, like everyone else in the universe, they have said up front that "they may have something in a few months."  The Husband thinks that I'm going to be inundated with offers, come May.  While that would be awesome, one offer right now would be cool. 

So to sum up for today...I'm anxious (pretty much about everything), I'm frustrated (as usual), I'm nervous for my interview (because I want something to work out so badly), and my feet hurt (see above.)  Good times.

Ch-Ch-Changes

I had another interview today and decided to change everything up.  I wore a dress with a cardigan, instead of my usual suit*.  I also put my hair up and over the weekend I treated myself to some new makeup (so it would actually look like I was wearing makeup).  Unfortunately, even though I had practiced with my hair, this morning when it actually had to go up properly, it wouldn't.  That's just how life works, though.

The interview itself went well.  I really liked the guy who was interviewing me and felt very at ease.  In addition to the new hair/new outfit, I decided to try something else new during the interview--actually telling the person what I really want in a new job, instead of telling them what I think that they want to hear, in the hope that I'll fit into their box.  Doing that was how I ended up in my Triangle in the first place.  I tried to fit somewhere where I didn't and the results were pretty disastrous.  I don't want to be a square peg in a round hole again.**  Thus far, I have three more interviews set up for the next two weeks.  I'm hoping to actually get to a second interview with someone soon.  In the meantime, I plan to stick with the plan of telling people what I actually want to do, even if it doesn't fit with them.  I'm no worse off than I am now, right?

And now to totally change the subject (yet keep within the theme of change).  If you haven't taken the time (about 30 minutes) to watch it yet, please view the video "Kony 2012" (which I have conveniently embedded for you).



Joseph Kony sucks.  He is the leader of the LRA, which is an army that is fighting basically for the sake of fighting in Central Africa.  For over 26 years he has been kidnapping children.  With a mixture of fear, drugs and systematic brainwashing, he forces the boys to become child soldiers and the girls to become sex slaves. He has kidnapped over 30,000 children.   I learned about him for the first time a few years ago when I met a priest who had been ministering to children who had escaped.  He is Number 1 on the list of criminals wanted by the ICC and the US Government has authorized 100 soldiers to assist the Ugandan army to bring him in and this is the year to do it.  Watch the video, repost it so your friends can watch it, and then call your senators and congress people.  Regardless of your political affiliation, as the video states " where you live should not determine whether you live.  Every child deserves the right to have a childhood." 

Thanks for listening--I will now get off of my soapbox.  

*I think I'm sticking with the dress plan, since my suit jacket doesn't fit well, especially since I've lost some weight.

**That's a lot of shapes, isn't it. 

This doesn't have anything to do with anything, except that it's one of the cutest things that I've ever seen and The Husband is mean and says that I can't get a pet baby sloth.




And if sloths aren't your thing, this is really amusing to me. (Warning--it does use f*ck, if you're at work or around kids.)

Oh god...

This is from "The Last Five Years," which is my new favorite musical.

You have to listen (or skip) until 1:16 before it makes sense.  



It's amazing how much this feels like what I'm doing every day.

"I am a good person.
I'm an attractive person.
I am a talented person...grant me grace." 

Sigh... (with two updates)

While I wait for someone to call me about moving forward with the interview process, I am becoming more anxious.  Also, I can't find any good jobs listed and I think that I have exhausted all of my current contacts.

I did find this on Craigslist today...

Beer Kooler Drive Thru Hiring - Full Time

---

Date: 2012-02-27, 11:21PM EST
Reply to:

---

Day Shift Position available:
Management Experience Helpful
Benefits
Starting Pay is $9.00 hr
Please Apply in person at

Sounds like a good opportunity...

UPDATED:  After much more searching, I did find some genuinely good opportunities to apply for today, so I'm feeling much less useless.  Although, none of them sound as cool as working at the Beer Kooler Drive Thru*.

UPDATED AGAIN:  The Department of Jobs and Family Services (who pays my unemployment) sends me occasional emails with links to jobs that they think that I might like to apply for.  Today I got one encouraging me to apply to manage a Build-a-Bear location.   Clearly, I was unable to make them understand what I am actually qualified to do when I filed for unemployment.  This reminds me of my job search last year when I had to go into the Unemployment office for "counseling."** and after several minutes of talking I gave up because I realized that I was never going to make the guy who was supposed to be helping me understand what I do.  (My job is not that hard, although after 10 years of marriage The Husband still doesn't have a clear understanding.  He tells people I do "401(k) Stuff," which is more than the Unemployment guy got.)  Anyway, I found the Unemployment "Helper" guy's card recently, but I decided not to give him a call.

*I think I would be an incredible asset to the Beer Kooler Drive Thru for two reasons
  1.  I don't drink (like at all), so no need to worry about me getting sloshed on the job.
  2.  I am a horrible speller, and clearly the owners are as well.  We'd be able to bond talking about how we were always eliminated in the first round of the classroom spelling bee. 

**I use that word in its loosest sense

Crazy Eyes

You win some, you lose some...

I had two interviews today and both of them kind of sucked. 

The first one was with a guy that I just didn't like.  It started out when he didn't offer to buy me a coffee.  Maybe I am old fashioned or a mooch or something, but to me when you invite someone out for coffee you should actually offer to buy them a coffee.  Then the guy spent far more time talking about himself then he did asking me questions.  In a good interview, you (the interviewee) should be talking 80% of the time.  Finally, the guy is looking to add someone to his team "sometime this year," but doesn't have any immediate needs. 

Interview number two was with a guy who is actually crazy.  Not joking...the guy is crazy.  He is obsessed with the fact that "Big Brother" is watching him and is sure that in the near future we are going to go to a cashless society and pay for all of our goods and services via retina scan.  This way the government will know what brand of peanut butter we buy.  We got started down this road when I asked him about his client relationship management software.  Don't get this guy started on cell phones--they are being used by the government to track our every move and convict us of crimes.  (This is not something that I worry about, since I don't commit crimes.)  All in all, this guy is just crazy and has the crazy eyes to prove it.  Needless to say, if he calls me for a second interview, I will politely turn him down.  I can't imagine why you'd want a guy like that as your financial planner, but I guess the crazies need help with their long-term financial plans as well.

Back to the drawing board...

Brave

Did you know that getting fired makes you really brave?  Let me clarify, after it crushes your spirit like an ugly bug and causes you to have trouble getting out of bed for more days than you care to count, you rise like a phoenix from the ashes of your former self.  You emerge more beautiful and braver than you have ever been.  You start to realize that you have nothing to lose. You feel like this.*

Or maybe you feel like this.

 If you are really lucky, someone will say this to you. 

If you're like most people, you will have to say it to yourself, but that's okay too.  The point is that you are brave and (at least for now) you feel okay.  And right now, that's enough. 

*This picture comes from here

Down the Rabbit Hole

My sister, L2, is getting ready to go to Haiti with her husband for the first of two trips, which will culminate with the adoption of their fourth child.  In true L2 style (which is why I really love her), she decided to try and collect 100 homemade rag dolls to take with her.  The dolls are needed in less than two weeks.*  I'm hoping to get 10 dolls done and so far I've recruited people to make about 15-20 more dolls.  Wednesday, which was the day that L2 and I started sewing, 100 dolls seemed impossible.  Today, it looks like we're going to make it.  This is one of the reasons while I love the Internet.**

Sewing actually makes me kind of nervous, though.  The last time that I did a lot of sewing was when I was well and truly crazy.  I was off work on disability because I was so crazy, and I took everything to the extreme.  Because I wasn't working and we hadn't planned for me to take 12 weeks off, I was trying to do things as frugally as possible.  Frugality is a good thing, but not the way that I was doing it.  (True mania is nothing like you see on TV and is one of the most frightening things ever.  I was scared enough living in my own body--I can't imagine what it looked like from the outside.)  I was basically bat-shit crazy and I was making all of our soap.  (Yes, you read that right--I was making our shampoo, body soap, dish soap, laundry detergent, etc.  My mother was terrified that I was going to burn myself with all the lye I was using--either on purpose or by accident because I really wasn't thinking straight.)  I decided to stop using the dryer and hung all of our clothes on clotheslines.  Drying outside is good, however the crusty socks and underwear that you end up with isn't good.  I also made lotion (which needed to be refrigerated because it didn't have any preservatives in it) and baked all of our bread, from a recipe that I invented.  I was kind of like Donna Reed on speed.***  It's been almost four years since I've really sewn anything.  I am working own on not obsessing...I have an obsessive personality and it is very easy for me to get swept away while doing something.  I don't want to feel like that again. 

On the job hunting front...I talked to a guy today that owns a company and they are looking to expand into my city.  After talking to him, this is the first job that I am really excited about.  It is perfect for someone with my background and experience level.  It would be challenging, there would be some creative elements to it, and I would be valued.  I have and interview with him on Wednesday, so keep your fingers crossed.  This is the first interview that I've had for a job that I really want.

Finally, some things on the Internet that I didn't come up with (but think are cool).

You Didn't Thank Me For Punching You In The Face  Although I am not in love with the language that this article uses, the message is a great one for parents.  As girls, we were all told that boys teased us, pulled our hair, etc. because they liked us.  This article explains why we shouldn't say things like that.  Since we had bullying hit very close to home recently, I am extremely grateful that no one at Sweet Pea's school justified the little boy's behavior with that whole "he's doing it because he likes you" line.


Juanita Weasel  If you aren't a reader of The Bloggess, you are missing out on the awesomeness that is Juanita Weasel.  It can't be explained--it must be experienced. 

*They didn't get a lot of notice for their trip.  On this trip they have a court date and need to file about two tons of paperwork with the Haitian courts.  They will get to meet their little boy, who is 4, and then they'll go back to Haiti again after the court finalizes their adoption.  We have our fingers crossed that everything will be complete by the end of the summer/early fall.  Haiti is actually a pretty fast adoption country.  (L2's other children are from China and Ethiopia.)

**Thanks Al Gore.  (Both the real Al Gore and the Al Gore that I used to work with.)

***I like that, it rhymes. 

One Door Closes

I turned down a job this morning.  Technically, I guess I didn't turn it down, I just said that I didn't want to go further in the interview process.  It's too bad, because I think that I really would have enjoyed the job and the people, but they couldn't afford me.  I'm getting more from unemployment then they were willing to pay.  I don't like "living off the system," but I really like buying groceries. Although I know I did the right thing, turning anything down right now feels so wrong.

I made myself a Valentine...

I just checked my email, and I've had some interest in the resumes that I sent out yesterday.  I also found two more positions with a large company to apply for.  (I'm hoping that a friend can find me an actual contact for those jobs because I didn't get to write a cover letter and I can rock a cover letter.)

I hope that all of you have a happy Valentine's Day.  There's not a lot of Valentine's spirit at our house right now, although I do enjoy getting to eat candy for breakfast.  Sweet Pea and The Husband have Girl Scouts tonight, so I have decided to make myself risotto while they are gone and then I am going to eat the whole pan.  Yes--it's going to be a wild night.  Anyway--lots of love from me to you and yours.

(You should all be happy that I decided to write today and not last night.  Last night you would have gotten a long post about how I was at church choir and couldn't hear the #F that I was supposed to hit to change the chord from major to minor.  I switch between singing a soprano 2 and an alto 1 depending on the piece and on this piece I was the only one responsible for this one note, which I just couldn't hear.  I was holding my music like it was a life raft.  I'll stop now, since that's probably more than you wanted to know...The post was going to be called "The #F Not Heard Around the World"--aren't you glad you were spared?)

UPDATE:  I figured out how to add text to pictures.  Now I'm thinking that I may have to start a Tumblr feed or blog or meme or whatever the kids are calling it these days.  Who thinks I should be putting all this energy into actually looking for a job?  Wait...maybe don't answer that.  

 UPDATED AGAIN:  (I'm really into the updates lately)  So, I started a Tumblr thing:   http://unemployedryangosling.tumblr.com/  I need to put more pictures up before it goes "public," but it's out there.  Feel free to share the link with your unemployed (or employed) friends, but remember--I had nothing to do with it.  (I'm thinking that this probably wouldn't be a good thing for prospective employers to get wind of, although it does show my creativity.) 

Hey Girl

I've been inspired by all the Ryan Gosling "Hey Girl" posts on Tumblr* lately and I've been thinking that I should start one for unemployed people (I just Googled and I don't think there is one).  However, Ryan Gosling has really never done anything for me, so for my (rather pathetic, using MS Paint) attempt I picked Eric Whitacre--a composer, conductor, and person that I'm obsessed with.

In other news, Sweet Pea has started her own blog (after watching me write this one).  Right now she has postings up about narwhals, unicorns (which are real, by the way) and Marcel the Shell.  Message me if you're interested in reading it--it's invitation only.  

Speaking of Sweet Pea, we met with her doctor yesterday and are now trying Concerta.  It kind of felt like the doctor closed her eyes and pointed when it came to picking a new stimulant to try.  The doctor has no idea which drug will avoid the emotional side effects, since all the stimulants have those as a side effect.  We just have to guess.  After one day, I'm concerned because Sweet Pea was complaining that her heart was racing (another side effect, since I'm basically giving her Speed every morning).  Now I'm worried that she's going to have a heart attack while she's sleeping.**

*One of my friends shared this one, which I think is my favorite

**Just to be clear, I'm actually worried about that...it's so not funny that it almost feels funny.

UPDATE:   To prove that I am cool (at least in my own head), Eric Whitacre just won a Grammy. 

UPDATED AGAIN:  I have a new favorite Ryan Gosling one--I heart NPR, because I do heart NPR.  This one may only be funny if you listen to as much NPR as I do. 

We settle (un)comfortably into a cuckoo’s nest.

I stole today's title from Dani Burlison, who wrote this wonderful (and sometimes sad) piece about depression and getting better.

Today The Husband and I had a meeting with Sweet Pea's teacher about her medication. She is having such a hard time at school because the medication makes her so emotional. She cries for reasons that she can't understand and has now finally told us that one of the kids in her class is bullying her. Like saying mean things bullying, but also hitting and kicking. She has been afraid to say anything to anyone because she doesn't want to get in trouble for tattling. Thankfully, we had a good meeting with her teacher and found out that Sweet Pea is not the only one have trouble with this boy (his parents are coming in for a conference next week). I am planning to kick this kid's ass the next time that I see him and probably his father's too, since the kid has a smart mouth, exactly like the father's. (They are the only family in Sweet Pea's class that I don't like.) Sweet Pea's teacher talked to her after our meeting and explained that she needs to tell when someone calls her names or hurts her, like this kid is doing. She even gave Sweet Pea a code, so that Sweet Pea can tell her that she wants to talk privately without the whole class knowing.

I did find out today that another child has been sticking up for Sweet Pea, so I sent his mom an email. This little boy has had his share of problems at school, although he's not a bad kid--just kind of misunderstood. Although I don't know for sure, I think that he may be going through something similar to Sweet Pea, so he has a lot of empathy. It is nice to know that someone is sticking up for her.

This brings me back to drugs...I have no idea what to do. The Vyvanse has made a huge difference academically for Sweet Pea. If you could see her pre and post Vyvanse handwriting, you wouldn't know that it's the same kid. She's able to focus so much better at school. However, she is riding these uncontrollable emotional highs and lows. At home she can be a terror--throwing herself down and kicking and screaming (which she never did before; not even as a toddler). I have been worried several times that The Husband is going to dislocate her shoulder because we have to manhandle her into the car some mornings to get her to school. (I wonder now how much of that is because of the bullying.) The Vyvanse has changed her and I want my daughter back. In addition to all the emotional stuff, she's developed uncontrolled muscle movements (not quite tics, but these weird herky-jerky movements that she's never had before) and she does a lot of weird vocalizations (also brand new). Both of these things are listed as side effects of the drug. By my scale, she's also lost 2 lbs in about 5 weeks, which is a lot to lose when you only weighed 60 lbs to start with. If I had my way, we would throw the drugs away and say "school be damned." Unfortunately, that's not the way it works. I am really hoping that we get some good answers at the doctor tomorrow. If the doctor could tell me that we just have to put up with this for X months until her body gets used to the medication, I could deal with that, but I don't think I can keep treating her when it feels like the "cure" is worse than the disease.

Do you think she looks depressed?

I think she looks depressed. Maybe she misses her beagle mommy, or lately I've been wondering if she has Seasonal Affective Disorder.

Who thinks I'm projecting my symptoms onto my dog?