So my master plan for becoming someone to envy after my divorce isn't working out all that well.
I have levels of ideal floating about in my skull. There's the ultimate ideal (that goes without saying, right?) and then there are a couple levels of ideal that are lower than the ultimate but still very desirable. There are even a couple levels below that where I'd be content. Even my ultimate ideal isn't being ridiculously rich and bored. I tried a taste of that in Las Vegas with X and -- while fun -- it wouldn't be my cup of tea over the long haul. Err....I don't think so, anyway. Hee!
Satisfaction is really my goal. Security. I imagined getting a job that would put me making twice what I'm making now. That still wouldn't very be much but I could move out and live on my own. I could live in a style that, while not luxurious, would be relatively comfortable. Too me, comfortable means traveling a few times a year and seeing the world. As I most likely have more birthdays behind me than in front of me, this is something I'd like to do.
So I thought, what better way to better myself than to go back to school? I thought giving myself some new and updated skills would do the trick. But it hasn't. Even before the recent economic troubles, it hadn't. I've discovered that the skills themselves weren't as relevant as experience is. I know that's not first page news, but I'd hoped -- apparently in vain -- that my decades of experience in other fields would make me a better "bet" than a fledgling graduate right out of college. Looks like in order to really utilize my new skills I have to take a entry level job in the field making $3 less an hour than I currently make. I simply can't do that. I am barely squeaking by as it is and that's WITH a roommate.
Now I'm $4k MORE in debt than I was when I exited my marriage and in no better position. It's frustrating to say the least.
Still, I'm not suffering and I'm not lacking food on the table or a roof over my head. My roommate is really not all that difficult -- in fact he's one of the better ones I've had over the years -- and I am guardedly optimistic that whatever company I eventually end up with will see that the updated skills I've cultivated would be beneficial and at that juncture I'll be compensated for them. I want to think that I haven't done the schooling in vain.
It's funny, though. I'm pursuing other avenues -- contract positions and part-time writing jobs and things I haven't done since college. I was a journalist back then. Who knows....maybe my chops aren't completely gone but are just a bit dusty.
It made me think, though, about happiness. Knowing what you want and going for it with a single-minded determination. That's something I've rarely been able to maintain because I'm much too interested in experiencing all that I can before I shuffle off this mortal coil. While reading one day I came across a blog (http://www.spring.org.uk/2007/01/why-career-planning-is-time-wasted.php) with an article about why career planning is a waste of time and I pondered this quote about miswanting in particular:
"We are poor at predicting what will make us happy in the future."The idea of making mistakes about what we might want in the future has been termed 'miswanting' by Gilbert and Wilson (2000). They point to a range of studies finding we are poor at predicting what will make us happy in the future....Over time we learn, whether implicitly or explicitly, that we are not that good at predicting the future.
"This means your future self is probably a stranger to you. And, on some level, you know it. That's why it might be hard for an 18 year old to choose their career, but it's a damn sight harder for someone in midlife when limitations have been learnt. This might seem like just another way of saying that people get more cautious as they get older, but it is more than that. It's actually saying that it's not caution that's increasing with age, but implicit self-knowledge. People begin to understand that the future holds vanishingly few certainties, even for those things that would seem to be under our most direct control, like our sandwich preferences."
I DO know and have always known that what I want changes over time. I've never made really solid long-term goals because of that knowledge. I've always thought that made me wishy-washy. Hm. Perhaps it simply means that I'm a lot more self-aware and knowledgeable about myself than the average soul?
Well, it's a great justification anyway. :)
((Song: "Money/That's What I Want" by the Beatles. Lyrics here:
http://www.stevesbeatles.com/songs/money.asp ))
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
We Drank A Toast To Time...
Today would have been my grandmother's 108th birthday. I thought about her a lot this morning, Dan Fogelberg's "Same Old Lang Syne" running through my head.
My grandmother was born in 1900 in a small town in the midwest, the youngest of seven children. Her father was French by descent and a farmer as well as a tintyper. His father had died years before from milk sickness, otherwise known as tremetol poisoning - their cows had eaten some white snakeroot. The entire family had grown ill from the milk and because of that, her father never drank milk again as long as he lived. Her mother was of Irish descent and was a Quaker, a decision influenced by a Quaker family whose home she had worked in as a housemaid.
Her parents met during a local fair along the Wabash River in 1885 when her dad stopped her mother to ask if she'd like her picture taken. They married in 1886.
After having three children -- and losing three, one at the age of 2 from an accidental fall into the fireplace and another two at birth -- my grandmother was born when her mother was 40. She was less than two pounds at birth and she told me her father could cradle her in the palm of her hand. He took a shoe box, placed it in the pulled out bottom drawer of a nightstand and moved it near the fire. That was her crib. They didn't expect her to live through the night.
But she lived, all right. She died four months before her 102nd birthday.
Oh, but she lived! Her brother fought in WW1. She rode a horse to school and only attended until the 6th grade. She took a cross country trip in a Model T around 1919 and worked in a shoe factory in the 1920's. She saw both World Wars, the Great Depression, Korea, Vietnam, and the development of aircraft, automobiles, television, cameras, radio, telephones, spacecraft, and computers. That in itself is simply incredible. Would that my life be as far-reaching in scope.
She met my grandfather at 27 but they didn't marry until she was 34. My grandfather's mother had died when he was 12 from influenza so he was the sole provider for his aged grandmother and great-aunt during the Depression and he worked as a mechanic to take care of his womenfolks. After the Depression was over they continued to date. My grandmother waited patiently for him to decide, as was her manner. She was a firm believer in the power of patience. After a few more years had gone by -- six of them! -- though, her patience had run its course. In her no-nonsense manner she told my grandfather, "I've given you leave to decide whether we're to marry. I'm getting no younger and I have waited long enough. If we aren't to marry, I will leave."
They married a few months later.
She lived her life like this. Patience, caring, love, acceptance. She allowed my grandfather to run the family and rarely made the "waves" that modern women make, angsting about decisions and feelings and rights. She didn't consider her choices a sacrifice and she didn't believe that she'd given up any of her own power by allowing these things. My grandfather listened to her counsel, believed in her, leaned on her and was devoted to her. She knew that while my grandfather was the rock of the family, she was the root. She was calm like the port in the storm. She rarely put her foot down with him but when she did, he invariably acceeded to her wishes. They were married 55 years.
I didn't really get to know her until she was in her 70s since I wasn't born until she was in her late 60's. We grew very close after my grandfather died and my love for her was the kind of love that I hold for no one else in the world, save my child. Nothing could shake her; she'd seen and lived through much and there wasn't much about life that surprised her. She told me at her 100th birthday that she thought they should legalize marijuana! She was 4'10" but in her small package she managed to meld pragmatism and childish innocence; a curiosity and appreciation for the wondrousness of living that I don't see often enough. She taught me so very many things.
The last few years of her life were a little rough. She suffered a number of mini-strokes over the last decade of her life and finally a few months shy of her 101st birthday one stroke was bad enough to render her incapacitated and she moved from my parent's home into a nursing facility. Though we were told that her brain had been damaged by the stroke, I wonder sometimes if she was aware enough to know -- in some distant sort of way -- what was happening to her. She'd told me many times over many years that she was ready to die when it came her time and though I understood why she said it, my gut always clenched when she would. She lived this way for about a year before finally succumbing to another massive stroke. It was a blessing and through my grief I knew that she was relieved to have it over and done with.
There are precious few people on this earth that I miss profoundly after they're gone. I don't believe that people persist after death but there is a part of me that wishes that they would, and even hopes that they do. I can see why many religious sorts find an odd sense of comfort in the thought. I thought about my grandmother today and wished with all my heart that I could see her again, if for no other reason than to apologize for my behavior in the face of her decline and death.
When she went into the nursing home I rarely visited her. It reeked of death and decay. It wasn't the reek of her bodily functions so much as the reek of what was inside her, killing her. Her breath smelled dark and rank, like death was her passenger and only her autonomic system and our efforts to sustain her were keeping her fixed here. She had a DNR so she wasn't on machines but she was fed through a feeding tube. Bu none of that would have mattered to me had SHE been there....the light in her eye, I mean. The glint of life still being lived underneath it all. I would have visited much more than I did. As it was, I felt uncomfortable and sad and petty that the glint mattered to me. She looked tired and miserable and I didn't want to be there as witness to her loss of dignity or remember her in that way. So I stayed away. I wish now that I hadn't.
I hope -- if she did know that I didn't come -- I hope that she forgave me. I hope that she understood the whys of it. I'm driving the two hours to her grave tonight. I can visit her in the peace of death. I hope if by some crazy way she's there now, she can see me again.
I love you, grandma. Sleep well.
((Song: "Same Old Lang Syne" by Dan Fogelberg. Lyrics here:
http://www.afn.org/~afn30091/songs/f/fogelberg-same.htm ))
My grandmother was born in 1900 in a small town in the midwest, the youngest of seven children. Her father was French by descent and a farmer as well as a tintyper. His father had died years before from milk sickness, otherwise known as tremetol poisoning - their cows had eaten some white snakeroot. The entire family had grown ill from the milk and because of that, her father never drank milk again as long as he lived. Her mother was of Irish descent and was a Quaker, a decision influenced by a Quaker family whose home she had worked in as a housemaid.
Her parents met during a local fair along the Wabash River in 1885 when her dad stopped her mother to ask if she'd like her picture taken. They married in 1886.
After having three children -- and losing three, one at the age of 2 from an accidental fall into the fireplace and another two at birth -- my grandmother was born when her mother was 40. She was less than two pounds at birth and she told me her father could cradle her in the palm of her hand. He took a shoe box, placed it in the pulled out bottom drawer of a nightstand and moved it near the fire. That was her crib. They didn't expect her to live through the night.
But she lived, all right. She died four months before her 102nd birthday.
Oh, but she lived! Her brother fought in WW1. She rode a horse to school and only attended until the 6th grade. She took a cross country trip in a Model T around 1919 and worked in a shoe factory in the 1920's. She saw both World Wars, the Great Depression, Korea, Vietnam, and the development of aircraft, automobiles, television, cameras, radio, telephones, spacecraft, and computers. That in itself is simply incredible. Would that my life be as far-reaching in scope.
She met my grandfather at 27 but they didn't marry until she was 34. My grandfather's mother had died when he was 12 from influenza so he was the sole provider for his aged grandmother and great-aunt during the Depression and he worked as a mechanic to take care of his womenfolks. After the Depression was over they continued to date. My grandmother waited patiently for him to decide, as was her manner. She was a firm believer in the power of patience. After a few more years had gone by -- six of them! -- though, her patience had run its course. In her no-nonsense manner she told my grandfather, "I've given you leave to decide whether we're to marry. I'm getting no younger and I have waited long enough. If we aren't to marry, I will leave."
They married a few months later.
She lived her life like this. Patience, caring, love, acceptance. She allowed my grandfather to run the family and rarely made the "waves" that modern women make, angsting about decisions and feelings and rights. She didn't consider her choices a sacrifice and she didn't believe that she'd given up any of her own power by allowing these things. My grandfather listened to her counsel, believed in her, leaned on her and was devoted to her. She knew that while my grandfather was the rock of the family, she was the root. She was calm like the port in the storm. She rarely put her foot down with him but when she did, he invariably acceeded to her wishes. They were married 55 years.
I didn't really get to know her until she was in her 70s since I wasn't born until she was in her late 60's. We grew very close after my grandfather died and my love for her was the kind of love that I hold for no one else in the world, save my child. Nothing could shake her; she'd seen and lived through much and there wasn't much about life that surprised her. She told me at her 100th birthday that she thought they should legalize marijuana! She was 4'10" but in her small package she managed to meld pragmatism and childish innocence; a curiosity and appreciation for the wondrousness of living that I don't see often enough. She taught me so very many things.
The last few years of her life were a little rough. She suffered a number of mini-strokes over the last decade of her life and finally a few months shy of her 101st birthday one stroke was bad enough to render her incapacitated and she moved from my parent's home into a nursing facility. Though we were told that her brain had been damaged by the stroke, I wonder sometimes if she was aware enough to know -- in some distant sort of way -- what was happening to her. She'd told me many times over many years that she was ready to die when it came her time and though I understood why she said it, my gut always clenched when she would. She lived this way for about a year before finally succumbing to another massive stroke. It was a blessing and through my grief I knew that she was relieved to have it over and done with.
There are precious few people on this earth that I miss profoundly after they're gone. I don't believe that people persist after death but there is a part of me that wishes that they would, and even hopes that they do. I can see why many religious sorts find an odd sense of comfort in the thought. I thought about my grandmother today and wished with all my heart that I could see her again, if for no other reason than to apologize for my behavior in the face of her decline and death.
When she went into the nursing home I rarely visited her. It reeked of death and decay. It wasn't the reek of her bodily functions so much as the reek of what was inside her, killing her. Her breath smelled dark and rank, like death was her passenger and only her autonomic system and our efforts to sustain her were keeping her fixed here. She had a DNR so she wasn't on machines but she was fed through a feeding tube. Bu none of that would have mattered to me had SHE been there....the light in her eye, I mean. The glint of life still being lived underneath it all. I would have visited much more than I did. As it was, I felt uncomfortable and sad and petty that the glint mattered to me. She looked tired and miserable and I didn't want to be there as witness to her loss of dignity or remember her in that way. So I stayed away. I wish now that I hadn't.
I hope -- if she did know that I didn't come -- I hope that she forgave me. I hope that she understood the whys of it. I'm driving the two hours to her grave tonight. I can visit her in the peace of death. I hope if by some crazy way she's there now, she can see me again.
I love you, grandma. Sleep well.
((Song: "Same Old Lang Syne" by Dan Fogelberg. Lyrics here:
http://www.afn.org/~afn30091/songs/f/fogelberg-same.htm ))
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
But You May Feel A Little Sick...
I got a flu shot this season but it's probably not the flu I need to be worrying about. A lot of people in my office have been sick and instead of staying home they come shuffling in, hacking and coughing and sniffling. I can't stay home to avoid them, so I end up swimming in the miasma of germs they cast off. Grrrrreat.
Tis the season and all, right? I know something's going around. The kiddo is home from school today with a sore throat. This time last year I was weeks away from my bout with pneumonia. I don't care to be that sick again. After that I started taking zinc and a multivitamin and gargling with salt water and using a neti pot. Eating more greens and fruits. I took the flu shot when it was offered. Yet I'm thinking my immune system must still be made of tissue paper. I'm not sick -- yet? -- but I've had a headache for the last day and a half and my throat feels a little tender. Damn it, what else can I do? Grrrrr.......
Tonight will be an early night. I'm tired and my health meter feels slightly askew, if you know what I mean. Hopefully a good night's sleep with some aspirin and chicken soup will help.
((Song: "Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd. Lyrics here:
http://www.pink-floyd-lyrics.com/html/comfortably-numb-wall-lyrics.html ))
Tis the season and all, right? I know something's going around. The kiddo is home from school today with a sore throat. This time last year I was weeks away from my bout with pneumonia. I don't care to be that sick again. After that I started taking zinc and a multivitamin and gargling with salt water and using a neti pot. Eating more greens and fruits. I took the flu shot when it was offered. Yet I'm thinking my immune system must still be made of tissue paper. I'm not sick -- yet? -- but I've had a headache for the last day and a half and my throat feels a little tender. Damn it, what else can I do? Grrrrr.......
Tonight will be an early night. I'm tired and my health meter feels slightly askew, if you know what I mean. Hopefully a good night's sleep with some aspirin and chicken soup will help.
((Song: "Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd. Lyrics here:
http://www.pink-floyd-lyrics.com/html/comfortably-numb-wall-lyrics.html ))
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Girls Just Wanna Have Lunch
Yo texted me this weekend and asked me out for lunch next weekend.
I kept telling myself I'd ask her but I just kept putting it off. There were all kinds of reasons why it was a good idea for me to do the asking -- be the mature person here, help the transition, make the effort to soothe some jealous edges -- and only one real reason why not to. I didn't want to, there was really nothing to say. But she asked, so I said all right.
Now I know she's trying to fit in because she doesn't feel like there's a place for her. She's looking for me to set her at ease. She wants to make nice. I know all this but really, deep down I never did bother to ask her for any alone time because I don't really have much to say to her. Other than the ex and the kiddo we've got little in common. She's a kid. I am curious, though. I wonder what I'll talk to her about once the 'safe' topic of kiddo is exhausted.
Guess we'll see, huh?
((Song: "Girls Just Wanna Have Lunch" by Weird Al Yankovic. Lyrics here:
http://www.com-www.com/weirdal/girlsjustwanttohavelunch.html ))
I kept telling myself I'd ask her but I just kept putting it off. There were all kinds of reasons why it was a good idea for me to do the asking -- be the mature person here, help the transition, make the effort to soothe some jealous edges -- and only one real reason why not to. I didn't want to, there was really nothing to say. But she asked, so I said all right.
Now I know she's trying to fit in because she doesn't feel like there's a place for her. She's looking for me to set her at ease. She wants to make nice. I know all this but really, deep down I never did bother to ask her for any alone time because I don't really have much to say to her. Other than the ex and the kiddo we've got little in common. She's a kid. I am curious, though. I wonder what I'll talk to her about once the 'safe' topic of kiddo is exhausted.
Guess we'll see, huh?
((Song: "Girls Just Wanna Have Lunch" by Weird Al Yankovic. Lyrics here:
http://www.com-www.com/weirdal/girlsjustwanttohavelunch.html ))
Thursday, November 13, 2008
If You Try Sometimes, You Just Might Find You Get What You Need...
I've decided to take a more novel approach to a recurring problem that I've been having with my kiddo. The problem is school. She's uninterested and her grades have been slipping. Although some of it can be attributed to her father's wedding (her language teacher said she noticed a rather sharp downturn about three weeks ago and ex said that Yo's son is also acting out a bit at his preschool) I'm not very surprised at this turn of events. Kiddo usually starts out strong and begins to slide. School isn't a priority for her and unlike me, she's never equated good grades with her sense of self-worth...at least not enough to strive for top grades like I did. She just says she doesn't want to.
Barring a lengthy explanation, I've come to the conclusion that grounding her isn't really a long-term solution. While we've grounded her now and she'll stay grounded until she brings her grades up to acceptable levels, I've got this other idea to test.
I'm not really thrilled about it but it's worth a try, especially if one believes (and I do) that part of why my kiddo is so lackluster in the motivation department is because she modeled it after me. I was so driven as a child and young adult and somewhere along the way I stopped being so because I realized that any return I was seeing wasn't worth the effort. I simply downgraded my needs and wants until they matched what effort I was willing to make to realize them. I let my husband take care of me. I stated many times within kiddo's earshot that I was lazy and didn't much care, it was "who I am and I am okay with it."
I know I contributed. So time for me to step up to the plate.
Here's my idea. Since I can't expect her to just suddenly get the desire to buckle down and do the distasteful work just because she's grounded (let me rephrase that; I can expect it of her but it doesn't mean it'll happen) I need to lead with honey and not with vinegar. I've been talking the talk and she knows it. She thinks I'm giving her the vocal equivalent of "do what I say and not what I do." There's no real motivation there.
I need to get her motivated and make her actually want to study so I need to turn it into a situation that'll play on what does inspire her to act. I know she enjoys feeling like she knows more than other people do about some things. She likes a bit of competition. She likes being respected for her ability, and she likes adapting a mentoring stance.
So.....yeah. See, there's this one thing that I've put off forever because I hate doing it so much. I know I should do it but I've made every excuse under the sun for avoiding it. My favorite? "I don't want to." Sheesh. In this, I sound very like my kiddo.
What I'm referring to, of course, is....*shudder*......exercise. Gagggggghhhhhh.
Kiddo knows I feel this way about exercise. She's bugged me for a long time about it but I've blown her off. She's athletic and in JROTC and she's proud of her fitness levels. She feels superior to me for this and it amuses me. Anyway, I feel sure she'll see that if I'm going to voluntarily offer up exercise it's a serious matter indeed and that's exactly what I need her to think. I need her to see that I intend to do more than just talk, but walk the walk.
I see it going something like this: I have to do so much exercise a week, she has to do so much studying. I have to report in to her and I'll make sure to ask for 'tips' from her so she feels like she's mentoring me and making an investment in my success. In return she has to report in to me about her grades. I help her study. She helps me get fit. Ideally, we're each other's cheering section.
I want her to feel like I do when I see her get good grades. I want her sense of competitiveness to rise and I hope that when she gets a real taste of how good it feels to succeed I hope that she'll find it easier to make more of an effort. Maybe if she sees me giving effort to something I despise and becoming better and stronger and more proud of myself for it, maybe she'll be more willing to make the same kind of effort as well.
This might end up being a stupid idea. But the other ways haven't worked so far so when it's broken, you try to fix it, right?
((Song: "You Can't Always Get What You Want" by the Rolling Stones. Lyrics here:
http://www.keno.org/stones_lyrics/you_cant_always_get_what_you_want.htm ))
Barring a lengthy explanation, I've come to the conclusion that grounding her isn't really a long-term solution. While we've grounded her now and she'll stay grounded until she brings her grades up to acceptable levels, I've got this other idea to test.
I'm not really thrilled about it but it's worth a try, especially if one believes (and I do) that part of why my kiddo is so lackluster in the motivation department is because she modeled it after me. I was so driven as a child and young adult and somewhere along the way I stopped being so because I realized that any return I was seeing wasn't worth the effort. I simply downgraded my needs and wants until they matched what effort I was willing to make to realize them. I let my husband take care of me. I stated many times within kiddo's earshot that I was lazy and didn't much care, it was "who I am and I am okay with it."
I know I contributed. So time for me to step up to the plate.
Here's my idea. Since I can't expect her to just suddenly get the desire to buckle down and do the distasteful work just because she's grounded (let me rephrase that; I can expect it of her but it doesn't mean it'll happen) I need to lead with honey and not with vinegar. I've been talking the talk and she knows it. She thinks I'm giving her the vocal equivalent of "do what I say and not what I do." There's no real motivation there.
I need to get her motivated and make her actually want to study so I need to turn it into a situation that'll play on what does inspire her to act. I know she enjoys feeling like she knows more than other people do about some things. She likes a bit of competition. She likes being respected for her ability, and she likes adapting a mentoring stance.
So.....yeah. See, there's this one thing that I've put off forever because I hate doing it so much. I know I should do it but I've made every excuse under the sun for avoiding it. My favorite? "I don't want to." Sheesh. In this, I sound very like my kiddo.
What I'm referring to, of course, is....*shudder*......exercise. Gagggggghhhhhh.
Kiddo knows I feel this way about exercise. She's bugged me for a long time about it but I've blown her off. She's athletic and in JROTC and she's proud of her fitness levels. She feels superior to me for this and it amuses me. Anyway, I feel sure she'll see that if I'm going to voluntarily offer up exercise it's a serious matter indeed and that's exactly what I need her to think. I need her to see that I intend to do more than just talk, but walk the walk.
I see it going something like this: I have to do so much exercise a week, she has to do so much studying. I have to report in to her and I'll make sure to ask for 'tips' from her so she feels like she's mentoring me and making an investment in my success. In return she has to report in to me about her grades. I help her study. She helps me get fit. Ideally, we're each other's cheering section.
I want her to feel like I do when I see her get good grades. I want her sense of competitiveness to rise and I hope that when she gets a real taste of how good it feels to succeed I hope that she'll find it easier to make more of an effort. Maybe if she sees me giving effort to something I despise and becoming better and stronger and more proud of myself for it, maybe she'll be more willing to make the same kind of effort as well.
This might end up being a stupid idea. But the other ways haven't worked so far so when it's broken, you try to fix it, right?
((Song: "You Can't Always Get What You Want" by the Rolling Stones. Lyrics here:
http://www.keno.org/stones_lyrics/you_cant_always_get_what_you_want.htm ))
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