Apparently, I AM a drama queen ...

I was in a car accident last week. I was on my way to my book group and this guy didn't stop quickly enough and slammed into me. The damage wasn't horrific, but I did get banged around a bit, and was very shaken up. Too shaken up to make sure that the info the guy gave me was real. That's right, he faked me out. He was being so nice, writing everything down for me, that I didn't think to take pictures with my phone. I just took his info and drove off. No police, nothing. Days later, my insurance company calls me back and lets me know that every piece of info he gave me was either fake, or incomplete and fake. Nice.

Anyway, I tell you this for a reason. I called a friend to tell her the bad news and commiserate, and in an attempt to make me laugh, she started listing all the things she'd learned not to do, based on all the stupid things I've either caused or had happen to me over the last five and a half years. Fortunately, I have a pretty decent sense of humor, and I did laugh. Some of it is actually pretty funny, when you take a step back and look at it. Things like taking out a balcony with a moving truck when I moved last time, or accidentally destroying my toilet, leaving me standing two inches deep in blue toilet water on the bathroom floor at two in the morning.

In the past, I have been accused of being a Drama Queen. I have denied said accusations vehemently. Drama Queens are horrible, selfish people whose entire lives revolve around them, to the exclusion of all else. Or so I thought. I've decided I have to embrace the fact that I am a Drama Queen. My life is too ridiculous to do anything else. Whether I acknowledge it or not, I am surrounded by drama on a fairly regular basis. Drama. I don't even generally create it, it just finds me. Sometimes it's my own, or sometimes it's a friend's that I have been sucked into. Or sometimes, it's a friend's that I have waded into, thinking I could help. Yeah, me, the Drama Queen, thinking I could help. Evidently I don't have enough drama on my own. I need to appropriate other people's drama.

Anyway, with all this drama that seems to follow me wherever I go, I've finally come to the realization that I'm just one of 'those people'. You know the ones. You all have at least one special person somewhere amongst your group of friends that always seems to have something happening to her or him. For my group of friends, I am that person. I'm not even going to try to be one of the normal friends anymore. Bring on the Drama. At this point, if it went away, I wouldn't know what to do anyway.

Let me close with this thought: Be kind to your drama-prone friend. And be glad it isn't you.

So I guess I'm still something of a cynic ...

Its been about a month since I blogged. Nothing had really moved me to write, and then I had an experience last week. I won't write about the experience itself, but rather something interesting that came out of it.

Part of the experience involved dealing with a man who was rather rude, and he really shouldn't have been. He actually had a good friend of mine in tears, and this bothered me a lot more than I would have thought. I ignored his behavior towards me (he was rude to both of us), but got upset at his behavior towards her. She is young and sweet and a bit naive, but it's a charming naivete (not the kind that makes you want to smack sense into her). A friend of mine expressed it as 'kicking a puppy'. Her response to the man's rudeness made me feel very cynical. She was having a hard time accepting that this man would treat people this way, while I had no problem believing that someone in a 'position of responsibility' would act in such a fashion.
At first, I gave serious consideration to disabusing her of the notion that men in these 'positions of responsibility' wouldn't normally behave like he did, and that must have been an isolated incident. My friend was already making excuses for him as we were pulling out of the driveway, and was seriously worried that people were about to get in trouble due to our accidental disclosure of upcoming events. As I opened my mouth to speak however, something stopped me from sharing some of my many experiences with her. I found myself loath to further shatter the illusions she was still cherishing.

I have noticed since I moved out here that there are some people that I 'pull my punches' with, so to speak. When I am around these gentle souls, instead of saying it like it is no matter how bad it is, I tend to sugar-coat or even omit entirely things I would normally say. I have a strong protective instinct towards those I have accepted as 'friends', and apparently this even extends to protecting them from me. Although I still know 'the truth', I no longer feel that I'm helping them by forcing them to trade their warm and fuzzy view for my colder, more cynical one. I may expect the worst from people, but that doesn't mean they have to.

I recently got back in touch with an old friend from Illinois that I hadn't talked to in about ten years. In the course of our discussion, I told her that I had mellowed. I was still the same person, but a somewhat kinder and more gentle version. I realized as I said it that it really was the truth. Although I know some people in my life right now might contest the 'kind and gentle' label, compared to how I was back in Illinois I'm much changed. Sometimes I wish I could take people from here back there to show them the difference. When I look at things now, I know I'm still somewhat cynical, but at least I've learned over the years to temper the cynicism...

The should-loop ...

I have a friend dealing with writer's block. He's an excellent writer (at least in my opinion), but he's having issues getting himself going. He also struggles with adult ADD, so that doesn't help either. His latest blog is, in fact, about how he's struggling with writer's block and the vicious circle that creates, with the inability to write feeding into the lack of self-confidence, and the lack of self-confidence feeding into the inability to write. I sympathize with his feelings, as I get mired in the same track myself. 'I should be able to do this by now, but I can't. I must be stupid/lazy/inept/worthless. Now I feel like crap about myself. Why even try to do anything, since I'm not able to do what I should be doing?' When I read his blog, I was compelled to share with him the same thing I've told another friend struggling to learn a foreign language: 'Baby steps.' I told him to stop focusing on what he should be doing, and focus on what he can do. This would help keep him from getting stuck in the self-confidence-sucking should-loop.

After I sent the comment in I started to wonder: Why can I say this to my friends, but when it comes to myself, it doesn't apply? Why are we our own worst critics? I jokingly refer to myself as my friend's French cheerleader. When she gets discouraged and starts talking about how she's 'not getting it' and wants to quit, I am quick to point out how much progress she has actually made. I make her admit all the things she can do now that she couldn't when she started learning the language. I hold up examples of people who haven't made half the progress she has, and are still slogging along, doggedly memorizing things by rote, unable to have even a rudimentary conversation. She generally at least stops threatening to quit, which usually leads to her wanting to start working on the language again. Why can't I do that for myself? Why do I let myself get stuck in the should-loop?

My conclusion is that anyone who has self-esteem issues just isn't equipped to deal with the should-loop. You're too busy beating yourself up to stop and think about what you're doing right. This requires an outside source to say 'Hey, knock it off! You're not stupid/lazy/inept/worthless, you're just having a hard time right now. Look at all this good stuff you've done. You'll get through this, just take it a little bit at a time.' The trick is finding this outside source. Anyone wanna volunteer to be mine? ... Yeah, I didn't think so. I'll keep looking ...

L.A.'s fine, but it ain't home ...

Ok, L.A. isn't really fine, but I couldn't resist the song-lyric quote. Five points if you can tell me what song it's from ...

I actually had a pretty good trip, considering. I ended up being able to attend the French Assembly through the generosity and thoughtfulness of a couple of friends of mine. I have to admit I was a little unsure of how the trip would go. It's always different when you travel with people, and when it's people you haven't traveled with before, you never quite know what's going to happen. I think overall, the trip went pretty well. I managed to keep my foot out of my mouth for the most part, and had a couple of really fun evenings as well.

The Assembly was very good. I was ready on time both days, and I'm betting that surprised my car-group. I know most people assume that I will be the one that makes the group late because of my tendancy toward high-maintenence, but by now I know about how long it will take me and get up early enough to get it all done. I managed to understand quite a bit of most of the talks, and came away with multiple things I need to work on, as usual. Now to see if I can break the pattern of deciding I need to begin doing something and pretty much immediately forgetting about it when I get home. I always sit there with the best of intentions, saying "Ok, I'm going to start _____" and then I get home, get caught back up in my life, and don't do whatever it is. I guess we all know where the road goes that's paved with the best of intentions, don't we ...

I really enjoyed both the gathering for us travelling Frenchies, and the night out at the Tapas restaurant. I shouldn't have spent what I did on dinner Saturday, but I really wanted to go out with our little group and have just a bit of fun without counting every single cent. I figured since I hadn't really spent any money on dinner the night before, I'd just spend what it would have cost me for both nights all at once. I even let myself have some Starbucks on the way home Sunday since I hadn't exceeded the budget I'd set for myself. It's really the little things that make such a difference. It was so nice to be out with people, having a great time and not stressing about all my junk going on here in Sac-town.

Now, back to all my junk going on here in Sac-town. Yuck.

Queen of the wafflers ...

Sometimes, I have a hard time making decisions. Or I guess I should say making decisions and sticking to them. I will make a decision and then fret and pick at it, sometimes completely reversing myself. I had an excellent example this last week.

I've known for a couple months that our new C.O. & his wife are people I knew many years ago when I was a child. I was very excited about seeing them again, and so was my friend Brad. We had even cooked up a little plan to extract the maximum amount of fun out of reintroducing ourselves to them. However, a week before we're due to see them, I started thinking. What do you do when you see someone again after years and years? You catch up on their life, what's happened, what they're doing now. Well let's face it, my life right now sucks. I'm seventy-five pounds overweight, still single, and have been unemployed for six months. I don't want to talk about my life with people. So, I decided I wasn't going to go up and reintroduce myself to them after all. Maybe by the time they visit my congregation, I'd have a job and have lost at least a little weight.

The day arrives, and I'm still convinced that I don't want to go say hello. However, by now half the congregation knows that I know our new C.O., and are surprised that I'm not seeking them out. All day I have people asking me if I've said hello yet, and shaking their heads when I say 'No, I'm not going to here.' Wes & Donna are interviewed after lunch, providing some nostalgia and I start to waffle. Yes, I'll go say hello after all. No, I won't. Yes, I will. No, I won't. I'll see them when they come to our Hall. But they'll wonder why I didn't come say hello at the Assembly. On and on. Finally, during the very last talk, I make the decision 'Yes, I'm going to go say hi'. Roz even makes it easier by wanting to go say hello to the visiting couple from Brooklyn, leaving me time to say hello to Wes & Donna without feeling like she's just standing there waiting on me.

I'm so glad I said hello. It was fun and wonderful. Neither of them recognized me, but when I told them who I was they remembered me instantly. They were so excited and happy to see me again, all grown up. Donna even said I was beautiful. I didn't even have to talk about my life except to tell them I lived out here now and am in the French. All that mental spazzing for nothing. I may even put aside my C.O. phobia and ask to work with them or feed them when they're here. Hopefully by then things will have improved enough that I won't go through the same round of mental aerobics I did this first time. However, I can't guarantee that. I still talk myself out of giving answers at the French meetings, and that's less pressure. That's a subject for another ramble, though.

Wrestling ... on Syfy?

I want to know who watches Wrestling? Seriously, who out there thinks that grown men running around in spandex onesies is entertainment? Are there still people out there who don't know that televised Wrestling is completely staged? I do not understand the attraction of watching overgrown teenagers juiced up on steroids jump on each other, especially knowing they're following a script. And yet, this is a huge industry. People spend small fortunes going to arenas to be 'entertained' by this ridiculous farce. It's basically a soap opera on 'roids. These must be the same people that keep programs like When Domestic Animals Attack! and Cheaters on the air.

There is a point to my trashing of Wrestling as entertainment. I've recently noticed that the Syfy network is featuring Wrestling. This just boggles my mind. Science Fiction by definition generally requires at least some small amount of brains to understand and enjoy. The neanderthals that regard wrestling as a sport cannot be the same people that are tuning in to watch programs on Syfy. Now don't get me wrong, Syfy broadcasts some completely ridiculous programs (Mansquito anyone?), but they are at least generally within the bounds of some type of science fiction. Where do these mental midgets in tights fit in? Could we be supposed to scientifically study how people with so few active brain cells can still function? Perhaps Syfy just lost the coin toss. No actual Sports channel will feature something that is so obviously not a sport, so one of the remaining channels was forced to take them. Maybe we could get Wrestling moved to a station that is more in keeping with the audience, like Spike or G4. Those channels are already aimed at people with more testosterone than sense. What say you, fellow Syfy watchers?

The beach ...

----------------
Now playing: Christopher Cross - Sailing (Remastered LP Version)
via FoxyTunes


I said I'd blog separately about my day-trip along the coast, so here is an attempt to get the feelings and images across with mere words ...

I pulled out of the Park, and headed due South on Hwy. 1. The morning was cool and misty, and I found myself hoping the fog would lift soon. I needed a sunny day at the beach. After about half an hour, I arrived at the section of highway that truly hugs the coast. Even in the fog, that stretch of highway is beautiful. I rolled the windows down and cranked up the tunes as I drove in and out of sections of sun and mist, letting the cool ocean breeze blow through the car. As I got further south the sunny areas dominated, with the fog appearing only sporadically. Is there any other feeling like driving along the rugged coast in the sunshine, knowing you're on your way to the beach? I have yet to find anything quite like it for sheer release.

I finally arrived at Pfieffer Beach, and the weather was perfect. A freshening wind swept along the shore, and the sun shone brightly down, making the water sparkle. Waves swept up on the shore, and birds soared up above. Idyllic, you might think, and truly it was. I set up my little area, and settled in to enjoy my afternoon. The tang of salt was in the air when I breathed in, and I could feel the spray from the waves crashing just ahead. I was mesmerized, watching the play of surf, sky, and shore. The combers would break just before the beach, leaving lacy patterns where water met sand. Birds ran along these edges, looking for tidbits and occasionally finding something, and small children played there as well. As I sat there, I felt like the sights and sounds were soaking down into my very essence, layering a healing balm over all the stresses and difficulties I'd been dealing with lately. It was as if the wind was blowing through me, taking everything dark away and replacing it with a sense of lightness and calm. This wasn't time to think or worry, it was time to simply be. Time to sit or walk and just enjoy, with no thought of tomorrow or what's to be done later. This isn't a feeling I'm blessed with often, this ability to just let go, so I appreciated every second of it.

Eventually, it was time to return. The light was shading into that mellow gold that happens on late summer afternoons sometimes. I drove back up the coast, stopping at various spots to take pictures of particularly magnificent views. Some of that peaceful feeling I had fled as I drove away from the sea, but I took a small amount back, held closely deep within. Sometimes if I close my eyes I can still recapture the sensation just for a moment, now and then. Music helps, so I included the above song with this posting. I always get the most vivid pictures in my mind when I listen to it. It actually sounds like sailing to me. However, that's a thought for another post, so I'll close by saying what an amazing day I had, and that I hope some of the tranquility and joy I experienced was communicated to you through what I wrote.

Adventures in camping ...

I've recently returned from my very first camping adventure. I had never camped before, but I was invited to go, and since it was at the beach, I decided "Hey, why not?" Let me say that even though I did have some complaints, I did have a nice time. I wouldn't want to live life like that, but it was fun for a few days. I did once again learn that I need to check the whole story before I agree to things, however. My friend told me she had everything I needed except a sleeping bag. What she neglected to mention was that she didn't like air matresses and wouldn't use them. I got there and realized I'd be sleeping on the actual ground. Ouch. I think I got about two hours of sleep that night. I made sure the next day to go purchase a cheap air mattress, and whenever she'd tell me I wasn't really camping, I'd reiterate that I was sleeping in a tent, outside. That was indeed camping. (let the eye-rolling commence) Anyway, once I got the air mattress, sleeping in a tent wasn't half bad. It was nice to be able to hear the ocean while laying there snuggled up in the sleeping bag.

Let's progress on to the quirks of my tent-mate. She has a mosquito phobia, and that required that the tent be completely zipped at all times unless you were literally stepping right through the tent door. Even if you were merely ducking in to retrieve something and come right back out. Yeesh. Ok, fine. Constantly zipped tent. We all have our little quirks. Changing in the tent at night got very interesting, as she would insist on putting out all the lights. When I wondered why, she informed me that people could see your silhouette when you changed if you left a light on. "So ..." I thought to myself, but again, I wanted to be respectful of the desires of the person that invited me there. Have you ever tried changing clothes in a tent in the dark? It's no mean feat. Personally, if someone really wanted to bother to watch me undress or dress in the tent, I really didn't care. It's not like they would see anything. I guess I just have less of an issue with that than some.

My best day was actually the day I took off by myself to go to Pfieffer Beach. I invited the rest of the campers to come along, but one of the sisters was terrified of driving down Hwy. 1. Seriously. The most scenic drive in America. Thousands of people drive it every year. It's going to be a bright, sunny day, with no driving-related issues. Ok, your loss.

The sisters kept trying to convince me to stay and go to Capitola with them. Now I adore Capitola, but the scenery along Hwy. 1 is what's made it famous, and one of the most beautiful spots in California. I can't imagine missing it for something as ridiculous as that silly sister. I got up and had breakfast with everyone, wanting to still be social with the other campers. I ended up having a lovely drive down the coast, with the fog clearing right before I got to the beach. I'll have to devote an entire blog just to describing the beach and my return trip. It's one of my most favorite spots in California, and never fails to soothe any stress that I may have. I'm such a total beach person. I don't know if I can even explain what it is about the beach that I love so. It's like the wind blows right through to my soul, taking all the dark stuff with it for a little while. Obviously it doesn't last forever, but I find it necessary from time to time as a stress relief.

Ok, I've rambled enough for one post. I'll try to post the beach blog soon. It looks like someone might actually be reading this from time to time ...

Dogs, Books, and Dinner

----------------
Now playing: Maxwell - Fortunate
via FoxyTunes

I haven't blogged in a bit, so I've got a couple things to catch up on:

I most foolishly agreed to pet-sit for some friends. I've dog and house-sat before, so I didn't think I'd have too many problems. Mistake 1: Assuming that because the kids aren't all that big, neither will the dog be. Mistake 2: Assuming that being asked to sit the dog without having met it means it's nice and friendly to everyone. I go over to the house Friday with plenty of time before the meeting (or so I thought) to take care of the dog, eat, and change for meeting. The instant I crack the door, the barking begins. The dog is almost as big as I am, and seriously ticked off to have it's house invaded. I go over to the counter, where instructions await me. After following the instructions provided on how to 'befriend' the dog, the animal still will not let me touch it. We're talking puncture marks if I don't stay out of range. I go back outside (in the heat) and start calling to see who can come and calm the dog down. I finally manage to get someone (Richard) to come and help. By this point, the dog has already pooped on the floor. Nice. Richard agrees to walk the dog while I clean up the poo, and when he comes back in, I make sure to make nice with the now friendly doggie. I finally get to eat and change, and arrive at meeting a mere forty-five minutes late. I consider getting there at all a victory after all the dog drama. The rest of the weekend goes a bit better, with the exception of the dog peeing on the carpet when I foolishly think it might appreciate some time not chained up. It's a good thing I got paid for this.

Saturday at dinner, I got invited to join a book group. Fantastic! I love to read. I'm a book-a-week-easy reader. They're meeting on Monday, and I'm invited to come and watch, since it's assumed by us both I can't get the book read in time. Sunday I decide I'm going to try, so I go out and purchase said book and start reading. And keep reading. And keep reading. And keep reading. It's a 500-page Isaac Asimov book. Now, don't think it was the size that was daunting. I consider that a nice size for books I truly enjoy. Let me tell you, this book wasn't a page-turner. There was no staying up 'till two a.m because you're so engrossed in this book. This was work. It wasn't boring enough for me to give up on, but I was certainly relieved when I finished it at three p.m. the day of the book club, after having started it about three the previous afternoon. (I did stop to eat and sleep in there.) I gave it a solid, middle-of-the-road review, because while it wasn't the worst thing I've ever read, it certainly wasn't the best. At least now I know I'm not missing anything not reading Asimov. He's a little dry for me. I prefer some wit and humor in the novels I read, or at least enough depth to the character that I truly care about or detest them. I think Anne McCaffrey has spoiled me. After her many magnificent books, most sci-fi authors don't have the same draw for me. Our next book is a spiritual one, so of course it will be a different kind of read. I'm interested to see the conversations we'll have.

Every year around the time we arrived here in good old California, Brad and I go out for dinner to celebrate our 'Anniversary'. This year we went a bit late, but we finally went. We decided to go to La Provence, a truly fantastic French restaurant in the area. Brad even agreed to dress nicely without my having to suggest it. Things are looking up. I go to pick him up, because of course we're not taking his van that reeks of chlorine. He comes out to the car when I pull up, and immediately I can tell that something is wrong with his outfit. I'm still not sure what it was that bugged me (the colors maybe?), but since I couldn't put my finger on it, I just told him he looked fine. Anything other than jeans and a tee-shirt is a major concession from him, so I didn't want to be discouraging. His pants could have used ironing, but they weren't horribly wrinkled either, so I again put the brakes on my I-need-to-fix-you impulses. I try not to mother-hen him constantly, even though he so desperately needs it sometimes. We get up to the restaurant and are seated. We order drinks and appetizers, and they are wonderful. We're sitting there drinking and eating in a civilized manner, and then Brad reaches over and grabs a potato puff with his hand. Quelle horreure! I quietly tell him to put it down. This confuses him, so he continues to hold it in his hand. I'm starting to get embarrassed. This is a very nice, upscale restaurant and my dining companion has apparently been raised by wolves. I tell him again softly 'Put that down Brad.' He's still holding the potato puff in his hand and seems to have no idea what I'm trying to tell him. I finally manage to get the message across without resorting to smacking it out of his hand and he puts the puff down. I gently explain that the only thing we're having that night that's appropriate to eat with your hand is the bread. This seems to boggle his mind (or maybe it was the drink, it was quite strong) and he feels the need to check that he should have picked up the puff with his fork. I confirm that yes indeed, you should have used your fork. We move on and are conversing while continuing to eat and drink and not five minutes later he does it again! At this point I just start to laugh. He looks down and gets that abashed look he has sometimes and at least drops the puff on his plate much faster than before. I tell him I'm good practice for a real date and he laughs. We manage to get through the rest of the meal without any other major faux pas, and enjoy ourselves quite a bit. La Provence is expensive, but well worth it in my opinion. Maybe someday I'll get to go there on a date. Here's hoping my date doesn't pick up the food with his hands. I may have flashbacks and laugh at the poor guy. ;-)

Facebook, my saviour ...

There are a couple of things I'd like explained to me:

- Who is the mental midget that created the McDonald's coffee campaign? Do they seriously believe that adding -é to any word makes it French, and therefore more attractive? Someone thought this was a not just a good idea, but that it would make people buy McDonalds crappy coffee? Don't most 'Americans' (referring to the uneducated section of the populace this campaign is obviously aimed at) dislike the French and think they are snobs? You'd think this approach would backfire by driving the ignorant public away from McDonalds. It certainly did something for me. I am boycotting McDonald's until these commercials disappearé.

- To the geniuses who designed the current Baskin Robbins commercials: Having the words 'ice cream & cake do the ice cream and cake' screamed at me rhythmically over and over again while misshapen plastic figures topple off of cakes is not going to make me go buy an ice cream cake. In fact, all it does is make me change the channel, thereby defeating your advertising purpose. Try something slightly less annoying and maybe your customers won't go postal on you for having your idiotic commercial trapped in their brain-pan for hours at a time.

The above rants illustrate with striking clarity a problem I've found myself with lately: I have nothing to talk about. Yes, I do work on my French some, and study some, but neither give me much to talk about when someone asks me what I've been doing. How many times can you repeat 'No, I still haven't found a job, yes I'm still looking' before people get tired of asking you? Then comes the dreaded 'So what have you been doing lately?' After you say 'I've been working on my French some, and studying some', to which you get the obligatory head nod, you trail off without anything to add. No one wants to hear about the fascinating trip you took to the 99-cent store or Wal-mart. I feel like I'm living half my life on Facebook right now. That's where a good-sized portion of my human contact comes from on a day-to-day basis. Thankfully all of my 'friends' on Facebook are people I actually know, not random people I added because they know someone who knows someone who knows me. Their support and daily comments let me know I haven't fallen off the face of the planet or been forgotten. What I'll do with Facebook when or if I actually get a job, I have no idea. Right now, it's a fabulous time-sink. Here's a big Thank You to all my friends who send me 'drinks', 'smiles', 'Farmtown' stuff, and throw 'Water Balloons' at me. You guys are keeping me sane right now.

What's my motivation again? Oh yeah ...

Ok, I have to rant for a minute and since it's my blog, I can. Enough about Michael Jackson already! He's been dead for weeks now, but there is still a daily 'update' that updates us about nothing at all. When the media actually finds something out, then update us. Until then, I have no need to hear the latest theory on his death or weird life from the guy who stayed in the cabin next to his 35 years ago at summer camp.

I still haven't heard from the cosmo chick. I guess I'm going to have to contact her again. Maybe she's not that interested in actually teaching? You wouldn't think she'd post something looking for students and then not want any. Ah well, people are weird. This is something I've learned. I'm still really feeling like this is the way to go. At least I'd have a better chance of finding something. Administrative work doesn't seem to be in high demand right now.

I'm trying to work on my French more while I'm unemployed. I've found a site that I'm checking out before I recommend it to others. I wish I had the self-discipline to use it more. I know I need to use this time I have to do more studying (theocratic & french), but the motivation is hard to come by. It's so easy to let the day slip away watching TV and hanging out on Facebook & Twitter. TV is entertaining. Studying not so much. I know I'll be mad at myself when I eventually do get a job (I hope!) and I look back on this time with not much to show for it. I have auxiliaried two months, but I've been out of work for five. Not a good ratio.

Ok, mental butt-kicking time.
-You'll be less depressed if you do more than just watch TV.
-You'll be more useful in service and at meetings if you improve your French and study more.
-You might actually have something to talk about with people when you are around them if you've done more than sleep half the day away.
-Roz will quit making that sound she makes every time she calls and asks what you're doing and you say for the umpteenth time 'Watching TV'.

Stay tuned. Will Angela actually do something for a change, or will she continue to morph into a giant slug? Only time will tell.

Maybe a new direction ...

Last night I was looking around online when I got an idea: What if I found a way to go back to doing hair? Of course the problem is that I've already taken the practical twice and flunked both times,and without a license I can't work in a salon. I'd already checked the schools in the area, and none of them had anything that wasn't full-term schooling for a year. I don't need a year, I just need to know what to do to pass the boards. So last night I decided to check and see if there were any online courses or videos that might help. I found some videos, but I also found a posting on Craig's list for a certified instructor that teaches how to pass the boards. I emailed her and she emailed me back that she'd be happy to give me a call and tell me all about it. I'm waiting for her call.

While I'd miss having a normal weekend, I miss doing hair too. Being an admin is so boring. I miss having clients and great conversations all day. I also miss tips! It was nice to have cash. I'd even consider possibly going back to Hair Club. Insurance, paid vacation, and sick days are nothing to sneeze at. Of course this is all conjecture right now, but I don't seem to be getting anywhere with the admin thing. Four months and I can count the interviews I've had on one hand. If I had my license I could walk up the street and get a job right now, or even work at a chain salon if I was desperate.

I guess we'll see what happens.

Well, here goes ...

So this is my very first blog. I guess we'll see how this goes.

I'm currently unemployed and have been since March. There are 50 people applying for every one job, and I guess so far I haven't been top of the heap. I've gotten lots of polite refusals, though. 'Dear fill-in-the-blank, even though you're overqualified for this position, you're not quite overqualified enough. Please reapply when you've wasted thousands of dollars getting an AA degree to do filing. Sincerely, We-know-there-are-desperate-degreeholders-out-there.' Why do you need a degree to answer phones, write letters, and do filing? Can someone explain this to me?

I have people telling me I need to go back to school. Great, I'd love to. However, school is not free. Classes cost money. I can't pay the bills I have now. How do I pay for more schooling? Have you ever tried to wade through the morass of getting the federal government or state to pay for it? It's nearly impossible, and now of course the education budget is slashed even further. By the time I could get approved to go back to school, I'll have used up all my unemployment and be living in a box in the alley. It's really hard to study when you live in a box. The lighting sucks. It's noisy. When it rains, your house melts.

Anybody got any ideas out there? I feel like I'm banging my head against a wall...