I have worked all week with a hideous cold that seemed to be worse every day. This was day four and counting and I really wanted to call in sick. However, I didn't. Each day my co-workers did not seem to notice that my voice was pretty weird and I kept blowing my nose. Last night was the sneezing and watery eyes phase. Today it was cranky in my head and bend towards the wind and it will soon be over kind of day!
Today is World AIDS day and I thought of many men I knew who died in the 1980s including Bill Day and Jim Hickey who hired me to do gardening and landscape maintenance. I also thought of handsome Dave Becker who was tall, blond and very good looking. Although I was never on Dave's "A" list, I remember him telling me how hard it was to feel so shitty every day living with AIDS. All of these men died decades ago now and yet their spirits live on in me.
I have been working now for almost two and a half months in a job that was supposed to be a garden job and now is much more like maintenance. We were asked to set out the garbage cans each week now as they pile strange duties on our jobs in order to get ready to lay people off. It is coming. The new ED could not lace his shoes if he had to bend over-he wears loafers-and seems to be micro-managing everyone. He told us we rake and sweep too much. Now we only do that two days a week. 7 acres of 110 trees that are all dropping their leaves. No more tidy campus. Welcome to my world.
I have been looking for work online three days a week because two days a week I walk the three Greyhounds at 6 AM. I want to stop thinking about being disappointed about my job and start doing something about it. I got excited when a dog kennel in the west county called me about my resume. I took my cell phone to work and on my break-read not while working!-I called them. The person in charge was seeing a client and so I said I could be available at noon for my 1/2 hour lunch. I sat in my car with my phone and waited while I ate my lunch. You guessed it. They never called back. They have yet to return my call and I get the message regardless. Welcome to the world of finding a good job!
Respect seems to be absent in all ways within context of working and finding a job lately. Respect means you call and you get a call back. Respect means that an applicant takes the time to send you a well prepared cover letter and resume and you treat them with the same consideration by returning their call. Each side can be successful but it seems groveling is all anyone can register. I cannot seem to get through the maze and yet I am still trying to renew my faith that one day, somehow I shall have the respect that I seek returned as I have given it. It is easy as the golden rule but most employers could not be bothered.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Downy Chicken Butts
We have traveled home from our now seemingly brief Mendocino county stay and unpacked, picked up the dogs from the kennel and started the wash. All too quickly, life imposes on the simple beauty of Mar Vista and Rosie's beach. All too quickly the dream of having a different take on life withers to the background. For now, I can still hear the ocean and see the reflection of the setting sun at the minus tide in the wet sand of Rosie's beach. For now, I can remember waking up to all those chickens clucking to begin their new chicken day. For now, I can recall the incredible stars last night as Mar Vista gave us a chance to see the miracle of the openness above the cabins to the milky way. From horizon to horizon there was nothing but stars and midnight blue sky. Mar Vista's planetarium.
This morning I stepped outside before our last trip to Rosie's beach with my coffee, stood facing the west and said a prayer for myself. The grass was still wet with dew from a frosty northern coast night and the fellow Mar Vista guest were still tucked in their cabins. We always go down to the beach one last time and even though the tide was in and we could only scrunch up against the cliff, that blessed beach that holds memories sweet and bittersweet still waved goodbye. We made a pact to return before winter is over and I hope we stick to it. By then we will either be unemployed and glad to have a getaway or a reason to celebrate continuing to be employed.
We had lots of talks as we drove and then sat and then walked the beach about where we are right now in life. I have the Titanic thoughts of our partnership though I am open to hearing something that will challenge my negative thinking. It was posed to me that I am at a plateau, neither moving on nor backwards. I am open to that idea though it feels frightening at times, my strength firmly intact though tested in an economic climate that seems like an ensuing tornado.
I have some great memories of our trip and relish the silent beauty of such a wild ocean community. So difficult to explain at times because it evokes deep feelings of belonging, healing, reminiscence and calm. Mar Vista is like no other place I know and holds my deep attachment to the ocean. One of my fond memories of our trip is the urging of one of our hosts to take a look inside the chicken's egg laying hotel and feel their downy chicken butts.
Well, I was curious though the chickens got up revealing body warm eggs they had laid. They do have downy chicken butts and I am fine just viewing those from afar. However, these chickens appear to lay the "best tasting eggs" many guests have consumed. It was fun just seeing the colorful eggs freshly laid as if it were a magic trick. Actually, Mar Vista itself is a magic trick as it makes one forget about a stressful time in life by providing a serene, lovely place to breathe, nap, walk, dream and be in the momentousness of each moment.
Thank you Mar Vista, we shall be back soon!
View of Rosie's beach at the minus tide...
This morning I stepped outside before our last trip to Rosie's beach with my coffee, stood facing the west and said a prayer for myself. The grass was still wet with dew from a frosty northern coast night and the fellow Mar Vista guest were still tucked in their cabins. We always go down to the beach one last time and even though the tide was in and we could only scrunch up against the cliff, that blessed beach that holds memories sweet and bittersweet still waved goodbye. We made a pact to return before winter is over and I hope we stick to it. By then we will either be unemployed and glad to have a getaway or a reason to celebrate continuing to be employed.
We had lots of talks as we drove and then sat and then walked the beach about where we are right now in life. I have the Titanic thoughts of our partnership though I am open to hearing something that will challenge my negative thinking. It was posed to me that I am at a plateau, neither moving on nor backwards. I am open to that idea though it feels frightening at times, my strength firmly intact though tested in an economic climate that seems like an ensuing tornado.
I have some great memories of our trip and relish the silent beauty of such a wild ocean community. So difficult to explain at times because it evokes deep feelings of belonging, healing, reminiscence and calm. Mar Vista is like no other place I know and holds my deep attachment to the ocean. One of my fond memories of our trip is the urging of one of our hosts to take a look inside the chicken's egg laying hotel and feel their downy chicken butts.
Well, I was curious though the chickens got up revealing body warm eggs they had laid. They do have downy chicken butts and I am fine just viewing those from afar. However, these chickens appear to lay the "best tasting eggs" many guests have consumed. It was fun just seeing the colorful eggs freshly laid as if it were a magic trick. Actually, Mar Vista itself is a magic trick as it makes one forget about a stressful time in life by providing a serene, lovely place to breathe, nap, walk, dream and be in the momentousness of each moment.
Thank you Mar Vista, we shall be back soon!
View of Rosie's beach at the minus tide...
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Rosie's Beach
We are prepping our lives to taxi towards the Thanksgiving holiday up the north coast of California where the environment brings peace to my heart. Decades ago, I travelled north with my former partner in search of a Mendocino county getaway that became a place of refuge. Then, I loved the idea of finding a way to force my partner to be closer. As a much younger me, I kept thinking she would change and come to appreciate the human whose every thought was somehow attached to getting her to love me. Silly girl I now think, that never works. Ah, if only I had the wisdom that can only come with age!
When the divorce was final on 10/26/03, I did not think of all the places we had been over 16 years together as providing a way for all those ghosts to flap their ephemeral wings in my face. However, Mar Vista was never one of those otherworldly reminders of love lost. I knew that Mar Vista was my place and holds my memories. Mar Vista is tied to me.
The cottages at Mar Vista were built 75 years ago and they offer privacy, sweet furnishings with a living room/kitchen that holds the coastal light during the day that lends itself to reading, dreaming, tea drinking, napping and just plain being. You can hear the seals barking through the airwaves. A short walk gets you to a horseshoe shaped beach that I now call Rosie's beach. Time at Mar Vista allows the pain of life to be put on hold though it is still there. It is just that the sting of life is not part of a vacation at Mar Vista. There is a stoic beauty here that belies a light shining on any of my troubles.
When my best dog friend Rosie died very quickly and very unexpectedly, I knew that I would scatter her ashes on the shore of that beach at Mar Vista. When I only had one dog, we brought our dogs here for a brief stay. The tide was in at the rock we scoot around to walk an extension of Rosie's beach thus cutting off the horseshoe beach for a straightaway where we could let the dogs run. I unclasped Rosie's collar and she took off full Greyhound tilt hauling dog butt through the water up the short beach left by the tide. She did this several times and returned to me breathless and glassy eyed as if the freedom and the salt air made her feel high. It was wonderful to watch and I shall never forget it.
It has been many years since Rosie died and I made my way up the coast on a perfect sunny and warm January day to scatter a dozen red roses and her ashes. That day too is in my memories as it could not have been more perfect. Low tide, sunny and warm with no one on the beach. I walked the shoreline tossing red roses in the surf and then her ashes, weeping at the loss of a dog who had slept by my bedside at night, watched me crawl through an aching divorce, the loss of our home and many other losses. She was the dog I have never found since and maybe because she was one of a kind. I have her photo beside my bed and in my car. She sits beside the being that I imagine is a "God" when I meditate. Rosie is all that and much more.
We commence our planning and gathering of acorn squash recipes, whipped cream, meal planning adventures, stacking clothing and synchronizing our efforts to get our three Greyhounds to the kennel and pack the car. We will be driving up the coast Wednesday evening after work toward the place that holds sweet and bittersweet memories of stillness, love, freedom, beauty and peace. Rosie's beach is the best place I can think of to feel grateful for all that has come to pass on this Thanksgiving 2011.
When the divorce was final on 10/26/03, I did not think of all the places we had been over 16 years together as providing a way for all those ghosts to flap their ephemeral wings in my face. However, Mar Vista was never one of those otherworldly reminders of love lost. I knew that Mar Vista was my place and holds my memories. Mar Vista is tied to me.
The cottages at Mar Vista were built 75 years ago and they offer privacy, sweet furnishings with a living room/kitchen that holds the coastal light during the day that lends itself to reading, dreaming, tea drinking, napping and just plain being. You can hear the seals barking through the airwaves. A short walk gets you to a horseshoe shaped beach that I now call Rosie's beach. Time at Mar Vista allows the pain of life to be put on hold though it is still there. It is just that the sting of life is not part of a vacation at Mar Vista. There is a stoic beauty here that belies a light shining on any of my troubles.
When my best dog friend Rosie died very quickly and very unexpectedly, I knew that I would scatter her ashes on the shore of that beach at Mar Vista. When I only had one dog, we brought our dogs here for a brief stay. The tide was in at the rock we scoot around to walk an extension of Rosie's beach thus cutting off the horseshoe beach for a straightaway where we could let the dogs run. I unclasped Rosie's collar and she took off full Greyhound tilt hauling dog butt through the water up the short beach left by the tide. She did this several times and returned to me breathless and glassy eyed as if the freedom and the salt air made her feel high. It was wonderful to watch and I shall never forget it.
It has been many years since Rosie died and I made my way up the coast on a perfect sunny and warm January day to scatter a dozen red roses and her ashes. That day too is in my memories as it could not have been more perfect. Low tide, sunny and warm with no one on the beach. I walked the shoreline tossing red roses in the surf and then her ashes, weeping at the loss of a dog who had slept by my bedside at night, watched me crawl through an aching divorce, the loss of our home and many other losses. She was the dog I have never found since and maybe because she was one of a kind. I have her photo beside my bed and in my car. She sits beside the being that I imagine is a "God" when I meditate. Rosie is all that and much more.
We commence our planning and gathering of acorn squash recipes, whipped cream, meal planning adventures, stacking clothing and synchronizing our efforts to get our three Greyhounds to the kennel and pack the car. We will be driving up the coast Wednesday evening after work toward the place that holds sweet and bittersweet memories of stillness, love, freedom, beauty and peace. Rosie's beach is the best place I can think of to feel grateful for all that has come to pass on this Thanksgiving 2011.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Having Her Say
It is hard to imagine that anyone who drives a Mini Cooper could be a vile, calloused, vindictive human but it can happen. As an aficionado of the Mini, I would think that anyone who buys one is fun loving yet spirited. Guess I got that wrong.
The interim ED could have flown in on her broom though it is a '97 Cooper that she parks in the same spot every morning. Yesterday I swept and large human shaped pile of leaves to the front of her car and thought of just emptying them on the bonnet. Dang. Guess I like getting that paycheck too much. However, the wicked witch is leaving tomorrow to pursue another organization to plunder. Even though she survived the crash in her former Mini and walked away from it because of the way the Mini is constructed, she did not use that opportunity to better the world. Ms. Mary came to crush the spirit of our retirement community but she motors away without snuffing our heart.
In her wake, Mary fired a 27 year veteran who was much loved by the residents and staff. However, the good news is that our heroine, though fired, is returning to speak to the personnel committee and she is about to have the last word. Nerny, nerny, nerny. I loved hearing this bit of gossip and it made me feel that truth can come to the bridge finally and maybe, just maybe, we can pitch a house on that witch yet. Surrender Dorothy? Hardly. You go girl!
The interim ED could have flown in on her broom though it is a '97 Cooper that she parks in the same spot every morning. Yesterday I swept and large human shaped pile of leaves to the front of her car and thought of just emptying them on the bonnet. Dang. Guess I like getting that paycheck too much. However, the wicked witch is leaving tomorrow to pursue another organization to plunder. Even though she survived the crash in her former Mini and walked away from it because of the way the Mini is constructed, she did not use that opportunity to better the world. Ms. Mary came to crush the spirit of our retirement community but she motors away without snuffing our heart.
In her wake, Mary fired a 27 year veteran who was much loved by the residents and staff. However, the good news is that our heroine, though fired, is returning to speak to the personnel committee and she is about to have the last word. Nerny, nerny, nerny. I loved hearing this bit of gossip and it made me feel that truth can come to the bridge finally and maybe, just maybe, we can pitch a house on that witch yet. Surrender Dorothy? Hardly. You go girl!
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Everything Comes And Goes
The inside of my brain lately has been very negative and it is difficult to step back and look at things anew when a bad remake of The Empire Strikes back is under way. My current job, though I am outside rain, shine or freezing temperatures, is crumbling from the inside out and those around me who work inside are about to lose their jobs-most if not all of them. This situation is like the one I left over a year ago and that makes my hair stand on end.
The board of directors where I work have fired and fired and fired quite a few people. The board has hired Pacific Retirement Services Inc. to come in and take over the management of a Quaker inspired retirement facility that has been run quite differently over the last quarter of a century and then some. People who work where I toil have come to see the residents as their family and served them like family. However, the board is now angry because staff and residents are outraged at their actions and have now fired back that Pacific will be coming in sooner than February. Nerny, nerny, nerny.
It feels very sad to watch a sweet way of life come tumbling down. The accounting department could be gone in a weekend and my partner's job with it. There could easily be more empty parking spaces on campus-many are already vacant-due to firings and suspensions. Corporate takeovers are never pretty are they?
I try to remain detached and that is not possible. Although I have watched the end of my government service career go the same way and be the only one who was outraged and almost insane over the stress, I now have much company and yet we all feel powerless. At some point, I will be forced to make a choice based upon my values and ethics even though I am a gardener and not a paper pusher. The residents will not be able to do anything about the changes and many won't want to jeopardize their way of life.
For today, I will enjoy my Sunday which has more than enough tasks in it with blue skies all around and the sun still shining down. I will cherish what I have in life and hope for more because hope is all we ever call our own anyway. For today, I shall revel in having a few bucks in the checkbook and spending some of it on the house. Maybe there will be a latte in there for me.
For today, I will bless the grounds and especially the persimmon trees of the place where I work that wait for me to arrive Monday morning and rake, sweep, pull weeds, haul and tend their lovely presence. They are amazing to see this time of year as their leaves turn that shade of coral and hover on the ends of branches about to cascade to the damp earth leaving behind their bright orange fruit.
The persimmons are something like our hope that lingers even after the end of difficult times and difficult choices. They are beautiful and lush and very real even though winter comes on with the rush of fallen leaves.
The board of directors where I work have fired and fired and fired quite a few people. The board has hired Pacific Retirement Services Inc. to come in and take over the management of a Quaker inspired retirement facility that has been run quite differently over the last quarter of a century and then some. People who work where I toil have come to see the residents as their family and served them like family. However, the board is now angry because staff and residents are outraged at their actions and have now fired back that Pacific will be coming in sooner than February. Nerny, nerny, nerny.
It feels very sad to watch a sweet way of life come tumbling down. The accounting department could be gone in a weekend and my partner's job with it. There could easily be more empty parking spaces on campus-many are already vacant-due to firings and suspensions. Corporate takeovers are never pretty are they?
I try to remain detached and that is not possible. Although I have watched the end of my government service career go the same way and be the only one who was outraged and almost insane over the stress, I now have much company and yet we all feel powerless. At some point, I will be forced to make a choice based upon my values and ethics even though I am a gardener and not a paper pusher. The residents will not be able to do anything about the changes and many won't want to jeopardize their way of life.
For today, I will enjoy my Sunday which has more than enough tasks in it with blue skies all around and the sun still shining down. I will cherish what I have in life and hope for more because hope is all we ever call our own anyway. For today, I shall revel in having a few bucks in the checkbook and spending some of it on the house. Maybe there will be a latte in there for me.
For today, I will bless the grounds and especially the persimmon trees of the place where I work that wait for me to arrive Monday morning and rake, sweep, pull weeds, haul and tend their lovely presence. They are amazing to see this time of year as their leaves turn that shade of coral and hover on the ends of branches about to cascade to the damp earth leaving behind their bright orange fruit.
The persimmons are something like our hope that lingers even after the end of difficult times and difficult choices. They are beautiful and lush and very real even though winter comes on with the rush of fallen leaves.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
There Is Blue Sky Even When It Is Freezing Cold
It is true that I am so tired that I cancelled my plans to drive to Sebastopol and attend a meeting. I just could not imagine it. Someone just unplugged me at about 1:30 PM today and I struggled with the weight of my fatigue and still work. I did but not that enthusiastically. So, I am here on the couch with potatoes in the oven to bake instead of driving out on a cold November night.
I have been feeling isolated and lonesome and I know that it isn't that anything has changed vis a vis my lack of friendships. In a way, my view of the diminished circle of friends has been true all along. It is just more obvious now as we move towards Thanksgiving. Truth can be stranger than fiction.
My workplace, such as it is, is under a cloud of chaos and upheaval with the firing of a 27 year employee. Others in the Health Care unit have been dismissed or suspended with lots of strange "cleaning house" actions going on after the firing of the Executive Director in September. In fact, almost each week of my short tenure, has held some kind of dark foreboding about change, corporate politics in a Quaker organization, favoritism by a few ball busting women in charge. It reminds me of the County of Sonoma unfortunately.
So, I have retreated a bit from my initial happy go lucky newly employed human attitude though I still do what I can while understanding that I am the last Gardener hired and still, the girl. In other words, my skills, my knowledge and my ability to contribute is never considered. It is clear that even without all this structural chaos, this is as good as it will get. I had a brief moment today where I imagined that I could be part of a team of Gardener's who survive all the firings and suspensions and management company torpedoes and then it fizzled. It would not really matter.
It was suggested to me that maybe working as a Gardener has more to do with my personal journey of healing the inner critic we know and not love as Sydney. In time, all that makes up the little man in my head will become clearer.
I am very weary of the difficulties though and so I will continue to write, read, run, swim, watch movies and wonder what the hell has happened to my life. I look for work in my few free hours and the same crap is out there. The same story.
However, there is blue sky even when it freezing cold outside and that is all I need to put one foot in front of the other.
I have been feeling isolated and lonesome and I know that it isn't that anything has changed vis a vis my lack of friendships. In a way, my view of the diminished circle of friends has been true all along. It is just more obvious now as we move towards Thanksgiving. Truth can be stranger than fiction.
My workplace, such as it is, is under a cloud of chaos and upheaval with the firing of a 27 year employee. Others in the Health Care unit have been dismissed or suspended with lots of strange "cleaning house" actions going on after the firing of the Executive Director in September. In fact, almost each week of my short tenure, has held some kind of dark foreboding about change, corporate politics in a Quaker organization, favoritism by a few ball busting women in charge. It reminds me of the County of Sonoma unfortunately.
So, I have retreated a bit from my initial happy go lucky newly employed human attitude though I still do what I can while understanding that I am the last Gardener hired and still, the girl. In other words, my skills, my knowledge and my ability to contribute is never considered. It is clear that even without all this structural chaos, this is as good as it will get. I had a brief moment today where I imagined that I could be part of a team of Gardener's who survive all the firings and suspensions and management company torpedoes and then it fizzled. It would not really matter.
It was suggested to me that maybe working as a Gardener has more to do with my personal journey of healing the inner critic we know and not love as Sydney. In time, all that makes up the little man in my head will become clearer.
I am very weary of the difficulties though and so I will continue to write, read, run, swim, watch movies and wonder what the hell has happened to my life. I look for work in my few free hours and the same crap is out there. The same story.
However, there is blue sky even when it freezing cold outside and that is all I need to put one foot in front of the other.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
The Choices We Make
We had our first real rainstorm here and it was a cold one. We all hunkered down for the day and felt what it was like to have a day off. It spun by as the last pre-daylight savings time day of 2011. This morning, the pelting of Alaskan rain has made the air smell sweet and there is a dew left on the red roses in the backyard that appears silver in the light of this Sunday morning.
I slept this morning and that is a big change. Each day this week I have awoken at 2 then 3ish then 4ish A.M. and it was a kind of hell that I could not stop. Deeply embedded in my own sleeping this morning I dreamt of helping someone get sober and I know what that is about. Dreams are often some kind of hide and seek that my brain cooks up while I try to repair my body. I want to stay sober through this year as I round the corner on 26 years. However, doing so within the bounds of a spiritual community that seems to be a popularity contest has made my program feel like a parched desert. I know that I am on my own to find something different.
We went to a movie last night at what I call The Dying Movie Theatre downtown and I realized that we have not been to the movies since our beloved Rialto was hijacked by the corporate monstrosity who owns the rest of our movie houses. We refuse to step foot into the art movie house that plays the kind of independent movie we crave after bumping the Rialto out of their lease nefariously and then remodeling and acting like this is business as usual. Oh, it is.
I am amazed that in our Podunk town with such little to choose from we still have to pay for parking when everyone seems to be home watching their flat screen TVs or something. We really do live in a strange county.
This morning we are here drinking in the last of our weekend and then I can go for a run around the lake-the only time I seem to have now to do what I love. I only have so much energy now and I must choose how I spend it. I still go to the gym and swim there and run and I must be selective as I only have so much time and energy. That could change and so I keep my passion alive. I feel the same way about staying sober and I am looking for a new home for my program. It has been time for a change for some time.
Much like the movie we saw last night-The Help, I know that my own choices require stepping through moments, situations, flat, bleak stretches of life with fear and a reflection on the future that is based upon past experiences, with courage that must be dredged up from somewhere in my character. The choices we make can change the course of our lives and yet, those choices are the essence of the change itself. A mobius strip whose limits are never obvious but present nonetheless.
I slept this morning and that is a big change. Each day this week I have awoken at 2 then 3ish then 4ish A.M. and it was a kind of hell that I could not stop. Deeply embedded in my own sleeping this morning I dreamt of helping someone get sober and I know what that is about. Dreams are often some kind of hide and seek that my brain cooks up while I try to repair my body. I want to stay sober through this year as I round the corner on 26 years. However, doing so within the bounds of a spiritual community that seems to be a popularity contest has made my program feel like a parched desert. I know that I am on my own to find something different.
We went to a movie last night at what I call The Dying Movie Theatre downtown and I realized that we have not been to the movies since our beloved Rialto was hijacked by the corporate monstrosity who owns the rest of our movie houses. We refuse to step foot into the art movie house that plays the kind of independent movie we crave after bumping the Rialto out of their lease nefariously and then remodeling and acting like this is business as usual. Oh, it is.
I am amazed that in our Podunk town with such little to choose from we still have to pay for parking when everyone seems to be home watching their flat screen TVs or something. We really do live in a strange county.
This morning we are here drinking in the last of our weekend and then I can go for a run around the lake-the only time I seem to have now to do what I love. I only have so much energy now and I must choose how I spend it. I still go to the gym and swim there and run and I must be selective as I only have so much time and energy. That could change and so I keep my passion alive. I feel the same way about staying sober and I am looking for a new home for my program. It has been time for a change for some time.
Much like the movie we saw last night-The Help, I know that my own choices require stepping through moments, situations, flat, bleak stretches of life with fear and a reflection on the future that is based upon past experiences, with courage that must be dredged up from somewhere in my character. The choices we make can change the course of our lives and yet, those choices are the essence of the change itself. A mobius strip whose limits are never obvious but present nonetheless.
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