Donna Summer And Knocking My Head On A Brick Wall

Donna Summer died today and it has added to quite a few desperate, aching events.  It just isn't right.  Yet another grocery store had turned me down, and though I am working, I just have to wonder, what the hell.  I am just gonna leave it at that. 

God speed Queen Of Disco-my favorite time in life.  What a voice, what an incredible voice.  It just isn't right.

Riding The Armadillo Into Mother's Day

All of a sudden I am working.  I had an interview last Thursday and by day's end, a job offer and a starting time on Friday.  The busiest weekend of the year for Mother's Day, I have attempted what seems like doing an Olympic swim without any training.  At the end of day two, tired but showered and fed, I shall be back at it in the morning. 

I work with many young, very kind humans which is taking some getting used to and howdy.  I am the old one, though they have all welcomed me, checked on me and kept me afloat with their brilliance, kindness, patience and interest.  This may be the first time that I have felt that in a work place and that is such a travesty. I am making less per hour than I have in decades and at times, I wonder if my old brain can memorize anything. However, my understanding of the kindness of (former) strangers has been tested each day with just that-their kindness. 

This appears to be just a summer job for me and I am fine with just working an honest day and doing the best I can to do well, stay afloat, be present and earn some much needed greenbacks.  I feel very humbled and oh so grateful to a nursery where I shopped as a child with my mother.  That's right, more than 45 years later, I am hustling to stay up with my co-workers as an employee at the same place where I walked the aisles looking at plants with my mother.  Kinda weird actually.

Today, I wore my Armadillo  Hill Country Classic T-shirt in honor of the 18th Annual Armadillo Hill Country Classic which my family was a part of today.  I thought of them as I was scooting all over the nursery and missed them terribly.  We are lucky here in California in many ways including the weather and it is lonely at times to be so far away without a clan.
However, I feel kind of like I have ridden an Armadillo itself into Mother's Day as tomorrow promises more customers who are seeking the perfect plant to honor their mother or just make her happy so she doesn't complain that we never call her.  Actually, my partner's son's could use a good talking to in that department but for me, I am grateful to have a job, at least for the summer, and an opportunity to be a part of something that makes me feel that I am a part of someone's happiness.

Happy Mother's Day and may it be just that for you wherever you are in life.

Miner's Gold

A gold miner's struggle to find
 the mother lode,
Texas is rumored to have
 more jobs than people
 ready to stand in line for
 them,
damn the heat and humidity for
 a chance to work again.
Texas, of all places, attempts to claim
 us
 with its' largess and the promise of
 a new beginning there
 as if all it took was to
 load the car with our few
 worldly possessions and
 move on.
God knows that I long for fresh
 ground
beneath my feet
 and a chance to be with my family on
 the weekends,
work,
run,
live on with hope.
God knows
 and yet I remain here
 in
the land of make believe.

AIDS still kills our brethren

Today I spent the morning at my favorite food bank who serves the men, women and children in our county who live with HIV.  We provide groceries and provide referrals and resource contacts.  We sometimes are their sole contact in life and so we cajole and show interest in their lives.  I find it to be the best volunteer service out of many as it has a fun loving spirit with hundreds of volunteers who are very dedicated to the clients.

I have been working there on Thursday mornings this month to sub for a volunteer who is off gallivanting in Europe.  Lucky man.  Each volunteer time slot has its own click it seems and I have not felt that cushy feeling I get on Saturdays.  They know one another and not me so they have their preferences.   However, two volunteers have been friendly and I felt comfortable with them.  We all serve the clients first and foremost so it isn't that hard to just do the work.  It is a pleasure actually.

Truth be told, I am there to be of service and I get some happiness from pretending it is a grocery store where I work.  I still yearn to stock groceries and produce.  At FFT, I do just that.  I laugh too and meet new people.  It is a place with a big heart and I feel honored to be one of the many, many volunteers.

However, today I came home feeling distracted by the two deaths of volunteers recently.  J. and E. were volunteers and men living with AIDS.  I was stunned in a way and kept thinking of their faces as I drove home past the few apple orchards left in Sebastopol and now blooming.  I thought of J. who had a very wry wit and whom I wrote about in this blog at one time.  I thought of E. who had served at FFT since the 1990s and I cannot imagine that he has died.

It is that simple, in life, that the deaths of people who came into my circle made me feel their loss profoundly.  Being at FFT is all the more meaningful because we help people living with HIV live. Some of us have become complacent about the idea of cocktails as a prescription for eternal life.  As a friend who came in for groceries today said, "We have been through this before."  AIDS is still killing our brethren.  God speed my friends, you are already greatly missed.

Bumper Sticker Of The Week

One has to wonder sometimes just what exactly those guardian angels are thinking of when they pull stunts like this week's finest.

The sewer pipe replacement project continues at our corner where the front loaders and crane thingee with the tank-like appearance grind away our street, rattling the windows and coating the sidewalks with grimy dust.  Those guys work hard and drive those huge pieces of machinery around the corners at amazing rates of speed.  Not one collision.  Knock wood somewhere.

However, my laptop crashed last night with some kind of DOS warning page that led me to call Dell.  You know what I am going to say.  A man who called himself "Charles" with a very heavy Indian accent spent an entire hour putting me on hold and not helping me one bit.  I was civil and calm until the end when he charged me another $20 for the program disks that Dell never sent with my laptop two years ago.  Funny, he didn't ask me how he could "provide me with excellent service."

I am now writing on our desktop computer. If and when the disks come to me via some freighter from somewhere, I will try to do it myself.  Maybe my laptop is toast but I am not ready to recycle it just yet and I still know what excellent customer service is and that was not it.  Somewhere in Texas, Michael Dell is sipping his California Chardonnay or Pinot and I am wondering how I will afford a new computer two years after I bought it.

Seconds come via the job market in life or something that looks like a chance to put money in my dwindling savings account via Craigslist.  "ORGANIC PRODUCE STOCKER" was listed on Craigslist and yes, all caps.  That should have been my forewarning. True enough, the small market in Occidental would be a hard, 30-40 minute drive west from here with only 16 hours promised on the weekends for a minimum wage.  Still, I felt a tingle at the idea that I might be able to gain some experience.  I applied for other jobs this week as they came along, keeping Occidental in my mind.

Yesterday, there was a missed call and no message.  Hmmmm.  Telemarketer?   I called Occidental Market today once my volunteer morning stint was done and was told the job had been filled.  I thanked the woman and wondered if her all caps and her lack of a voice mail were my work of just grinding along trying to find something that will sustain me no matter what or my guardian angel keeping my Mini from scooting off Occidental Road in the fog? Believing the later keeps me from feeling bitter.

Third, yet another volunteer orientation to walk dogs at the Sonoma County Humane Society, three weeks after the first volunteer orientation led me to feel like it was all just a terrible waste of human effort.  I understand, from that two hours of "orientation", that the entire dog behavioral department had been laid off and the Director rehired with no support staff.  Additionally, only five volunteers could handle the dogs with behavioral issues, of which there were more than not, and I wondered what was really wrong there.  I am not a dog trainer though I walk three Greyhounds each morning and it just felt so wrong.  I want to help where I can but don't make it so freaking complicated.

Fourth, I showed up to do some office volunteering at a local organization, only to find that the volunteer coordinator was out sick.  I had driven 20 minutes to get there so I was angry.  She called me and apologized and it is hardly her fault.  Overworked and understaffed as well, they use volunteers to get by on a string and a prayer.


From an underpaid produce job to a home made latte this afternoon,  I wonder if there is something out there for me or is this going to be a very long summer.  It is not true that if you do good deeds you will be rewarded though most of us that were raised in our Judeo-Christian culture know that message so well.   However, if I have angels flying close to me-one has to be a white and red, party color Greyhound with big freaking white wings, I wish they would get to the punchline.  I am plum worn out and it isn't funny anymore!

Finally, I saw the best bumper sticker this week and that is my big finish here-and really, this blog is something I write from my true self so I want that other me to listen up:

"What is right is not always popular.
What is popular is not always right."

Ashley Judd Rules

Spinning my wheels on a rainy day after applying for jobs that fall into the black hole and trying to deal with my anger over the unspoken reality of how we look, when we look like we are young, who gets job offers because of how they look and why, oh why are women scrutinized for a sign of aging, Ashley Judd tells the media to take a hike.  Actually, she told them the truth though it won't change a damn thing that they do.

I love it that she used that word "misogynistic" because it explains so much in those few syllables.  Fear of death, vanity and the reality of the sun's rays on our faces, Ashley stood up for we women in a way that fame can in its' flaming voice.  True enough, Ashley has those sharp cheek bones that run in my family.  True enough, we women should all be so lucky to have a great face like Ashley. 

However, more than ever, I appreciate her conviction, her strength, her fury and her words in a world that takes one look and marks a box on a piece of paper on a clipboard at a group interview and decides where you will end up.  Not so much.

What makes a beautiful woman beautiful?  Maybe it is character as much as it is what we see.  Actually, the absence of character and plain old balls to the wall moxie are the kind of beauty that lasts a lifetime, long after youth has gone the way of the Dodo.   Puffy indeed.  You rule Ashley.  Thank you.

http://www.latimes.com/news/nation/nationnow/la-na-nn-ashley-judd-body-image-20120410,0,756459.story

Standing In Front Of The Urinal Of Life

I went to yet another "group interview" last night and came home feeling furious, confused, used and yet strangely informed. Apparently many companies have stolen Apple's techno interview style of dragging young-almost always the bulk of job seekers in the room-humans into a warehouse or a conference room, showing them some propaganda about their wonderful company and then making them do exercises together in small groups while lurking in the background with a clipboard assigning them points for their ability to work together. Contrived, off-putting and vague, somehow the trend is now the "group interview."

As this was the second time I had gone to one of these sorting process events, I was not surprised to see that I was one of four old people and the rest 20 somethings-about 25% of the job seekers. This event was slightly better than the grocery store company but the amount of women there was the same-about 25% which is not indicative of our population or job seekers. I was the old one.

I can tell you that these were interesting and alive people however who talked easily about themselves. Ah, they are young and yet to be denied promotions or drug through ethical dilemmas that will teach them about their character. They are neither jaded nor wise yet they were fascinating to me and so very alive. I enjoyed them. From the summer firefighter to the white water rafting aficionado to the rock climbing fencing instructor to the trail running physical therapy intern. Impressive.

Two hours of this experience and then we were each pulled into a one on one interview with the store manager and another supervisor to further refine their sorting process. I was the very last one that they called and I sat alone in the back of house room for quite a few minutes. I wondered if they had forgotten me and felt what it was like to have gone through this strange experience yet again. So few jobs, so few interviews, so much effort to be considered for one of five jobs and only a few months of seasonal work.

By the time I sat in the office with the two honchos-yes they did remember me, I was calmer and observant. They gave me the spiel and they informed me that they could not guarantee any amount of hours of work each week and really, this job was for two months, five at best. That is where I began to back out of the door in my thoughts. I began to feel that they had wasted our time and our lives. Truthfully, if they are what they say they are, working there could be a great experience-in line with my ideal job. However, it feels like fighting for birdseed and there is not enough to go around. Not even. I felt angry.

I imagine that many other more retail savvy men will be hired for those five vague jobs and maybe one woman. Maybe just to match the mission statement of inclusivity. However, this morning, before I take my old body for a long run around Spring Lake and off to the gym to lift weights with my fellow old people, I cannot help but feel that last night was a similar experience to February's group interview.

In fact, being authentic and enthusiastic can get you into trouble if you are not observant about what is being offered. The game is to appear happy, alive, I-will-take-whatever-you give me and a bit hyper to put yourself ahead of everyone else in the room. You may however, end up in front of the men's urinal with a bottle of cleaning fluid wondering how you ever got there after all you said and did to make yourself stand apart from your fellow interviewees. Tell me, is that all there is to this life or did someone just break all my balloons?

I'm going for a run, damn the performance that puts me in front of the urinal of life!