Frustration

I know I'm not doing anything wrong. I look for jobs for hours a day, and yes, I apply to them. I network, I let people know I'm looking, I've updated and polished my resume a dozen times. There's nothing else I can do, and that, in itself, is frustrating.

If a bunch of moneyed, highly educated politicians can't fix the economy, I can't either. I feel powerless. Why are we in a recession for almost 10 years now? This is ridiculous. Ask the economists when the end is coming, they can't even tell you. I'm sick of reading about how bad things are, I'm living how bad things are.

And yes, people, I did prepare wisely. But when you keep getting laid off, savings do tend to deplete. Savings don't last forever, and bills wait for no one.

Paralyzed Mom

Paralyzed Mom

Mom isn't the same

Mom doesn't talk the same

Mom doesn't look the same

Mom isn't the same

Mom has a new name

Mom is paralyzed

Mom, Just Mom, isn't her name

Mom has a new name

Mom is Paralyzed Mom

Paralyzed Mom is always

In her nursing home bed

Paralyzed Mom knows

Her bed is a waiting coffin

Paralyzed Mom has decades left

In her bed that doubles as a death-box

Paralyzed Mom's eyes aren't the same

Paralyzed Mom's eyes are dead

All the life sucked out

Mom is paralyzed

So I'm not the same

I have a new name

Daughter of Paralyzed Mom

I would give anything

for

Just Mom to still be her name

Caught in the Rain

Caught in the Rain
More times than not this summer
Without an umbrella
And always with a fancy updo

Caught in the Rain
No more fancy updo
Just a flat, drenched, downdo
I have an umbrella somewhere

Caught in the Rain
The all-important umbrella?
Is left in the car
Terrible place for it when

Caught in the Rain.............

The Temp

The Temp

She got the call just two nights before – be there at 8 am sharp, dress professionally as this is very much “that type of environment,” make a good impression. She arrived to a peculiar, thick tension in the office housed in a downtown high-rise, but approached the assignment with a positive attitude nonetheless, shaking it off to first day nerves and a stuffy corporate environment.

The girl training her turned out to be from the same temp agency that had sent The Temp, but was leaving this position due to it “being closer to home.” What The Temp didn't know was that the girl's decision had sealed The Temp's fate. The girl had just become permanent 5 weeks before, after the company had paid a hefty $2,500 finder's fee to the temp agency for the privilege of hiring her on permanently.

The Temp, unaware of this acrimonious plot line, was made aware of it little by little. The first clue was the cat-like feral animosity and directed verbal jabs made by employees to the departing girl. The second clue was the Hiring Manager's (renamed Mr. Grudge) conversation with the temp after only 30 minutes on the job, which went something like this: “So! (said in a flat, aggressive, unfriendly tone) “What do YOU expect in a job? How much do you want to be paid? Am I going to have another Maria (departing girl) on my hands?” Needless to say, The Temp was taken aback by this line of questioning, but answered the best she could, which wasn't enough to quell the Hiring Manager's anger. After The Temp told Mr. Grudge her salary expectations, he quipped, rudely, “Is that really enough for you, or are you just saying that to make me happy?” The Temp thought to herself, and almost blurted out, "Ummmm......no, I really don't know what would make you happy, Crazy Old Man, but apparently it's not what I just said." Mr Grudge then said, “you may go now,” in a tone of condescension usually reserved for the usual suspects, such as toner pirates and other unsavory solicitors.

Fast-forward two days. The temp arrived at 8 am, only to be told that Maria had called off that morning (her last day of work) and wouldn't be training The Temp. The Temp was informed by a gaggle of angry, warring female employees that they would take turns training her; the hen party was openly resentful of being put upon. The atmosphere in the office was now one of barely controlled rage and open dislike. The COO, the CFO, the CEO, and the rest of the Wall Street types gave The Temp the “you're disposable and not dressed in $1,000 attire from top to bottom like the rest of us” disapproving once-over several times a day, every day. The temp knew that after 30 days, she would not be offered a permanent position due to the $2,500 that was just paid out; who in their right mind would pay another $2,500 just two months later without a guarantee that the same event wouldn't occur again?

They stopped training her after about 2 days and just left her to her own devices. They didn't ask her if she needed any help with anything. When she said hello as they passed her desk, they just coldly looked at her and smirked, exchanging knowing glances with one another. Whenever she made a mistake, they gleefully made sure to let her know, which reminded The Temp of documentary footage of animal predators smelling blood and moving in for the kill. After all, the modeling of untoward behavior was set by the executives; the hens were right to assume they wouldn't be berated for their unprofessional, catty behavior.

For two days before her assignment ended, a bevy of females in blouses, skirts, and heels started checking in with The Temp for interviews with the Hiring Manager for an unspecified position. They were dressed exactly as one would dress to interview for the position The Temp now precariously occupied. For Any other available position, the females would have worn requisite suits with blazers.

The Temp called Mr. Grudge each time and let him know his interview had arrived. The prospects sat in comfortable, art-deco chairs in the waiting area in front of The Temp's desk. The Temp got a gnawing, dreading feeling in the pit of her stomach, as she knew these interviews were for the position she had unwittingly taken without knowing the end was already written by recent past events. While departing, the last interview prospect of the day snubbed the temp, at which point The Temp knew for certain that this female had just been awarded the position she now would soon not be occupying. Maria screwed the company over, so now The Temp was being screwed over to pay for another's actions.

The Temp got the call two days later, on a Friday, barely after 5 pm as she was on the interstate commuting home. She has been expecting the call and knew what the recruiter would say before the words came tumbling out. After she hung up the phone, The Temp felt a rising, tidal wave of panic. She was again without a job due to a flurry of events that had preceded her arrival. She looked to her weekend now with fear and an unbridled sense of being cuckolded. She didn't bristle about the unfair treatment as much as the separation from the income that had allowed her to pay her rent, electricity, and buy food for herself and her small daughter. She blasted out over 50 job applications online that last day. She knew that she would be at the mercy of the Temp Gods in about 3 weeks if she didn't secure something permanent. Bills would come due again soon and the temp cycle would start anew.

The Temp clasped her hands together, knelt, and prayed to the New Economy Gods in full view of the Forbes and Fortune magazines that lay on her coffee table. She prayed that her Bachelor's degree from Cal Berkeley, her years of career experience/expertise, and her work ethic would find favor with the Permanent Positions Gods. And then she rose, unclasped her hands, and logged on to her computer to spit out more resumes.

Getting Away with Murder - Casey Anthony

Yesterday a jury here in Orlando found Casey Anthony not guilty of killing her daughter Caylee. Not guilty of even abusing her daughter. Just guilty of lying to the police. Whaaaat?!!!!! Yeah, that's what everyone said. To me that's pretty much an invite to all you wackos out there (hopefully no wackos are reading this post because if you're wacko and I'm "friends" with you online does that make me wacko?) to come to Florida, pretty much do whatever you want, but don't lie to the police.

Back to the Casey Anthony verdict, I think Nancy Grace said it best: "Somewhere out there tonight, the devil is dancing." As a mom, I'm outraged. As a human being, I'm outraged. On both counts, I'm sad. We all know who killed Caylee. Now this person will make money off books, movies, home videos, pictures of Caylee. You don't believe me? O.J. was doing just fine (except for the book) until he stormed that hotel room with a gun.

Today I Am 40

I myself can't believe it. I'm 40 years old today. When did this happen, and more importantly, why do my insides still feel 14? It's hard to celebrate 40. I feel like I should have achieved more by 40. My daughter, my great love, the reason I get up at all, needs to see me succeeding. If she doesn't, how will she know how to succeed?

I have less at 40 than I did at 35. I had a house, my mother, and a good career. I had all this at 35. Then I got separated, sold the house, and moved in with my mother to figure out what I was going to go with my life. Then a nasty thing called the Recession rolled in and since then I've been working at jobs that pay less than I made in college. I can't pay my student loans so the interest keeps accumulating.

I did my part. I did what they tell you to do to achieve the American Dream. I busted my ass since I was little to get into UCBerkeley, I took the necessary shitty (low-level) jobs to advance job-wise, I finished half my Master's until all of the above disasters occurred. I don't know if I'll finish it - my daughter's schooling is the priority and I don't have the money anyways.

I had the American Dream. Recession, please go away. Obama said yesterday that the economy is looking up, new jobs ARE being created. I hope so, and I hope they choose me for one of them. I have no family, just my daughter. My mother's stroke paralyzed her and she will be in a nursing home since 59 (she's now 63) until her spirit moves on. Seeing her in that bed not being able to ever leave and not being able to do anything without the help of people paid to help her, I know that her spirit is probably already dead.

Badges

Huh. Well, I haven't had my own website for about 10 years now and it shows. Customizing an already easy-for-everyone-else website like Blogger should NOT be this hard. I was trying to add a badge for Heroes4Holden, but that wouldn't work. I can add those great copy and paste badges for blogger logos, but why when I'm already on Blogger? Isn't that already advertising and not redundant? If I can figure out how to grab badges that AREN'T just for social media, my blog will look better.

If not, tough shit. The world's unfair. Example: 8-year-olds design amazing websites while I, at almost 40, cannot put a simple little picture (badge) on my site. Whatever.