and today's word from Unity is....

"WHY?"

One of my junior-year-of-college roommates was a counselor at a summer camp for diabetic kids. She came home at the end of it with little things she'd made for all of us in their arts and crafts sessions. She said that she had taken a lot of time thinking of things that would be totally appropriate for each of us.

I have no idea all these years later what anybody else's was. But mine was a nicely sanded wood block. On it, in bright yellow paint and lovely calligraphy, was painted the word: WHY?

23 years later, it's still as accurate a one-word description of my essence as any.

This isn't the place to divulge the sordid details -- you don't want to hear it; I don't want to tell it; that's what shrinks are for and I utilize them as needed. But Thursday was 1 year unemployed, the rejections keep rolling in, and it absolutely does eff with your head eventually whether you want it to or not.

Cleaning stuff up and out today, I ran across a folder full of emails from readers. These were my two favorites:

I have laughed at so many of your articles and always thought I should write and tell you how much I enjoy reading them. There is nothing funnier than real life and I laughed so hard reading about your experience in a snowshoe race! I've never tried it for all the reasons you gave in your story so I just want to congratulate you for trying and sharing your funny experiences! Keep up the good writing!

I just wanted to write and let you know that I always check the paper and read your articles first! You have a wonderful talent for writing that seems to be down to earth and enjoyable to read! Thank you!

 I went to a networking dinner the other night, and when the woman who invited me -- who I'd done a story about -- mentioned that I was the one who had written the story, I got a completely spontaneous round of applause from the rest of the room.

WHY, with a stack full of stuff like that, and recommendations from DAs and circuit court judges and former students and department chairs and bosses and stuff, WHY the hell am I stuck in neutral? One can only blame the economy for so much. One can only blame the death of the newspaper business for so much. I have GOT to have some transferable skills. Why isn't anyone seeing them?

Oh, and just in case you enjoy irony as much as I do: I got a form rejection via email the other day. It was for a copyediting job.

They spelled my name wrong.

The ability to write and properly punctuate standard English is rolling steadily downhill. SOMEBODY has got to need someone who does it well.

And if I sound self-pitying -- well, maybe some. But it's getting harder and harder to try to be positive and resilient and all that good stuff when all there ever is is more of the same bad stuff instead.

I'm trying, I'm trying .... but there really is only so much rejection a girl can take.

 Ray Lamontagne -- Be Here Now

RL video

true dat.

and yes....

...I've already repeatedly been called Eeyore. ;-) And to you I say....

Count von Count and dentition

Just in case you're wondering: Losing teeth is not as fun at 44 as it is at 6.

For one thing, it's vastly more expensive. For another, by adulthood most people find it considerably less enjoyable to end up minus body parts, no matter how problematic and malformed they may be.

I don't need another self-esteem hit. But I have one. Because really? Opening your mouth to find a gaping black hole is creepy and depressing. And yeah, while for the first time in literally decades I have a cosmetically reasonable smile, it's going to take a little getting used to the idea that I most closely now resemble Count von Count. ;-)

Don't get me wrong -- I have HATED my teeth forever. It's nice to feel like it's not the first thing everyone stares at when they see me. I always tried to smile in spite of it, but that never stopped the self-consciousness. It's just weird, OK? It's weird to look in the mirror and see "normal," but it's just as weird to be able to pop "normal" in and out and look like a friggin' vampire bat.

Oh, BTW: Now that I have my 2 front teeth (front 4, actually) in time for Christmas, I'm getting my biggest wish of all time, ever, and it doesn't get any better than that! (More on that closer to the date of occurrence. :-)

----------------
Now playing: Duncan Sheik - Time and Good Fortune
via FoxyTunes

Un. Freaking. Believable.

Herewith, an email I just received. Names have been redacted to protect the guilty.
=====

Dear ,

As you can imagine, in this difficult economy, hundreds of individuals have applied for our job at [name of organization]. It has been both exhilarating and sad – exhilarating to see how much talent there is in our community and beyond; sad to know how many individuals are seeking employment.

I am sorry that there is not a match between your background and our needs at this time. Thank you for your interest in our mission and in our organization.

Most importantly, the greatest need is to build our membership – media, politicians, and various partners measure our effectiveness based on whether [target group] support the organization. In addition to knowing you are a vital part of supporting our mission, you will receive our international newsletter, access to crisis call listeners and to the invitation-only [name of mailing list], a prescription drug savings plan, and other benefits. You can sign up at [identifying link].

Yes, that's right -- now that we've told you you're not worth hiring, could you give us some money?

This, friends, redefines the word shameless.

cue Dave Matthews

...so much to say, so much to say, so much to say, so much to sa-aaay....

Open up my head and let me out...

Random miscellany (is that redundant?):



-- Seen on an anti-gay-marriage bumper sticker: "One man, one women."

This is where it pays to be literate. Unless this person really meant that he or she thinks polygamy is just dandy but civil unions are not. I suppose anything's possible.

-- The truth as only a reporter can tell it, courtesy of Ryan Pagelow. Go subscribe to Pressed. It's truer and (dishearteningly) funnier than most of what's on the "comics" pages these days.





- A plug and a plea for help with my other blog, Write Up Your Alley. Anybody knows someone willing to barter for website services, give me a holler, please. TypePad was kind enough to give laid-off journos 2 free years of hosting, but I don't find their platform terribly intuitive. Plus, my design skills suck.

-- Open question for discussion: Better to keep your mouth shut and suffer mightily because of it, or say something and risk being steamrollered/judged/etc?

All of these things, all of these things, they are such reveries....

Don't listen to me, it's my imagination...

(And, for the hearing-impaired, text below):
========

Duncan Sheik, "Such Reveries"

you and I in the room with the balcony
you lie on the bed while I stare at the sea
I stare at the sea
on such reveries

and we're riding the ponies in Mexico.
the moonlight leaps through the palm tree groves
oh, wouldn't you know?
we're in Mexico

yes all of these things, all of these things
they are such reveries, ohh
all of these things, all of these things
they are such reveries

the oceans waves loomed as large as could be
they threw us below but you held onto me
yeah, you held onto me
oh such reveries

'cause you are my treasure, a love that astounds
the end of my searches, my looking around
no more looking around
a love that astounds.

yes all of these things, all of these things
they are such reveries, ohh
all of these things, all of these things
they are such reveries

but don't listen to me,
it's my imagination
I don't even know you
it never happened
just dreams in slow motion
they never happened
all that I told you
it never happened ever

'cause all of these things, all of these things
they are just reveries, ohh
all of these things, all of these things
they are just reveries
yes all of these things, all of these things
they are just reveries, ohh
all of these things, all of these things
they are just reveries

so many visions still to see
and many travails before I may sleep
but then when I sleep
oh such reveries

Dave Matthews Band, "So Much To Say":

And my hell is the closet I'm stuck inside
Can't see the light
And my heaven is a nice house in the sky
Got central heating and I'm alright
Yeah yeah yeah can't see the light
Keep it locked up inside don't talk about it
Talk about the weather
Yeah yeah yeah can't see the light
Open up my head and let me out little baby
Here we have been standing for a long long time
Treading trodden trails for a long long time

I find sometimes it's easy to be myself
Sometimes I find it's better to be somebody else

I see you young and soft little baby
Little feet little hands little feet little hands little baby
A year of crying and the words creep up inside
Creep into mind yeah
So much to say, so much to say, so much to say, so much to say
So much to say, so much to say, so much to say, so much to say
Here we have been standing for a long long time
Treading trodden trails for a long long time

I find sometimes it's easy to be myself
Sometimes I find it's better to be somebody else

So much to say, so much to say, so much to say, so much to say
So much to say, so much to say, so much to say, so much to say
So much to say, so much to say, so much to say, so much to say
So much to say, so much to say, so much to say, so much to say

Open up my head and let me out little baby

just shoot me...

As my brother used to say when he couldn't quite wrap his tongue around the actual Spanish: "OUCHIE WOW-WOW."

Up and at 'em early this morning to visit with a woman who runs a moving service for the elderly. Great idea, much needed, she's very dynamic and great to talk to, but hanging out in a "senior living residence"? Yeeeeeah, not so fun.

Some years ago, I did a day-in-the-life story of a parish director (layman who does all the administrative tasks, freeing the priest for sacramental stuff only). Our last stop for the day was a nursing home, where he held a brief Communion service.

Maybe there were 15 people there. Most were in wheelchairs; some were on oxygen; some were drooling on themselves, and even though he was standing right in front of them and practically yelling to ensure they could hear him, several fell asleep.

When we got back to the car, he turned to me and said, "And THAT is why I always know where my son keeps his gun."

Amen.

Since Oregon requires you to have a physician certify that you are terminally ill and have 6 months or less to live, somebody just buy me a one-way ticket to Switzerland when it looks like I might start heading down that path. (They're not so picky.) I can't stand the thought of having struggled so hard to make something of my life and myself only to revert at the end of it to toddler status. If my mind is mush, I'm not that interested in keeping my body running...I have no desire to pay for the privilege of being stuck in an old people ghetto. (Even though most of those apartments are more modern, not to mention larger, than most of the ones I've ever lived in.)

Ugh.