The Unveiling
It’s not that Owen Russell hasn’t existed and been part of the family before this past Monday. He had simply been under wraps so to speak. In other words, his mommy, Julie, held full control over his participation and visibility. Finally… finally! she let Owen come out to play. 
I won’t reiterate her side of the story, it’s her story after all, and you can catch up on her weblog linked here. This is my version.
The unveiling occured on July 24, 2006, shortly after noon for presentation to an adoring audience including but not limited to Daddy, Mommy, big brother Drew, grandma Mimi, 
and a bunch of people wearing funny looking smocks and masks.
We give you Owen Russell Brock.
(Smile?! Are you serious? I liked my other blanket better. It moved. And it’s loud out here.)
Give him time to adjust.
New Job, still good after 3 days
I think I’m going to like the new job for as long as it lasts.
That was not a negative statement. If I’ve learned nothing since the bookkeeper position at the family furniture store, nothing short of Eternity Itself is forever.
- I have a cubie in a sea of cubies and this is good because I am not a focal point in anyone’s field of vision unless I am making a scene e.g. scratching, singing loudly, jumping up and down, shoot off fireworks, dyeing my hair neon lime, etc.
- Once I learn the details and am able to perform without much thought process, I can listen to talk radio and this is very, very good since everyone else has headphones on too.
- The cubie neighbors are friendly and helpful
- If I am having a bad hair day so are many others into the double digits.
- (Here’s the best one): The company is big enough to ensure that the rules apply to all regarding performance, vacations, etc.
This week my hours have to match the trainer’s hours which is 8:30 to 5:00 but next week I get to begin the 9:30 to 6:00 schedule. This will allow me to sleep to 7:30 or get up at 7:00 for a workout and still not lose sleep.
Yes, at my age, sleep is very important. I treasure it, I crave it, I’m a much nicer person if I don’t have to go to bed at 9pm, already worried at that point that I won’t be able to get up at 5:30 and would probably not sleep well for the worry.
One would reason that having been home without a schedule would have been relaxing. Yes, if unemployment had been an option instead of a sentence.
Therefore, for as long as this lasts, I will be a tad bit more relaxed than I have been for 5+ months, and will work more diligently than before to prepare for ………. whenever.
Bulls, Bears, and Rhetoric
It’s background noise while I sip morning coffee and play Spider Solitaire while idly planning when I’ll shower.
I added the word rhetoric. And the high pitched part of that exchange caught my attention when they started discussing tax cuts and the effect on the market. Do we make them permanent, have they been effective, are the rich not paying enough, should they be excluded from the cuts and only the middle/lower classes’ rates cut, should the corporate rates be raised, should all the cuts be rolled back, is that nothing more than a tax increase at this point, and what about minimum wage?
Fact as reported in the New York Times:
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So what is the definition of “the wealthy” or “rich”? Compared to those living in boxes in parts of Brazil, I am rich. If we can limit the discussion to the above USA pie chart, would it be ok for those already paying 83.88% to pay 100% of all taxes and all us “lower thans” pay none if we aren’t part of the current 83.88% now? After all, they’ve been getting rich off the backs of us poor people since — since — well, since — whenever.
YES! YES! I like that! Let’s pretend it was on the ballot and all us rabble voted in a landslide to make those already in the so-called rich bracket pay all the taxes from now on. I know! A constitutional amendment! The working class gets to keep all their money, pay no sales taxes, pay no gas taxes, very simply NOT PAY TAXES of any kind whatsoever!!
(Me! Me! Elect me!)
Whew! Free from the burdensome yoke of taxes for this, that, and the other, I have enough extra cash to take trips, buy things I’ve not been able to before, invest in the market, and save for, oh, say, a franchise business I can operate from my home computer or maybe one that will generate multiple locations. I like this idea more and more. I would be my own boss, take off when I felt like it — in other words, achieve the big American Dream. And my franchise has created much needed jobs. I feel really good about myself.
Then, suddenly one day, I wake up to see that I am in the bracket of the taxable wealthy. Now what do I do? It’s been MY American Dream and therefore MY MONEY!! I know. I’ll close a location or two and duck under the zero tax income ceiling. Did I just put some people out of a job? Oh, well. It’s my money and I don’t want it taxed. I also see that some of my investments have created corporate growth and are responsible for my income increase. Sell! Sell! I really don’t care that I and countless others like me are pulling money out of the market and possibly causing other businesses to eliminate jobs or close their doors. Oops, the total tax dollars collected shrank.
Too bad. It’s my money and I don’t want it taxed.
Or……………..
If the 83.88% experience a tax rate cut, they’ll increase investments, expand businesses, create jobs, and by virture of sheer performance volume, the tax coffers will have more money in them and the deficit shrinks. It’s sort of like when a retail owner decides to lower prices, creates more purchase volume and has more money to pay the suppliers and more money to pay his employees and has more money to take home and invest.
Hmmm, let me think. I tend to be simplisitic. For instance, if you really, really, really are determined to eradicate AIDS, abstinance could work.
If we want to increase our wealth, we need a permanent break.
The Last Weekend
Not to be confused with the Billy Wilder movie The Lost Weekend to which I refuse to link.
This is my last weekend before I am once again on an employment schedule of Monday through Friday, 9 to 6. Compared to being at work at 8, this will feel like sleeping in. During these last many weeks of wild emotional roller coaster rides including but not limited to bad dreams, insomnia, sinking into 12 hour depression sleeps, chest pains with & without breathing difficulty, and quarts of tears, I have finally settled into a workable sleep cycle of 11 to 7. Yes, I could easily roll over and snooze for another 45 minutes but that’s a luxury, not a necessity, and it is again officially a luxury that belongs to the weekend. 7am is a full rest.
What have I learned? Better question, what have I learned again? I don’t know the full answer yet. I’m better at reflection from a distance. So far, I have learned that formulas found in well meaning scriptural advice is true, but in short term practice can be more trite than helpful e.g. cast your cares on Him for he careth (eth?) for you, or forgive and forget, or lean on Him, or all things work together for good. All thoroughly pure in their truth. But none of them are instant fixes; none of them should be administered lightly or at a funeral and in my case, should not be delivered close to the point of impact. My favorite non-scriptural flying bullet is: Get over it. Sure! This afternoon soon enough?
One truth that seems to be taking a back seat here is that the loss of a job requires the same mourning process as that of a loss of a loved one. The depth and scope are obviously and crazily different in most ways and similar in others. I can’t imagine ever recovering from the loss of a child even in my old age. Outliving one’s child is in my mind the worst case scenario. But the steps needed to mourn a job loss can be the same as is the loss of a limb, loss of possessions from a burglary, loss of safety after a mugging or rape, and the list goes on. The intensity of the process is dictated by the level of attachment and the individual’s historical ability to cope. Another reason to allow a child to experience (I did not say cause) disappointments and rejection in small doses and to be there to comfort.
For some people, their reaction would be a simple cuss word. For me, it was a personal assault. I was wounded and bleeding. The residuals will follow me for a long time, one of which is fear of it happening again for no reason or worse, for a good reason.
What have I learned again?
- My dark side is as ugly as any sinner’s that you want to dredge up out of any gutter
- I have a dark side
- Depression takes many forms as it comes and goes at it’s own will
- I am truly weak
- God patiently waits for me to tire of wallowing and crawl back
- God answers prayer when I don’t deserve it
- The most well intentioned brethren can fail and in my case, did, although unintentionally
- All of the above platitudes in paragrah 3 are true
- Empathy
Empathy. Another level of empathy is now on the resume that counts, not the pretty one I print and copy to sell my skills and talents to an unsuspecting potential employer. This one lists the tools useful for The Kingdom.
- Under Experience: Failures, wounds, weaknesses, subbornness.
- Under Achievements: None by (my) might, none by (my) power, but by (His) Spirit, says the Lord of Hosts.
- Under Education: Multiple grade repetition in the ongoing curriculum of the School of the Holy Ghost.
- Under Skills: Increased gentleness in various areas of empathy resulting from the above mentioned experience, achievements, and education.
Much of my healing came from the friends God sent to me who took me to lunch, made me laugh, invited me out, and most importantly called just to check up and listen knowing nothing had changed.
I want to give special thanks to my Honey who never once criticized or judged. He saw the edge and may or may not have seen me teetering on it.
By virtue of continuing to inhabit a human flesh body of limited to finite reasoning and reaction, I will fail somewhere again. I will be assaulted again. I will bleed again. He promised to never leave me or forsake me. I’ll take a deep breath and if I have two brain cells to create a spark, I will lean on Him before another crash.
Job Fair, part two and whew!
The job fair / cattle call / meat market people called me back the next morning for the purpose of choosing a shift and setting up training. The man who interviewed me, if you want to call it an interview (“It looks like you’ve answered my questions on your application so let’s make this short”) said that NOVA would have no problem with my pre-scheduled vacation week August 14-18. The man that called me the next morning said the six weeks of training could not be interrupted. So….. he suggested I start after I got back.
When I looked at the calendar, two things jumped out. 1. The August start date was precisely when the unemployment ended so that if NOVA and/or I didn’t like the situation or if I failed training (not likely, but I’ve been unpleasantly surprised before) I had no monetary cushion to use while starting a new job search. 2. If August training started when I think it would have, that would be the day after 14 hours in the car. Snoring through one’s first day at the company is not a good first impression.
I tried to call back but the receptionist wasn’t answering. I drove there, walked into the lobby and asked to see HR. Heather confirmed that the vacation would have to be postponed until after training well into September and very close to the preparations for Honey’s company’s annual festival for which he is in charge, so that was not high on the choice list. Now we were looking at October. Vacations can be rearranged and Honey said that was perfectly fine, but
he would miss his 40th class reunion. That was still ok with Honey, but if an adjustment could be made, I wanted to make that adjustment so he would be able to see all instead of just some of his high school buddies.
Heather mentioned that another opening was available at a somewhat lower pay rate than Customer Service Representative which was the meat market call. I tested for that one, achieved 44 of 45 correct answers in significantly lower than the 15 minutes allowed and an interview was set up for Wed July 5. I thought it went rather badly especially when he threw out the O word, overqualified, a nearly certain death blow, stating that I was sooo goood, I would be bored and leave them. Apparently I danced well because I was offered the position, Data Processing, at almost the same pay level as the CSR, and with better hours. CSR was 2:30 to 11:00pm. This one is 9am to 6pm, 1 hr lunch, and flexible.
I am to report Monday morning. Benefits are great and eligibility is August 1, not 90 days out.
Did God arrange this? Did I get ahead of Him? I don’t know the answers to the Left-Turn-Right-Turn-in-His-Perfect-Will scenario. I never have. I think I made a logical decision based on the data and opportunities available to me. I’m still open to change, I could still hear from the state, but this choice is made for as long as He says ok.
Joyce Meyer says that once when she was agonizing with which way to go, she felt she heard the Lord say, “Do what you want, Joyce. If I need to find you, I’ll know where to look.”
Maybe in most cases, we put too much intensity into our perfect locations when His goal may be that whoever we are associating with in whatever setting or place, that we be His ambassadors first and forever. In the meantime, I’m being responsible and will be earning money to pay the bills, at the same time thanking God for the unemployment compensation system.
It’s these situations that keep us listening and seeking in case He wants us to turn left or turn right.
Flip Flop Thongs
Forgive me, young friends
When I walk up to you
And I say with a smile
“Nice thongs.”
I come from the day
When panties were full,
And we wore thongs
On our feet by the pool.
I’m trying to be cool,
But I fail as a rule,
And your face says my geezer brain slips.
Regretting your shock,
My heart sinks like a rock.
But I sure like your cute flop’n'flips.
You would think I’d know more by now
I know that in the total space/time continuum, my life is barely a puff of steam. That’s a good one — steam. I’ve been steaming since February 24 when I was popped like a pimple out of what I thought was my last and best job, having fallen into the trap once again of believing my vocation to be my identity. That’s only one piece of the puzzle. More than just these last few months has been a puzzle, pieces laying out, being moved around, trying to fit one in where it doesn’t belong.
Back in Mom’s house, jigsaw puzzles were part of our entertainment. Card games happened frequently but jigsaw puzzles were ongoing games of solitaire. The card table would be set up, the box shaken for some unknown reason — I suppose to damage the edges — and over as many days as required, the mixed up pieces of yet another puzzle would lay there motionless and staring at the ceiling, waiting for someone to sit and study colors and shapes and slip maybe one or two at a time into place. Sometimes a piece would be tested in several locations several times before it was fitted in the right spot. And there was that last lonesome puzzle piece that came in last yet caused the greatest celebration. The puzzle, solved and assembled, would be on display for a day or so until all had seen and admired it or until the card table was determined to be in the way or needed for something else. The completed one was unceremoniously dismantled and stored away in the closet with the rest of whatever needed to be recycled in a yard sale. Come to think of it, Mom being the squirrel that she was, yard sales were something she went to.
Today is a work day plopped into the middle of what should be a four day holiday weekend ending on the holiday, July 4th. Some companies float a holiday in there to fill it out knowing most employees are going to use vacation hours anyway, shrinking the staff and the productivity, but others’ doors are open for business as usual. Being on extended holiday, it falls on me to clean up the place as we are entertaining tomorrow. I just sat down to check my email this morning and (here comes the cliche) "while I was at it," I checked a few cyber friends in the blogasphere.
One of my regulars is Irene Q in Malaysia. She is 20-something and struggling with her walk of faith. Many friends support her but still she reaches out for answers. In her most recent post Follow Your Heart a friend advises her to proceed with faith knowing that God will direct her steps, to do what she wants to knowing that her desire to do right instead of wrong is firmly in place. You can read my comment on her page or you can read it here:
I made a simple observation this last Saturday. A friend of mine has
a two year old daughter with Downs Syndrome. She is still in the process of
learning to walk so to keep up the good work her parents put her on the
floor often. She was standing and holding onto her daddy’s pants and
vibrating pretty much from head to toe. Daddy was looking down with
love in his daddy eyes.
"Mark, why is she shaking?"
"You know when
you’re tensing all your muscles that after a while they shake?"
Oh, yeah.
Balancing is still a little bit harder work for Caroline but daddy was
watching, ready to catch, ready to pick up and hold so she could relax
in his arms before working at walking again.
I’m glad I checked your post so I could preach to myself.
I guess our walk of faith is something of an ebb and flow process.
If we progress at all, we’ll need to alternate between Daddy’s pant leg
and His arms.
Like I said, you would think after having lived as long as I have, I would have remembered that little truth. In the midst of my steam, I forgot that Daddy is looking down with loving Daddy eyes, ready to steady me, ready to hold. I have an interview the day after tomorrow for a data processing job at the same place that offered me the customer service position. I am still stalled in the panic mode of wanting to know God’s perfect absolute will. Now! Now, God! Before I accept another job that You have to yank me out of! This puzzle-piece-in-the-wrong-spot scenario is as tiresome as it is painful!
It is time, yea, past time to hold up my arms and let Daddy pick me up.
