I just re-published some archived blog entries from 2002 through 2004.
The very first one broke my heart all over again. I’ve gotten so much smarter and stronger.
Perhaps I should be embarrassed by some of my history. But it’s mine. And I’m not one to apologize for my own evolution, as I’m self-aware enough to learn from it.
The phrase “dysfunctional dynamic” keeps playing through my head. It’s probably a chapter title in a book I need to stop talking about and start writing. But I will say that it’s something I witnessed a lot throughout my life and do not miss.
I’m thinking that this forced hiatus from the workplace is rather fortuitous in its timing. My mom is not doing well. And while I know I should be pounding the pavement to secure my next paycheck, I also know that I need to take advantage of this time and get her health taken care of. Before it’s too late. Which, it’s looking like it could already be.
And when it all comes down to it, no matter how much I’ve complained (and I’ve done a lot of that) about the over-extended extra-terrestrial being from outer space blah blah blah, she’s been my No. 1 fan for 36 years. Can’t say the same about anyone else. And I need my champion to be around when things start going right again and I can get back on track with achieving my life’s goals.
That’s another thing that irks me, moving on to life goals here. That there are people who can keep us from them. Like, I really do want to adopt. And right now I have to budget my Paris fund (yep, that’s all I’ve got, folks) on getting myself, my mom and my cat through this unexpected phase of no money coming in.
And while that’s nobody’s responsibility but mine, it kills me that I was lulled into a sense of security … that I felt like I could travel and eat nice meals and, for once, LIVE A LITTLE … but it was all a mirage.
And in sniffing around for my next opportunity, I have to get excited over being told that I have to leave Florida to take this job. Or to take a $30,000 pay cut for that job. Since when did moving up in the world mean having to apologize for being worth what you’re paid and working from where you want to live?!?!
The mind, it boggles.
I mentioned to mom about the ridiculous pay cuts in store if I take this or that. And she said that’s a load of crap because that means compromising my own goals. How will I get to Paris on X per year now? How will I adopt that adorable brother/sister pair (ages 4 and 6 — I can see it now) who are waiting for me to get my shit together?
I’m not saying I was in love with the way things were just one month ago. I just wanted to figure out how to make things right. It took me nine months to learn the business. I was finally starting to understand who the players are and what they’re capable of.
And while my own role was nothing but a big question mark to me, I figured that if I could leverage my own strengths with everyone else’s, we’d rock the house. And in a way, I’m angry that my chance was cut short. But in another way, I know they won’t get where I was going to take them without a “me.”
Alas, as much as I wanted my mom to find her own way without me, it never happened. So I hope that it isn’t too late to help her … and something tells me this will be the hardest job of them all. But it will be the only one that’s still there for me at the end of the day. And in that, I feel like I’ve finally gotten my priorities straight.
(*Remember when blogging got me fired? It’s refreshing to be fired and THEN start blogging!)
Just like China is kicking off its next Five-Year Plan (look it up) this year, I think it’s time to do my own five-year plan. Because the failure of not meeting my resolutions in 12 calendar months is too much of a pisser.
Ergo, between January 2011 and December 2015, I will:
1. Move to Key West.
I am done with cities and crazy people. I can walk to the damn airport there. I can drink all day and night and trade in my car for a moped. Sure, it’s about the same cost of living as West Palm Beach. But as the gal I met from Boca who now works in a clothing store on Duval Street, why pay the same to live in Palm Beach County when you could instead live out your days in the Keys?
2. Freelance, baby. All the way.
As I said in my last post, I think I want to do everything. And on my own time. I’m productive at night — therefore, I should not be slaving away during hours when I’m not the slightest bit awake. And let’s not forget that cafe/wine bar — my business, my hours, my dream. Not someone else’s.
I want to make six figures (goal: $125,000 a year to start) and I want to work five hours a day. Tops. Guess that means I have to write a book. A really good one. The universe keeps giving me the ideas — just need to put ’em on paper!
3. Get married.
This is a non-negotiable. I want the bling. Nobody loves rings more than I do. I’d prefer an emerald (my birthstone) but I *suppose* I can settle for a princess-cut diamond in white gold. Platinum preferred. It would be the only “good” thing I’ve ever owned in my life.
But alas, it’s not about the sparkle. Not of the jewels, anyway. It’s not that I’ve had it with dating. But, you know, it’s time to find a permanent travel partner. And having another income would make these unceremonious shitcannings more bearable, both financially AND emotionally. Can anyone support my mom if I get tossed onto the streets? Exactly. Point made.
4. Adopt.
Yep. You read it right. I am NOT biological-mother material. Translation: Cabernet flows through my veins, and it’s what I use to wash down the pills. Don’t expect me to subsist on pre-natal vitamins and hormones. You’d get the next serial killer in a hurry that way.
But … if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s lead/manage people. And I call my people my “kids.” But now that my kids have been taken away from me (for now), I realize I need one of my own to permanently screw up. Er, I mean, to make into a lovable liberal citizen like myself. 🙂
I used to think I wanted a boy. I have mad respect for mothers of (good) sons. I know I can do it. But there’s something about pigtails and tea parties and frilly pink things that catches my attention once in a while, too.
In any case, my years of working in the foster-care system showed me that there are plenty of kids who need someone to love them back. Give me one or two who are out of diapers, and I think I would be very happy.
5. Lose ** pounds.
OMG, I stepped on the scale today and it mooed at me. I’ve slapped on 32 pounds since arriving in this town two years ago. Please shoot me. Please.
Now, I need to lose more than 32, so let’s just use the number ** and call it a day here. I just canceled my Weight Watchers membership (due to disuse and, oh yeah, NO JOB). And I’m eating everything in sight with all the stress. But I’m hoping that once I figure out my next move, the next move after THAT will be to Sweet Tomatoes for a celebratory salad.
I hope all of this happens on the earlier end of the five-year span. But I won’t cut off my ponytail and hang myself with it if, at this time next year, I haven’t checked off all (or any) of these items.
Seeing as though I’ve been unemployed for a full week now, I’ve had nothing but time on my hands to think. Which is dangerous.
I wish my bleeding-heart Socialist ways would pay off already and let me relax a little bit about my next career move. “Eat, Pray, Love” had it right — the Europeans know not to revolve their lives around a career, so that all is not lost if it disappears. Imagine, living to LIVE, and not working to live. Impossible!
I’m not saying I don’t want a job — I really do! — but I’m not going to find the right one TODAY. There are plenty of openings out there. Lots of freelance opportunities, too. (Thank God.) I’m so afraid to say “yes” right now when I may want to say “yes, please!” the moment I commit to something. But I guess it’s better than waiting and having nothing at all.
Sigh. Decisions, decisions. My gut says to wait. I don’t know. I keep ripping apart my resume and finding reasons to delay sending it to the people who requested it. Bad Goddess, I know.
And it irks me that I have to pass off a resume with nine months at a job and still try to have a straight face when I have to talk about what an awesome leader I am. How can I quantify that when all I have to show for it is the door hitting my ample ass?
I took a nice walk around the island this afternoon. Got a little bit of sun. It felt wonderful. I had to get out of the house before I killed one of us. And there are a thousand things I need to do — cleaning, unpacking (yeah, still) and getting mom health care. I guess God forced me to take this break so I could attend to these matters now, since I’ve so happily ignored them for a very long time.
Speaking of things I’ve happily ignored: the U.S. stock markets. I’ve been focused so much on offshore opportunities that I feel like I’ve forgotten how to write about domestic assets. And that’s what I’ve been missing for so long — but is it possible that I’ve acquired financial amnesia in a timespan the length of the average pregnancy? Feels like it.
I’ve been working on my new year’s resolutions, speaking of pregnancy. (Er, NOT getting knocked up, thanks.) I think that’s my next post. Just like my achievements on my resume, I’m trying to make my goals quantifiable this time around. Anything to make sure that this year doesn’t end up as screwily as the last. …
Had a great weekend in Key West. As if it’s possible to have a terrible time there.
Coming back sucks. Well, it sucks on a normal occasion because that means leaving paradise behind. But it’s got an extra layer of suck this time since I got unceremoniously shitcanned last week and the job hunt must begin in earnest this week.
*too tired to scream, but thinking about it*
I got a wonderful note from my old pastor, because of course she was one of the first people I consulted about the screwy situation I find myself in. And as I suspected, she knew exactly what to say, mostly since she could tell that forgiveness isn’t going to come easily for me on this one.
She said, and I quote loosely, “Most managers are not equipped to lead people like you — people of influence, people who are highly experienced, people who are big-hearted.”
And holy shit, while I will not say I’m healed — not till I get another job, damn it — that was the perspective I just could not find last week.
Few people can lead people like me.
I’ll save the, “Well, I have a few pointers” schpiel. Because I’m saving it for my book. 😉 But I am very much accustomed to working with highly creative, independent and connected people. I am also very used to managing/leading the highly innovative and equally highly difficult people. (Although I think I am FAR from difficult to lead — at least, I’m easy when where you’re telling me to go makes sense to me.)
I succeeded at that, though. I couldn’t figure out why I was such a star at Ye Olde Employment Establishment and an utter failure (in others’ eyes — NOT mine) at the Den of Inquity and the Ghost of Employment Past. But I know now … I was made a star by the Chief Star-Maker. And, in turn, I ruled my own constellation.
I have given people the same advice through generations of jobs — mind your managers, but really make sure you are close to the stars. The authors and TV stars are a way better reference than the person who is locked in meetings all day and night.
I didn’t take my own advice this time around. I was the asshole locked in meetings morning, noon and night. I didn’t have time for my stars. And then it got to a point when working with my stars was suddenly “not my job.”
And that’s why I sucked — I wasn’t managing talent anymore.
I have to get back to that. The talent drove me crazy in my glory days, sure. But NOT working with the superstars meant that I wasn’t a superstar myself.
Boo. Screw that crap.
Anyway, perhaps I’ve spent too many days drinking frozen mango mojitos and dancing to too many steel-drum ballads in the sun. But perspective found me in paradise. And I hope that my dream job is out there. Because that’s when I’ll be a star again myself … and no wonder I couldn’t thrive in a role where no one could see me when they looked up on anything but the organizational chart.
