unemployed in pasadena

I'm back.....

2009-02-18T21:59:00.000-08:00

Yes, the working world has been an adjustment but i have started blogging again. Please drop by...

Day 69 -- leaving the 9%

2009-02-08T22:21:00.000-08:00

As my unemployment rounds out to what will once I start my job 70 total days of unemployment, I would like to highlight a few aspects of this journey:

For starters, I believe adjusting to working full time again next week will be a bit like a reluctant kid going back to school after summer vacation. I am in for a rude awakening. But I have certainly enjoyed what I am thinking of as a bit of a sabbatical and the larger concept of soul care. Life isn’t about producing or doing but instead being. My therapist and most of my friends have commented that it was like a load was lifted from me when I quit my job. And not to get into the specifics of why I abruptly quit my old job, I will say I faced with a situation that were I to have stayed would have both been compromising my personal integrity and my healthy sense of self. I did the right thing.

Save money. This whole journey wouldn’t have been possible if I hadn’t saved up a fair bit of money. And now that I am starting a job with direct deposit (something I haven’t had in years) I am going to immediately route a fair percentage into rebuilding my next egg. Along the same lines, the simple concept of living within one’s means has been driven home to me over the past seventy days. I think our consumer culture ought to generally take that advice.

Cable news programs basically loop the same stories over and over again throughout the day. I mentioned previously that at the sort of low point of my journey, I had taken to playing Tetris for hours on end and watching mainly CNN. What I discovered is firstly, neither of those things are very life-giving but in truth if you watch one hour of cable news you have seen the equivalent of five save for breaking news. And as John Stewart pointed out that since the inauguration breaking news is not Barack Obama likes guacamole or that he took off his jacket while sitting at his desk in the Oval Office. Worse yet, cable news stories these days seem to be sensationalizing our troubled economy focusing a bit too much for an unemployed person’s peace of mind on growing unemployment rates. In the seventy days of my unemployment I was fortunate to be able to watch OJ get imprisoned, many college football games, the plane crash on the Hudson and of course the inauguration of our 44^th President.

I heart my new library card. Somewhere along the way, I got a library card and began using it like mad. Years ago, when I lived in Tucson, I was very into going to the library but inexplicably stopped. Pasadena has a wonderful library system and I have already read and checked out an amazing array of books.

Lucky Baldwin’s Christmas Beer Festival. I certainly became a regular at Lucky’s and am proud to be on a first name basis with a few of the bartenders. I did carry around the glass special for most of the month.

Start a project. For me that project was this blog specifically chosen so I would not only have a daily sort of deadline (admittedly I missed a few times) but also because I wanted to hone my love for writing on a more consistent basis. As a side development, I was happy to incorporate my growing love for photography as the sort of icing on the cake. I also have very much enjoyed discovering a blogging community – some friends in other parts in the world, others in other parts of the county and some very new who have welcomed me into the local blogging community.

And a new era means a new blog…should be up and running soon, enjoy!

http://likenarniainpasadena.blogspot.com/

day 68 -- Facebook Status Updates

2009-02-07T11:20:00.000-08:00

Earlier this week I got my haircut. Aside from the normal excitement with a new style and color, I was also excited to catch up on my hairstylist’s life. It turns out my hair stylist happens to be a periphery friend and as such we are also Facebook Friends. I was very surprised last week when her Facebook status changed from “single” to “in a relationship.” Of course, during my appointment I got the whole scoop on her new beau but I couldn’t help but wonder (sorry to be so Kerry Bradshaw) about this dynamic of social networking sites. Is this the new way we communicate major details of our lives to our friend groups?

For example, last week I was very surprised when my father called me to ask about my new job. I hadn’t shared the specifics or even the simple news that I in fact had a new job to anyone in my family. Mind you the story was not even ONE DAY OLD. But I had changed my status to read, “Jennifer has a new job” or something to that effect. Of course my dad who calls using the internet “surfing the net” has neither a Facebook account nor even the knowledge of how to navigate a webpage, couldn’t have found out that way. When I pressed him on revealing his sources, he pleaded the fifth quoting deep throat. It then occurred to me I had recently added a family friend – had he talked to her? No, he was quick to point out that he hadn’t talked to her for months. Hmm. He handed the phone off to my mom who quickly outed him – yes, the family friend was his source but she had told my brother who in turn told my dad. The gossip chain often runs through my brother BTW.

And what about my friend who within MINUTES of breaking up with her boyfriend, changed her FAcebook status from “in a relationship” to “single”? What compels us to air our dirty laundry, our triumphs and our odd habits on Facebook? Ask yourself how many odd facts you know about friends through their status changes? And when you see the friend who wrote that he just ate at Omaha Jack’s in Rancho, do you mention it?

Here are some info gleaned from my friends’ status:

One of my friends is showing his daughter how to eat snow and lick icicles, another is falling asleep in class, especially clever, another friend is wishing “a certain someone” was here with her to enjoy the rain (hmm, who is she talking about me?), someone else is thinking about going to Old Navy, and perhaps my favorite simply stating Neil Diamond is the man which was updated by this friends’ phone.

day 66 -- It is Finished, part II, before and after

2009-02-04T22:35:00.000-08:00

I am admittedly not very savy with the pictures on blogspot. but here are some before and after pictures.

Day 66 -- It is Finished, part I

2009-02-04T22:31:00.000-08:00

Now that there is an official end date to my unemployment I have begun making a project list of things I hope to finish before I go back to work. Some of them are very pragmatic – on-line traffic school, getting a hair cut (if you can believe it I have not got my hair cut since May of last year) and so forth.

One project I have already blogged about

Day 29

remains a work in progress – cleaning out my enormous closet and my room in general. I finished the clothes and shoe section right

after the new year in time for the clothing exchange my friends and I held. And on a related note, I have broken my clothing fast something I have meant to blog about ever since – soon, I will get to that.

Over the weekend, as I was sore and tired from skiing and generally felt like hanging around the house, I tackled the remaining parts of the room and closet project.

I found journals dating back to 1991; I have neither the heart to throw them out or am in the head space to read them so I have decided to save them.

I found souvenirs purchased from trips I took well over ten years ago most of which I have decided to throw out.

I found things people leant me I thought I lost; I text one friend saying I finally found that item I borrowed three years ago, do you still want it back? Yes, good it gives us an excuse to hang out.

CD’s – now that I have an iPod, should I throw them out?

I cleaned out my collection of books getting rid of books I never read (who was I trying to impress anyway keeping them on my shelves?) – two boxes worth and still counting.

Course work from grad school.

Paraphernalia from a job I held in 1998, why I had kept it so long is beyond me.

A picture with a bunch of kids I used to work with one of whom died a few years ago.

Cards and letters dating back to my freshman year of college. CRAZY.

My social security card

I am officially done with my room. I polished off an entire roll of trash bags and not the kitchen kind but the industrial-sized blue ones that were incidentally contraband from my own job.

Roll of trash bags = $10

Used book credit at Archives = $18

Cathartic value of completion of project = priceless

http://unemployedinpasadena.blogspot.com/2008/12/day-29-catharsis.html

Sting like a Bee – Day 65

2009-02-03T21:44:00.000-08:00

In an attempt to curtail my internet use, I have tried to make a list of the items I need to do online (emails, posting the blog, etc) hoping to stick to that list instead of playing yet another game of Tetris or perusing my friends’ pages on Facebook when I go online. Indeed, the internet is a time sucker and I suppose as a nod to my Protestant-Midwestern world view/work ethic (and yes, despite having lived most of life in the San Gabriel Valley, I consider myself to be Midwestern – a topic I might tackle in another entry sometime when I am desperate for material) or simply that subtle voice in the back of my head often sounding not dissimilar to my father that I ought to be making something of my life. Really, at the end of my life do I want my obituary to focus on my extraordinary ability to play Tetris? (Although, I wouldn’t mind if it was a side theme to be included with my crossword puzzling, parallel parking and failed attempt to get on Jeopardy – after all there has to be a bit of the agony of defeat in the story, right?)

To that effect, last night my carefully laid plan was immediately hijacked when I “ran” into three people on Facebook at the same time as me. The last was a dear friend who I recently reconnected with, the first was the husband of my cousin who is very fun and it was because of him I became friends with my other cousin – who I will call Ryan. Ryan is twenty-four years old and lives in rural Indiana along with all of my mother’s relatives. He is part of the subgroup of cousins I collective refer to as my little cousins in that they are the children of my first cousins the oldest of which is actually older than me. My mother has a nephew, my first cousin, who is only eight years younger than her and as I am the absolute youngest grandchild, my little cousins are in many ways more my peers than their parents.

But back to Ryan. Ryan’s grandparents (my aunt and uncles) hosted a big family reunion when I was twelve or thirteen years old. At the time, Ryan was toe headed toddler who I pushed around in a wagon to his delight. While pushing him around, I stepped on a bee and was subsequently stung ending the wagon ride and causing little Ryan to throw a bit of a fit. I shared the story with him a few years ago at my aunt’s funeral – of course he didn’t remember – but he seemed to like hearing a little bit about his life when he was too young to remember.

Last night, I was happy to fill in some of the gaps between the toe headed toddler and the young man he has become. I found out he owns and runs a candle store. He also is very into training and raising exotic animals hoping to take his experience with domestic animals (Ryan like most of my family grew up on a farm) and parlay it into a side career. I imagined exotic animals to be things like alligators and snakes, which I suppose is true, but they are also things like camels and zebras both of which he has. In fact, at another of my little cousins’ birthday parties over the summer he brought the camel for the kids to ride on and it was a big hit. Last night I discovered my little cousin has become a candle shop owner/exotic animal trainer and I couldn’t be more proud. He is hoping to visit sometime soon and wants me to set him up with one of my friends – any takers?

As a brief postscript and explanation for the photo, earlier in the day, I hung out at the Huntington Gardens where I took a bunch of pictures of bees pollinating flowers. I am amazed by all of our modern technology; we are still dependent on the bee. Double postscript – right now the Huntington Gardens has beautifully hung red Chinese lanterns in honor of Chinese New Year.

Day 64 - Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress

2009-02-02T22:16:00.000-08:00

In honor of the Year of the Ox: A Review of Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress by Dai Sijie

I began the book on Monday and finished on Wednesday – it was that good my friends (disclaimer: I have lots of free time on my hands). I was hoping the book would be the pick for my February book club but my friends opted for Snowflower and the Secret Fan. Obviously, we were going with a Chinese theme but the two books couldn’t have been more dissimilar. Even if you care very little for Chinese culture or literature, I believe the story appeals more as a coming of age story than a culture investigation per se whereas Snow Flower and the Secret Fan is very rooted in Chinese culture.

Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress tells the story of two teenaged friends all but marooned in a remote mountain village in China for the communist government’s reeducation in the mid-seventies. In the process, the two main characters become the darlings of the village – city boys who in many ways do their own reeducating of the reformed opium farmers and their kinfolks vis-a-vi their alarm clock, violin and uncanny story telling ability. They meet the title’s little Chinese seamstress – whom they both fall in love with in their own way reminiscent to Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid’s respective love for teacher lady Etta Place. Along the way, they also acquire a suitcase full of western literature which serves as a sort of currency in their struggle to become the intellectual and sophisticated sorts their parents are.

Certainly, unemployment lends itself to lots of reading. In addition to Balzac, I have read the following books during unemployment: The Hour I First Believed by Wally Lamb, What is the What by Dave Eggers, Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See and The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chboski. And today, i started reading Rain of Gold by Victor Villasenor.

Day 63 Trader Joe’s Cashiers

2009-02-01T20:32:00.000-08:00

I have a friend; let’s call him Rob, who is a cashier at Trader Joes. Rob and I went to both graduate school and undergrad although we only met in the former. We are periphery friends – we had a close mutual friend and there was a season where we hung out fairly frequently. However, once the mutual friend moved away our connection ebbed.

However, we do see each other occasionally at Trader Joes. If I see that Rob is working, I will always get in his line, even it is the longest. These check outs are the only times we catch up on one another’s life. We have talked about voting (I came in on election day and he asked me how I voted on prop 8), jobs or in my case lack thereof, him trying to get into law school, Lucky Baldwin’s, who is still around from the old days, but always in the few minutes it takes for him to ring me up.

Last night, I waited in his line, like always, and he was quick to say that he was in a foul mood as he had just been rejected from yet another law school. I told him it is because he needs to start applying to local law schools instead of ones on the eastern seaboard. I also encouraged him with my story of getting turned down when I applied to wait tables – I mean really what is worse law school or a humble anonymous establishment in Old Town? I told him about my new job while punching in my PIN number. As he was handing me my receipt, he told me the flowers were on the house. How nice is that and after all it is not everyday someone buys me flowers, right?

A few years back at another Trader Joes I had gone to right after working out the cashier did the same. This time, I had never met the guy but after having shared that I was in a bit of a sad mood for whatever reason he handed me a bouquet of flowers again on the house to cheer me up.

I must confess one of my first real first date was with a grocery store cashier (Alpha Beta circa 1991) who did bring me flowers a few different times. Perhaps I have a way with men at the grocery store?

Day 62 -- Glory Days

2009-01-31T21:28:00.000-08:00

First confession, I did not post yesterday as I was in Big Bear skiing for the first time since 2002 (. But missing two days in the last two months is still a blogging pace I am very proud of and not sure I can keep when my new job starts.

My older brother taught me to ski when I was a child and it is a bit like riding a bicycle – you never really forget. In college, some other friends and I often went skiing. Back in the day, I considered myself an above average skier routinely handling black diamonds and blue runs.

Fast forward to yesterday where I faced head on the true fact that my glory days of skiing were well behind me. I went with three other friends, one of whom was a very aggressive and adventurous skier (incidentally a marine about to be deployed so I hoped all day he would break a leg). I kept up with them for a while but when they drug me on a black diamond run, I realized it was far more work than fun. At that point we parted ways for a bit.

I confess, I skied on the bunny slopes for a bit to reacclimate myself with the sport. After lunch, I hung with my snowboarding friend on some blue runs (pathetically, we actually skied the same run over and over for a few hours). I kept up OK with her until we met up with the rest of our foursome at which time my lower ski level was painfully apparent.

On the plus side, I never fell the whole day. Well, I fell once but it was embarrassingly getting onto the ski lift. In my defense my friend and were sort of between the chairs and she decided to pull back. I couldn’t really make in time and the chair knocked me over. They had to stop the whole lift which I don’t even think happened to me when I was a little kid skiing.

So now, I can relate to the Bruce Springsteen song “Glory Days,” except instead of a failed baseball career for me it will be my lost ski prowess. Oh how I wanted to call my friends from college who I used to go skiing with so they could testify to my “Glory Days.” Second Confession: I thought the song “Glory Days” was John Cougar Mellencamp I’ve always mixed those two up for some reason.

day 60 -- ode to the yellow owl shirt

2009-01-29T23:02:00.000-08:00

My favorite shirt is yellow with brown and turquoise owls all over it. I don’t think I am very well suited to wear yellow but still I don it with much love – seasonally as it is long sleeved thermal material (is there a more appropriate term for thermal material? I am too lazy to look it up). I also wear it to every USC game and the owls have only seen the Trojans lose once (Stanford, 2007). Yesterday, I was especially happy when a sixth grader complimented my beloved owl shirt.

I used to have khaki pants with embroidered green turtles all over them, I unfortunately out grew them (or perhaps they shrunk?) but I regret very much I was never able to wear them together as I believe the owls and the turtles would have been friends.

day 59 -- film shoots

2009-01-28T22:35:00.001-08:00

Today my dear friend and I did what many tourists and TV addicts might dream of; we hung around a film shoot for close to an hour. Earlier in the week (at my therapist’s office of all places) I found out there was a Wednesday shoot for the TV show “Brothers and Sisters” which I happen to watch. One of the many perks of being unemployed, I decided to go take in the craziness for as long as I could stand. Granted, I have lived most of my life in Southern California and this is the first time I have intentionally done this. However, having worked in downtown LA and living in Pasadena, I have certainly been around the hustle and bustle of a film crew on a few occasions. A guy I used to work with who is absolutely crazy used to routinely sneak into film shoot to steal food. If today is any barometer for the scope/amount of people needed to pull off even a seemingly short shot, I am sure it was very easy to blend in for my old co-worker.

The shoot was on Oakland between Green Street and Colorado. We lunched around the corner at the School House Café which is a great little venue I completely recommend. (It is the affordable section of the Culinary Institute’s restaurant – gourmet food at a fraction of the cost of the fancy restaurant side). After a leisurely lunch, we strolled around the corner to take in the film shoot. There were police offices, security guards, a legion of attractive and nicely dressed extras, scores of extra vehicles, all sorts of crazy lights, and even a few port-a-potties and yes, we were just lucky enough to see a short scene being shot catching glimpses of regular cast members. In fact, my friend rightly identified Smith from “Sex and the City” who’s part was very racy to say the least as it involved him kissing another guy (also a bit of a scoop as that character, Kevin if you follow the show, has a committed partner).

From my short window into The Industry, I can safely say it all seemed very unglamorous – much standing around for a less than ten minute scene. I know these Hollywood types get paid big bucks but as I understood it the shot lasted well into the evening, long hours any way you slice it. And so very boring – if it took all of this hoopla to shoot just a few minutes of the show, they must be doing these types of hours all of the time. No thank you.

day 58 -- yipee!!!!!!

2009-01-27T21:26:00.001-08:00

So yes, we have an official end date to my unemployment: February 8^th as I start my new job on February 9^th. I have accepted a position coordinating, developing and launching a mentoring and after-school program. The job will require much initiative and independence which I think is a good fit for me. As well, my previous experience directing an after-school program will come in handy as I am basically building a new program from scratch. I believe I will continue blogging but have to perhaps rename my blog.

The good news is that the remaining days will be much more fun as it suddenly feels like a weight has been lifted and I don’t have to be so cautious about how I choose to spend them. Yippee!

Day 57 -- boredom and guitar hero

2009-01-26T20:48:00.000-08:00

Today I was very bored. Fortunately, two of my friends were also free and we had an ad hoc edition of our fun day escapades. The trouble was even with the three of us available and most of the day ahead of us – we couldn’t think of anything fun to do. Sure, we had constraints – the cold weather, the lack of funding and one friend’s need to finish his laundry but still. Are we (A) spending so much time together we can’t see outside of our normal routine? Are we (B) completely unoriginal we only do the same things over and over again? Or are we (C) in a rut?

We ended up getting coffee, renting and watching a movie (In Bruges) and playing a few rounds of Guitar Hero.

I just Googled ennui – general lack of interest or boredom, or depression; it may also refer to: oppressive boredom. Only someone excessively bored would do that. Does anyone have suggestions of inexpensive, weather proof activities for future fun days with my friends? For example, today was Chinese New Year’s so we could have taken the Gold Line into Chinatown to soak up some of the festivities. If only I would have thought of that at noon.

And sorry to say no Guatemala but never fear I will be going to Mexico in a few weeks job or no job which I should know TOMORROW.

Day 56 – Guatemala

2009-01-25T20:44:00.001-08:00

Tonight I went over to a friends’ house where another guest, who I will call Juan, was booking a flight to Guatemala. I visited with my friends not paying much attention to the specifics of Juan’s travels. Juan finished his business and we were off to dinner. He told us his flight left at 11:34. Tomorrow, we asked. No, tonight. You can’t go to dinner with us, you’ve got to go pack and get to the airport. He paused to consider and opted to not join us for dinner.

We lingered for a bit longer and I said something flippant to the effect, I want to go to Guatemala. Well let’s go upstairs and book you a flight, Juan suggested. How long are you staying? Juan’s travel plans revolve around his brother’s tennis schedule. This trip was no exception, he was in fact only going to stay for two days if his brother lost. If, however his brother wins, John will stay most of next week.

Hmmm, when is his first match? Tomorrow at 10AM. So you will know by midday if you will leave Tuesday or later in the week. Yes. Hmmm, I do have an appointment to take an exam for a position at Pasadena Unified School District tomorrow and the final (I hope) interview for the job I will most likely take Tuesday morning. So, Juan interjected, you could make the 1pm flight Tuesday and join my family in Guatemala. He listed off many specific things we could do as he has traveled there many times. He also said he was staying in a 5 star hotel. He said I could book a flight for under $300.

Mind you, in spite of my unemployment, I do have a number of “commitments” scheduled for this week but when else in my life will I have a chance to fly off to Guatemala at a moment’s notice? So if Juan’s brother wins his match tomorrow, I might do just that

Day 55 -- Reunited and it feels so good (?)

2009-01-24T12:07:00.000-08:00

When I was in High School (and a few years after) I worked at a camp. Without question, some of my most fun memories come from the small, humble mountain setting where among others things I made amazing friends. However dear all of these friends were, somewhere along the way we lost touch. There wasn’t anything conflictual – I chalk it up mainly to moving to Arizona for my desert wanderings chapter. And it wasn’t that I forgot the friends, but this was the pre-cell phone pre email era where keeping up on the lives of contacts was a different ballgame than it is today.

Flash forward to creating a Facebook account and you can guess what has happened – yes many of those dear friends have once again become “friends” in a wildly different venue. Some have scattered, some have married, some have divorced, some have come out, some have grown up, some have successful careers, some are unemployed and some have not joined. Tonight, a handful of us who are still local are having a reunion. I am very curious about how this will go.

There is a cynical part of me who sort of thinks if we drifted apart all those years ago, maybe there is something to that. Do we exchange more specific contact info feigning we will stay in touch but the truth is aside from cordial FB posts we will never see one another? Is it possible, to rekindle relationships that were admittedly dear to me in the nineties? I have had great success with high school/childhood friends in this capacity, so perhaps.

The other very strange dynamic with this meeting is we have in fact missed out on large portions of one another’ lives, how do we just gloss over that? For example, one friend who found me on FB when I asked for an update wrote a mini paragraph on my wall that walked me through not only her divorce but her child dying. I was saddened I couldn’t have somehow supported her through these terrible losses but doubly saddened she shared something so painful in a way that felt very impersonal. Certainly there will be others tonight who maybe haven’t had children die but have experienced the death of a parent, a terrible health problem or something else I would have no idea of. How do we catch up on those stories?

Another very certain aspect of tonight will be those I have forgotten. I have received a few friend requests of people I just can’t place but I know I tonight will hang with people who remembered me but who I have forgotten. I am a jerk but my memory isn’t what it used to be.

And finally, I really hope we don’t only go down memory lane. Yes, I can expect recreation of memories stored so deep in the annals of my soul; I will need probing and a glass or two of wine to remember. The truth is this whole era is somewhat of a blur – not a lot of specifics but many generals (if that makes sense). But I’d really like to hear from folks what they are doing now. I don’t want to only remember who we used to be but be able to meet the people we have become.

Day 54 -- update on job interview

2009-01-23T20:16:00.000-08:00

The good news is it looks like I have a job (although, until I am filling out payroll paperwork I won’t count on it or believe it). The bad news is the interview was fairly unprofessional causing me to have second thoughts. Quick synopsis – this was interview number four and the primary reason for the delay was waiting for me to be able to interview with a new administrator in the organization who was touted as professional. A few interesting things from the interview that demonstrated the administrator’s lack of professionalism:

(1) He asked me about my marital status and happiness related to that – the good news is that before I could answer, he went on to compare me to his single brother who he wrongly assumed to much older to me (in truth I was older than he although I took it as a compliment that he reversed our true age) and allegedly very content as a single person. I am pretty sure asking somewhat about their marital status in an interview is illegal.

(2) There were a number of items that he and the other woman in the interview who at this point I had met with THREE times weren’t on the same page about and it was somewhat uncomfortable to be in the room for them to discover the discrepancies. For example – he broke from the standard interview form to ask her, “So we’ve done a background check on Jennifer, right.” Awkward pause, “No,” she replies somewhat defeated. There were a few other examples of things that he assumed she had covered that in the course of out meeting he discovered hadn’t. Toward the end, Mr. Professional/Administrator said to the woman who is to be my boss (I think?), could we have a few minutes together after Jennifer leaves. It felt like to me she got in trouble. Again, unnecessary to happen in front of me the interviewee.

(3) Interruptions. On two different occasions there were knocks on two doors both of which he answered. The first was a co-worker (who seemed to be perhaps the IT guy) who brought in some sort of smart phone/Blackberry giving him a diagnosis. But after Mr. IT guy left, the administrator said he was not used to being interrupted in a meeting. I am thinking – well, why did you answer the door? But the woman launched into a bit of a jab at the IT guy. The second knock on the door was his single brother. Thankfully, there was no fix-up/introduction but he scrambled to find the door stop to which we suggested, just use the deadbolt. “Oh…good idea.” Very professional.

He was quick to comment on my leadership ability (based mainly on the one question he asked me I suppose) predicted in the near future I would be a consultant for multiple organizations in multiple states. Hmmm.

day 53 -- fishy

2009-01-22T22:02:00.000-08:00

Some months ago I inherited exactly one red beta fish who I affectionately refer to as “Fishy.” Fishy’s real caretaker was a (former) co-worker of mine whose relocation to Wisconsin pragmatically couldn’t include Fishy. Fishy has already more than outlived the average lifespan for a beta fish and not to be sadistic but almost daily I expect to find Fishy dead. There was a very long stint when Fishy seemed to be somewhat lethargic and sickly but recently he has resurged. He is more active in his little bowl and his appetite has returned whereas before he just sort of floated, barely moving and when I fed him he just watched the little flakes I dropped in his bowl fall into the rocks. He hates it when I clean his bowl/give him a bath – it is obviously very agitating for him when he has is confined to the little cup my friend gave me for the explicit purpose of storing him when his bowl is cleaned.

Admittedly, Fishy and I are unlikely companions but I believe there to be a kinship between us. When I am near his bowl he often makes eye-contact with me and I have no doubt he knows me. in the lonely journey of unemployment, I am grateful for the company and I admit in the very likely event Fishy passes in the next few months, I will be very sad. Not sad enough, however, to get another fish. I guess I am just a one fish woman.

Day 52 – Letters of Reference

2009-01-21T21:21:00.001-08:00

I am in the process of applying for an international humanitarian aid organization which requires professional references (and don’t worry it based here in LA). While although this isn’t terribly unexpected, I had to dig up old supervisor and ask the question would you be a reference. I realize this is a formality and in most cases most agencies don’t even check (or require references) but as someone was not informed they had been listed as a reference and got an out of the blue phone call, it is certainly good form to get the OK before one gives out another’s information.

Save for one job, for the most part I have left on good terms with all of my old employers, so I certainly didn’t expect anyone to say no. But what I didn’t expect was the very affirming words I received from former employers. Here is a quote from an old boss –

“I would be happy to be a reference for you. We think you are fabulous! I wish I had an opening for you.”

The others were just as glowing, one in particular who has relocated to Colorado, often tries to get me to work for him. Just when I thought I was un-hirable and un-marketable. The other news to report is that in the new era of Hope and Change, I have a fourth interview with an agency I am very hopeful about tomorrow. And I heard back from Pasadena Unified School District (who I am told is notorious about taking forever to get back to people) and have an appointment Monday for a position in their after-school program.

Day 51 -- Photographer/Vice President Joe Biden

2009-01-20T21:40:00.000-08:00

Are my friends and I the only ones who noticed dear little Malia Obama snapping pictures like mad on the podium while her father took the oath of office? At one point, I am quite certain she even handed off the camera to, of all people, Vice President Joe Biden presumably because he had a better vantage point to whatever it was she was trying to capture. Still, Malia, checked his work before releasing him from his assignment.

It is curious how we Americans are captivated by the Obama girls. Sure we have had the Bush twins for eight years and Chelsea Clinton before them, but Sasha and Malia somehow make Barack Obama more three-dimensional and also force us to reexamine the bizarre journey it would be to be the child of the Commander in Chief. To that end, the Bush twins wrote an open letter to the new first daughters in today’s Wall Street Journal on precisely that experience. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was another person on the podium who was equally the child of a President who might tell the girls a different sort of story.

Of course, the outgoing President was an adult when his father, George H. W. Bush was President, but I believe his life was no less punctuated by his father’s residence in the White House than those who lived there during their formative years. Some might argue his entire candidacy was nothing more than a prodigal son’s attempt to please his father. Perhaps. In the end, as George W. Bush faded out of Washington D.C. with much ceremonial pomp and circumstance, he was his father’s son. Boarding the helicopter just before the outgoing president were his parents and I wonder if he might be more like the camera wielding Malia than we suspect.

Day 50 – French toast, Barack Obama and MLK

2009-01-19T21:53:00.001-08:00

On this Inauguration Eve (which I don’t remember in 2001 when W took office), I have all day been thinking so much of both Barack Obama and Martin Luther King. It could have something to do with the non-stop party going on in our nation’s capital and the ubiquitous media coverage that has been zooming in on January 20^thsince Election Day. I am hosting my own dreadfully early Inaugural Party of sorts complete with French toast casserole, sausage and coffee. Be it another era, there might have been mimosas but even in the land of unemployment, drinking at 8AM on a week day seems dysfunction and very fattening. Also, the humble group attending my party will be working from “home”/my house tomorrow.

Tonight Larry King asked Martin Luther King III, among others, the question, which has been and will continue to be asked in the waning moments before the Inauguration and I’d love to hear what others think, if he thought Barack Obama’s presidency is the fulfillment or realization of Martin Luther King Jr’s dream? He said an aspect of the dream but there was still much to overcome. Citing the continued prevalence of what his father called the triple evils of racism, poverty and militarism all of which are still at epidemic levels in our society.

I tend to agree, the poverty line, in our country is still in many ways tragically black and white. Worse yet, a black boy born in 2001 has a 1 in 3 chance of going to prison in his lifetime; a Latino boy a 1 in 6 chance; and a white boy a 1 in 17 chance (From Children’s Defense Fund 2007 study, American Prison to Pipeline Crisis). Certainly these two things – poverty and crime – are very connected to educational and might be worse for those of us living in LA County than anywhere else in the US.

Quickly, a quote of a radical Christian thinker I admire very much which I think are applicable for all people regardless of their faith and at the heart of the aspects of MLK’s dream still unmet :

“I believe that the great tragedy of the church is not that rich Christians do not care about the poor, but that they do not know the poor.” – Shane Claiborne, “Downward Mobility in an Upscale World” http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/programs/newmonastics/claiborne_downwardmobility.shtml

The hard work starts Wednesday, right?

Day 49 -- Churches and Money

2009-01-18T21:01:00.000-08:00

I go to church most every Sunday. Not meaning to be preachy or self-righteous, I believe there is something good for my soul and helps me remember why I am a Christian by showing up at the specific building/church I am a member of. This Sunday morning, however, I had a scheduling conflict (which ended up being absolutely wonderful for those of you who were also there) preventing me from going to my normal church at my normal time. Instead, I went with a friend to her church which I think is an important thing for us Christians to do from time to time. Mind you, it’s not like I’m going to compare necessarily – I try very hard to silence the voice in my head prone to say things like “My church does…better,” “Or this church is way better at…” either thing can be very damaging in the same way there would be little or no good coming from a married person pursuing e-harmony to compare his or her respective spouse against current models.

The topic at this undisclosed church, which I know will make most people nauseous as it is perhaps one of the most stereotypically unpopular topics at not only churches but in most circles, was MONEY. The pastor handled the message well which I believe for the most part has been the case in my tenure year of church attendance. I might very well be the one person who thinks it is an appropriate thing to cover from time to time. He really didn’t, for those of you who the thought of a pastor talking about money is immediately repulsive, cover the whole give more money vane. He shared his church was in the black (that is the good color to be in terms of balance sheets, right?) ending 2008 slightly ahead. Something he claimed, and I believe him, was unheard of for churches these days.

Instead his point was more along the lines of simply living within one’s means which I think is a very apt message given the current financial crisis our nation is finding itself in. One might argue the heart of the problems we are in come precisely from societal indulgences and the lack of discretion (I recognize I am oversimplifying). Certainly, as individuals facing great financial uncertainty, a proverbial dose of tighten the purse strings couldn’t hurt. He rattled off a statistic something to the effect that the average percent of personal savings in America in 1960 was 7% whereas today it is -2%. Yes, we collectively spend more than we make a trend it doesn’t take an economist to recognize will end up in disaster.

Why is this? Have we become mindless lemmings who believe our sole worth to be nothing more than what we consume? Do we so desperately want to chase after the American dream (or whatever other dream we are seeking) we have to buy things to convince ourselves how good life is? Does life have no other purpose than spending money? What can be said for altruism, virtue and at the very least the integrity of living within one’s means? Or in global terms – what about stewardship? Are we spending our inordinate amount of the world’s wealth at Pottery Barn? Mind you the pastor didn’t go as far as I am taking it – his main point was live simply and within your means

Day 48 – The Book Club

2009-01-17T11:17:00.000-08:00

Last year some girlfriends and I began a book club. I am very proud it has held together and as of this weekend’s upcoming meeting, we will be going into year two. We try to read the book in approximately a month and then meet together for faire matching the book (although a few times we have done take out). For example, our most recent book is Dave Eggers’ What is the What, the story of one of the Sudanese Lost Boys, and as there is not really Sudanese food per se in the greater Los Angeles area, we will have Ethiopian food as a bit of a comprise as part of the book takes place in Ethiopia.

Here is a list of books we have covered with my ranking in parenthesis:

Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson (7)

Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert (5)

Love in the Time of Cholera, Gabriel Garcia Marquez (2)

Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri (9)

I Know why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou (3)

Middlesex, by Jeffery Eugenides (9.5)

The Inheritance of Loss, by Kiran Desai (7)

What is the What, by Dave Eggers (8)

For the most part, we have favored books with an international/multi-cultural theme. As well, the favorites have been fiction. We also have the unofficial agreement to choose a book none of us have previously read. That being said, I wonder if anyone has recommendations for us to read for February? We have read three Indian books (The Inheritance of Loss & The Unaccustomed Earth and kind of Eat, Pray, Love) so I think we can safely rule out another Indian book (even though there are many good choices out there). I have suggested, in honor of Barack Obama’s presidency and African-American history month, to read another story dealing with African-American narratives. Or as we really haven’t covered Asia save for the Indian subcontinent, it might be good to read an Asian story (many of us have read Memoirs of a Geisha and The Good Earth). Any ideas?

Day 47 -- The Job Search

2009-01-16T15:47:00.001-08:00

My interview this morning did not go well – I would be shocked if I were offered the job. For starters, I was expecting to be interviewed by a very specific person who a friend had briefed me on. Instead, the co-owner of the restaurant, a somewhat gruff woman I’d guess to be in her late forties conducted the forty-five minute ordeal barely making an eye contact. We ended up talking about homelessness for a long time as well as her point blank asking me what theology was. Not a good sign for someone with a theology degree. She did seem impressed with my knowledge of the product/restaurant faire but was quick to remind me she had a stack of applications to get through. I believe this to be code for don’t hold your breath. I also believe she quite rightly surmised me to be someone wanting to wait tables until something better came along.

In forty-seven days, I have applied for twelve different jobs only hearing back from three. Today was my second interview and I have a third (follow-up) one pending which has unfortunately been pending for one month. There again, I am neither holding my breath nor putting all of my eggs in that basket. I know these percentages aren’t as discouraging as I am making them out to be – I know I need to increase the amount of jobs I apply for and expect delays in responses. But I feel very cynical about sending out yet another cut and pasted draft of my cover letter and résumé to some person whose in box is likely filled with people are in fact “uniquely qualified for position…” as my cover letter asserts.

On a lighter note, yesterday I met former Arizona Wildcat Luke Walton (I hear he plays for the Lakers these days). And Mark Sanchez if you want to leave USC early it is perhaps divine retribution you will likely end up in – DETROIT. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out. Also, I am proud to report I am now third in Tetris (my newest addiction) among my friends on Facebook. Perhaps, with some diligence and persistence I can work my way up to #1 sometime soon. Dare to Dream.

Day 46 -- Parrots

2009-01-15T14:28:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, unbeknownst to me, there was an asphalt spill on the Eastbound 210 causing a virtual shut down. However, I headed east at approximately 3pm to volunteer at the mentoring/tutoring project I coordinate in Pomona. An hour-and-a-half later, still not knowing the extent of the problem, I exited the freeway to take side streets which as any self-respecting Southern Californian native knows is always a mistake. The side streets (roughly between Monrovia/Duarte) were even more congested than the freeway. It was utter misery.

As I sat in a complete standstill on Huntington drive, I saw, appearing much like a mirage or a dose of magical realism, the illusive and mysterious parrots of Pasadena. Yes, resting serenely in a barren tree in the median of Huntington Blvd, were five or six bright green parrots with red heads. At first, I wasn’t sure what I was actually seeing but when they took flight moments later, it was unmistakably them. Ironically, I had been thinking of the birds lately hoping to snap a picture of them (alas yesterday I was SANS camera). .

When I first started grad school in Pasadena, my friend told me about the Parrots. I thought she was crazy. I changed my mind a season later when I moved to Pasadena – I finally saw them (more truthfully I heard them). It was bizarre and surreal and at the same time even for me a self-proclaimed bird hater a wonderful moment. Over the years I have seen them many times, but yesterday stuck in traffic they were a sort of encouragement to me. Certainly, I would have likely felt differently about them if I had been taking off from La Guardia Airport. I have seen them as far east as Monrovia/Duarte and as far south as Downtown LA (Bunker Hill to be specific). It is very wonderful to come upon them.

For those of you who doubt it possible to see bright green parrots more suited to a tropical jungle in the trees of the quite suburban San Gabriel Valley, most specifically Pasadena; Pasadena’s website backs up the story about the parrots existence.

http://www.ci.pasadena.ca.us/facts.asp

PS – Tomorrow I have an interview at a restaurant in Old Town, keep your fingers crossed.

Day 45 -- Beachside Lifestyles

2009-01-14T14:15:00.000-08:00

Steve Lopez’s Column today featured a story about a Southern Californian woman who some twenty years ago went on vacation in the Cayman Islands and never returned. She didn’t disappear but instead turned her intended six-week vacation into a new life. Effectively, at 28, she reinvented herself finding a new address, a new occupation (real estate agent), a new friend circle and finally a new last name upon her marriage to one of her fellow ex-pats. As an aside, the whole journey was prompted by a bad break up – I am picturing in my head Kerry Bradshaw’s Mexi-coma. She claims no regrets and Mr. Lopez sounded jealous to say the least.

Recently, I learned of a job opening through the Queensland Tourism looking for a sort of island caretaker who would “slave away” in a three bedroom Great Barrier Reef side condo complete with an infinity pool for six months their sole responsibility being maintaining a weekly blog on the experience. The pay is $100,000! As of yesterday, the company had already received 200,000 applications and rest assured I will include my application in the pile before the deadline passes. This publicity stunt is being dubbed as “The Best Job in the World,” and as I have been trolling the internet for job postings, I have it on good authority that that is an accurate portrayal.

In light of both of these types of “jobs” I have silenced every irresponsible voice in my head and have decided to join a friend for a week- long vacation in Mexico next month. Yes, this will probably extend my unemployment but maybe I will have an epiphany like the woman from Steve Lopez’s column or at the very least be better prepared for being offered the island caretaker gig. Could you imagine?

Day 44 -- The Clothing Exchange

2009-01-13T15:42:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: the above picture has nothing to do with the blog. I just like it.

Over the weekend some friends and I gathered for what we affectionately refer to as the Clothing Exchange. In a nutshell the Clothing Exchange involves all members (and sometimes that is not even a hard and fast requirement) purging their closet and instead of dumping their cast offs at Goodwill/Salvation Army/Out of the Closet, coming together to pillage one another’s discards. Note: whatever remains, we then donate. Essentially, we are living out the adage, “one man (or in our case woman)’s trash is another’s treasure.”

Over the years, we have fine-tuned the routine. Here are some tips if you ever want to host your own Clothing Exchange:

Give all participants ample notice and time to go through their closets. I can’t tell you how many friends responded with “I just gave away for bags to Goodwill last month.”
Think about your size and your friends’ respective sizes. It is not going to work if there aren’t some members who are more or less in the same zip (or should I say zipper) code. But as the girls of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants prove, women of all different shapes may in fact be able to fit into the same item of clothing.
In order to have a breadth of choices, you want to have at least four people. Really, though the more people, the better the chance of there actually being good clothes.
Choose your items from the discard pile carefully. Often the cast offer will share a disclaimer as to why they fell out of love with the article of clothing (missing a button, stained, weird color, etc) – listen to these reasons. There have been lots of items that have circled through many rounds of the Clothing Exchange. The more times I participate, the less I take.
The whole process goes smoother if Margaritas are involved. Or wine for that matter. Maybe even if you are really hoity-toity, martinis.

Day 43 -- Reindeers on rooftops

2009-01-12T21:47:00.000-08:00

If you live in Pasadena, you are very familiar with the giant reindeer atop an oversized bright red ornaments that welcome the Christmas season every year. While although, this is a very flagship slash local brand signifying that the most wonderful year is upon us (sense the tone), I think it is time for the said reindeer to head back to the north pole before – TODAY. Yes, as of today, January 12^th and Old Town Pasadena still has not put away their Christmas decorations. With all of us out of work folks (just shy of 8%, right?), maybe Old Town could hire us to put away the seasonal items?

Of course I am sort of a traditionalist; Christmas décor no earlier than Thanksgiving and no later the weekend after New Years. But twelve days into the 2009 is by all standards far too long, traditionalism aside. Don’t get me started about Christmas starting right after the 4^th of July. If yesterday’s post was on New Years and today’s on Christmas, at this rate I’ll be covering St. Patrick’s by the weekend.

Day 42 -- The Rose Parade

2009-01-11T17:59:00.003-08:00

Perhaps somewhat belatedly, I would like to share some pics from the Rose Parade. Enjoy.

Self-Disclosure – Day 41

2009-01-10T15:17:00.001-08:00

It is a very strange juxtaposition that I have created this very public window into my unemployment while I haven’t been 100% forthcoming with the members of my immediate family about not working. The truth is I haven’t told them anything close to the truth. I have made the concession to admit I am job hunting (which I am, right?) but left out the very conspicuous detail that I quit my job on 12.1.08.

If anyone in my family was online at all, there might be some legitimate concern they would stumble across my blog. Rest assured I have it on good authority no member of my immediate family has the foggiest concept of what a blog is in the first place. There is also the possibility some of my readers might in fact know members of my family – hence this entry. For the most part, those who I know who know my family members I have sworn to secrecy. I think I am willing to roll the dice that an acquaintance might (A) discover my blog and (B) have the presence of mind to bring it up to my family.

However, I can’t help but wonder why I am able to be completely candid in this venue where total strangers know more about my life than my family of origin. Am I avoiding the righteous judgment they might heap on me if they knew I had been out of a job for close to six weeks at this point? Would I get a barrage of advice regarding what types of jobs I should be applying for? Would they judge me for actively trying to wait tables? Am I stifling my bona fide adulthood by not having the wherewithal to withstand these angles? Perhaps.

What about the flipside – what value comes from being brutally honest in such a public arena? My original reasoning for this blog was to work on my writing and to have an on-going project to work on both of which have been very helpful. It has been very good for me to commit to write daily and to have a deadline. But the thing I wasn’t expecting was the cathartic /therapeutic nature of complete self-disclosure. Also, I thought my only readers would be a handful of friends having no idea there is sort of camaraderie among bloggers I am very thankful to have effectively entered into.

Day 40 – Barack Obama weighs in

2009-01-09T13:50:00.001-08:00

It strikes me very funny that so much attention is being paid to President-elect Barack Obama’s feelings on the BCS and his related demand for a playoff system. One hand, everyone except the executives at ESPN who coincidentally own the rights to air BCS Championships games for the next however many years, are calling for this. Most notably, of course my USC fan brethren, Utah and Texas fans who as Mr. Obama said, “might still have some quibbles,” with the BCS. It seems as though the only person who has yet to weigh in on the issue is the illustrious Heisman winner from 1968.

The bigger question though, in light of the state of our economy, international crisises most specifically what is happening in Gaza and our own involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan, is why the President-elect is bothering himself with something that is not really his jurisdiction in the first place? Perhaps this might be a very apt project to hand off to former Presidents Clinton and Bush as their disaster relief gig seems to have slowed down these days? Or maybe Obama can appoint me, in this brief window of being between jobs, to be the Czar/Minister of Anti-BCS campaign – I’ve got a lot of free time on my hands and God knows Obama’s hands are full.

I file this right next to the inordinate amount of time the news media is devoting to what Malia and Sasha Obama are eating for lunch.

day 39 -- interruptions

2009-01-08T14:36:00.000-08:00

I had a plan today – as I have on many other of these unemployment days – to devote a concerted amount of time and energy working on finding a job. As I am feeling a bit stir-crazy, I got dressed and ready for the day deciding to job hunt from the comfort of one of my favorite coffee shops; killing two birds with one stone and as I am perhaps the most extraverted person on the earth, I was really looking forward to the people time. Before you get to proud of me, I must confess at 2pm I still had not stepped out the door but in my defense I had spent the morning working out, listening to a Mars Hill Podcast, sending some personal emails, journaling and last but not least straightening my hair.

But at approximately 2:01 I got a call from a friend who was having car trouble. Could I pick her up at her mechanic’s in a little bit, she asked. Of course, if I were her I would call me too because after all the fact of the matter is that I am not working and have LOADS of free time on my hands. And she is probably one of my closest/dearest friends in the whole world who I would give a kidney to but she in effect hijacked my day. Also, her car trouble set me back yet another day in the job search.

Day 38 – Slumdog Millionaire

2009-01-07T21:57:00.000-08:00

Just got back from seeing Slumdog Millionaire and I think everyone everywhere should see it. If you have not seen it stop reading my stupid blog and go see it right now. Leave work (really working is over rated anyways), skip dinner, skip drinks, and skip whatever else you might be doing instead of watching Slumdog Millionaire.

I have seen four of the five Golden Globe best picture nominees and as my friend and fellow blogger Catherine said it is hands down the best – the pick of the litter if you will. While although I loved The Reader, Revolutionary Road and most especially The Curious Case of Benjamin Button; Slumdog has it all. It has the full range of human emotions – the classic case of good prevailing in the end, the underdog (and in this case the slumdog) over coming insurmountable odds and for the romantic in all of us the boy gets the girl. There is even a nod to Bollywood for good measure. Just what someone who recently submitted an application to wait tables (yes, friends it has come to this – did I mention I have a Masters degree?) needed to feel good about life.

I don’t at all pretend to understand what it is like to grow up in abject poverty but working in skid row for four years, doing relief work in the second largest slum in Africa for a few weeks (Kibera, Kenya) and traveling to one of the poorest countries in the world (Burma/Myanmar) as crazy as it might seem I am glad I have learned from firsthand experience what poverty is like. I hope Slumdog Millionaire might draw attention to the plight of the urban poor most especially it’s children.

Job Hunting – Day 37

2009-01-06T22:19:00.000-08:00

Today was the first day in a few weeks (all year – sorry I can’t resist that terrible joke the entire first week of January) I have devoted any significant attention to job hunting. Strange, as I am unemployed I haven’t approached this whole predicament with more urgency but the truth is I have really been enjoying not working. And in my defense, I have, rightly I think, surmised the types of agencies I am interested in working at would not do much hiring or activities related there in around the holidays. To prove my point, on December 14^th when I turned in an application at Pasadena Unified School District, they informed me their offices would be closed until January 5^th.

But today, I flexed my job hunting skills and have a few updates. Tomorrow, I have a meeting with a friend from grad school who knows everyone there is to know in the community development world in LA and I admire greatly. I am hopeful he might be able to point me in the right direction as its not what you know but who you know. I also have a pending fourth interview that hopefully will be sometime either this week or early next week – trying very hard to not put all of my eggs in that basket even though I think the job would be a great fit (every day it feels more so). I contacted two other friends regarding openings with potential and am waiting to hear back.

Meanwhile, I am very happy to report that the Daily Show is back. I love John Stewart and look forward to the day when I am a guest on his show. Perhaps by 2010? Just enough of a window to become an accomplished writer (or celebrity of any genre really) accruing enough notoriety to warrant an invitation to be a guest on the Daily Show. Note: I will have to do something related to politics and or current events.

Day 36 – Neighbor

2009-01-05T11:45:00.000-08:00

I am told shoes thrown over power lines is an indicator for drug dealing – like a modern day tell similar to how people found their way to Speakeasies during Prohibition. There is a pair strewn over the power lines just a few houses down from mine. To get to my parking space, I have drive through an alley way often flooded with sketchy looking people so the drug dealing isn’t that surprising. What is surprising is my own ambivalence. I should muster a neighborhood watch group, call the police or at least seek out others in my area who are bothered by drug dealing and the crime apt to follow including the recent shooting on our block. But I sit here instead glad that my specific complex is gated.

Growing up I knew the names of everyone on my block many of whom I had routinely stepped foot inside their homes. Now, I know my next door neighbor’s name but that is only because sometimes I get sent her mail. I have never been inside her house even though we have lived four feet from one another for the better part of three years. I have no idea the names of the others in my small complex, I might be able to pick them out by sight and have a faint idea of their respective cars. Who they are escapes me – what are their hopes, dreams, fears, etc. Are they upset by the shoes over the power line in our alley? Are they the drug dealers? Do they even know?

I know my life would be richer if I lived in something closer to the kind of community I grew up in. I have tried in my years of apartment living to cultivate more of an openness to those around me but over the years became resigned to anonymity. Perhaps it’s the turn over, perhaps it’s the rhythm of my twenty-first century life where I am more apt to invest in cyber community (hence this blog) than the flesh and blood a stone’s throw from my door, or perhaps it’s my general apathy that prevents me from getting to know my neighbors.

Some might contend the community you create for yourself is your true community superseding those physically around you. Maybe and I do love my self-created community. As well, I could say I have maintained healthy boundaries whereas the over involved neighborhood relationship could be taxing. Right, if I did become B-F-F’s with my next door neighbor coming home and laying on the couch not talking to anyone for hours might not be as easy to do. Or worse yet, if we got in a fight it would be very difficult to avoid her. Whereas when tension arises with my longer distance friends, we don’t have to see each other until it blew over.

Still, I wonder every time I see the shoes over the power line if I’d be better off knowing my neighbors.

Day 35, Reborns

2009-01-04T19:02:00.000-08:00

Note: for my theologian friends, this post has nothing to do with the Christian concept of rebirth

The other night I watched an ABC special on a line of very life like dolls called Reborns and their bizarre following. The people featured in the special were painted as weird at best – creepy, disturbed, peculiar and diagnosable at worst. But I was most taken by the artist herself who links her arts to a series of miscarriages she suffered some time ago. There was one doll in particular she refused to sell because she felt like it looked what her baby would have looked like had it lived. The doll slept with her, had a crib and she and her husband often took it out passing it off as a real baby. I couldn’t help but think of the character in Charles Dickens’ Great Expecations Miss Havisham who after being jilted at the altar wears her wedding dress for the entirety of her life.

Having never suffered a miscarriage or struggled with fertility issues, I don’t pretend to understand what a painful experience it is. But as a fellow human who has endured loss and studied grief, I know pain is both universal and individual and quite simply something everyone copes differently. That being said, I suppose this woman, the Reborn artist, has found a coping strategy that is both profitable and more importantly healing.

http://www.reborn-baby.com/

http://abcnews.go.com/2020/Story?id=6517455&page=2

But suppose she is in the same boat as Miss Havisham – wearing her pain like a badge to her dysfunction? Is she, to evoke the imagery of the U2 song with the same title, “Stuck in a Moment?” Worse yet, have I created my own dysfunctional device for celebrating my unemployment through this blog? Is the time I am spending on creating these clever blog entries a diversion from the bona fide process of finding a job? Am I averting the possible rejection I might experience if I whole heartedly pursued employment, i.e. actively submitted résumés, went on interviews and so forth?

Day 34, naked baby

2009-01-03T14:42:00.000-08:00

Earlier today I had breakfast at Bean Town in Sierra Madre. My friends have an eighteen month old son who is maybe the cutest toddler ever. Their family moved to northern California a few years back and as I dearly miss them, while they visit I try to savor as much time with them as possible – hence the 9am breakfast on a Saturday morning. But after a few hours at Bean Town, the reality of their drive back north today set in and it was time to end the sweet reunion.

We slowly strolled out of Bean Town, deciding to walk together to the bank. Side note – if you’ve never been to Sierra Madre it is absolutely wonderful, I feel like I have a bit of a crush on the whole town and it is only a matter of time before I wind up there. It is like a small town mountain community nestled just outside of the sometimes soul less seeming other parts of my native Southern California. Trust me; if you go there you will want to move there also.

As we were meandering up the street towards the bank, a young woman passed us pushing a baby about the same age as my friend’s in a stroller. The baby was clad in a jacket, hat, leg warmers but peculiarly wearing no bottom what so ever. Yes, my friends no diaper, no underpants, no pants, note even a binky to shield his little manhood from all of Sierra Madre residents ambling about on a quaint Saturday morning. And worse yet, he had, as one of my friends bore witness to, what could only be described as, his words not mine, a baby boner.

If this baby was a grown man his partial nudity would be considered lewd, indecent and even a crime, right? Or at the very least socially unconventional and perhaps more suitable summer behavior. The lines are grayer for children, but I still question this mother’s choice of going to the length of putting her son in leg warmers but failing to provide him with bottom covers – he was obviously cold. I have heard of parents experimenting with nudity as a means of expediting the potty training process, which might have been the case this morning; still this seems both socially inappropriate and indecent. I know also young children love to be naked – it is understandable – but again, still behavior more appropriate for home not public. Finally, it is very possible that the child had an accident but unbelievable the mother found herself with no other item of clothes for the boy. Not meaning to be a prude, but I think naked baby should have stayed home.

Day 33, Donate Life

2009-01-02T23:19:00.000-08:00

In honor of this being my thirty-third post, I would like to dedicate it to my thirty-three year old friend, Stacy as the number holds much significance for her.

Yesterday as the world’s eyes were on Pasadena and amid my marathon double hitter of going to both the Rose Parade and Rose Bowl; there were moments when I felt like the entire world was actually in Pasadena. However, instead of reflecting on the festivities, USC third consecutive Rose Bowl win in particular, I would like to go in a different direction.

My father and I have sat in the same Rose Parade grandstand for the past few years. Last year, unbeknownst to us, we were seated among the Donate Life organization. Without exaggeration, we have been the only non Donate Life people in the bleachers. I knew very little about this organization prior to us sharing New Year’s Day together for two years running, but have since done a bit of homework, still by no means a member or a expert.

http://www.donatelifefloat.org/prod/components/

Donate Life exists to promote organ donation. Their float in the Rose Parade, among other aspects of the organization, pays tribute to those who have donated organs – in many cases upon their deaths. This year’s float featured pictures of organ donors, again most if not all of them deceased, fashioned in the shape of stars. Many of those in the bleachers had not only Donate Life shirts but also carried pictures of their loved ones.

It is very sobering to sit among so many who are unified by the death of a loved one. At the actual moment the float past, my eyes flooded with tears as it did last year. I was happy, sad and honored to ring in the New Year with those, who despite the pain of their loss, are rallying together to bring healing and promote awareness. There was an authentic, raw, honest fellowship in that grandstand that I imagine wouldn’t be dissimilar to that of a recovery group and I was very blessed to be part of just for a few minutes.

The Donate Life group reminds me that 2008 unfolded quite differently for everyone. Some married, some buried, some bore life, some tackled new adventures, some moved to Kuala Lumpur, some divorced, some fell in love, some bought houses, some lost fortunes, some traveled the ocean blue, some received accolades, some came home, some got clean and some, perhaps myself included, were caught in the middle of the spectrum of human emotions hopefully expecting.

It might be easier to cruise through life oblivious to the majestic power and often rapture of the human experience. Instead of tackling the depths, we’d rather talk about the weather or the game. But I wonder what my life would be like if I could bottle even a dose of the Donate Life group’s authenticity and take it every morning? Would I be as quick to dismiss the waitress who is giving me terrible service? Or the driver who just cut me off? The Donate Life people were easy to pick out, but how often does my life intersect with those who have born witness to great loss and I am insensitive to their experience?

Day 31

2008-12-31T14:07:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year. Unemployed in Pasadena will ring in the New Year by going to both the Rose Parade and Rose Bowl. Expect a new post on Friday; Day 33. Fight On!

Day 30 -- New Year's Resolutions

2008-12-30T15:14:00.000-08:00

In anticipation of the season of New Year’s Resolutions, where everyone including me resolves to lose weight, I’d like to share a resolution I have kept from 2008. Since January 1, 2008, I have not purchased any new clothes. Mind you in the wake of the AIDS pandemic, the crisis in Darfur and global warming, I realize this is not a universally heroic act. In fact, it might underscore how materialistic I am. And if you have ever seen my closet, which some friends affectionately claim, based on its enormity, has its own zip code; you’d recognize this is not as sacrificial or noble as it seems. Truth be told, for better or worse, I am a self-proclaimed clothes horse.

Nonetheless, I am proud I had the will power to not buy a single item of clothes for what come Thursday will amount to an entire year. My new goal will to make it until I am gainfully employed before I buy any new clothes.

I few things motivated me to do this.

Firstly, in reflecting on my past clothes horse behavior, I believed my desire to purchase new clothes so frequently was meeting some unmet emotional need. I think comfort eaters out there might relate. When I felt bad about myself for whatever reason, a quick trip to JCrew, Banana Republic or the likes was sure to boost my self esteem.

Second, over time I have become sickened to think about the amount of money I spent on my version of retail therapy when global poverty, and especially at my old job, domestic poverty is overwhelming. Driving into skid row day in and day out for the better part of four years provided me with a very clear picture of poverty which admittedly is different than international poverty, but still. Perhaps, shallow, materialistic former mall rats like me are part of the problem in this way. How many labels in my closet came from developing nations where the laborers earn annually dramatically less than what I make in a month?

Thirdly, in 2001 I went to Minneapolis for the NCAA Final Four (and I know I wasted all kinds of fuel traveling for three basketball games). I know this seems like it might have very little to do with materialism, but what is one of the biggest attractions in Minneapolis – THE MALL OF AMERICA (TMOA). I almost vomited when I was there. In fact, recalling my visit just made me throw up a little in the back of my mouth. What is so sickening about TMOA is that not only is it a bona fide tourist attraction, I am told it is in the top ten American destinations for international tourists. It is a cathedral to our consumer society that I am embarrassed to have ever stepped foot in. Before my visit to TMOA, I don’t think I realized how pervasive either my own materialism was or our society’s had become. Mind you, I used to be one of those nitwits I pity now who converge on black Friday shopping like devout Muslims traveling to Mecca. These are the same people TMOA was built for.

Fourthly, I read a feature in the LA Times years ago (circa 2003) about the business of used clothes in Africa. Unbeknownst to many clothes horses, often our cast offs by way of Goodwill, Salvation Army, etc, make their way to Africa where they are considered good as new. In particular, American T-shirts are coveted. Pause and think how many t-shirts you have in your closet you seldom wear right now? Worse yet, these 2^nd hand American clothes are referred to as “Dead Man’s Clothes” by Africans because as the clothes are in such good condition, the average purchaser of “Dead Man’s Clothes” assumes the previous owner must have died. Why else would anyone get rid of clothing that still had such life in it?

Day 29 -- Catharsis

2008-12-29T21:07:00.000-08:00

Motivated by a deep need for catharsis, I have decided to tackle the impossible and begin cleaning my room (and closet). I am not talking a surface cleaning we all did when we were kids to appease our mom’s rant about cleaning our rooms up. I am talking a very through, reorganizing of drawers, rearranging furniture and perhaps most cathartically – throwing away many, many things. One hour into the project, I have not only already needed a break (don’t judge me too much, I haven’t done anything close to work in nearly a month) I have filled up a very large, industrialized-sized trash bag (the sorts they sell at Costco). I believe this project will not only make me feel for a little bit like a productive member of society, there will be a therapeutic value in sorting through the odd parts of my life.

As the pictures indicate, this is a monster project that ought to last until next year

So far here are some interesting items I have found by category, in the saving pile:

· Five or six Indianapolis news papers from 1997 – I went the NCAA Final Four where my alma mater, the University of Arizona Wildcats made tournament history by becoming the first team to beat three number one cedes.

· A pocket watch of my paternal grandmother’s that my father gave me on my thirtieth birthday to which he said he was going to wait until I got married but feared that would never happen (did I mention he said this in front of an entire party? And yes, I have told my therapist about the crack). He also was insistent the pocket watch was a priceless heirloom. My mom later shared she was very certain my grandmother bought it at Mervyn’s.

· Programs from funerals

· Boxes of pictures (I might post some of them on Facebook if people aren’t careful)

· Undeveloped rolls of film

· A non-digital camera (soon to be an antique)

· My birth certificate

· The phone number, written on a coffee shop receipt, of the man who was my boss/got me my last job, given to me by a friend of a friend

· A news paper clipping of a former student of mine who had a joke published in the LA Times’ old kid page.

· The program from my Grad School Graduation

· A note a former student wrote to me

· A box of crayons

In the throwing out pile:

· Wedding invitations, birth announcements and birthday or Christmas cards (except for the last birthday card my grandmother sent me before she died)

· Concert and/or game ticket stubs

· Notes from a conference I went to

· Approximately two years of Sunset Magazines from the late 90’s

· Bank statements from 2001

· My health insurance policy from 2002

· Mardi Gras beads

· The number of a guy I met last new years

· Self-affirmations written on an index cards I used to carry around in my pocket when I was going through a rough patch a while back

Day 28, Brett Favre

2008-12-28T12:16:00.000-08:00

Today, as the NFL regular season draws to a close, as fans across the nation are watching teams vie for the remaining playoff spots, one story is flying under the radar. Yes, today, Sunday December 28, 2008 will very likely be Brett Favre’s last game. As the lights dim on a legendary career spanning eighteen seasons and 268 consecutive starts, it is perhaps fitting eyes are elsewhere. Brett Favre, who in many ways has been the little boy who cried wolf when it comes to his retirement over the years, now seems, as FOX sports described it, is finally saying – “it’s not you, it’s me,” regarding playing with the Jets in 2009 and once and for all hanging up his number 4 jersey citing a shoulder injury as bringing the curtain down. Of course, there is a chance the Jets could make the playoffs but after last week’s humiliating loss to the Seahawks with his old coach Mike Holmgren looking on, that chance is slim at best.

So today, as I have for a few seasons, I will sit vigil savoring the last dose of Brett Favre. Last season, with all of the drama – retirement, un-retirement and ultimately leaving the Pack – in the end, I was happy Brett decided to have one last go at it, almost like an encore at concert. Also, I am glad his final hurrah wasn’t last season’s upset by the Giants in the NFC championship where his final pass was intercepted. I have loved Brett Favre for many years and today clad in my mourning clothes along with Favre loyalists, I believe he really will call it quits. I completely expect, as John Madden said last season, the tears in his eyes at this evening’s press conference to mean this retirement announcement will stick. Here’s to Brett Favre.

day 27 -- monks and ringing cell phones

2008-12-27T19:44:00.000-08:00

This afternoon, I went to a funeral. The deceased was the grandmother of my sister-in-law, a woman who I am quite certain I never even once spoke to. In truth, she had only lived in the US for a handful of years and spoke absolutely no English. But as is often the case when it comes to attending funerals, they have more to do with the survivors than the deceased.

As tends to be my custom regarding all events/meetings/appointments, I arrived to the service approximately 15 minutes late – and as I was one of perhaps five other white people – I was happy by that point, the service was standing room only. I gladly took a spot near my mom and friend from childhood in a nook in the rear of the chapel where I could neither see the speakers due to my obstructed vantage point nor understand them as they mainly spoke in Burmese.

Nevertheless, I was very vigilant about not doing anything that could in anyway be considered culturally inappropriate, except for my tardiness, or generally poor form at a funeral as sometimes I feel my sister-in-law’s family considers my family a bit brutish. In truth, the main reason I was going was born out of a strange sense of obligation as they had all attended my grandmother’s funeral a few years back and thought it very possible me not going might alone add to their general regard of my clan as being a bunch of unrefined hicks (ha, ha).

So there I stood smugly in the nook, not dressed in black but instead in somber, modest earth tones because I was recognized black to be the western/American funeral tradition and didn’t want to assume it was universal. I ran through my mental check list of otherwise non-offensive behaviors – cell phone on silent, I followed along diligently in the program, I did not talk to my neighbors and I fought off all urges to either peruse the James Monroe memorabilia strangely displayed in the nook or to text message.

And as the funeral winded to a close, and the parade of monks were walking down the chapel’s main aisle, I was proud I hadn’t blown it. In fact, I was studying the colors of the monk’s robes – brilliant shades of bright orange and deep crimson when a cell phone rang. I was confident it wasn’t mine because the ring was different and I knew I had set it to silent. In fact, soaked in self-righteousness, I judged the yokel who had lacked the common sense and consideration to silence their cell phone at such a somber event when, the younger of the two monks, began wrestling with the sort of pocket in his robe to retrieve the ringing cell phone. All of in the nook couldn’t help but laugh, who would have ever guessed the monk as being the culprit and owner of the ringing cell phone. Maybe it was the Dalai Lama calling.

Day 26 -- Lost Dog

2008-12-27T12:25:00.000-08:00

Day 26...a little bit late.

There is something that has always seemed poetic about the day after Christmas. Maybe it is that Ben Folds Five song, “Brick” which starts out as “6AM day after Christmas…” A few years ago, my then land lord knocked on my door early on the day after Christmas to ask if I could take care of his family’s dog while they went to Visalia to visit the in-laws. I obliged and ending up taking their very friendly dog, Jack, on a long walk through our neighborhood where I could savor the feeling of the day after Christmas. I decided I would write a story beginning with the scene of the land lord requesting for his tenant to take care of his dog. I still haven’t done squat on that story.

But on the day after Christmas, I am thinking about another dog. Yesterday, for those of who live in Southern California, know was a very rainy day. I spent Christmas Eve night at my parents house. Very early in the morning on Christmas day, my father discovered a dog in our front yard. My dad was very curious about the dog who tried to make his way into our garage liked, as my dad put it, “he belonged there.” I saw the dog briefly in the morning – a black lab mix.

Later in the afternoon, I saw the dog again. This time the very good natured dog tried to get into my car (the dog has boundary issues) as I had left it open while I was loading the car. I put my foot down but in the meantime studied the dog recognizing she had a collar and a tag. Working alone, holding the phone, the squirming dog and dialing the number was unsuccessful but I was able to see the area code of her owners was 323; very odd as my parents live in the 626 area code.

I shared this with my family; could the dog have walked all the way from the 323 to the 626? Was Emma really that lost? My dad’s eyes lit up at this prospect because he thought perhaps it would mean he would get to keep the dog which was his desire all day. By this time, my brother helped me with the dog. We wrestled the dog into our side yard, gave her water and a plate of ham. Together we were able to call the dog’s owner who lives next door to my parents. Emma’s owners were not at all worried about their dog being out in the neighborhood in the rain as they were in Baldwin Park presumably at a Christmas party and had no intentions of coming home any time soon. My dad, whose hopes of having a new dog, were shattered, was unhappy with this arrangement. I think he would have called the canine equivalent of DCFS on the dog’s owners if he could have. In the end, he and my brother returned Emma into her own yard.

day 25 -- christmas picture

2008-12-25T22:55:00.001-08:00

So as it turned out, Santa made an appearance at the Christmas Eve party. The girls pictured here, roughly 7 and 6, cousins, were amid the children Santa pandered to during his short visit. After he left, I had a chance to debrief with the girls. The seven-year-old was quick to announce to both her younger cousin and I, that the Santa we had just met was not the real Santa but instead her Aunt's neighbor dressed up as Santa. Her window of believing in Santa is about to close.

Day 24 -- Santa Claus

2008-12-24T13:42:00.000-08:00

Tonight I am heading to a Christmas Eve Party at some dear friends’ house. There will be a brood of children and inevitably the topic of Santa Claus will come up. Some of the children are old enough to have figured out the whole story on Santa – but there will be others who are still in the dark about this trick parents have played on their children for years. I am ambivalent on kids believing in Santa, mind you I know passions run deep on both sides of the table, but am most aware of it when I am in proximity of children who are talking of putting out plates of cookies for Santa. Those cookies will be consumed by mom and dad within minutes of the children going to bed, right?

Worse yet, I have a friend whose mom still gives he and his ADULT siblings gifts allegedly from Santa. Come on, the jig is up, they know there is no real Santa, and the truth is the gifts are all from their mother. She might as well throw in a few presents from Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph the Red nose Reindeer while she is at it.

Maybe somewhere inside me there is the resentment for having been duped by this whole Santa thing as a child. I put out plates of cookies, wrote letters and on one Christmas in particular called a 976 number many times to talk to Santa. I think it was around that time I realized the whole thing was a sham – not because the message from Santa seemed canned to me but instead because my parents were very upset by all of the charges. Charges, why would Santa whose budget is seemingly limitless charge children to call him? Hmmm.

day 23 -- christmas cards

2008-12-23T22:32:00.000-08:00

Growing up one of my favorite parts of Christmas was Christmas cards. I know this might seem odd, but I loved all of the cards our family received. We had a tradition of posting the cards in our front entry way which I am quite certain my mom delegated entirely to me – most likely why I liked it so much. In the days leading up to Christmas, our mail seemed to be full of large colorful envelopes from friends all over the country. I didn’t care if I had not even the faintest idea who the sender was; it was merely another post to my creation.

This year, I have decided to recreate that tradition. The results were scarcely as exuberant as those of when I was a kid. In part, the numbers of Christmas cards I receive pales in comparison to what my family of origin received. To date, my total stands at eight but that curiously includes a card from former President Carter (and all this time I thought we had grown apart) and my landlord. Mind you this is only meant to shame my friends who don’t include me on their Christmas card list a little. My theory is married people receive more cards perhaps because, coincidingly, they are more likely to send Christmas cards. Of course, I am the ultimate hypocrite as I have never once sent out Christmas cards as an adult.

It is a very curious tradition this sending of the Christmas cards. I can’t decide if I think it is beautiful, tragic or yet another aspect of the holiday that bows to consumerism. There is something kind of reassuring, and beautiful, to know, even though the friends might live on the other side of the country, you are still on their list. At the same time, I wonder if long distance friendships eventually often deteriorate to the cursory exchange of Christmas cards. Tragically, those once intimate, become merely a name on a list. And what about the $ we all spend to bow to this tension? Do we feel obligated to send cards simply because we receive them or because we deeply want to extend season’s greetings to our respective networks?

Day 22 -- sweet potatoes from start to finish

2008-12-22T22:49:00.001-08:00

Day 21 Sweet Potato Casserole

2008-12-21T11:09:00.000-08:00

A few years ago, I watched a cooking show, I think it might have been Paula Deen, where I was inspired to tackle sweet potato casserole. The results have been glorious – no complainers at the holiday meal thus far. In fact, I have had many a request to showcase the dish on other occasions to which I have often obliged. I also have enjoyed experimenting with sweet potatoes – indeed they are the under recognized member of the potato family (another theory I have is that the red variety of any produce is superior – onions, potatoes, pears, etc). A subplot of my blog in 2009 might be expanding my repertoire of sweet potato dishes – if JT can bring sexy back, maybe I will bring sweet potatoes back.

Pictures will be posted at a later date.

Here is my holiday sweet potato recipe largely drawn from Southern Cooking; http://southernfood.about.com/od/sweetpotatocasseroles/r/bl1109b.htm

Ingredients:

**Serving Size; 15-20. Enough to nicely fill a 13 X 9 casserole dish; I estimate 1 pound of potatoes per 5 servings

3 pounds of sweet potatoes, mashed
1/4 cup butter
3 eggs (I’ve made it with or without eggs)
1/2 cup half and half
1 tablespoon of Maple syrup (or to taste)
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg

Topping:

1 medium sized bag of chopped pecans (go big on the pecans!)
Flaked coconut to taste
1 teaspoon of vanilla
2 cup packed brown sugar
3/4 cup flour
1/2 cup butter

Cut potatoes into uniform pieces, cover with cold water and bring to a boil. Once potatoes are tender to a fork prick, drain; when cool enough to handle, remove potatoes from their jackets. (peeling raw sweet potatoes is the devil’s errand). Using a ricer, which I consider to be the MVP of the recipe, mash potatoes incorporating butter, eggs (beaten), half and half, maple syrup, salt, cinnamon and nutmeg. Spread potato mixture into buttered casserole dish. Mix topping ingredients, using a pastry cutter if possible, spoon mix over potatoes. Cook at 375 for apx 30 minutes (until topping is melted and slightly browned).

Day 20: Christmastime and Giving

2008-12-20T10:18:00.001-08:00

Thursday I went to a Christmas party for the kids in the trailer park where my friends and I have been tutoring the past year – Holt 1.2.1. Over the course of the past year, we thrown many parties however as this was a Christmas themed party, it came with gift giving. A very well meaning corporate man organized a gift drive for the twenty or so kids in our program and wanted to be there when the gifts were given to not only see the expressions on their faces but also to snap a few pictures to presumably post on the bulletin board in the break room back at the office.

I shouldn’t stereotype this man when I think he might be the exception to those I’ve seen before who roll out the roster of good deeds for, in this case, to use a term I absolutely despise, underprivileged kids during the holiday season but the rest of the year forget about them. Was the real point of this man’s endeavor to build up these kids and their families or to put an X in his “good deed” box for 2008? And I know people have to start somewhere, but these types of projects smack of condescension and I fear might do more harm than good.

In this case, I couldn’t help but wonder as the children, who live in severe poverty, went to their humble homes with the gifts in tow what their parents thought of this whole thing. On one hand, the few parents I talked with did seem grateful for their children to receive nice things. On the other hand, did these gifts serve as a reminder of their lack of being able to provide for their kids? When the time comes for these working moms and dads do give their children the Christmas gifts they themselves struggled to buy, will these items be overshadowed by the ones we distributed so glibly Thursday?

Day 19—2008 Book Re-Cap

2008-12-19T21:01:00.000-08:00

Inspired by Ryan’s book list, I would like to devote this blog to the books I have read in 2008. Instead of providing a lengthy description of the book’s plot – I will just list the books I have read and my five star system.

Jesus Land, Julia Scheeres (***)

The Tender Bar, J.R. Moehringer (*** ½ )

A Prayer for Owen Meany, John Irving (*****){In the top five of my favorite books of all time}

Three Cups of Tea, Greg Mortenson (***)

Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert (**)

The Unaccustomed Earth, Jhumpa Lahiri (****½)

The Soloist, Steve Lopez (***½)

True Notebooks, Mark Salsman (***½)

The Brothers K, David James Duncan (*****) {In the top five of my favorite books of all time}

Middlesex, Jeffrey Eugenides (****½)

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou (***)

The Inheritance of Loss, Kiran Desai (***)

A New Kind of Christian, Brian McLaren (***)

The Hour I First Believed, Wally Lamb (*****) {In the top five of my favorite books of all time}

What is the What, Dave Eggers; in progress

Day 18 -- Robin Hood

2008-12-18T22:23:00.000-08:00

Today the LA Times ran a story on the dramatic increase in numbers of homeless people in area shelters. Agencies are scrambling to adapt their facilities in order to cope with the surge. In part this is because of the cold – numbers are always greater during the cold weather shelter season – but most years the seasonal shelters carry the increased burden. Already, thought this winter’s numbers have exceeded the entirety of last winter. Sobering. Most would cite the economy, the mortgage crisis and all of the other ills coming on the horizon as fueling the spike in homelessness. Meanwhile we are running around to Christmas party after Christmas party.

And it is worse globally. A friend of mine who runs a project for AIDS orphans in Nairobi, Kenya shared his organization was facing dramatic increases because of the soaring cost of food. This is another soap box; but as I understand it the cost of food is directly connected to the cost of fuel most especially when food crops are being converted for fuel (ethanol). We don’t feel the pinch the same as the starving child in the developing nation on the other side of the globe. We are instead killing one another to get a cheaper flat screen TV at Wal-Mart (BTW, spell check recognizes Wal-Mart) on black Friday.

To make matters worse, non-profits are feeling the pinch worse than any other business sector save for the auto industry. Charitable giving has fallen dramatically at precisely the moment when charity is most needed. I read a story around Thanksgiving where standing in line for the free Turkeys were in some cases those who had previously been giving them out. Again, a sober reminder we are all a paycheck away from homelessness. As someone who has worked their entire career in the non-profit world, I would like to continue and specifically work toward poverty relief. I hope I can but with all of the scale backs – what if I can’t?

Dave Egger’s What is the What tells the story of one of the Lost Boys journey from Sudan to the US. According to the book, the founder of the Lost Boys Foundation, Mary Williams (adopted daughter of Jane Fonda) never received a paycheck for her work. She was simply committed to the cause. Of course access to the Fonda Fortune didn’t hurt. Another humanitarian, Greg Mortenson, founder of the Central Asia Institute that builds schools in Afghanistan and Pakistan (Three Cups of Tea), similarly received no paycheck for his work. He was driven by his sincere belief in the cause. Mind you, he was a bit crazy and for long stretches of time lived in his car and showered at the hospital where he worked as a nurse. He scraped together money for the schools initially by type-written letters and living as meagerly as possible so as to use as much as possible from his nursing salary.

These people, and I am quite certain there are many others like them, didn’t let a lack of a paycheck stop them from pursuing their passions. I would like to think I have the gumption to also do that but fear my need to pay my rent might trump my altruism. If only I could be a modern-day Robin Hood.

I think we are at day 17...

2008-12-17T22:58:00.000-08:00

I have very little to report on day 17 of unemployment. It rained most of the day and the truth is I laid on the couch reading in my pajamas until about 2pm. I then showered and forced myself to leave my apartment – very stir crazy – close to 4pm. I braved the pouring rain and went to Lucky Baldwin’s in Sierra Madre. I brought the book I read most of the day – What is the What by Dave Eggers. I would really like Dave Egger’s life but don’t know where to send my résumé’.

I had really hoped to take picture of the blue lights on Green Street however, the rain, cold and my general malaise prevented me. Perhaps next week. My friend Brian the plumber was at Lucky’s. He wants me to get a plot in the Sierra Madre community garden so I can grow lettuce and tomatoes like he and his wife do. I am thinking about it. He also alluded to hooking me up with Marijuana but the truth is I have never smoked pot and was close to being offended at his misunderstanding. Also, one of the hair stylists at the salon in town bought me a drink and wants to burn his entire music collection provided I buy an external hard drive. Again, I am thinking about this option.

I came home made quiche, macaroni & cheese with bacon and rice krispie treats. I got some very discouraging news vis-a-via the status bar of facebook that makes me want to sleep for a week. I should have known this day was coming.

Day 16

2008-12-16T21:13:00.000-08:00

Brief Recap

It was certainly an interview today and it exceeded my expectations. I believe yesterday’s post was clouded by my cynicism and self doubt. All of my aforementioned concerns were unfounded. Or at the very least changes have been implemented I feel really good about. Not out of the woods, I am being passed to the higher levels for a second interview that most likely won’t happen until after the holidays. I don’t want to put all of my eggs in one basket and will continue to send out résumés’.

In the meantime I will keep blogging, taking pictures and enjoying my sabbatical.

Day 15 -- Something kind of like a job interview

2008-12-15T16:17:00.000-08:00

Admittedly, I am beginning to lose count, but I think I am on day 15. The good news is that not only did I work diligently on the résumé today, but tomorrow I have something close to an interview. Mind you it is not a bona fide interview even so an unfilled position will be discussed and a polished résumé has been sent (thanks ben squared). I would like to be intentionally vague; to protect not only the innocent but the shoe throwing that would likely ensue if I were not to get the job. And honestly, I think this unofficial meeting might something along the lines of just so you know, we are going in a different direction.

The abbreviated back story, the position is very nebulous but it would likely involve helping create a school-based mentoring program for at-risk children. While although there are pros and cons of working in more of a pioneering stage of an agency, I am more concerned expectations might eclipse what is realistic. Even the unclear nature of the process could be a good indicator of what it might be like to work in this setting. Furthermore, I have a few contacts that either have been or are currently employed by this agency and to put it diplomatically, it hasn’t received glowing marks.

Maybe I am trying to be both a bit of sour grapes and hedging my bets – not wanting to get to ahead of myself – but should I bow to that adage a bird in hand is worth more than two in the bush? Or ought I listen to my contacts regarding this prospect?

Day 14, I am not getting any older.

2008-12-14T18:36:00.000-08:00

Last night, at a dinner party with friends, I was startled to discover one of the other party goers was 50 years old. The sensitive subject came up as she, who I would like to call Amy, was giving me pointers on on-line dating. Amy said her ex-boyfriend, who was also at the party, had essentially written her profile. Amy admitted to shaving off a few years on her age in her profile – who hasn’t? I expected this shave to be something like thirty-five to thirty not fifty to forty five.

Amy has a grown daughter, an interesting and rewarding job and from the sounds of it a healthy dating life. She looked amazing – both her attitude, style and general sense of self is where I hope I find myself when I am fifty. In fact, if it wasn’t creepy, I would like to formally invite her to be my mentor. I think I could use a dose of her unique perspective on life.

At another recent dinner party, an old friend shared with me he and his wife were contemplating starting a family. When I probed him about the specific motivation for this very important decision he said, “Well, I am not getting any younger.” Of course he is right and I totally understand this perspective. However, now after meeting fifty-year-old Amy, I couldn’t help but wonder if his sentiment might be faulty logic.

Admittedly, as we age, we become painfully aware of how fleeting life is. However, I think it might be a bit toxic to live life with a ticking clock on our shoulders. In meeting someone as bravely unconventional as Amy, I also think we ought not to judge others who have the courage to throw caution to the wind when it comes to these types of societal benchmarks.

What does this pray tell have to do with me being thirty-three and unemployed? Well, in these past few weeks the thought has crossed my mind that quitting my job in the wake of the failing economy was at the very least irresponsible (foolhardy, impetuous, ill-conceived, etc). Would I be so hard on myself if I was twenty-three? Or as I contemplate creating a new career, should I be bound by my Date of Birth? Do we have fewer options as we age?

Day 13, fun day, facebook and 1986

2008-12-13T14:10:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I went to the Getty Center with three friends for what we had all week affectionately referring to as fun day. We brought books, blankets, lunches and cameras. We talked of many different things including the state of the auto industry, sweet potatoes, designer jeans, photography, road rage, diets, poop stories, cross dressers, and the meaning of life. We even managed to squeeze in time to look at an exhibit. It was a great day. Plans for next Friday’s fun day are in the works, I’ll keep you posted.

I don’t mean to sound like a Hallmark Card, but I am very glad to have such amazing people in my life. We all met loosely during grad school and have stayed friends ever since (I know six years isn’t really that long) in a capacity I like to think of as bearing witness to one another’s lives. It is refreshing and good for the soul to have people who know my story and I don’t have catch them up on the setting, characters and chapters – we are one another’s readers (and in some case even Reeders).

Meanwhile, some of my dear friends from elementary school have taken it upon themselves to post pictures from our childhood on facebook. Now, every time I log on, volumes of my life I have all but forgotten are staring me in the face. Volumes I have tucked away in the rafters of my parents’ garage in a box labeled 1986. Aside from being horrified at both my hair style and fashion sense from these dusty volumes, it is comforting to sort of re-read them with childhood friends. And while the circumstances of our friendships have changed, these “old” friends are just as important to my story as my “new” friends. (Insert needle point pillow sentiment here)

In the same way my résumé’ doesn’t truly represent who I am, I know my facebook page doesn’t either, but perhaps it speaks to how my story has both changed and stayed the same over the years. It is wild to have this list of sorts that is ever changing, compiling people from widely different chapters of my life. I absolutely love it when there is a friend request from someone I haven’t talked to in years. In fact, I sometimes tear up at these requests. Even though, we have missed chapters of one another’s lives, it is exhilarating to go back to those chapters we have in common paying tribute to the special roles we played in each others’ lives. Better yet, we might even reinsert one another into new chapters.

Day 12

2008-12-12T18:52:00.000-08:00

Appropriate/inappropriate items to include on resume:

I know, resumes are meant to be professional and ought to reflect the job you are vying for, but I would like to expand mine to include other talents.

Here is my running list –

Exceptional parallel parker
Memorized the Gettysburg Address in 7^th grade
Has 293 friends on Facebook (planning elaborate party when number reaches 300)
Went to the last Rams game at Anaheim Stadium
Has seen almost every episode of Desperate Housewives
Proficient in iTunes and general IPOD maintenance/upkeep
Used to drive a convertible
Has never been to Canada or Catalina Island
Triple A & Costco member
Knows most of the words to Don Mclean song “American Pie”
Snuck into the Coliseum for the 2006 Notre Dame Game
Makes very good chicken piccatta
Voted no on proposition 8
Above average crossword puzzler
Saw Sex and the City Movie on the night it came out
Holds membership to Huntington Gardens (I can get one person in free each time I go)
Owns a pair of overalls
Once rode in an elevator with Tom Selleck
Attended NCAA Final Four three times – 1997, 2001 & 2008
Drives a red car
Created mosaic table and wall collage
Has traveled to most major cities in Spain
Born on United Nations Day

Day 11 -- Self Doubt

2008-12-11T21:45:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I had very sincere intentions to polish my resume (I am too lazy to figure out to get the proper accent marks on that word), rework the cover letter and get myself out there. I had some pretty decent leads and the willing help of two friends. However, I fooled around most of the day, and at day eleven, still have very little to list in the category of finding a job except for dropping off an application to Pasadena Unified School District for a job I am most likely over qualified for. And as of 6pm on Thursday, instead of doing anything remotely close to looking for a job I cleaned my kitchen, went to a movie, made chicken curry and took some amazing pictures of the Colorado Aqueduct Bridge at sunset. What is my problem? Let me back up.

In 2001, I moved from Tucson, Arizona back to my native Southern California. The decision wasn’t exactly impetuous but certainly came on very suddenly with little to no plan. The day I drove home, a good friend/mentor took me to lunch. Upon leaving, literally putting me into my car, he told me, I am pretty sure with tears in his eyes, not to ever doubt myself. He was referring to the specific context that had prompted my leaving, however those words have haunted me ever since. I think the idea of doubting myself might not have ever crossed my mind had it not been for his words.

Now all I see is self-doubt, certainly preventing me from going forward with the job search. It is staring me in the face, quite literally everywhere and I am thinking about taking a vacation just to get a break from it. The prospect of reducing the last ten years of my life to two pages gives me a stomach ache. It is hard for me to believe the two page story of my life will reflect the complexities of who I am by. It is very sobering to sum up your life in this way.

Mind you I am not fishing for compliments, I know I have had my fair share of life adventures thus far, but sometimes I wonder what things would have been like if I had taken a right turn instead of left – what is that Dave Matthews’ song line to that effect? Maybe my dad was right, I should have gotten an MBA instead of a degree in theology.

I could watch “Under the Tuscan Sun” or listen to that Rascal Flats song “God Bless the Broken Road,” I need those sentiments and probably sometime soon I will. But for now, I will try to come terms with my current crossroads. As far as the stages of grief, I am done with the first stage of shock & denial, and have official entered into stage 2, pain & guilt. I need large doses of Ben Harper, Old Testament prophets and red wine.

Day 10 -- Drawing inspiration from Batman

2008-12-10T15:41:00.000-08:00

Last night I watched “Batman Begins” for the first time. I know the movie is amazing and came out quite some time ago, so yes along with being the last person on earth to get both an IPOD and a cell phone, I am in fact the last person on earth to watch this movie. Pretty sure there are tribal villages with no electricity or running waters whose members have already seen “Batman Begins.” At least I don’t have much of a wait for the sequel, right?

But much about the movie spoke to me in this season of unemployment (more to come on fighting injustice, becoming a ninja warrior/jet set billionaire, spelunking and constructing an alter ego); but for the time being, I’ll focus on this line:

“It's not who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me.”

Right, you remember this is the line Rachel Dawes says to Bruce Wayne that he in turn says back to her as Batman revealing his true identity in the midst of saving Gotham.

Also a very similar quote I recently came across from The Long Loneliness by Dorothy Day:

“I have long since come to believe that people never mean half of what they say, and that it is best to disregard their talk and judge only their actions.”

I certainly want to do something that matters. I don’t want to work in an office, be a paper pusher, take out the trash, wash dishes, sell anything, crunch numbers or, to say it succinctly live an ordinary life. I want to do something where at the end of the day, my bank account might not be full, but I will be proud and passionate about my vocation. I don’t want to be the guy from “About Schmidt” who at the end of his career finds the lump total of it amounting to a bunch of pathetic boxes that wind up in the dumpster. Are these types of jobs posted on Idealist.com? I am not so sure.

Day Nine -- NETWORKING

2008-12-09T22:11:00.000-08:00

Warning: this post is very raw but I am up against a deadline

I’ve heard it said that it is not about what you know but who you know (or is it how much you love – perhaps a different saying?). But upon the advice of my dear friend – let’s call him Ben because that is his actual name – I have gone forward with the essential step of the job hunt I had somehow forgotten about – NETWORKING. And my sincere apologies, if you are a periphery acquaintance who I have all of a sudden gotten back in touch with to that end, I need to leave no stone unturned. The best people to help are those who work in similar types of fields where you want to work. Tell everyone you can think (except in my case, my immediate family) the kind of work you would like to do and see if they have ideas, leads, are hiring or will just straight up give you money.

I know that the truth is people want to help and if they precisely have any role in hiring for a given business/agency, they would probably rather hire even a remotely familiar face than a total rando. However, what I can’t help but wonder (I know that sounds so Kerry Bradshaw-esque), if these “friends” knew of the opening, why they wouldn’t tell you regardless? Maybe they didn’t know you were unhappy with your present employment, but who isn’t looking to make a change?

The truth is, when the shoe is on the other foot, so to speak, I am happy to help. In fact, I think I am really good at streamlining these types of connections. Maybe I should become a recruiter because there is so much demand for that.

What type of work would I like to do, you ask? Well that is a part of the problem, a topic maybe I should wrestle with more specifically in this blog instead of USC and being bi-polar (which I am not by the way). Point well taken, and as the Chicago Tribune declared bankruptcy yesterday (the parent organization of the LA Times) any illusions I was entertaining about becoming a professional writer have been flushed down the toilet. Maybe that is at the heart of this fire under my belly – all of the media attention to the sorry state of our economy has gotten me worried. Maybe I should be so flippant about whiling my life away on a perpetual vacation when the truth of the matter is that I am UNEMPLOYED. I should feel more of a sense of urgency about this whole situation. I need a dose of “beggars can’t be choosers,” to snap me out of this ambivalent, mediocrity I have been wallowing in (not whiling away in). What if I have car problems? What if I have a medical emergency? What if the sky starts to fall? How long can I eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and sell plasma to make ends meet? Those are both very bad ideas. Maybe it was the terrible episode of Dr. Phil I watched, or was it Desperate Housewives?

Back to what kind of work I would like to do – I would like to get paid to sleep till 9am daily (noon would be greedy), muse about life for a few hours/write, read novels in the afternoon, sometimes squeeze in time to listen to Mars Hill podcasts but not daily (maybe every other day), cook/bake, hang with children, go to Lucky Baldwin’s (but there again, maybe not a daily activity as I would both become a lush and grow to be fat) and parallel parking. So, a nanny who moonlights as a valet parker/freelance writer is my perfect job? Those types of positions are completely in demand.

I think I would like Dave Eggers’ life. He is an established/successful/published/acclaimed writer and on the side has this very cool project to help children become better writers. I could get into that type of gig.

Day 8

2008-12-08T15:56:00.000-08:00

A while back I found myself at a ten-year-old’s birthday party – let’s call Missy. Missy, as you can imagine, had invited many other ten-year-old girls to her party, including one especially precocious girl we will call Amanda. Amanda had spent the night at Missy’s house. As it turned out, Amanda’s parents were in a bitter custody battle and while although attending the party had been approved by her mom, her dad, was not okay with her daughter being there. In fact he quickly and suddenly stormed into the party interrupting an otherwise quaint day.

Without exaggeration, Amanda’s dad caused a terrible scene making all party goers very uncomfortable. To make matters worse, as Amanda had spent the night, she had a number of personal items to round up prolonging her time at the party. He father, now even more infuriated by an increased delay to his time with his daughter (which I am sure went well), left to wait outside. Amanda, sensing the tension in the room, paused and said to all of us, “Sorry, my dad is bi-focal,” and promptly left to go gather her stuff in Missy’s room.

“Bi-focal?” we asked one another. What did she mean by that? Missy’s grandmother was the first to get it – “BI-POLAR” – she shouted out; he must be bi-polar.

day seven

2008-12-07T21:21:00.000-08:00

My dad is 69 years old. He is a very smart man. He started his own business about 25 years ago, one that still continues to be successful. He has an uncanny ability to predict money making stocks – so much so his stock broker calls him the Maestro, often buying the same stocks my dad does. And his knowledge of sports trivia is phenomenal – he can easily rattle off the winner of the NCAA tournament in 1978 without blinking an eye. He could also probably tell you two or three of the team’s stars and where they played in the pros.

But despite his intelligence, he is terrible at navigating anything even close to technology up to and including a cell phone. Yes, my dad is the rare person who, in 2008, still does not have a cell phone. Correction, he has a cell phone, he just never uses it or brings it with him anywhere. I am quite certain he doesn’t even know the number.

Yesterday, we had planned for him to pick me up at my house and then head over to the USC UCLA game at the Rose Bowl. When my notoriously early was ten minutes late, I knew something was up. I called my mom who confirmed my suspicion he did not take the cell phone. Worse yet, he didn’t get a map from my mom to my house which he sometimes does when he goes to unfamiliar places. (As a side note on how crazy my dad is, on a few occasions he has been known to do a dry run to prevent either being lost or late.) My mom also confirmed he left his house an hour earlier. I live maybe 20 miles from my dad.

I went outside to keep an eye out because many people have difficulty with either our outside gate or placing my house on our street. Ten minutes later, my mom called to say my dad just called – he was driving around lost and that maybe I could wait outside in order to flag him down. Did he say where he called from? No, we both assumed a pay phone. I walked toward where I knew there to be a pay phones with my mom still on the line. She had given him my address, but unfortunately, she got the numbers mixed up. But then I saw him and I waved to him. He continued up my street having not seen me. I tried to run, but he was going pretty fast. What to do now?

I waited at the intersection, called my mom back to sort of debrief the whole thing. We both agreed he should have brought his cell phone. He finally drove back and I successfully flagged him down. He admitted he was very frustrated and had a bit of rough go at the whole trip to my house. I guess before he even left our town, the freeway onramp was closed getting the whole journey off to a sour note. He had me drive the rest of the day.

Day Six -- Reconsidering Norm Chow

2008-12-06T10:28:00.000-08:00

Today at 1:30 in my back yard, Pasadena’s Rose Bowl, my beloved USC Trojans will play their cross town rivals, the UCLA Bruins. Unfolding on the field, and more precisely in the press box, is a story steeped in drama, secrets, broken promises and back stabbing to rival Desperate Housewives or perhaps even a Danielle Steele novel. In the interest of making my tail gate party, I will focus on only Norm Chow and Pete Carroll despite the fascinating elements afforded by Steve Sarkisian and DeWayne Walker.

I will begin with USC’s head coach, Pete Carroll who during his tenure has led the Trojans to two national championships and six major bowl games in eight seasons among many other accolades. Second, Norm Chow, who from 2001 until his untimely departure in 2004, was USC’s offensive coordinator. Chow left at first for the NFL’s Tennessee Titans but began this season, breaking the hearts of many loyal Trojan fans myself included, as UCLA’s offensive coordinator. Today, for the first time I know of since his leaving, Norm Chow and Pete Carroll will be at the same place at the same time – the Rose Bowl, 1:30, for the UCLA/USC game.

Since Norm Chow has left, the Trojans have lost five games – Oregon State in 2006 and again this season, Stanford 2007, the humiliating 13-9 loss to UCLA in 2006 and perhaps most painfully, the Texas Longhorns in the 2005 national championship game. In particular, most say had Norm Chow still be the Offensive Coordinator; the Trojans certainly would have beaten the Longhorns thereby earning a third National Championship. For most programs, five losses in four seasons is something to be proud of but for the second most successful college football team in history, anything short of National Championships is failed season. My words, not Pete Carroll’s mind you.

Perhaps because of this strange chapter of life I find myself in, I have this week really reconsidered Norm Chow. Many have speculated that Chow was not only motivated by the sizable pay jump in the NFL, but was driven to leave by Carroll’s unconventional schemes to “relieve” Chow of some of his play calling duties. Was Carroll feeling like his offensive coordinator’s fame was beginning to eclipse his own? Instead of dismissing him as a Benedict Arnold type; it seems just as likely he was double-crossed by an insecure Pete Carroll who couldn’t handle his second’s growing success.

Of course, neither Chow nor Carroll has commented on these theories – speaking highly and briefly of one another but never speaking. And it is the not knowing that opens the door wide to all types of conjectures. However, despite this year’s stint for the Bruins, now that USC has an opening (Huskies, Sarkisian is all yours), just maybe, Pete Carroll you could swallow your pride and ask Norm Chow to come home.

Day Five -- OJ Simpson

2008-12-05T13:36:00.000-08:00

Part I: OJ Simpson

Today, just as I had in October of 1995, I sat and watched OJ Simpson receive justice. This time, the courtroom was not as favorable as Lance Ito’s and by the day’s end he was sentenced to 15+ years in prison. The events that finally caught up to Simpson illustrate the judge’s accurate description of him as being both arrogant and ignorant.

In September 2007, OJ, armed and accompanied by some other men, charged into a Palace Station hotel room to “get back” some questionable Simpson memorabilia. In Simpson’s rambling statement during his sentencing – he became the Juice again leading the judge, the onlookers and presumably millions of viewers down the trail where, he, OJ Simpson, was the victim who was notably trying to reclaim his children’s belongings/inheritance, all the while dodging the media, those who had stolen from him and other sorts of perpetrators in much the same way he had been able to evade defensive players on so many football fields not the least of which was the LA Coliseum clad in the holy cardinal and gold. After all, he did win the Heisman and his illustrious jersey hangs in the Periscope end of the stadium? And because he, in way meant to evoke his righteous character, had forgiven those he had robbed at gun-point, the judge ought to be merciful to him.

The Judge did not see it that way. She recounted Simpson taped description of the robbery as a means of keeping the property out of the “Gold-diggers,” meaning the Goldman family, hands who have tried in vain for years to force Simpson to pay the money owed to them under the terms of the civil case. She swiftly dispensed a fairly stiff sentence to OJ citing it had nothing to do with his 1995 acquittal. I am not so sure.

One thing I am sure of is that America in 2008 is a much different place than American was thirteen years ago. In 1995, pre-911, pre-Oklahoma City, pre-Columbine – we either looked the other way when a hall of famer literally got away with murder or we, like the jurors, might have naively believed that OJ actually didn’t commit the crimes. What did the late Johnny Cochran say – if it doesn’t fit you must acquit? Absolutely awful. But in 2008, we have like it or not, become less innocent and as it relates to OJ Simpson, less deceived by the darting and dodging of a Heisman trophy winner. Remember Simpson’s smiling dash through the airport evoking his legendary career for a car rental ad? Remember his part in The Naked Gun? Oh poor Nicole, you didn’t stand a chance against a smug, over-the-hill athlete who believed his popularity, fame and wealth gave him the right to commit murder. He was right in 1995 but in 2008, we have sobered up and even a Heisman trophy winner is not immune to the arc of justice. I can’t help but wonder what will become of his sincere quest to find the real killers.

Part II: Thursday’s Activities

· Made oatmeal and coffee

· Read newspaper focusing mainly on a article about USC vs UCLA game, didn’t even try crossword

· Went to Lake Ave Produce to buy a bag of pecans

· Dropped off check at therapist’s old office

· Walked around the rose bowl while listening to a Mars Hill podcast. Also notable, I saw three or four rose parade floats

· Made bacon and cheese omelet for brunch

· Found New Testament Theology book and read short section on the book of Jude

· Made sweet potato casserole, green beans & stuffing for dinner party

· Cleaned fishy’s bowl which seemed to upset him

· Cleaned most of the house – notable exception, my bedroom & kitchen

· Did three loads of laundry – jeans, whites and colors

· Hosted dinner party/small group with dear friends

· Watched The Daily Show

Day Four -- Paychecks, Communes & Bathrooms

2008-12-04T17:35:00.000-08:00

Part One: Paychecks, Communes & Bathrooms

I wish I could remember this beautiful Frederick Buechner quote (perhaps a project for me to tackle tomorrow) that goes like one’s vocation ought to be the intersection of human need and I forget what. Maybe if I could remember the quote more clearly I’d have a better handle on a new career path. I’ve also heard one ought to do a job they would do even if they weren’t getting paid. While although this seems like a good aspiration, I am doubtful it would work for everyone. Is there really one out there who would empty septic tanks if they weren’t getting paid?

As I think about those things I would do regardless of receiving of a paycheck, it seems very likely I will end up on the same sorts of career paths I have more or less traveled landing me smack in the middle of the non-profit/charitable orb. And I can’t help but wonder if these types of agencies would be better suited by volunteers versus employees who tend to raise overhead? Is it okay I am pursuing my passions as a volunteer while meanwhile earning a paycheck doing something completely different? Would I come to resent the paycheck job all the while regretting I wasn’t able to do my volunteer work as a career?

What if I didn’t need a paycheck? What if I joined a commune? I’ve visited a sort of modern-day commune (Church of the Sojourners) and while the members’ collective commitment to one another and to living an almost ascetic life is beautiful, I am not sure I am cut out for it. In the end I need my own bathroom which seems like a bit of a rarity in commune life.

ParPart Two: Wednesday’s Activities

·Took a walk in my neighborhood while listening to NPR’s This American Life

Perused the newspaper and took a stab at the crossword

Made a ham & cheese omelet

Walked to Old Town Pasadena with Sharon, hung out at One Pasadena

Went to Barnes & Noble’s to look up character’s name in I Know this Much is True

Met up with Stacy in Old Town, went to Vietnamese food but I didn’t eat because I already had the aforementioned omelet

Returned to One Pasadena, read a few chapters of The Hour I First Believed

Went to Stacy’s house where she made me frozen lemon chicken rolls from Trader Joe’s

Came home, made a cup of tea and worked on blog

Went to grocery store to buy items for Thursday’s dinner party

Made pumpkin pie using Christy’s recipe

Had phone date with Danielle

Watched The Daily Show where guest Arianna Huffington ironically suggested unemployed people should start a blog

Figured out how to use Google reader

Read more of The Hour I First Believed

Day Three

2008-12-03T21:58:00.000-08:00

I spent Tuesday afternoon volunteering at a tutoring center in a trailer park in Pomona. I began this project last January and despite many twists and turns along the way, I still enjoy showing up. The Latino children and teens live in a very run-down trailer park where many of the units are in fact campers. For the most part, they have very scarce official adult supervision existing in an almost Lord of the Flies setting.

Our work started as little more than crowd control where the kids’ pact-like mentality was very hard to manage. We tried to implement boundaries, standards and limits but we didn’t have the relational capital for those things to take. By the end of the school year, even though some were beginning to trust our team, our work was barely scratching the surface of the kids’ profound academic needs. Over the summer, we took more of a mentoring approach; offering the kids many field trips and outings. At the start of this school year, we raised the expectations only allowing those kids who were serious about completing their homework to participate giving them the chance to earn points they can “spend” on field trips and other prizes. In the short-run of my unemployment, I will be able to spend more time on this project but in the long-run I am scared I will have to completely bail on them.

But the project is not without problems. Yesterday, it was one of our leaders birthday and so another leader brought in a cake. The kids loved it – however a few of them ended up getting into a cake fight causing a huge mess. We insisted the boys clean up the mess as the property manager had just requested I not allow eating in the tutoring room. And during clean up, I caught a few of the boys tagging on the walls – also something the property manager asked me to prevent. Before that, I had to ask a fourth grader to leave because she was being super disrespectful. This was after I had worked my a** off helping her with her homework. Instead of thanking me, she said I was mean and that it didn’t matter she had spelt there t-h-e-i-r.

Another kid, though, a wiry fifteen-year old boy who I worry often will either drop out of school, join a gang or get deported (or worse some combination of all three) spent the whole evening in the tutoring center. Over the summer he came all of the time but ever since school started he seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth. And he did more than stop by, he was generally pleasant to be around and even went as far as helping some of the younger students with their homework – one night closer to not being a statistic.

Another kid, who has literally been ping ponged between her mother and step dad all summer, gave me a huge hug when I walked in the door saying she missed me. She worked diligently on her homework despite the fact that her two half sisters taunted her in a way that made me genuinely glad I don’t have a sister. And another older teen, stopped by to talk about her SAT scores and getting into college. She is hoping to get into Cal State Fullerton and I told her I was happy to help her however I could.

Next week, I will be at the center two if not three days.

day two -- scattered stones

2008-12-02T12:49:00.001-08:00

December 2, 2008

I have a friend, for anonymity’s sake, let’s call her Maryann. Maryann is an accomplished CPA in her late thirties. Her undergrad major was accounting – and I would imagine her GPA was competitive. During college, she did an internship at a small competitive firm doing accounting work. Every subsequent job post college has taken her higher up the chain of accounting. She worked diligently to pass the CPA exam and accrue the necessary hours as quick as possible. If professional experiences were stones – Maryann would have a very large pile of them all embossed clearly with word accounting on them.

I on the other hand, have a varied collection of stones with many different words written on them. Some have the word theology faintly written while others have the words professional ministry bolded in all caps. There are some written in Spanish and others still in Chinese characters, Sanskrit and Swahili. Some have been finger-painted by kindergarteners while some have been tagged by at-risk teens. There is a small pile of contemporary history I keep near the back. There are a few that are total randos – including grant-writing, mentoring college students, family systems, working as a barista, ESL teacher, non-profit work, homelessness, Latin American studies, writer, mosaic maker and minor artist.

My scattered stones for the most part feel like a hill of beans compared to Maryann’s deep and rich bucket. What is a scattered stone type like me to do when at a professional crossroads? And let’s face it, this is not the first of such life-crisisses I have faced – by my count it is officially number three. Some might say two, while others could make a fair case for life crisis number four. While there is something quasi romantic about the prospect of once again reinventing myself I can’t help but feel jealous of Maryann’s clear path afforded by her uniform pile. I am tired of zigzagging. Why, when the proverbial cards were dealt was I stuck with tortured soul, underachiever and wanderer? Just for a few rounds I would like over-achiever, driven and motivated.

day one

2008-12-01T17:57:00.000-08:00

December 1, 2008

Today is the official beginning of my unemployment or what I am affectionately referring to as my sabbatical (or in a more cynical vane, my retirement). Perhaps I ought to have spent the day polishing my résumé, sending out cover letters and in general job hunting. Maybe when I run out of money, I will regret not getting a jump on those things but I have decided – in a way honoring of what a sabbatical is meant to be – to hold off on seeking employment for at least one week. My hope is two-fold; in those seven days my writing career will have taken off and money will no longer be a problem and more likely, that after seven days of whiling away my afternoons divided mainly between the Huntington Gardens and other picturesque spots, Lucky Baldwin’s notwithstanding, I will be bored. Or with more hope, in seven days I remember all the things I like in life and moreover all of the things I like about myself and those other issues I tend to wrestle with will just shake themselves out. I might squeeze in some soul searching especially if the weather is nice and just maybe trot into Borders and peruse What Color is Your Parachute – blue, right? Or maybe that’s just it – all of this time I have envisioned my parachute as being blue when really it is (or was?) some unimaginable color like chartreuse or ecru or worse yet chartreuse and ecru striped. If only life, vocation and other meaningful endeavors were that formulaic.

How did I actually spend my day? I did visit my therapist who is about to begin his own practice which I somehow feel proud of him for. I did walk around the Rose Bowl while listening to a Mars Hill podcast. I did pay my rent which thankfully I won’t have to do for the rest of the year. I did screw around on the internet for approximately thirty minutes during which time I made a phone date with a dear friend for later on this week. I did eat left-over mashed potatoes from thanksgiving that I mixed with half-and-half and cheese to become bootleg potato cheese soup. I did go to the Huntington Gardens where I spent the better part of three hours reading Wally Lamb’s latest book, listening to Ben Harper and because I fancy myself an amateur photographer, snapping pictures like mad.

Finally, I did begin this blog which I will maintain throughout this season of my life. I have tried to start a blog on at least three other occasions but am resolute that this time I will stick with it. I suppose my reasons for losing steam over previous attempts at blogging center around my unwillingness to believe others out there will actually give a rip about the ramblings of someone like me. However, if I ever really want to give writing a shot, I need to heed the advice of Anne Lamont and Steven King (that’s a pair I’d love to split a bottle of wine with) that I must write every day. This blog will provide me with my own sort of built in accountability for that goal. I intend to do other types of writing but at the very least I should be able to complete a measly blog entry. Plus, now that I have a bit more of a theme, perhaps the blogging will be more cohesive/interesting.