Day 31

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 21 Sweet Potato Casserole

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

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

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

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...

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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.