I was Word-Girl at my old job. This meant that, among the techy-geeks and businessy-folks with whom I worked at Northwestern Mutual (NM), I was at least sometimes acknowledged as the resident, self-appointed language expert. Or, to put it more realistically, I was known to my friends and co-workers as a person who cared deeply about things like spelling, grammar, literature and just generally finding the right word for any particular situation. The kind of person who would stop the conversation to say "oooh that's a good word" as they came up, and who relished the chance to spell a word for someone or - better yet - edit an email or entire document.
My husband still routinely asks me for help with spelling words, and I was tacit Word-Girl again for a milli-second at my last job as an Executive Recruiter, where I was asked how to spell - no joke - words like "informational" and "situation." Not a lot of PhDs at the Executive Recruiting gig, god love 'em, those salesy people.
Not the longer, more complicated words that I learned to love, while studying for the GRE, during and after college, the words that roll off the tongue with so much pleasure and more precise meaning than the shorter, more general versions. Words like "recalcitrant," "languorous," "mitigate," "anomaly" or even "in toto" (for you Latin-lovers and mentioned in homage of my equally literate ex-boss Rich).
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/recalcitrant
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/languorous
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/mitigate
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/anomaly
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/in+toto
Words I used (use) not to puff myself up or put anyone else down, not to intimidate or act like I'm-so-much-smarter, but just because I enjoy them. Does anyone else out there who loves words like me understand?!? I admit to still having trouble with the word "occasional" (I always want to spell it with TWO Ss) and one other word with double consonants that I can't remember off-hand, and I'm sure there's more than one mis-spelling in my blog posts ("mea culpa" for the Latin-lovers among my readers).
And then there's those words that can be spelled two different ways, and both are correct, such as the word mis-spelling itself - is it misspelling or mis-spelling - to hyphen or to not?! Dictionary.com isn't conclusive. (And don't even get me started on the English versions of words, like "realised," "favourite, " and "colour" etc.).
But I love it all, and I know that this is what I should be doing with my life, because they say when you're doing something and you lose track of time, it is your calling, no longer just a job. Now if only someone would pay me to spell words for them or critique their emails, I'd be set....
I aspire to become Word-Girl again, at the job I will hopefully get, as a QA Analyst at Jackson Hewitt. A place that, as I wrote to an old co-worker, and after my traumatic experience at Fucking ClickBooth (the only way I can think of it, from now on, almost like its own acronym! FCB) - "reminded me so much of NM I could have wept."
Just because (as I went on to write her) "I felt like I could fit in there, the atmosphere was so familiar" and since I am resigned to the fact that I have to work in Florida for a while, I am seeking a place to call work-home again, and I so hope that place could be it.
My final thoughts on the subject, in the email to my dear old co-worker/friend: "I guess I miss the familiar, at least when it comes to having to go to work again. I love the Florida Flip-Flop lifestyle but in terms of working, it sucks and I miss NM. It sounds crazy, when I always wanted to leave that place, but does that make any kind of sense?! I don't really expect u to understand, I'm just venting, or something. I never knew how good I had it, is what it comes down to."
And ah, there's the lesson again. There are words and there are Words, but there is no word quite like Regret. Or Hindsight. And no one (usually) needs any help to spell them.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
February: Facing The Ever-More Uncertain Future
On the Sunday afternoon after my first full week back at home not-working, what do I have to say for myself? First of all, that I'm extremely grateful to get out of that crazy place called Clickbooth, especially after the awful way it ended. Yes, they actually fired me just 24 hours after I naively, mistakenly let it be known to my ridiculous manager that I was struggling and unhappy and thinking of leaving.
This "manager" went from trying to convince me to stay on a Wednesday, saying it would get "less chaotic" soon and "this business is about to take off, it could end up being very lucrative if you stick it out," to pulling me into a conference room with the HR manager on Thursday, and asking me to sign a letter that stated I was being terminated for poor performance. What the hell?! Needless to say, I refused to sign their letter, and I had a few choice words for them before my desk was packed up for me and I was ushered out. (Still quite professional, mind you, just questioning how this was happening with no warning.)
I'm still trying to make sense of what exactly happened there, why it all went so bad so quickly. Was it really just a case of a totally disorganized young company, with shitty software, no requirements process to speak of, and completely incompetent leadership? (i.e. there was absolutely no definition of discreet projects, just one big blob of "work" that needed to get done asap, because the consensus there was to not "believe" in Project Management - wha-huh?!) Or was there something more I could have done to adjust to the chaos, deal with how vague & confusing everything remained even after three weeks, and get more requirements produced so they wouldn't scape-goat me? Is it possible I'm not a good BA, despite all past success?! (I hate that I allowed the situation to have produced that kind of self-doubt in me, btw.) Whatever, I'm just so relieved to not have to go back to a place that was literally driving me insane.
To be honest, I actually was doing more than "thinking" of leaving because I did have a job possibility in the pipeline when this all went down. And after three interviews, I decided to take it - Executive Recruiter, starting Monday March 8th, my first commissions job ever! But I'm still applying to Business Analyst jobs, just in case, knowing now how quickly things can go south. I'm doing this despite being a little gun-shy about BA-work and really rather wanting to try something new. David is trying to convince me to not give up on IT and to know that not every place is going to be the nightmare Clickbooth was. Besides, if I let them sway me from going after another well-paying IT job with benefits, then truly "the terrorists have won." :)
So now the future is more uncertain than ever, it seems. Because David's contract job is looking more and more tenuous (and becoming less tolerable by the day), so he's casting about for something else too. It's a beautiful sunny afternoon and we are both holed up in our apartment applying to IT jobs in Jacksonville (Atlantic side) and Tampa, which would probably require relocation, which wouldn't be a huge deal since we are so much more mobile now but still would be a change, a certain amount of life-disruption.
We've even discussed returning to Milwaukee but I don't know that there would be jobs for us there, the only real reason to go back, cuz it's certainly not the weather! I heard it was snowing again just the other day....who knows maybe we'll just say screw it and go to Panama, even with the little money we have. If only that damn house would sell - my mantra for 2009-2010, and I'm as tired of hearing myself say it as you probably are, dear readers.
I'm trying to take the lessons from the whole experience, to make it more than just useless suffering, and yet still move on from it, not dwell too much. I do feel like I got my life back somehow. And so the first thing I did post-firing, after crying in the car, calling David, and making my final commute from Sarasota back to Nokomis, was laundry. At 2pm on a Thursday afternoon - go figure!
This "manager" went from trying to convince me to stay on a Wednesday, saying it would get "less chaotic" soon and "this business is about to take off, it could end up being very lucrative if you stick it out," to pulling me into a conference room with the HR manager on Thursday, and asking me to sign a letter that stated I was being terminated for poor performance. What the hell?! Needless to say, I refused to sign their letter, and I had a few choice words for them before my desk was packed up for me and I was ushered out. (Still quite professional, mind you, just questioning how this was happening with no warning.)
I'm still trying to make sense of what exactly happened there, why it all went so bad so quickly. Was it really just a case of a totally disorganized young company, with shitty software, no requirements process to speak of, and completely incompetent leadership? (i.e. there was absolutely no definition of discreet projects, just one big blob of "work" that needed to get done asap, because the consensus there was to not "believe" in Project Management - wha-huh?!) Or was there something more I could have done to adjust to the chaos, deal with how vague & confusing everything remained even after three weeks, and get more requirements produced so they wouldn't scape-goat me? Is it possible I'm not a good BA, despite all past success?! (I hate that I allowed the situation to have produced that kind of self-doubt in me, btw.) Whatever, I'm just so relieved to not have to go back to a place that was literally driving me insane.
To be honest, I actually was doing more than "thinking" of leaving because I did have a job possibility in the pipeline when this all went down. And after three interviews, I decided to take it - Executive Recruiter, starting Monday March 8th, my first commissions job ever! But I'm still applying to Business Analyst jobs, just in case, knowing now how quickly things can go south. I'm doing this despite being a little gun-shy about BA-work and really rather wanting to try something new. David is trying to convince me to not give up on IT and to know that not every place is going to be the nightmare Clickbooth was. Besides, if I let them sway me from going after another well-paying IT job with benefits, then truly "the terrorists have won." :)
So now the future is more uncertain than ever, it seems. Because David's contract job is looking more and more tenuous (and becoming less tolerable by the day), so he's casting about for something else too. It's a beautiful sunny afternoon and we are both holed up in our apartment applying to IT jobs in Jacksonville (Atlantic side) and Tampa, which would probably require relocation, which wouldn't be a huge deal since we are so much more mobile now but still would be a change, a certain amount of life-disruption.
We've even discussed returning to Milwaukee but I don't know that there would be jobs for us there, the only real reason to go back, cuz it's certainly not the weather! I heard it was snowing again just the other day....who knows maybe we'll just say screw it and go to Panama, even with the little money we have. If only that damn house would sell - my mantra for 2009-2010, and I'm as tired of hearing myself say it as you probably are, dear readers.
I'm trying to take the lessons from the whole experience, to make it more than just useless suffering, and yet still move on from it, not dwell too much. I do feel like I got my life back somehow. And so the first thing I did post-firing, after crying in the car, calling David, and making my final commute from Sarasota back to Nokomis, was laundry. At 2pm on a Thursday afternoon - go figure!
Sunday, January 31, 2010
January Adjustments
"I was looking for a job and then I found a job
And heaven knows I'm miserable now"
~ The Smiths "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now"
On the Sunday afternoon after my first full week back at work, what do I have to say for myself? First of all, that I'm extremely grateful I got a job, despite the lyrics I sort of tongue-in-cheek quoted above. Not just any job but a REAL job as a BA (Business Analyst) in the IT department of a mid-size company in Sarasota. It's what I did for most of the time at my old job and it pays less than what I was making "up north" but hey, at least it comes with benefits that will kick in just when we need them.
And with all the people currently out of work (one of them a dearly beloved family member), I'm well aware of how lucky I am. Not that I can't take some credit for the hard work that led to the resume which helped me land the job. (In fact, my new manager made a comment about how it was my years of experience as a BA that most impressed him and I immediately felt a ton of pressure, like I had to be a superstar right away - but that's just how my f-ed up mind works sometimes, unfortunately.)
Between that and the fact that I typically interview fairly well, I do feel like I earned this job. But there's a ton of qualified unemployed people out there with the same things, so I know it has at least something to do with being in the right place at the right time for the opportunity.
Actually, funny thing about getting this job: it was David who found it for me, on a techy job board called 37signals (ever heard of it? I hadn't either). And I was the one who found David his gig on Craig's List back in October. I love the strange symmetry of this part of our experience down here in Florida.
Secondly, all I can say is wow, what an adjustment. I went from feeling like I almost had too much time on my hands to feeling like I have no time at all. But what I do have now is a semi-monthly paycheck. What a relief! I'm just hoping it will be worth it. Only time will tell. Now I have to stop blogging and go do laundry since I can no longer do it at any old time like, say, 1pm on a Tuesday. :)
And heaven knows I'm miserable now"
~ The Smiths "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now"
On the Sunday afternoon after my first full week back at work, what do I have to say for myself? First of all, that I'm extremely grateful I got a job, despite the lyrics I sort of tongue-in-cheek quoted above. Not just any job but a REAL job as a BA (Business Analyst) in the IT department of a mid-size company in Sarasota. It's what I did for most of the time at my old job and it pays less than what I was making "up north" but hey, at least it comes with benefits that will kick in just when we need them.
And with all the people currently out of work (one of them a dearly beloved family member), I'm well aware of how lucky I am. Not that I can't take some credit for the hard work that led to the resume which helped me land the job. (In fact, my new manager made a comment about how it was my years of experience as a BA that most impressed him and I immediately felt a ton of pressure, like I had to be a superstar right away - but that's just how my f-ed up mind works sometimes, unfortunately.)
Between that and the fact that I typically interview fairly well, I do feel like I earned this job. But there's a ton of qualified unemployed people out there with the same things, so I know it has at least something to do with being in the right place at the right time for the opportunity.
Actually, funny thing about getting this job: it was David who found it for me, on a techy job board called 37signals (ever heard of it? I hadn't either). And I was the one who found David his gig on Craig's List back in October. I love the strange symmetry of this part of our experience down here in Florida.
Secondly, all I can say is wow, what an adjustment. I went from feeling like I almost had too much time on my hands to feeling like I have no time at all. But what I do have now is a semi-monthly paycheck. What a relief! I'm just hoping it will be worth it. Only time will tell. Now I have to stop blogging and go do laundry since I can no longer do it at any old time like, say, 1pm on a Tuesday. :)
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Summing Up 2009: Our Choices, Our Worries, Our Faith
Anyone who knows me very well at all knows that I've never been a religious person. Raised Catholic by a father who wielded church attendance like a weapon, I pretty much got out of the institutionalized religion business as soon as I could (college). But lately I've been coming around to this idea about God and trying to believe in something greater than us puny humans on this earth. If only to provide myself some solace as I sometimes wonder slightly if we made a mistake in changing our lives and coming here to Florida. We aren't making it financially and it's scaring the crap out of me.
This Fall we've realized our house is not sustaining itself, not like it was supposed to, due to all the money we put into it over the summer while still trying to sell and some unforeseen repairs since we moved out. So it's become clear that we have to somehow find a way to get rid of it. As early as feasible in the new year we'll put it back on the market and we really hafta hafta hafta sell it this time. If we don't, we face some grim choices. And since we need to get this all settled one way or another before we can go to Panama, it turns out that that damn house is the biggest obstacle to moving forward with our plans.
David keeps lamenting the 100k we lost in equity in just a few short years, but I know we are far from alone in that category. The only difference between us and these other unfortunates is that many of them are willing and able to hang onto their houses until the market will rebound (supposedly). For David and me, that's not an option, we just want to be free from what's become a huge burden. It's too bad because at one point we both loved that house, and it was pretty good to us over the years (minimal upkeep needed and the rents helped us pay for our wedding).
So that's basically the story of Why We Aren't In Panama Yet. And also explains why David got some (low-paid) IT contract work a while ago. I've been sporadically trying to get work also, here there and everywhere (for instance, today I'm applying to a little cafe in the sweet village of Venice Island to the south of us), but applying for "real" jobs in IT also. To that end, I recently had a phone interview for software tester job up in Tampa that went really well. Would mean moving again (otherwise it's over an hour commute from where we are) and delaying Panama, by at least a year probably, but might be worth it if we can meet our expenses and replenish our savings.
It feels like a let-down though, after all our grand plans, and I guess I also feel a little bit embarrassed. I often find myself wishing this was easier; I really thought we had possibly gone through the hardest parts of the transition to a new life, but I guess not. In fact, David said just today that we are going to be in transition for awhile yet, most likely and so my conclusion is that I need to accept it.
But along the way to acceptance, and in moments of weakness, I can't help but wonder...were we too stubborn? Plowing ahead with the move to Florida even when the house didn't sell? Should we have worked longer, stayed in Milwaukee another year, saved more money? But then a deep inner voice (God?) say no. It's good that we detached from our settled lives in Milwaukee (as detached as we can be while still owning the house), even better that we left the safe but soul-sucking jobs, and it's OK to do this in sort of spaced-apart-stages. It's OK to do this anyway that works best for us, actually.
We certainly have no regrets about trading up in terms of warmth and avoiding the Great Winter Storm of 2009 (reason for my hyper-focus on Milwaukee weather this winter - it makes me feel like we definitely made the right choice!). What we're not missing vs. what we are loving, below:
I keep thinking that if I have enough faith and pay enough attention to where "the flow" is taking us, we will figure out the right choices, find the right path. Not that I think God is going to magically work everything out for us (God helps those that help themselves, remember?), but that really, everything is going to be all right ultimately. I don't need to panic or to make this into a disaster because there's no point to such self-inflicted suffering. It doesn't help anything. David keeps telling me we'll never be homeless (he can always get a job as a nurse) and I believe him. Besides - my loyal readers will be glad to know - things thankfully aren't quite that dire yet.
We are figuring it out, step by step, and will prevail, whatever that ends up looking like. In the meantime, we are very blessed to have each other, and to have the tenuous life we have created in Florida so far. And we hope that 2010 brings us all more joy and abundance, no matter what the bank account balance.
Happy New Year everyone!
This Fall we've realized our house is not sustaining itself, not like it was supposed to, due to all the money we put into it over the summer while still trying to sell and some unforeseen repairs since we moved out. So it's become clear that we have to somehow find a way to get rid of it. As early as feasible in the new year we'll put it back on the market and we really hafta hafta hafta sell it this time. If we don't, we face some grim choices. And since we need to get this all settled one way or another before we can go to Panama, it turns out that that damn house is the biggest obstacle to moving forward with our plans.
David keeps lamenting the 100k we lost in equity in just a few short years, but I know we are far from alone in that category. The only difference between us and these other unfortunates is that many of them are willing and able to hang onto their houses until the market will rebound (supposedly). For David and me, that's not an option, we just want to be free from what's become a huge burden. It's too bad because at one point we both loved that house, and it was pretty good to us over the years (minimal upkeep needed and the rents helped us pay for our wedding).
So that's basically the story of Why We Aren't In Panama Yet. And also explains why David got some (low-paid) IT contract work a while ago. I've been sporadically trying to get work also, here there and everywhere (for instance, today I'm applying to a little cafe in the sweet village of Venice Island to the south of us), but applying for "real" jobs in IT also. To that end, I recently had a phone interview for software tester job up in Tampa that went really well. Would mean moving again (otherwise it's over an hour commute from where we are) and delaying Panama, by at least a year probably, but might be worth it if we can meet our expenses and replenish our savings.
It feels like a let-down though, after all our grand plans, and I guess I also feel a little bit embarrassed. I often find myself wishing this was easier; I really thought we had possibly gone through the hardest parts of the transition to a new life, but I guess not. In fact, David said just today that we are going to be in transition for awhile yet, most likely and so my conclusion is that I need to accept it.
But along the way to acceptance, and in moments of weakness, I can't help but wonder...were we too stubborn? Plowing ahead with the move to Florida even when the house didn't sell? Should we have worked longer, stayed in Milwaukee another year, saved more money? But then a deep inner voice (God?) say no. It's good that we detached from our settled lives in Milwaukee (as detached as we can be while still owning the house), even better that we left the safe but soul-sucking jobs, and it's OK to do this in sort of spaced-apart-stages. It's OK to do this anyway that works best for us, actually.
We certainly have no regrets about trading up in terms of warmth and avoiding the Great Winter Storm of 2009 (reason for my hyper-focus on Milwaukee weather this winter - it makes me feel like we definitely made the right choice!). What we're not missing vs. what we are loving, below:
I keep thinking that if I have enough faith and pay enough attention to where "the flow" is taking us, we will figure out the right choices, find the right path. Not that I think God is going to magically work everything out for us (God helps those that help themselves, remember?), but that really, everything is going to be all right ultimately. I don't need to panic or to make this into a disaster because there's no point to such self-inflicted suffering. It doesn't help anything. David keeps telling me we'll never be homeless (he can always get a job as a nurse) and I believe him. Besides - my loyal readers will be glad to know - things thankfully aren't quite that dire yet.
We are figuring it out, step by step, and will prevail, whatever that ends up looking like. In the meantime, we are very blessed to have each other, and to have the tenuous life we have created in Florida so far. And we hope that 2010 brings us all more joy and abundance, no matter what the bank account balance.
Happy New Year everyone!
Monday, November 23, 2009
Twenty Things to Be Thankful For in Florida
From the mystical to the more mundane, here's my list of what I'm grateful for, in this new life we are now living.
1) We got here safely and found a safe place to live.
2) We found an IT job for David in an area where there apparently are none AND reduced our commute by half (from the 3 miles it was in Milwaukee).
3) We reduced our utility bill by $230 - cheaper internet, no more cable, and no more huge gas bill for heating our home in frigid temperatures!
4) Walking on the beach in bikini and shorts on November 20th, nuff said.
5) Catching the gorgeous sunset over the Gulf on said beach walks.
6) Nice, small, cheap apartment that's easy to clean.
7) Laundry facilities in our apartment complex. It's so cute, tenants use the "honor system" to pay for using the washer and dryer. So far I've been honorable.
8) Lucky "black racer" snake in our front yard - don't worry, he's non-poisonous.
http://au.answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20080417081952AAiiEEp
Now we just need to name him.
9) Bob, the fluffy orange next-door-neighbor cat who is finally letting me pet him. Not sure if he's met the snake yet.
10) Nice state parks close by for hiking and alligator watching.
11) The possibility of spying Stephen King near his seasonal home on Casey Key, during one of my jogs.
12) David's finally not cold and NOT moving H20 (i.e. shoveling snow).
13) No corporate jobs and no pantyhose!
14) No more dry cleaning bills.
15) Key West is a mere 7 hours drive away, and we'll get there to see it eventually.
16) Palm trees, nuff said.
17) Closer to Panama (and we'll get there, eventually).
18) Cheap produce at Farmer's Markets.
19) My new friend Beth who promised to teach me how to cook some new dishes to keep dinner interesting, as I continue playing housewife.
20) The ability to not work and just play housewife! For only a bit longer till I get a job....
It's funny, I read in my journal where I wrote a long time ago that "if David would just let me quit this job and I could be his housewife, I'd gladly have dinner on the table everyday for him." Now, come to find that gig isn't all roses and circus ponies and sunshine like I thought it would be. But I'm taking the lesson, seeing how "grass is always greener" and "glass half-empty" I can be and how that's never served me.
I'm starting to really get that happiness and joy are much less our daily lives and what happens to us, and much more about how we react to everything. Therefore it's inside us, not outside of us. Eckhart Tolle says in his book The Power of Now that "...what is sometimes wrongly called joy is the usually short-lived pleasure side of the of the continuously alternating pain/pleasure cycle. Pleasure is always derived from something outside you, whereas joy arises from within."
This is sort of the good news and the bad news rolled into one. It means that when we're unhappy we can do something about it, but it also means that if we don't there's no blaming the world or other people for our misery. Not to sermonize too much, but I truly believe that once you understand this kind of radical self-responsibility in a deep way it's hard to forget, even when you (I) fail to enact that knowledge on any particular day.
So I'm grateful for the challenges during this interim period of our adventure that give me the opportunity to try to get it right (corny as that may sound). And I hope that during this holiday season and always, we may all have more true joy in our lives.
1) We got here safely and found a safe place to live.
2) We found an IT job for David in an area where there apparently are none AND reduced our commute by half (from the 3 miles it was in Milwaukee).
3) We reduced our utility bill by $230 - cheaper internet, no more cable, and no more huge gas bill for heating our home in frigid temperatures!
4) Walking on the beach in bikini and shorts on November 20th, nuff said.
5) Catching the gorgeous sunset over the Gulf on said beach walks.
6) Nice, small, cheap apartment that's easy to clean.
7) Laundry facilities in our apartment complex. It's so cute, tenants use the "honor system" to pay for using the washer and dryer. So far I've been honorable.
8) Lucky "black racer" snake in our front yard - don't worry, he's non-poisonous.
http://au.answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20080417081952AAiiEEp
Now we just need to name him.
9) Bob, the fluffy orange next-door-neighbor cat who is finally letting me pet him. Not sure if he's met the snake yet.
10) Nice state parks close by for hiking and alligator watching.
11) The possibility of spying Stephen King near his seasonal home on Casey Key, during one of my jogs.
12) David's finally not cold and NOT moving H20 (i.e. shoveling snow).
13) No corporate jobs and no pantyhose!
14) No more dry cleaning bills.
15) Key West is a mere 7 hours drive away, and we'll get there to see it eventually.
16) Palm trees, nuff said.
17) Closer to Panama (and we'll get there, eventually).
18) Cheap produce at Farmer's Markets.
19) My new friend Beth who promised to teach me how to cook some new dishes to keep dinner interesting, as I continue playing housewife.
20) The ability to not work and just play housewife! For only a bit longer till I get a job....
It's funny, I read in my journal where I wrote a long time ago that "if David would just let me quit this job and I could be his housewife, I'd gladly have dinner on the table everyday for him." Now, come to find that gig isn't all roses and circus ponies and sunshine like I thought it would be. But I'm taking the lesson, seeing how "grass is always greener" and "glass half-empty" I can be and how that's never served me.
I'm starting to really get that happiness and joy are much less our daily lives and what happens to us, and much more about how we react to everything. Therefore it's inside us, not outside of us. Eckhart Tolle says in his book The Power of Now that "...what is sometimes wrongly called joy is the usually short-lived pleasure side of the of the continuously alternating pain/pleasure cycle. Pleasure is always derived from something outside you, whereas joy arises from within."
This is sort of the good news and the bad news rolled into one. It means that when we're unhappy we can do something about it, but it also means that if we don't there's no blaming the world or other people for our misery. Not to sermonize too much, but I truly believe that once you understand this kind of radical self-responsibility in a deep way it's hard to forget, even when you (I) fail to enact that knowledge on any particular day.
So I'm grateful for the challenges during this interim period of our adventure that give me the opportunity to try to get it right (corny as that may sound). And I hope that during this holiday season and always, we may all have more true joy in our lives.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Finding our Way in Florida...And to Panama
Serious writers block! All month now, unfortunately. Lack of motivation, depression, lethargy, whatever you want to call it, I've had it. Also guilt. For not being happy. This is what I wanted, wasn't it? One time out to dinner, David wrote on a napkin some statement like "I, Michele Hirning, when I finally get to quit my job will be completely happy" - he dated it and made me sign my name. I'll have to see if he still has it. Of course though it just doesn't work like that, for anyone, but I fear that I especially lack a talent for happiness.
It's making me so unhappy that now that we are officially settled in Florida, and I officially don't know what to do with my life (until we go to Panama or one of the other candidate locations), I feel like I have nothing much to say. Or that I am having a hard time figuring out how to say anything that feels important and interesting to more than myself and maybe David.
And now today, David started a new job and I'm officially alone at home, feeling like I should be more enthused about being his housewife. Shall I look up a recipe for chicken and go to the meat market? Shall I do yoga or meditation, go for a jog, go to the courts and hit a few tennis balls against a wall? How terrible to feel so useless at 37 years old; to not know what to do with myself or worse - to not feel like doing much of anything at all.
David over the weekend sez "Don't let me forget to go to work on Monday..." which is funny and true that it is such a jarring change for us. I'm so proud of him because there are apparently zero IT jobs in the Sarasota area, but we somehow managed to find one (god bless Craig's List). Even better is that one job may quickly turn into two - David reports that there's enough work at this mom-and-pop Macintosh software shop for plenty more people. When David told the owner that his wife is in IT also, the guy raised his eyebrows and said "Well, let's get her in here!"
The office is walking distance from our apartment, the atmosphere is casual (the owner shows up to work in sandals and shorts), and there's huge potential the business could grow, with our help. It pays about 1/3 of what we made up north but that's par for the course down here I've heard, and that could change if things go well.
But, one might ask, why are we working at all? Wasn't this all about going to Panama? Yes, that is still our ultimate goal. But we figure we should make some money while we are here in FL, replenish the savings account so we have more options once we get there. A whole summer of hanging around Milwaukee, not working and trying to sell the house was expensive (we may have sort of screwed up that way, but oh well).
Anyways there's still a lot to figure out before we take the next big step in this adventure. We know for sure we want to go to Panama by spring or summertime but whether that will just be a visit for more reconnaissance or an actual move depends on how this new job works out (perhaps we can do it remotely?), how much more we can reduce our possessions and what I can deal with, in terms of gritty, bare bones traveling. Cuz whether it's a trip or a move, there'll be no staying in expensive hotels and comfy B&Bs like the last time we went, we just can't afford it especially if we end up traveling for any length of time and it takes us a while to get settled.
David has always said that, left to his own devices, he'd have already been sleeping in a van down by the river for years now, and socking away the money saved. Probably stereotypically, I'm the one who's a bit of a wimp when it comes to availability of clean beds and bathrooms, who's more of a nester. I just don't know how much dislocation I can handle, how little of a home, how few possessions. Being so very mobile has always sounded great, in theory, but the practice may be a bit harder, I am realizing.
I have a vision of us leaving the states with just a backpack each and using Panama's excellent bus system to get around and find that magical small piece of land we want to buy. And in this idealized picture, if we end up having to sleep in a bus station because we get to a town and there's no where to stay, of course I don't mind it or at least don't freak out. I've seen other women do the hard-core travel on a shoe-string thing, so why couldn't that be me? It feels like it all depends on how brave I can be.
We made a huge leap from a house full of stuff to fitting everything we own into 2 cars, but can we now get it down to what can fit into 2 backpacks? Can I let go of "things" to that degree (my books and journals are most troubling), and even then can I deal with not having anything approximating a real home, and for how long? Another option we are entertaining is to ship down a truck with camper or a small SUV (or buy one when we get down there), and then use that to get around and to sleep in. Yet another idea is to try to find a caretaking gig that we can use as home base while we look for property.
It all feels like a bit of a pickle but I also sense that there are solutions if I could just open my mind to them, stop feeling so scared and stuck, and let some creativity flow through my brain. There's something very organic about this process, since there are many variables and lots of possibilities. What's difficult now is to strike the right balance between going after what we want and also stepping back and "trusting the flow" - waiting to see what develops, what emerges. For me ground zero though is figuring out what exactly I do want. You'd think it'd be easier.
It's making me so unhappy that now that we are officially settled in Florida, and I officially don't know what to do with my life (until we go to Panama or one of the other candidate locations), I feel like I have nothing much to say. Or that I am having a hard time figuring out how to say anything that feels important and interesting to more than myself and maybe David.
And now today, David started a new job and I'm officially alone at home, feeling like I should be more enthused about being his housewife. Shall I look up a recipe for chicken and go to the meat market? Shall I do yoga or meditation, go for a jog, go to the courts and hit a few tennis balls against a wall? How terrible to feel so useless at 37 years old; to not know what to do with myself or worse - to not feel like doing much of anything at all.
David over the weekend sez "Don't let me forget to go to work on Monday..." which is funny and true that it is such a jarring change for us. I'm so proud of him because there are apparently zero IT jobs in the Sarasota area, but we somehow managed to find one (god bless Craig's List). Even better is that one job may quickly turn into two - David reports that there's enough work at this mom-and-pop Macintosh software shop for plenty more people. When David told the owner that his wife is in IT also, the guy raised his eyebrows and said "Well, let's get her in here!"
The office is walking distance from our apartment, the atmosphere is casual (the owner shows up to work in sandals and shorts), and there's huge potential the business could grow, with our help. It pays about 1/3 of what we made up north but that's par for the course down here I've heard, and that could change if things go well.
But, one might ask, why are we working at all? Wasn't this all about going to Panama? Yes, that is still our ultimate goal. But we figure we should make some money while we are here in FL, replenish the savings account so we have more options once we get there. A whole summer of hanging around Milwaukee, not working and trying to sell the house was expensive (we may have sort of screwed up that way, but oh well).
Anyways there's still a lot to figure out before we take the next big step in this adventure. We know for sure we want to go to Panama by spring or summertime but whether that will just be a visit for more reconnaissance or an actual move depends on how this new job works out (perhaps we can do it remotely?), how much more we can reduce our possessions and what I can deal with, in terms of gritty, bare bones traveling. Cuz whether it's a trip or a move, there'll be no staying in expensive hotels and comfy B&Bs like the last time we went, we just can't afford it especially if we end up traveling for any length of time and it takes us a while to get settled.
David has always said that, left to his own devices, he'd have already been sleeping in a van down by the river for years now, and socking away the money saved. Probably stereotypically, I'm the one who's a bit of a wimp when it comes to availability of clean beds and bathrooms, who's more of a nester. I just don't know how much dislocation I can handle, how little of a home, how few possessions. Being so very mobile has always sounded great, in theory, but the practice may be a bit harder, I am realizing.
I have a vision of us leaving the states with just a backpack each and using Panama's excellent bus system to get around and find that magical small piece of land we want to buy. And in this idealized picture, if we end up having to sleep in a bus station because we get to a town and there's no where to stay, of course I don't mind it or at least don't freak out. I've seen other women do the hard-core travel on a shoe-string thing, so why couldn't that be me? It feels like it all depends on how brave I can be.
We made a huge leap from a house full of stuff to fitting everything we own into 2 cars, but can we now get it down to what can fit into 2 backpacks? Can I let go of "things" to that degree (my books and journals are most troubling), and even then can I deal with not having anything approximating a real home, and for how long? Another option we are entertaining is to ship down a truck with camper or a small SUV (or buy one when we get down there), and then use that to get around and to sleep in. Yet another idea is to try to find a caretaking gig that we can use as home base while we look for property.
It all feels like a bit of a pickle but I also sense that there are solutions if I could just open my mind to them, stop feeling so scared and stuck, and let some creativity flow through my brain. There's something very organic about this process, since there are many variables and lots of possibilities. What's difficult now is to strike the right balance between going after what we want and also stepping back and "trusting the flow" - waiting to see what develops, what emerges. For me ground zero though is figuring out what exactly I do want. You'd think it'd be easier.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Grey's Anatomy, Grief & Getting a Life
I don't own a T.V. any longer. It was one of the many things we shed as we made our way from the old life into this new one. I have to say I haven't missed it. And yet, I was recently faced with what to do when I wanted to see the season premiere of Grey's Anatomy, the one show I have followed faithfully these past few years. For the first Packer game of the season we were fortunate enough to find a Packer bar in Sarasota that serves good beer and good food and so David was happy having his fix that way.
But I couldn't count on finding a Grey's Anatomy viewing spot and so we planned to go over to David's friend's house - the friend who so generously let us stay with him for a whole week when we first arrived in town and were looking for an apartment. I promised to bring him Thai food from his favorite restaurant for the favor. But we are trying to conserve money so when David found an online site that would play the premiere real-time (as opposed to watching it on abc.com the next day), we instead did a home-cooked dinner (David made the most yummy broiled alligator with lemon-pepper seasoning), and I was able to watch it in the comfort of our tiny new beige-tiled apartment.
After re-watching last year's season finale, just as a refresher, before I watched the season premiere I am amazed all over again by how well they write this one-of-a-kind show. I took a lot of lessons from both episodes. And that's what this blog post is all about.
The season finale I originally watched in May, of course, and it completely jibed with where I was then in my life. It also dove-tailed nicely with the planned epigraph to this book I want to write, a little bit along the lines of Eat, Pray, Love's "Tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth". Mine is "Do it now, do it now, do it now." At that time, I was preparing to finally quit my job and our plans to leave Wisconsin were moving ahead fast & furious. And so naturally it felt like the Meredith voice-over at the end (when George and Izzie were both dying), was speaking directly to me, telling me there really was no time to lose:
"Did you say it? I love you. I don't ever want to live without you. You changed my life. Did you say it? Make a plan, set a goal, work toward it, but every now and then look around, drink it in, cuz this is it. It might all be gone tomorrow."
I've been especially feeling that "it might all be gone tomorrow" because of my health concern as of late, and the worrying-slash-disasterizing that I do so well. When my early August endoscopy showed nothing (for which I'm grateful, believe me), the Physician's Assistant who called to give me the good news said the next step would be to get some "imaging" done. But there was the intervening trip to Seattle and then getting settled in Florida, so it was only last week that I finally had an appointment to address that.
David came with me and we met with the most wonderful family physician, who sat and talked with us for what seemed like an hour, unrushed and completely willing to admit she didn't know a ton about diet and naturopathic options (when I declined the Nexium she was recommending), but gave us names of those who do. From there we proceeded to the diagnostic lab just across the street for X-rays. We concluded that it must be a "patient's market" here in Florida, with all the older people and their health issues, because we were treated extremely well throughout our medical morning and it felt like quite a contrast to the way they do things "up North."
I told the doctor about my history of drinking and smoking. Then when she listened to my lungs she said she heard some "congestion" on the left side and I might have some pneumonia in that lung. Dear god, I thought this was all GI-related; could it be I've just had walking pneumonia for 6 months and that's why I've felt this pressure under the left side of my ribs? Astutely detecting my tendency towards hypochondria - as well as my mild OCD, she said she wouldn't be surprised if I color-coded my clothes and I admitted "well, I do wash my hands a lot" - she reassured me that it didn't "sound like cancer." Although the pessimist in me thought: how on earth could she know that?! Well, she was right - the X-rays came back and everything is "normal." Damn it! Why couldn't it have been something I could just treat with some drugs and get past?! Don't get me wrong, again I'm so grateful for the good news. But completely confounded by what the hell is going on with my body still. It's driving me crazy.
But that's where Grey's Anatomy comes in again. The season premiere - starting out with Elisabeth Kubler-Ross' Stages of Grief, counting down the days since George's death, and including the girl who's unable to do anything but sit outside the hospital on a bench because the man who saved her life had died - was wonderful. I loved it when Izzie told the girl to go live her life, and the girl plaintively says "I don't know how" - Izzie tells her truthfully "no one knows how!" and that she basically owes it to George to figure it out. But as usual with the way they write this show, Izzie was also talking to herself. I also heard it loud and clear.
So, do I owe it to my Dad or to my husband or even just to myself, to figure it the fuck out finally? Perhaps. And I wonder too, if my Dad looks down from some kind of Heaven, sees the suffering of his four children and wishes he could tell us all the answers that he knows now. That it shouldn't all be taken so seriously, that it will be OK in the end and there shouldn't be so much suffering along the way. That we are alive and should enjoy it while we have it, it could be gone in an instant. That we should laugh more often, love longer and harder, and let go of our anger and resentment, all our grudges and stubborn judgements, more easily. That one message alone could save us all from countless hours of teeth-gnashing and pulling out our hair, I think.
But it's not easy, as the first episode of the two-part season premiere stated so beautifully, "In medical school we have a hundred classes that teach us how to fight off death and not one lesson in how to go on living."
And as the second episode ended, another message that went straight to the heart of how to go on: "Grief may be a thing we all have in common, but it looks different on everyone. It isn't just death we have to grieve, it's life, it's loss, it's change. And when we wonder why it has to suck so much sometimes, has to hurt so bad, the thing we gotta try to remember is that it can turn on a dime. That's how you stay alive. When it hurts so much that you can't breath, that's how you survive. By remembering that one day, somehow, impossibly you won't feel this way, it won't hurt this much. Grief comes in its own time for everyone, in its own way. So the best we can do, the best anyone can do is try for honesty. The really crappy thing, the very worst part of grief is that you can't control it. The best we can do is try to let ourselves feel it, when it comes. And let it go when we can. The very worst part is that the minute you think you're past it, it starts all over again. And always, every time, it takes your breath away."
They were like two perfect bookends, last season's finale telling me to "do it now" and this season's premiere telling me to "get a life!" and stop dwelling on the health issue, on my dad's death, on everything that's not present moment living, or at least future plans. It's somewhat true that I've been sitting on my own bench, since I left the job in June, not moving forward with my life emotionally. This blog itself has been a lot about looking back. But it's time. I still don't know exactly what I will do next - I'm currently researching caretaking and WWOOFing in Florida, the Caribbean, Hawaii and, of course, Panama! - but it's going to be great. I hope it takes my breath away.
http://www.abc.go.com/watch/greys-anatomy/93515
http://www.elizabethgilbert.com/eatpraylove.htm
http://www.ekrfoundation.org/
http://www.caretaker.org/
http://www.wwoof.org/
But I couldn't count on finding a Grey's Anatomy viewing spot and so we planned to go over to David's friend's house - the friend who so generously let us stay with him for a whole week when we first arrived in town and were looking for an apartment. I promised to bring him Thai food from his favorite restaurant for the favor. But we are trying to conserve money so when David found an online site that would play the premiere real-time (as opposed to watching it on abc.com the next day), we instead did a home-cooked dinner (David made the most yummy broiled alligator with lemon-pepper seasoning), and I was able to watch it in the comfort of our tiny new beige-tiled apartment.
After re-watching last year's season finale, just as a refresher, before I watched the season premiere I am amazed all over again by how well they write this one-of-a-kind show. I took a lot of lessons from both episodes. And that's what this blog post is all about.
The season finale I originally watched in May, of course, and it completely jibed with where I was then in my life. It also dove-tailed nicely with the planned epigraph to this book I want to write, a little bit along the lines of Eat, Pray, Love's "Tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth". Mine is "Do it now, do it now, do it now." At that time, I was preparing to finally quit my job and our plans to leave Wisconsin were moving ahead fast & furious. And so naturally it felt like the Meredith voice-over at the end (when George and Izzie were both dying), was speaking directly to me, telling me there really was no time to lose:
"Did you say it? I love you. I don't ever want to live without you. You changed my life. Did you say it? Make a plan, set a goal, work toward it, but every now and then look around, drink it in, cuz this is it. It might all be gone tomorrow."
I've been especially feeling that "it might all be gone tomorrow" because of my health concern as of late, and the worrying-slash-disasterizing that I do so well. When my early August endoscopy showed nothing (for which I'm grateful, believe me), the Physician's Assistant who called to give me the good news said the next step would be to get some "imaging" done. But there was the intervening trip to Seattle and then getting settled in Florida, so it was only last week that I finally had an appointment to address that.
David came with me and we met with the most wonderful family physician, who sat and talked with us for what seemed like an hour, unrushed and completely willing to admit she didn't know a ton about diet and naturopathic options (when I declined the Nexium she was recommending), but gave us names of those who do. From there we proceeded to the diagnostic lab just across the street for X-rays. We concluded that it must be a "patient's market" here in Florida, with all the older people and their health issues, because we were treated extremely well throughout our medical morning and it felt like quite a contrast to the way they do things "up North."
I told the doctor about my history of drinking and smoking. Then when she listened to my lungs she said she heard some "congestion" on the left side and I might have some pneumonia in that lung. Dear god, I thought this was all GI-related; could it be I've just had walking pneumonia for 6 months and that's why I've felt this pressure under the left side of my ribs? Astutely detecting my tendency towards hypochondria - as well as my mild OCD, she said she wouldn't be surprised if I color-coded my clothes and I admitted "well, I do wash my hands a lot" - she reassured me that it didn't "sound like cancer." Although the pessimist in me thought: how on earth could she know that?! Well, she was right - the X-rays came back and everything is "normal." Damn it! Why couldn't it have been something I could just treat with some drugs and get past?! Don't get me wrong, again I'm so grateful for the good news. But completely confounded by what the hell is going on with my body still. It's driving me crazy.
But that's where Grey's Anatomy comes in again. The season premiere - starting out with Elisabeth Kubler-Ross' Stages of Grief, counting down the days since George's death, and including the girl who's unable to do anything but sit outside the hospital on a bench because the man who saved her life had died - was wonderful. I loved it when Izzie told the girl to go live her life, and the girl plaintively says "I don't know how" - Izzie tells her truthfully "no one knows how!" and that she basically owes it to George to figure it out. But as usual with the way they write this show, Izzie was also talking to herself. I also heard it loud and clear.
So, do I owe it to my Dad or to my husband or even just to myself, to figure it the fuck out finally? Perhaps. And I wonder too, if my Dad looks down from some kind of Heaven, sees the suffering of his four children and wishes he could tell us all the answers that he knows now. That it shouldn't all be taken so seriously, that it will be OK in the end and there shouldn't be so much suffering along the way. That we are alive and should enjoy it while we have it, it could be gone in an instant. That we should laugh more often, love longer and harder, and let go of our anger and resentment, all our grudges and stubborn judgements, more easily. That one message alone could save us all from countless hours of teeth-gnashing and pulling out our hair, I think.
But it's not easy, as the first episode of the two-part season premiere stated so beautifully, "In medical school we have a hundred classes that teach us how to fight off death and not one lesson in how to go on living."
And as the second episode ended, another message that went straight to the heart of how to go on: "Grief may be a thing we all have in common, but it looks different on everyone. It isn't just death we have to grieve, it's life, it's loss, it's change. And when we wonder why it has to suck so much sometimes, has to hurt so bad, the thing we gotta try to remember is that it can turn on a dime. That's how you stay alive. When it hurts so much that you can't breath, that's how you survive. By remembering that one day, somehow, impossibly you won't feel this way, it won't hurt this much. Grief comes in its own time for everyone, in its own way. So the best we can do, the best anyone can do is try for honesty. The really crappy thing, the very worst part of grief is that you can't control it. The best we can do is try to let ourselves feel it, when it comes. And let it go when we can. The very worst part is that the minute you think you're past it, it starts all over again. And always, every time, it takes your breath away."
They were like two perfect bookends, last season's finale telling me to "do it now" and this season's premiere telling me to "get a life!" and stop dwelling on the health issue, on my dad's death, on everything that's not present moment living, or at least future plans. It's somewhat true that I've been sitting on my own bench, since I left the job in June, not moving forward with my life emotionally. This blog itself has been a lot about looking back. But it's time. I still don't know exactly what I will do next - I'm currently researching caretaking and WWOOFing in Florida, the Caribbean, Hawaii and, of course, Panama! - but it's going to be great. I hope it takes my breath away.
http://www.abc.go.com/watch/greys-anatomy/93515
http://www.elizabethgilbert.com/eatpraylove.htm
http://www.ekrfoundation.org/
http://www.caretaker.org/
http://www.wwoof.org/
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Stephen King's Key (To Happiness)
While chatting up the local retirees at the beach to learn as much as I can about my new surroundings, I found out that one of my neighbors is none other than the author Stephen King. He reportedly has a seasonal home on Casey Key, which is about 15 miles south of Sarasota and two blocks from where I now live in the town of Nokomis, Florida. One retired lady proclaimed he lives there a bit more than seasonally, she thought it was his main residence now she was sure, and the other lady argued back, but since neither one could truthfully claim to have met or spoken with the man, they ended in stalemate.
I was able to find this bit of information, when I raced home to google it:
http://www.angelfire.com/fl5/funcelebritysecrets/cmntyprofile-stephen-king.html
The next day was a very similar scene: the friendly older people drifting pleasantly in aquamarine water on their brightly colored "noodles" and other floaty-things and entertaining questions posed by an inquisitive me. Whole conversations had been opened up now, by queries such as "What are these white fish swimming around our legs?" and "Do you know why it was so calm here just yesterday and now there's so many waves?" That day I learned from another retiree that not only does Stephen King live on Casey Key, he's even written a book based on it. Having already obtained my Sarasota County Public Library card, I raced home to reserve Duma Key online and had it in my hot little hands the very next day.
Now, I've never been a celebrity stalker and I haven't even read much King in the past couple decades (I think he lost me with The Tommyknockers), but over the course of my life I'd have to say he qualifies as one of my big literary loves. I started reading him ravenously at the age of 12 or 13 and was always transported (as well as scared shitless at times, truthfully). My older brother started reading his novels around that time too and we bonded over how great certain scenes were in Pet Sematary and The Shining. So it feels completely serendipitous and exciting to find out that he lives here!
And then the book, Duma Key, wowza. I'm only 150 into its 611 pages but I'm already being amazed all over again by what a good writer he is.
The critics seem to agree with my assessment -
http://www.strangehorizons.com/reviews/2008/02/duma_key_by_ste.shtml
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/21/books/21maslin.html
http://mysteryink.typepad.com/reviews/2009/04/stephen-king-duma-key-2008.html
I was a little worried the book would freak me out and thereby color my view of this place that I am so far just loving, but I figured I can just remember that it's fiction, only loosely based on reality, and not let it get to me. Although as it turns out the book is more autobiographical than I originally thought, since a lot is based on King's own accident and subsequent physical/mental recovery. One reviewer writes, "King draws in elements of the road accident he suffered in Maine in 1999, when an inattentive truck driver shattered his hip, ribs, spine and much else besides..."
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/02/books/review/Campbell-t.html
I only found this out after starting the book, when my brother mentioned it over the phone and I could barely believe my ears. And when I saw that Duma Key was published in 2008, I was even happier - I'd so lost track of what he was writing I figured the book could be years old by now. The fact that it's a recent book of his makes it all the more poignant and even, dare I say, fateful that I landed exactly here at this precise time in my life. Which I'll explain more in a minute.
More from another reviewer:
"King visited the subject of an artist who uses his craft to help rehabilitate from devastating injuries in his brilliant book Misery. This time around, the plot takes on even greater poignancy, with readers knowing that King himself suffered from catastrophic injuries several years back when he was nearly killed in a car accident.
When Edgar fumes over his foggy memory, when he agonizes over his inability to walk, it's easy to imagine the author doing those same things. This adds a sense of painful authenticity to the story, but it also evokes a strong feeling of hope once Edgar starts to recover and create his art again."
http://mysteryink.typepad.com/reviews/2009/04/stephen-king-duma-key-2008.html
So OK, does it sound too silly and pretentious to say that I am identifying with the book a ton since I'm here experiencing this same beautiful landscape and also feel I'm somewhat in recovery from the trauma of almost 11 years in corporate america having my spirit stifled, and that I hope to create my own "art" again? When I say art I mean the writing, of course, which I have always loved but hey, maybe I'll discover a painter in here too somewhere - anything is possible I think once creativity becomes unleashed!
And the truth is that there is more for me to recover from than simply a job I could barely tolerate, at times, but most of that feels too personal still and too scary to reveal fully here yet. As an adult, scary comes in more forms than pets that come to life again and creepy twins in the hallway of an empty hotel. Scary is when you don't feel equipped to deal with the reality of life and you use unhealthy ways to cope and then your health begins to suffer, at the still-young (they tell me) age of 37. These days scary for a lot of people is "how will I pay the mortgage this month?" or "I have two months until I lose my health care" so I know that I'm not the only one dealing with shit and I don't mean to trivialize what anyone else is going through by posting beach photos on FaceBook and then talk in my blog about how I'm suffering. But there's a lot to heal from and I won't trivialize myself either, this one precious life that I'm still trying to figure out what to do with, or the extreme effort it took to get to this place and the pain that is still mine to handle, for better or for worse.
"I know that people come to Florida when they're old and sick because it's warm pretty much year-round, but I think the Gulf of Mexico has something else going for it. Just looking into that mild flat sunlit calm is healing. It's a big word isn't it? Gulf, I mean. Big enough to drop a lot of things into and watch them disappear." (pg. 120 of Duma Key, by Stephen King)
I feel this could be a place and a time to heal, a real respite, as my friend Mary Kay called it when she advised me not to go rushing back into a technology desk-job even though I'm/we're worried about our money lasting. And even though I met a guy on the beach who said he's an "executive headhunter" and could find me computer work in Sarasota, no problem! Taking Mary Kay's advice, I'm somewhat reluctant to go back to that, unless they'd maybe let me wear my flip-flops and nose-ring and work part-time only. I'm feeling real "chosey" for the first time in my life practically and it feels right and good.
And it feels right that, like the Duma Key protagonist Edgar, I've left that other life for good and have started a new one here in Florida, and now there's no going back -
"What came next was a period of recovery and transition from my other life to the one I lived on Duma Key. Dr. Kamen probably knew that during times like that, most of the big changes are going on inside: civil unrest, revolt, revolution, and finally, mass executions as the heads of the old regime tumble into the basket at the foot of the guillotine. I'm sure the big man had seen such revolutions succeed and seen them fail. Because not everyone makes it into the next life, you know. And those who do don't always discover heaven's golden shore." (pg. 51 of Duma Key, by Stephen King)
It's scary, having said goodbye to all that I knew and yet not knowing exactly what is coming next, where life is taking me. But I can only hope that some sort of healing can happen now, finally, and maybe I can be one of the lucky ones who do "discover heaven's golden shore." Perhaps I've actually already found it and just need to realize it.
Other interesting links about this particular area of Florida and the book:
http://www.geovative.com/GeoTours/tourView.asp?6174Vq=HHFG
http://florida-travel.suite101.com/article.cfm/travel_to_stephen_kings_sarasota
I was able to find this bit of information, when I raced home to google it:
http://www.angelfire.com/fl5/funcelebritysecrets/cmntyprofile-stephen-king.html
The next day was a very similar scene: the friendly older people drifting pleasantly in aquamarine water on their brightly colored "noodles" and other floaty-things and entertaining questions posed by an inquisitive me. Whole conversations had been opened up now, by queries such as "What are these white fish swimming around our legs?" and "Do you know why it was so calm here just yesterday and now there's so many waves?" That day I learned from another retiree that not only does Stephen King live on Casey Key, he's even written a book based on it. Having already obtained my Sarasota County Public Library card, I raced home to reserve Duma Key online and had it in my hot little hands the very next day.
Now, I've never been a celebrity stalker and I haven't even read much King in the past couple decades (I think he lost me with The Tommyknockers), but over the course of my life I'd have to say he qualifies as one of my big literary loves. I started reading him ravenously at the age of 12 or 13 and was always transported (as well as scared shitless at times, truthfully). My older brother started reading his novels around that time too and we bonded over how great certain scenes were in Pet Sematary and The Shining. So it feels completely serendipitous and exciting to find out that he lives here!
And then the book, Duma Key, wowza. I'm only 150 into its 611 pages but I'm already being amazed all over again by what a good writer he is.
The critics seem to agree with my assessment -
http://www.strangehorizons.com/reviews/2008/02/duma_key_by_ste.shtml
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/21/books/21maslin.html
http://mysteryink.typepad.com/reviews/2009/04/stephen-king-duma-key-2008.html
I was a little worried the book would freak me out and thereby color my view of this place that I am so far just loving, but I figured I can just remember that it's fiction, only loosely based on reality, and not let it get to me. Although as it turns out the book is more autobiographical than I originally thought, since a lot is based on King's own accident and subsequent physical/mental recovery. One reviewer writes, "King draws in elements of the road accident he suffered in Maine in 1999, when an inattentive truck driver shattered his hip, ribs, spine and much else besides..."
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/02/books/review/Campbell-t.html
I only found this out after starting the book, when my brother mentioned it over the phone and I could barely believe my ears. And when I saw that Duma Key was published in 2008, I was even happier - I'd so lost track of what he was writing I figured the book could be years old by now. The fact that it's a recent book of his makes it all the more poignant and even, dare I say, fateful that I landed exactly here at this precise time in my life. Which I'll explain more in a minute.
More from another reviewer:
"King visited the subject of an artist who uses his craft to help rehabilitate from devastating injuries in his brilliant book Misery. This time around, the plot takes on even greater poignancy, with readers knowing that King himself suffered from catastrophic injuries several years back when he was nearly killed in a car accident.
When Edgar fumes over his foggy memory, when he agonizes over his inability to walk, it's easy to imagine the author doing those same things. This adds a sense of painful authenticity to the story, but it also evokes a strong feeling of hope once Edgar starts to recover and create his art again."
http://mysteryink.typepad.com/reviews/2009/04/stephen-king-duma-key-2008.html
So OK, does it sound too silly and pretentious to say that I am identifying with the book a ton since I'm here experiencing this same beautiful landscape and also feel I'm somewhat in recovery from the trauma of almost 11 years in corporate america having my spirit stifled, and that I hope to create my own "art" again? When I say art I mean the writing, of course, which I have always loved but hey, maybe I'll discover a painter in here too somewhere - anything is possible I think once creativity becomes unleashed!
And the truth is that there is more for me to recover from than simply a job I could barely tolerate, at times, but most of that feels too personal still and too scary to reveal fully here yet. As an adult, scary comes in more forms than pets that come to life again and creepy twins in the hallway of an empty hotel. Scary is when you don't feel equipped to deal with the reality of life and you use unhealthy ways to cope and then your health begins to suffer, at the still-young (they tell me) age of 37. These days scary for a lot of people is "how will I pay the mortgage this month?" or "I have two months until I lose my health care" so I know that I'm not the only one dealing with shit and I don't mean to trivialize what anyone else is going through by posting beach photos on FaceBook and then talk in my blog about how I'm suffering. But there's a lot to heal from and I won't trivialize myself either, this one precious life that I'm still trying to figure out what to do with, or the extreme effort it took to get to this place and the pain that is still mine to handle, for better or for worse.
"I know that people come to Florida when they're old and sick because it's warm pretty much year-round, but I think the Gulf of Mexico has something else going for it. Just looking into that mild flat sunlit calm is healing. It's a big word isn't it? Gulf, I mean. Big enough to drop a lot of things into and watch them disappear." (pg. 120 of Duma Key, by Stephen King)
I feel this could be a place and a time to heal, a real respite, as my friend Mary Kay called it when she advised me not to go rushing back into a technology desk-job even though I'm/we're worried about our money lasting. And even though I met a guy on the beach who said he's an "executive headhunter" and could find me computer work in Sarasota, no problem! Taking Mary Kay's advice, I'm somewhat reluctant to go back to that, unless they'd maybe let me wear my flip-flops and nose-ring and work part-time only. I'm feeling real "chosey" for the first time in my life practically and it feels right and good.
And it feels right that, like the Duma Key protagonist Edgar, I've left that other life for good and have started a new one here in Florida, and now there's no going back -
"What came next was a period of recovery and transition from my other life to the one I lived on Duma Key. Dr. Kamen probably knew that during times like that, most of the big changes are going on inside: civil unrest, revolt, revolution, and finally, mass executions as the heads of the old regime tumble into the basket at the foot of the guillotine. I'm sure the big man had seen such revolutions succeed and seen them fail. Because not everyone makes it into the next life, you know. And those who do don't always discover heaven's golden shore." (pg. 51 of Duma Key, by Stephen King)
It's scary, having said goodbye to all that I knew and yet not knowing exactly what is coming next, where life is taking me. But I can only hope that some sort of healing can happen now, finally, and maybe I can be one of the lucky ones who do "discover heaven's golden shore." Perhaps I've actually already found it and just need to realize it.
Other interesting links about this particular area of Florida and the book:
http://www.geovative.com/GeoTours/tourView.asp?6174Vq=HHFG
http://florida-travel.suite101.com/article.cfm/travel_to_stephen_kings_sarasota
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Hello to Somewhere Else
Sarasota, Florida is more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. Yes, there are 5-lane 50 MPH roads and lots of strip malls, and the economy is very depressed (perhaps it needs some Prozac?). But we found us a peaceful little community not too far from all the hectic-ness and we love it. This is just a quick snapshot and I will write/reflect more soon, on the personal life changes and what it all means and will we ever get to heaven/nirvana and be happy/finally relax and what about Obama's health care plans and climate change and overpopulation and all that....
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Goodbye to Something Called "Home"
Didn't get everything we own into the Civic after all, and so rented a car at the last minute, which was a lifesaver. (Note: that's not our U-Haul in the background, but belonged to the new tenant who moved into our place, a whole day and 1/2 earlier than expected!)
Hard, so hard, to let go - even when it's a joyful choice!
Caravaning to FL in two cars has been interesting. At David's insistence we bought 2-way radios on the way out of town which helped up immeasurably getting through the nightmare that is called the Chicago-area, with all the tolls, congestion and general confusion. Further South, among mundane walkie-talkie conversation about which Interstate to take next and when to get off for gas/food/potty breaks, we've also been dreaming of the future and reminiscing about our honeymoon (road trip to Savannah, GA in 2003). Hopefully the truckers tuned into our channel found it more amusing than annoying!
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