Phase 23: Fa-fa-fa-fading away...yeah, yeah, yeah.

I'm not a song writer, but if I were that lyric would be in my song somewhere. Maybe nestled away in a chorus, or some where in verse two or three.

It kind of sums up where I'm at now.

The list of cliches is long, maybe some of them would be in the song too, you know the ones...

"One door closes, another one opens..."

"As long as you're makin' money, why worry about being happy..."

"It's not that bad, at least your're not in jail..."

As much as I hated being unemployed, the sudden journey back into the job market has been anything but rewarding, or smooth, or enjoyable.

The problem with taking this job, and for that matter for taking any job that does not allow me to do what I really want to do. My sojourn through unemployment peeled my psychological eye lids wide open. The experience allowed me to look at things I had ignored for the sake of work.

Family, friends and relationships suffer. I realized how much I had missed for the simple fact that I have to fill my day with work.

Things that matter get set aside - growing from pesky mole hills into insurmountable mounts of stuff to do. So, when do we do them....? Exactly, on the WEEKENDS. Those short 48 hour periods in which we try to cram all the things un-done from the previous week, and get them accomplished. The problem is, once again, there is little time for doing what we really love doing. What ever that is.
For some it is music, for some it is woodcarving, no matter because we are forced to work, everything else suffers.

The bigger picture, as I am discovering, is that most of us have chosen money over happiness - to The ISSUE is that we have become habitual 9-5 Zombies; get up, go to work, do the work, clock out, drive home, spend some time with the family, wait for the weekend. Wash, rise repeat.

Yes, yes, I KNOW already!!!! Insert cheesy lyrics...

"I've been working for the weekend..."
"Working, 9 to 5, It's just a way to make a living..."
"You can't always get what you want..."

I'd love nothing more than to walk in and say, "I'm done, see you later..."
But as a very wise person, "Never make an important decision when you are tired."

Tonight, I am simply that. Tired.

Maybe I'll be ready to add more later....

Phase 22: "Powdermilk Biscuits" - Do what needs to be done

So, what is there to write about in a blog on unemployment, once I have attained a job?  Would it make any sense to continue writing, or should I just quit and move on? Part of me says, "Sure, just stop the senseless blathering on already!". Yet, another part - the part that has me at the keyboard - says, "You should keep writing! You have a job, but are you happy?"


I think it's more about the biscuits... Powdermilk biscuits to be exact.


"Heavens they're tasty and expeditious..."

Work. Job. Career. Ar this point in life I should be a mid-career professional at SOMETHING, yes? I should, by societal standards be enjoying the tasty biscuits of my success. I should be at the mid-management phase of a job, which will be stable, and provide me steady income until I retire and enter the hopefully long walk of retirement. Instead I am transitioning, yet again to another job, so that I can pay the bills, after all I do have a son heading off to college in two days. I should be able to say, "Look at me. I have done it! I have made something of myself! See, look, this is what a normal adult has to show for 20 plus years after college."


"Made from whole wheat....by Norwegein bachelor farmers..."

But I don't really want anyone to look too closely. By most standards I have done most of the right things along the way; I graduated from high school and college. I got a job in the field that I was trained in. Pursued that until life begins to throw it's curves at me. I changed jobs, got married, changed jobs, got credit cards, got sick, paid bills, changed jobs, had kids, dealt with loss, changed jobs, paid bills, paid bills, paid bills, changed jobs... and so on. Some of life's changes we choose, some we just have to deal with, really, in that regard, I'm not that much different than anyone else I guess.

"...so you know they're not only good for you, but also pure, mostly..."


So at this point I should be looking ahead at the expected comforts of retirement - secure income, helping to provide for the needs of my children as they become parents, etc. Instead, if find myself in what seems like the same repeating loop. I have a 'job' that pays 'enough' to keep us just enough in front of the proverbial 8-ball, to pay the bills. But, I look around and see that though I have "been pure, mostly" I don't have enough to do the things parents are supposed to do - I can't pay for my kids college education, I can't take my kids on summer vacations, I can't buy my kid a car, I could go on but it gets depressing...

 "...which give shy persons the strength to get up and do what needs to be done..."

I believe the question that most often gets overlooked in all this is equally simple; "Do you LOVE what you do for a living?" The sad thing is that the statistics show that the answer to this question to nearly 8 out of 10 Americans is a resounding, NO! The longer I spent unemployed, and the longer I spend at this current job, the more I begin to see the insanity of this! I don't have all the answers about how to resolve this issue, but as I see my son going off to college I have made a pact with myself to NEVER suggest he get a 'regular-job' so he can 'pay the bills' or so he can 'be a regular person'. 

Personally, I think I made that mistake too many times. As P.T. Barnum has said, "There's a sucker born every minute." That is oh, so true. Very few people - no matter what their education level or job experience really have the strength to take the advice of those around us and then strike out on our own... Part of this is because we have been taught all our lives what it means to WORK, to do something that is deemed 'worthy' by the rest of the world. Very rarely do we listen to our hearts, our souls, and there fore we spend most of our WORK lives dreading what we do and looking forward to 'retirement' - that mystical time in the future when we can finally quit our 'jobs' and 'finally do what we love to do'. 


"... they're tasty and expeditious." 

Frankly, I'm sick and tired of this philosophy. One thing that being unemployed has taught me is that there is real, economic value to what I love to do, and I don't want to waste much more time, NOT doing it. 

Yet the dilemma is this... Here I am again, do I continue making biscuits, making them the same way all the time -  having taken a 'regular' job, to pay the bills, to build some kind of hope for the future - or dwo I slam my powdered hands on the table and say, "Damnit! I'm sick of biscuits! I want to make CAKE!" I I don't want to waste much more time making or doing things for someone else's profit.

Phase 21: 8 Seconds To Glory! Riding The Newjita!!!

One day, a few weeks ago, when I was unemployed, I watched some rodeo action. I remember thinking, "What a stupid ass thing to do!" I almost turned the channel, but much like watching a train-wreck, I just couldn't look away. I didn't understand why until I was on my drive home today, sitting in a construction related traffic jam, enjoying the hyper-sweet goodness of ice-cold sweet tea when it hit me. I was him, he was me, the wild bucking animal with the rope around it's nads was the Newjita. I had successfully baited it, captured it and for the past three weeks I have been trying to figure out how to stay on it - to complete the ride, stay on top of this thing for the full 8 seconds (as required for a 'successful' ride).

SECOND ONE: The Newjita has been penned up in the arena; loud noises, flashing lights, screaming crowds, this will be one difficult ride. Again, I must re-iterate that my experience being unemployed has not been as lengthy as others. Yet, for some weird reason, I am overtaken by the 'wooglies' (see Phase 12). I stand there, looking at this snarling beast. Its nostrils flare with uncertainty - trying to scare me. Its eyes burn with a flame designed to make me run away from this new challenge. It scrapes its hooves on the ground, sending out vibrations, almost on a seismic scale - trying to make me crawl back the 'security blanket' that my insular world of unemployment had created...

SECOND TWO: Then I realized... I'm the Rider! Assessing my situation; boots-check, chaps-check, jeans, shirt, gloves-check, check, check. I climb up the side of the pen. I am wearing a new uniform, attempting a new ride on a Newjita that I have never seen before. As I straddle the corner of the pen, I wonder... "Am I worthy? Did I prepare well enough? Do I have the right skills? Do I really WANT this?" I grab the lifeline and wrap it around my pinkie. I think I'm ready. I nod to the gate man, "I'm ready!"...


SECOND THREE: In the world of rodeo, once the gate is open, there is no going back! So, three weeks ago I opened the gate and started my ride. Since I've been unemployed for a while, I'm not used to the demands and I realize that getting a grip on this world can be as difficult as holding on to the rope when  the Newjita breaks free and takes you along for the ride. If you watch rodeo at full speed, you hardly notice all the 'work' that goes on during this intense experience, of riding into the world of employment. Like the rider, I don't have much time to think. I have to react quickly, to the moves of the new beast I am trying to tame. Like the rider, I try to relax, get in synch with the beast...

SECOND FOUR: Oblivious to those around me; family, friends, neighbors, my world has suddenly changed. Indeed, I find myself in a slow motion reality. One day I am sleeping late and getting things done around the house, the next I am dragging myself out of bed at 5:00 in the morning, getting dressed, packing a lunch, charting a new course to a new beginning. Yet, like the rider, I am in slow motion, adjusting my grip on the lifeline, spurring the animal, trying to gain some kind of control over the new situation. It's hard. It is really, really hard. The 'crowd' doesn't get it. Not really. They watch and cheer, but for what? The new job is manageable - the Newjita is rideable. I start to get back some of the confidence I had before...

SECOND FIVE: The ride has proved bumpy, but I'm adjusting to the rhythm, the Newjita not making it too easy on me. Like the rider dealing with arena dust rising, sweat from the animal getting in his eyes, making it hard to focus. So to, I discover that the new job has challenges; its been a while since I worked out all day, in the elements, doing things I'm not familiar with... I hope I can hold on... At this point in the ride, it seems like 8 seconds is forever. I feel that way too. I'm 'in training' trying to do the right things to be granted 'full-employment'. The rider feels his grip loosening. Even through the noise and dust, he feels the creak of the sweat-dampened leather as it begins to slip. My training has these moments. "Damn, this is IMPOSSIBLE!", "What WAS I thinking?", "I can't DO this!", "My God. What if I fail at  THIS too?"...

SECOND SIX: At this point in the ride, it can go either way; the cowboy can hold on and get the victory, or the animal can pull that one unexpected move, the one that hasn't been accounted for in all the practice, and throw the rider off - to defeat, another hard landing in the dirt. As I near the end of my training period, I too am nearly to the point where I will be put out there, on my own, doing the job, un-assisted. Don't get me wrong, I am sure I can DO the work, but there is a part of me -- the few wooglies left inside -- that simply want to go back, back to the world of unemployment. Because... it was... easier. Somehow simpler. Somehow I was becoming USED to that world. That limbo-slow motion world, the world of uncertainty, that almost comforting feeling of the unknown. Now I have a job, I must keep a grip on it, a tight grip, finish the ride, tame the Newjita... The clock clicks on, it's movements even slower now....

SECOND SEVEN: The Newjita shifts. I feel his mighty muscles twitching underneath my grip, trying to throw me, trying to embarss me in front of the crowd. I approach each day of this new experience, fully aware of the fact that I am in control, for a change. I can make this work or I can give up, and go back... NO! I cannot do that. I have worked too long these last months, reworking resume, cover letter and wardrobe. I got a hair-cut for God's sake. I jumped through all the hoops of applications, letter writing and interviews. NO! I tighten the grip, and dig in my spurs, doing my best to move the beast in a direction that I control...

SECOND EIGHT: As the last second of the ride begins, I can see the end of the ride, the point at which I can release the lifeline, dismount and face the beast. I will be able to do the same with my ride through the unemployment experience. I will be able to look the Newjita in the eye -- at least for a moment and show HIM 'victory', show HIM what a 'winner' looks like. But only for a second. Like the rider, I know I am still vulnerable to the beast, so I look for the nearest barrel to dive into for safety -- and let the clowns distract the animal, force him down the shoot, where he will be confined again to the depths of my psyche -- where I hope to keep him.

No job is perfect, but having one to go to, does fill in many of those gaps I mentioned in earlier phases. The ones filled by 'work' that give us meaning, that shape who we are - to each other, to our families, to the world.

But, standing there, like the rider, dusting off his chaps after the ride. You can see he is sore. You can see that this hasn't REALLY been fun, but work, in and of itself. He knows - as I do - that in order to be successful, you have to be willing to get back in the pen, straddle the beast and ride gain. We can only HOPE that the time between the rides of 'unemployment' are long enough that we can recover and re-invent ourselves...

...for one more ride.