The Sun Will Come Out

OK, so I have hit another loop-de-loop in the Sidewinder that my life has become. As overwhelming as it is to be starting back at square one, I'm finding it more overwhelming to continue trying to approach the process with a positive attitude. I've been lucky to have several positive people around me: A counselor in my office who has made it her mission to put me in touch with every person in her life who has anything to do with event management, a friend traveling to Israel to add me to her family's wailing wall(OK, she's not going all the way there just to pray for me, but she made it sound like her main mission which brought me to happy tears), and several students who have visited the office just to check on me and bring happy thoughts all week.

It feels like after a year of this, persistence would have become a strength from practicing it so regularly. But the cover letters come more quickly now, and the positive attitude is becoming the true challenge for me. I know it's a cycle, and that there will be a peak at some point in the future, and am hoping that my head can convince my heart to find the energy necessary to pick up and keep going until the sun comes back.

The Road's So Rough

Dear Angry Man in the Silver Sienna,

I'm very sorry that I ruined your morning when I stopped at the red light. I feel that I was acting in both our best interests, even though your tantrum with the horn and your lewd gestures clearly expressed your disagreement. According to driving safety curriculum promoted by the state of Illinois, intersections are extremely dangerous and should not be considered lightly. Therefore, I do not feel guilty that I rescued you from the potential evil that you would have encountered had we both run the light and entered the intersection.

Sincerely,
Merix

Here Comes the Sun

This past week has been unseasonably nice for March. Highs nearing 70 and sunshine until 7pm...Bosco and I have hit the bike path a couple of times, which has been refreshing for both of us. My mile is back up to ten minutes, which is NOT refreshing, but may prove to be inspiring when I have a routine I can factor workouts into. Crocuses and daffodils are blooming, and there are a few buds on trees and shrubs. My crazy neighbor lady has Easter out on her front porch, which includes yellow chicks and several lambs perched around various sized pastel eggs.

As much as I am looking forward to sunshine and being able to spend hours outdoors, it makes me sad to think that we're at the end of March and sitting on less than an inch of precipitation for the year. March is usually when all the snow comes and wets everything down for spring blossoms, and I fear that this summer will be record heat with more awful fires. April, feel free to prove me wrong and bring lots of showers!

I've Decided to be Kinder

This past week I have felt like I was in the eye of a destructive tornado. Nothing disastrous happened directly to me, but it seems like the world around me has been in chaos. However, being the sensor-feeler that I am, it is challenging to observe and and not internalize it as if it were happening to me.

Last week there was a non-altercation event with Bosco, who now has a criminal record and has been in quarantine for over a week, poor thing! Also, even though Brian and I escaped unscathed, lots of friends and family have been attacked by some sort of flu bug this week. For the most part, I think everybody is back on their feet, but it's been rough!

Friday was ultra weird. We finally had our front door replaced last week, and Friday was the touch-up painting day to complete the process. First of all, Brian was in Evansville for the night(I know, right? But he survived two days of airports to attend Shoe Carnival's VIP re-opening celebration), so I got to stay home for the painter. Turns out that my plan to go in a few hours late didn't pan out very well, since he was working until almost 4pm! My day had already been thrown off when the first news I got after my alarm went off was about the major quake in Japan, and that the naval ships in Pearl Harbor were trying to decide whether to stay in port to weather the resulting tsunami swells.

After checking on friends in Japan and hearing that they were all ok, and finally hearing back from Max that they had been safely evacuated to higher ground on the big island, I got an email that one of my favorite facilities men at Thunderbird passed away last week. After collaborating on a couple of Regional Nights, Tony would offer me a ride across campus anytime he passed me in his golf cart, making pleasantly distracting small talk or encouraging my academic efforts. Such sad news, as he was only in his sixties! The evening concluded with me driving in to the office because I couldn't access email remotely, and OCI needed to be scheduled for first thing Monday morning. Symplicity is not my friend, and I am so grateful to Alexia for sticking around till after 6pm(Friday!) to help make sure everything was set up.

Saturday included a memorial service for a friend of the family who lost her five-year battle with breast cancer, and Metz's rendition of 'Tis Pity She's a Whore at CU. Sunday brought beautiful sunny skies, an hour less sleep, and a rough draft of our taxes. Not exactly an energizing weekend, but I was surrounded by friends, family, and evidence that I am healthy and financially stable.

I am learning a new song for Sound Circle outreach programming called Kinder. It's a beautiful reminder to recognize the blessings in my life, and appreciate the small joys that are too frequently taken for granted. The unique element I find in this piece is that it's not a reminder to be gentle and understanding with people around you, but with yourself. Thought I would share, since it's been stuck in my head and it made this weird weekend manageable:

KINDER

I've decided to be happy, I've decided to be glad.

I've decided to be grateful for all I've ever had.

I've decided to let go of all this pain tonight,

I've decided to let go of all these demons inside.

I know that I am blessed.

I know all I ever wanted was this.

I know I don't need more,

I've got what I came for.

I've decided to be open to that little voice inside,

Telling me I'me beautiful, it's okay to be alive.

I've decided to be kinder to myself when I feel sad,

I've decided to be grateful for all I ever had.

Stand in the Line Just to Hit a New Low

This morning I finally realized the true meaning behind the nickname CU Parking Services has earned. It's not just because they liberally and ruthlessly give out tickets to cars parked in those pesky pay-to-park meters(the ones that have coin slots next to the credit card reader, but don't register the coins you put in), but they are also high on power and demeaning to the lowly patrons who are forced to pay $50 a month to park within any semblance of walking distance to the building in which we work.

The last time I felt this humiliated and angry was when my academic advisor at Thunderbird told me that I should be happy that I hadn't been admitted to the exclusive Mexican Module Abroad - because it wouldn't be fair to my husband for me to be away that long. So much for supporting academic endeavors with equal opportunity...

If you're going to uphold a certain set of guidelines, that's fine. I will respect them, I am not angling to take advantage of the system. What has been frustrating me is that there have consistently been two different answers. Make up your mind! If my parking liaison tells me something she says came from your office, why should I have any reason not to believe her? It can't be anything but annoying to her when I come back with my rejection stories that mean she has to make another round of phone calls and emails.

To top it off, the passive-aggressive nonsense with your "Have a nice day" and your fake smile as I walk out the door with tears streaming down my face is absolutely not necessary. I think a brisk walk might be a healthy way to start and end my workdays, and have no intentions of handing over any more cash to the unfeeling and anti-customer service Parking Services.

If You Ain't Got A Friend

You know when you get let down by somebody you respect or admire, and you have a moment of realization that it's not the first time they've let you down? And you think about all of the times you have gone out of your way to help them out or be a friend to them, but it is apparent that they don't see you as an important part of their life? I've had several moments like that recently, and have found it difficult to convince myself to stop caring. It's easy enough for my brain to rationalize the fact that I was looking for a connection that they were not interested in, and it's not necessarily personal that they don't think of me as often or as highly as I think of them. However, my heart continues to be confused about why my efforts are unrequited - be it outreach in others' times of need, professional networking, or just friendliness in general.

I think one of my problems is that I have always been inclined to sincerity, and tend to avoid superficial relationships. (Galit would tell me that my problem is the values I possess, and that they are getting in my way of taking over the world.) But in all honesty, I am internally offended when somebody fakes a greeting or a concern. For better or for worse, I cannot fake concern. If you're having a bad day I genuinely feel bad for you and if there is something in my power that would improve it, I'd like to help do that. Why is that so weird?

I saw an unmemorable movie recently, and there's a scene when a high schooler steps into a street fight between a 4-person gang and a single guy, and a crowd collects at the windows of the restaurant they are in front of. Pre-left-hook, one of the gang members asks the kid what's wrong with him for volunteering to get beat up on behalf of a stranger, and his response struck me: "Four idiots laying into one guy while everybody else watches, and you want to know what's wrong with me?!"

I hope someday to be content with my values, and be strong enough to stand up for them.

I've Got a Hammer & a Heart of Glass

I found this in my current edition of "The Week," and it is a pretty perfect summary of the anxiety I have over the future of this nation's economy. I went back to school because I wanted to gain some insight into my strengths and how I can better apply them to my world. Even in college I had decided that I wanted to pursue a master's, and I selected a very rigorous program because I have always been an ambitious person; just going through the motions wouldn't have satisfied my intentions. I also decided that a college degree alone will not provide me with enough resources and credibility to achieve all of the elements the career of my dreams includes.

In this excerpt, Francis Wilkinson articulates the deep-seated fear that has been tormenting my hope in our future, as I have struggled to justify the jobs I think I would enjoy with the jobs I think people will pay me to do.

When I was a recent college graduate, I was fired from my job at an upscale Manhattan wine shop. (My boss' diagnosis was correct: I did have an attitude.) With rent to pay and no job prospects, I entered a Midtown messenger firm and started delivering packages for minimum wage. At week's end, I had scarcely more money than I had begun with. As a student, I had been enterprisingly frugal, cooking on an upturned electric iron when my propane stove was spent. That sort of poverty had its youthful charm. But working full-time for nearly nothing was something else - a depressing, even terrifying, experience.

According to a new study, three quarters of the jobs created in the first half of 2010 were low-paying - $9 to $15 per hour. I suspect that many Americans who hold such jobs - especially those with children - could teach me a thing or two about what true depression and terror feel like. The plight of the poor is, of course, a perennial topic, but its contours change according to the prevailing idealogical light. Looking back, we see the earnest, striving immigrants of the early 20th century, those teeming urban masses yearning for fresh air and a chance to make good. In the 1960's, we had the grim, explosive underclass, which was replaced in the 1980's by a sketch of Cadillac welfare mothers. Now, in the wake of the Great Recession, a new poor is taking shape - the desperate, downwardly mobile. Betrayed by markets, forsaken by government, they seem to look different this time. But their harrowing vantage point is the same as ever.