Blues

So, another rejection letter today...I have to say, though, they are getting nicer and nicer! This one said "Although we are very impressed with your credentials, we selected another applicant for the position." I am so tired of this. I am tired of hunting for the meager few jobs I am qualified for, I am tired of endlessly re-writing and re-fining and re-tooling my resume, I am tired of trying to find new ways to make myself sound like I am perfection personified to my peers in my field, I am tired of being optimistic and hopeful that I will find one soon, I am simply TIRED OF LOOKING FOR A JOB! Aw, hell. I'm going fishing.

Happy Spring!

So it is Spring today where I live. Spring, if we're lucky, lasts about three days, and then it is summer, which will last around 8 months. Which is good because I have ample time to be on the water fishing. Also, because Spring is so very short, the traditional spring cleaning that everyone talks about and seems to do in their homes around now, for me is very short, too. I can just open a closet door, swish some fresh air in there, and bingo: closets are all cleaned and refreshed for the season. The floors will get swept and I will use the cute little brush thing that came with the vacuum cleaner to dust my books. The blinds will get lowered to keep out the glare of the sun, with the added bonus of instantly removing the need to wash the windows. The ceiling fans will get turned on to the mega-fast speed, removing the dust that accumulates up there. Before I know it, my home is as clean as a whistle, and it's off to the river for me!

All of Me

So, I was looking through some pictures to find an interesting one of me to use as my profile picture on my Facebook page, and something occurred to me. There are none. I mean, there are pictures of me, but they are generally just parts of me...my arms as I cradle my son as a newborn, my feet as I stand by my child as he struggles to stand up as a toddler, my hands steadying his bicycle as he climbs on for the first time, my back as I kneel before him and fix his costume for the school play, a very unflattering one of me on hands and knees as I "trot" around the kitchen with my cowboy on my back...the list goes on. And, as time has gone by, the pictures of me seem to stop altogether. There is one of me all dressed up to go out a few years back, but I am not smiling because I am worried that my son will not have fun with the sitter. There is another one that you can practically SEE the stress on my face because it is my son's first day at a new school and I'm anxious that he will be nervous and scared. There are a few family pictures of all of us from vacations and other outings, but in general our family photographs consist of my child and husband. Of course I am there; who else would be taking the pictures? But, it's strange to look back and have such vivid memories but so little evidence that you were really there. I know that eventually the trend will reverse; when my son no longer wants to be seen with his parents, and there will be more and more pictures of him by himself and with his friends, and more pictures of me and my husband, together, doing things we really like to do. But for now, and I wouldn't have it any other way, I'll have to look at pictures of only parts of me and know that I was (and still am) truly there.

Airplane!

A little story that doesn't have a happy ending but definitely has a message: About 30 miles from where I live, a small, experimental two-seater airplane was flying from Florida north to Virginia and the propeller of the plane fell off. Okay, two things stand out immediately here... EXPERIMENTAL airplane? Propeller FELL OFF? Was that part of the experiment, I wonder? Anyway, after the propeller fell off, the pilot tried to make it to the airport, but had to make an emergency landing on the beach, instead. Also, at some point, oil began spewing out of the engine and covered the windshield and the pilot couldn't see where he was going. Well, the pilot lands his plane, but unfortunately, he ran over a guy jogging on the beach while landing. Oh, and the jogger died. So, I am thinking, it was truly the jogger's time to go. Make no mistake. IT WAS HIS TIME TO GO! The jogger was 39 years old...he was probably just beginning his mid-life crisis, hence the jogging stuff. So, the message here is twofold: First, you never know when you're going to die, so you should be sure to have fun while you can. Second: this story reinforces my belief that jogging, whether on a treadmill, a neighborhood nature trail or even a beautiful beach, is truly a BAD thing.

Happy Words

So, I was at a social event the other night, and IT happened...a new acquaintance asked the dreaded question..."Penny, what do you do?" Well, after I stumbled around a little bit with the answer, I finally managed to blurt out that I was an unemployed biologist, and HE said (and I could have hugged and kissed him for this) "Wow, that is such important work. I bet you'll find a job really soon." I haven't felt that uplifted since one of my uber-stylish friends looked me up and down and declared "I LIKE you a little heavier." Which, by the way, is the single best compliment to receive...ever!

What's in a Name?

So, it has been suggested to me that my job search might actually be handicapped not by my experience or age, but my NAME! Now, I think this is grasping at straws, but here goes. For those of us old enough to remember the cartoon the Wacky Races, the character Penelope Pitstop surely comes to mind. In Wacky Races, the character drives the Compact Pussycat, a pink race car equipped with extensive personal grooming facilities. Penelope wears a bright pink racing uniform with white gloves, maroon tights, and white go-go boots. She is called the Glamour Gal of the Gas Pedal. According to the series' creator, the Penelope character was an afterthought in the development of Wacky Races, so she and her car were designed in about two hours. Penelope is a stereotypical "damsel in distress" stock character. Her catchphrase is "Help, help!" (spoken in an affected upper-class southern accent, and pronounced "HAY-ULP!"). She displays a curious combination of ingenuity and helplessness. When in trouble, she often is unlikely to do anything to save herself, other than yelling for help...

Is THIS is my namesake? Is this what prospective employers think of before they even meet me? If this is even partly true, it is no wonder I am scaring them off. So, I maybe need a different name; something no-nonsense and tough sounding. Suggestions, anyone?

Revisions

Can't think, brain numb.
Inspiration won't come.

I am attempting to revise my resume, and I keep running into these roadblocks...
For example, all the experts agree that long periods of unemployment need to be explained on a resume. Okay, fine. But how do I explain that I fell absolutely head over heels crazy in love with my newborn son 12 years ago, and have had absolutely NO interest in working since then? How do I phrase that in a manner that sounds like I was productively engaged in an important, vital task and not just hanging around eating bon bon's for all this time? Right now, my resume reads '1997 - present: Unemployed by choice to raise my child. Job duties too numerous and often too ridiculous to mention; 168 hour work week; no time off; fabulous benefits.' I know, I know - it has to go. But what do I say about all these years that have passed? And how do I explain my sudden interest in resuming my career? Can I be totally honest and say, 'well, I am getting a little antsy, and a job might be just the jolt I'm looking for'? Sure, that's what every employer is looking for - someone who thinks it will be "fun" to work again. I need get this worked out, somehow.

From the Left

I recently read an article that said left-handed people are likely to die younger than right handed people. The article specifically states that 'south paws' experience more stress than right handed people trying to get by in a right handed world. The additional stress likely contributes to their pre-mature demise. Furthermore, lefties are more likely to have accidents involving machinery, as most machines are geared to right handed users. The article (written by a right handed person, no doubt) also implies that the invention of the left handed scissors has saved countless left handed people from nearly certain early death. Now, I am left handed, and made my way through grade school, middle school, high school, college, more college and 15 years or so in the work force without ever using left handed scissors. I recently used a pair not so long ago, and I tell you, what a difference they made! I was cutting tax payment vouchers and when I was through, it looked like a three year old did it. It was so bad, I wound up using a paper cutter to do a whole new batch so that the IRS wouldn't get mad at me when my lopsided voucher jammed one of their machines. I seriously could not cut with those scissors. I was not feeling the stress melting away. Come to find out that there is a whole market of "Left" merchandise for sale. For the kitchen, I can purchase a left handed can opener and, get this, a left-handed spatula. For my home improvement needs, there is a left handed tape measure. There are even coffee mugs for left handed people, pencil sharpeners and notebooks. And, people actually BUY this stuff. Wow. I wish I had thought of all those items left handed people need...then, I wouldn't need to be looking for a job!