Putting in my notice!

I quit!

This home maker thing is for the birds. Honestly.

It would be one thing if you cleaned the house and it stayed relatively clean, but this...this is total chaos. No. Wait. It's anarchy!

All I wanted to do was vaccuum. That's it. Even though real writers don't do it, I needed to, because it's spring and the dust bunnies are larger than usual, thanks to my two shedding dogs. So I started at the entryway of the kitchen and moved my way through the house...when suddenly, it hit me. The toddler boy, who usually follows along behind trying to hitch a ride on the vaccuum cleaner, was missing.

So were the dogs.

I shut off the vaccuum cleaner and went on a toddler hunt. As I entered the kitchen, I encoutered...footprints. Made of crumbs. And then, I spotted this:

The child had opened the pantry door and emptied an ENTIRE BOX of Cheerios on the floor. And stepped on them.

Sigh.

I lugged the %&#@!! vaccuum BACK into the kitchen and set about revaccuuming the area I'd spent fifteen minutes on just ten minutes before. (Remember: shedding dogs=lots and lots of fur.) It took me five minutes to finish getting up the cereal and the crumbs. I realized that the toddler had scurried off as I cleaned up this mess (crap!). A quick search found
that the toddler had found the closet, where the clothes hamper is kept.

I've tied him to a chair. (Kidding! He's at the store with Daddy now because Daddy realizes...when Mommy gets that look in her eye, it's best to run away. Fast.)

Please, someone...give me a job and get me out of here!

Hot job? With...hot coffee?

I've been looking for a job. No, wait. Not a job...I'm looking for a career.

Personally, I'm feeling a bit old for this, but I'm hopeful. Enough people have told me that the 40's are the new 20. (What does that make the 20's? And what happens to people under 20? Are they in the negative numbers?) I'm thinking that people who say this haven't reached their 40's yet; there is NO way this body of mine acts 20-something after a long car ride, when I stand up and have to work the kinks out of my hips and knees.

But I digress.

My other concern about finding a career is that HotJobs.com keeps sending me jobs "related to my skills". Apparently, Hot Jobs feels my skills would best be served (so to speak) by working at a Dunkin Donuts. Now you'd think that an Associates degree in Liberal Arts, a Bachelors Degree in English (with a concentration in Secondary Education), four years' experience in the sales (oops, sorry--Admissions) department of a local technical college, and nearly seven years experience in collections and mortgage processing (that's banking, folks!) would count for more than a "career" behind the coffee counter.

Apparently not.

So I ask you...what am I doing wrong? Am I really that unmarketable in today's job market? Am I unworthy of a real career? Unskilled in anything but pouring coffee into a styrofoam cup?

And if 40 is the new 20, why do I have all this gray hair?

Stop by Dunkin Donuts and let me know--I'm easy to find. I'm the bewildered-looking, 43-year-old, twenty-something with stiff knees and aching hips.

Birthday Thought

written on March 14

It's my birthday today.

For a gift, my best friend in the whole world (for 25 years!) gave me a train ticket to come see her in Maine. And even though I'm now the ripe old age of 43, I've never gone anywhere by train. I've taken the T in Boston, but that doesn't really count as taking the train to go somewhere.

I'm blogging from the train right now, as a matter of fact. We just stopped at a station and more people are boarding. More people...that I don't know.

I realized today, sitting in North Station in Boston that there are a lot of people I don't know. Yes, I realize—duuuuuh. But it's never really been something that hit me like it did this morning, watching hundreds of people—hundreds!--pouring out of doorways and scurrying to their destinations, their faces grim and intent on their business. I looked, I watched, and I realized. Out of all those people, there was not one familiar face.

The hazards of going somewhere, I guess.

The thing is...I saw all those people, and realized that there are more. Many more. So many, I could never see them all. Not in this lifetime. It's almost...scary. If I were prone to panic attacks, I would have had one, right there in North Station. Gasp. I felt so damn small and inconsequential, and very, very humbled.

The really strange thing is—out of all those hundreds of people—NONE of them were talking to each other. Even when I took the Orange Line from Back Bay to North Station; jammed together in that train, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, back to back, we were a rocking clump of people that did not communicate. Not a whisper, no eye contact...nothing. So now I really understand how a person can feel their loneliest even when they're surrounded by others.

When I got to North Station, I found a small group of middle school kids on a field trip, huddled together in a self-conscious mass of hormones, giggling and showing off, and I moved closer to this cluster of humanity. It was warm, alive and familiar. The boys, pretending to play baseball, the girls, trying to look grown-up despite their braces and awkwardness; I felt better around them. Especially when one of them made eye contact with me and grinned because he knew he'd caught me smiling at how goofy his friend acted. I felt less panicked at this human contact. This connection.

I guess we lose that ability or desire to connect with people as we grow older. Even me, today, on my birthday at the age of 43; spending most of my morning trying to be one of the crowd, intent on my business and very lonely.

I think that I'll spend this year of my life trying to meet more people. So that next year—if my best friend gives me another train ticket—maybe I'll actually know someone in the crowd.

Is there anybody out there?

Since I've been laid off, I've been making important phone calls. Like the one to my husband's health insurance company, to see if I've been added to his account. Have you done this type of thing, lately? Try to avoid it, if you can, because this is how it goes:


(pleasant pre-recorded female voice, unusually chipper) "Thank you for calling United against your Health, we really don't Care. If you are calling about a claim, please press 1. If you are calling about benefits, please press 2. All other calls, please stay on the line." (Happy man's voice.) "Para continuar en español, presione por favor el número 1."

I press 2. (prerecorded woman's voice. It sounds as if she's got a cold.) "Thank you for calling United, we could care less about your Health Care. This call may be recorded. Please say your identification ID--"

Huh?

"NOW!"

My identification ID? That doesn't even make sense. Identification identification? Where is that anyway--

"I'm sorry, I didn't understand your response--"

No %#@! That makes two of us--

"Please speak or enter your number, NOW."

Here it is. It really is called an identification ID. Enter, enter, enter, enter, enter--oh, crap! wrong number...

"I'm sorry. I did not understand your response. Please hold for the next available representative."

Does this mean a person will answer? If I had known all I needed to do to get a human being was to make a mistake I would have done it sooner.

....musak....
....musak...
...more musak...

click!

Good! Someone's coming--

(Cheerful male voice.) "Due to unusually heavy call volume, your call may be delayed. Please wait for the next available representative."

...musak...
...musak...
...musak...

Oh, crap. Is that Barry Manilow? I hate this song...

Click!

Someone's coming! Yes! That wasn't too--

(condescending woman's voice) "Thank you for waiting. Your call will be answered in the order it was received."

Click!


...musak...

(20 minutes later)

I can't smile--without--you. Can't something without you. Can't laugh and I can't sing, I'm finding it hard to do anything...

(10 minutes later)

I can't snarl without you. Can't hurl, without you. Can't do crap and I can't have a fling, I'm finding it hard, to do anything...

(2 minutes)

I can't talk--without you, can't solve problems without you. If you only knew--that human contact was important--

Click!

"'Dank yoo for calling United, we're making you need Health Care. My nem is Sabeeb and I can help you. May I have your nem, pleez?"

Hi! Yes. I'm so glad you picked up. Yes! I need some information, please.

"Yes and I can help you. Pleez may I have your identification ID number pleeze?"

Yes, it's number, number, number...

"Yes, very good. Yes, I am zeeing it your account. Pleeze, can you hold the line. Dank you."

Click.
Silence.

Hello?

Dead air...

Hello? Hello???
Is there...anybody...out there?
Is there anybody out there?
Is there anybody out there?
Is there anybody? Out there?

Does anyone else feel alone and isolated? Are there any people left in the world anymore? (Maybe they've all been jobbed out to India?) Help?

I wonder if Santa feels this way?

You know how Santa is constantly making his list and checking it twice? I think I know how he feels.

Lately, I'd be lost without lists. Grocery lists, to do lists, laundry lists (literally. Like, Monday house, Tuesday--boy 1, Wednesday--Girl, Thursday--toddler boy, Friday-Husband, Saturday-Me, Sunday...whatever's left), shopping lists (cleaning supplies! Clorox CleanUp, Mr Clean Sponges--WALMART! snacks for school--BJ'S!), to do lists (rake leaves in front beds, 15 minutes. call dept of employment. pick up dog poop in back yard, clean muckboots...)

Otherwise, I feel caught in the swirling wind of chaos that is my life, lately. You see, I got laid off. And now--I'm home again. Despite what my husband thinks, being AT home is different from leaving work and GOING home. Imagine living at your office. Would you ever--truly--be able to relax? Or would you constantly be finding things that need to be done? You'd watch your inbox grow and think, "OH...crap. If I leave that, it will be even bigger tomorrow. I really need to work on that. But first...I need to work on my emails, because I've got a warning message that I'm using too much RAM and..." See? Lists.

Only, at home, the lists are diversified. Where else could you find concerns about cleaning supplies, snacks for school AND poop all in one place?

Of course, BLOG is on a list...somewhere. Usually at the bottom of a list at the bottom of the pile of lists. Ah well. Happy Monday, people. Let the stress begin!

Success!

Okay, it looks like crap, because sometimes what you see is NOT what you get (no matter what wysiwyg promises) but--MY WEBSITE IS UP!

Complete with links to all my webfriend's websites. So, kids...visit www.cyndisweet.com within the next few days and let me know if the links is workin' da ways de should.

I'm so punchy. Please 'scuse me. I'm so not a techie and my art major days are far behind me. So this has been an interesting experience. I want the underlines in the hyperlinks to go away, and they don't want to...but they're not in the work space, so I don't know they're there until I go live. So, so frustrating. It got so bad, today, I actually did laundry rather than sit at my computer and try to figure out what was wrong. Gasp!

Tomorrow, however, assuming my mother-law chooses to keep the smallest boy with her, I'll write. I'll actually sit down and work on a story. Maybe the laptop I bought from ebay will arrive. (And if it does, it will work...) Maybe I'll sit and read. Or, both.

What I really need to do is wash the kitchen floor. Thhhpt. Housework.

One thing I want to do is work on the characters in Nuts Over You. I have a fair idea of who they are, but something is missing. I don't like to do charts when it comes to characters because it seems like a tremendous waste of good writing time. I don't like to interview them, either--that just seems weird. Basically, I have to write them to get to know them. But what a waste o'time that is when you just want to finish the damn book. (Why? Why not enjoy the process instead of the product? And if it's a waste to write them, why not try charting them anyway?)

Pooh. Who is this person asking questions? Go 'way. I'm tired. LOL.

How do YOU learn about your characters?

Sigh

I've been trying to figure out how to get my website published.

It's not working.

The worst part is knowing that it's probably very simple. But to a technophobe like me, it's akin to flying to the moon. Even with instructions. I might as well be reading blahblahblah...

At any rate, I've been ignoring my blog in my attempts to get my other site up and running under the domain name, www.cyndisweet.com. Dont' bother clicking on the hyperlink; you'll only get the under construction page that my host put up.

I just hope that it doesn't stay there forever. Wish me luck. I'd rather be writing!