May 27, 2009
Today’s lesson comes from Wayne W. Dyer, noted author and self-help guru. I was rereading a part of his book, “Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life,” this morning when I came across this quote:
“Do not limit the view of yourself. … Do not resist the natural course of your life.”
For the first time in a couple of months, I felt some of the anxiety and discomfort dissolve as I digested those words. What those words mean to me is that the time had come in the grand scheme of the universe and in the realm of the Supreme Being, whoever that might be, that I embark on a new path in life. It means that I didn’t make a mistake by leaving my job. It means that destiny dictated that there are new plans ahead for me.
I was able to shed those nagging worries about the family future and approach the day with great confidence. I did my last student observation at Mill Middle School for my masters in education course. I started reading J.M. Coetzee for my English class. I did yard work. I talked to my kids. I applied for a few more jobs. I started thinking about my fall courses at D’Youville and doing more student observation in the autumn. (It won’t be long before grades start rolling in for the two courses I’m currently taking.)
Anyway, I’ll have to send Dyer an e-mail of thanks. “Do not resist the natural course of your life.” That comes from the Tao, 72nd verse.
What a great saying.
Stop fighting what is supposed to transpire in your life, it is telling me. Accept it. Enjoy it.
This should be a monster summer for me. I am in great health, have lots of money and lots of time to do what I want to do, whether it’s ride around in a boat on Chautauqua Lake, garden, or sit in the hot tub and soak down beers. I could also do more free-lance writing, read great books or go hiking somewhere.
Free to be – you and me.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Wonders of change
May 24, 2009
It’s a holiday weekend (although, without a job every day seems like Memorial Day), so there is some time to reflect. The Blessed Wife is busy tending to her rose garden under an overcast sky, and I’m inside the cottage doing a little homework. I'm reading "Persepolis" by Marjane Satrapi. "You're even sounding smarter every day," the Blessed Wife old me yesterday.
I continue to marvel at how my life has changed. I still feel anxious when someone starts to talk about their job. (You lucky son of a gun, I think to myself.) But I’m getting into some type of comfort zone. Instead of walking into the same building and seeing the same faces every day, it seems I am in different environments and talking to new people almost daily. From the D’Youville classroom to my student observation at Mill Middle School, I’m meeting new people every day. At home, I do my freelance work and study. It seems out of place, but I think I am adjusting. My family and friends continue to provide great support, and that is a major morale booster.
Chautauqua continues to offer a great escape, even though I’m not working and don't feel in need of an “escape.” There’s just a good vibe here. I equate Chautauqua with relaxation and fun. I must spend more time here this summer.
When we (myself and the Anderson clan) went to Southern Tier Brewery on Saturday, I met some Buffalo-area acquaintances who urged me to apply to the Buffalo School District as a substitute teacher this fall. I probably will.
I hear the sounds of laughter outside, so I feel the need to join in, so I will cut this entry short.
PS: I heard on the radio last night an expert saying that Americans of the future will have multiple careers in their lifetimes. I think the man’s name was Howard Bloom. He said Americans will be very career mobile and also geographically mobile. I think that is already happening, with the downturn in the auto industry and newspapers.
I am one of many.
Monday, May 18, 2009
They call me Mr. Chips
May 18, 2009
I stood in front of a classroom of my peers today and taught my first lesson – on the Five Ws of journalism (who, what, when, where and why). The professor, Dr. David Gorlewski, had instructed us to teach our first lesson on something we were familiar with, so I chose the obvious from Journalism 101. I did a fairly credible job in my 10 minutes at the head of the class. I felt like I was babbling wildly, stuttering and doing a fairly average job. (It's strange how your mind races when you speak publicly.) My classmates kindly told me afterward that I had performed admirably. I would assess my performance as OK, enough to get by in my first foray into teaching.
I later told the Blessed Wife that it was like an infant taking his first uncertain step, the first stride in a long and arduous journey. (The longest journey begins with the first step.) I am starting to make my way.
I also visited with the head of the D’Youville College Learning Center and could possibly do some work for her this summer reading essays written by incoming freshmen during Orientation Week. The Blessed Wife also was able to network for me and get a commitment for me to teach a couple of writing seminars at the college this fall for the a special population of multicultural students.
Things are starting to gel a little bit. My sister-in-law might get me into her school for special-needs youths as a teacher’s aide this summer or fall. I know people in the Williamsville School District who might be able to get me in there as a teacher’s aide as well. I need to get some education experience on my resume. As it now stands, it’s almost all newspaper experience. Plus, I'd like to work while I'm going to school. It would give me valuable experience. I'm not a big fan of unemployment benefits; it's like accepting public assistance, although everyone says you've paid into the unemployment fund for 30-some years, you might as well reap some benefits.
Also, the only luck I’ve had since leaving The News is through networking. A “headhunter” told me that last month. He advised against papering the town with resumes and answering classified ads for jobs. A worthless pursuit, he said. My advice for those who have quit their jobs or have been furloughed is to network. Especially in tough economic times, that seems to be the only way to open doors. Otherwise, it seems you can be smart and industrious and no one will even take a look at you.
So if you are a displaced worker who has stumbled on my blog, get to networking. It’s as clear and as simple as that.
For the first time in weeks, I’m mentally exhausted from a day of hard mental work (a good feeling). So I’m going to cut this entry short. I will keep reciting the mantra -- study, succeed, Masters, teach, success. My road is uphill but I think I will be able to make that climb. What a great feeling it will be to summit that mountaintop, and I will do it at some point next year.
I know there is so much I’ve omitted from these blogs. Hopefully I will improve with these efforts as well.
Today, I was a teacher for 10 minutes.
I stood in front of a classroom of my peers today and taught my first lesson – on the Five Ws of journalism (who, what, when, where and why). The professor, Dr. David Gorlewski, had instructed us to teach our first lesson on something we were familiar with, so I chose the obvious from Journalism 101. I did a fairly credible job in my 10 minutes at the head of the class. I felt like I was babbling wildly, stuttering and doing a fairly average job. (It's strange how your mind races when you speak publicly.) My classmates kindly told me afterward that I had performed admirably. I would assess my performance as OK, enough to get by in my first foray into teaching.
I later told the Blessed Wife that it was like an infant taking his first uncertain step, the first stride in a long and arduous journey. (The longest journey begins with the first step.) I am starting to make my way.
I also visited with the head of the D’Youville College Learning Center and could possibly do some work for her this summer reading essays written by incoming freshmen during Orientation Week. The Blessed Wife also was able to network for me and get a commitment for me to teach a couple of writing seminars at the college this fall for the a special population of multicultural students.
Things are starting to gel a little bit. My sister-in-law might get me into her school for special-needs youths as a teacher’s aide this summer or fall. I know people in the Williamsville School District who might be able to get me in there as a teacher’s aide as well. I need to get some education experience on my resume. As it now stands, it’s almost all newspaper experience. Plus, I'd like to work while I'm going to school. It would give me valuable experience. I'm not a big fan of unemployment benefits; it's like accepting public assistance, although everyone says you've paid into the unemployment fund for 30-some years, you might as well reap some benefits.
Also, the only luck I’ve had since leaving The News is through networking. A “headhunter” told me that last month. He advised against papering the town with resumes and answering classified ads for jobs. A worthless pursuit, he said. My advice for those who have quit their jobs or have been furloughed is to network. Especially in tough economic times, that seems to be the only way to open doors. Otherwise, it seems you can be smart and industrious and no one will even take a look at you.
So if you are a displaced worker who has stumbled on my blog, get to networking. It’s as clear and as simple as that.
For the first time in weeks, I’m mentally exhausted from a day of hard mental work (a good feeling). So I’m going to cut this entry short. I will keep reciting the mantra -- study, succeed, Masters, teach, success. My road is uphill but I think I will be able to make that climb. What a great feeling it will be to summit that mountaintop, and I will do it at some point next year.
I know there is so much I’ve omitted from these blogs. Hopefully I will improve with these efforts as well.
Today, I was a teacher for 10 minutes.
Friday, May 15, 2009
A happy heart
May 15, 2009
My heart is happy in Chautauqua as I mulch the gardens. My heart is happy as I mow the lawn. My heart is happy as I screech down the lake in the Searay 175 Series. My heart is happy as I stand at the bar of the Lakewood Rod and Gun Club and watch the people mingle and have a good time.
Then I see someone I know. “I took the buyout from The News,” I say.
“What, are you insane?” they exclaim. “I talked to Joe and he said you wouldn’t be happy because you like to be busy.”
Well, at least this person is honest, he tells it like it is.
I still think that in the long run, this was a good decision. There are bright, bright days ahead. Only the prophets will know if metropolitan newspapers collapse on themselves like dwarf stars.
So, here I am in Chautauqua. You’d think this would be the logical place to settle down, but it isn’t. There isn’t long-term happiness here, only short-term peace. My neighbors tell me so. I believe them.
I saw my “peeps” at Yesterdays in Lakewood. I came home and listened to Todd Rundgren and Jackson Browne. “Where were you when you got the picture? Where were you when it blew from every direction?”
Where will be in one year?
That is the question. Keep living like you were a 20-year-old again. That’s the key. Too many grownups. Even the “young people” are entwined in the work world. Can’t come down this weekend, bro. I have to work until 9 on Friday. Sorry.
What a bunch of unfun people we have become.
Have another Beer. No, two’s my limit. I have no limits!
My heart is happy in Chautauqua as I mulch the gardens. My heart is happy as I mow the lawn. My heart is happy as I screech down the lake in the Searay 175 Series. My heart is happy as I stand at the bar of the Lakewood Rod and Gun Club and watch the people mingle and have a good time.
Then I see someone I know. “I took the buyout from The News,” I say.
“What, are you insane?” they exclaim. “I talked to Joe and he said you wouldn’t be happy because you like to be busy.”
Well, at least this person is honest, he tells it like it is.
I still think that in the long run, this was a good decision. There are bright, bright days ahead. Only the prophets will know if metropolitan newspapers collapse on themselves like dwarf stars.
So, here I am in Chautauqua. You’d think this would be the logical place to settle down, but it isn’t. There isn’t long-term happiness here, only short-term peace. My neighbors tell me so. I believe them.
I saw my “peeps” at Yesterdays in Lakewood. I came home and listened to Todd Rundgren and Jackson Browne. “Where were you when you got the picture? Where were you when it blew from every direction?”
Where will be in one year?
That is the question. Keep living like you were a 20-year-old again. That’s the key. Too many grownups. Even the “young people” are entwined in the work world. Can’t come down this weekend, bro. I have to work until 9 on Friday. Sorry.
What a bunch of unfun people we have become.
Have another Beer. No, two’s my limit. I have no limits!
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Keep your head up
May 14, 2009
What a Titanic mental struggle.
Just keep fighting on. Pick yourself up when you’re down. Get to work. Don’t give up. Just power through it.
I need all the clichés in the book to fight through this. This is definitely the toughest period of my life. Everyone is telling me what a joy and walk in the park this should be. I'm not seeing it -- yet.
I trundled off to my first day of observation at the local middle school. I watched several teachers in action, using different styles from old-school authoritarian to the new-school guided practice instructor. Like I’ve said before, I’m learning a lot, but there is so much change, so many new situations, new buildings, new people, it is just hammering my psyche. My mind is just reeling. There are textbooks, papers due, assignments to be posted, free-lance articles to turn in, rooms to be vacuumed, lawns to mow, letters to write, books to read. It’s a deluge and it’s a struggle to keep your head above water. It sure is different than putting it on autopilot for 25 years and mailing in the work.
Then I keep torturing myself, to boot.
I applied to this Internet sweatshop to do some freelance editing a couple of weeks ago. They sent two small articles to edit, as a test, in order to qualify for the $2.50 each that the firm pays to edit one article. I edited the articles, admittedly half-assed, yesterday. Today, I received an e-mail signed by Weng Chai Ka, saying that my editing wasn’t up to snuff. Sorry. After 31 years in journalism, I’m rejected by a Chinese sweatshop. That’s $5 that won’t be going into my Pay Pal account. How the mighty have fallen.
“You just have to laugh,” eldest daughter says.
Still, it sent me into a funk. I plopped on the bed, ready to sink into a depression. No, I said, get up and do something.
So Blessed Wife came home from her school-sponsored dinner to find two bathrooms gleaming. I polished and cleaned those restrooms so you could eat in the tub or dine on the toilet seats. It admittedly made me feel better. I am a good cleaner.
Power, through it, my friend.
Brighter days will come. There’s no doubt about it.
What a Titanic mental struggle.
Just keep fighting on. Pick yourself up when you’re down. Get to work. Don’t give up. Just power through it.
I need all the clichés in the book to fight through this. This is definitely the toughest period of my life. Everyone is telling me what a joy and walk in the park this should be. I'm not seeing it -- yet.
I trundled off to my first day of observation at the local middle school. I watched several teachers in action, using different styles from old-school authoritarian to the new-school guided practice instructor. Like I’ve said before, I’m learning a lot, but there is so much change, so many new situations, new buildings, new people, it is just hammering my psyche. My mind is just reeling. There are textbooks, papers due, assignments to be posted, free-lance articles to turn in, rooms to be vacuumed, lawns to mow, letters to write, books to read. It’s a deluge and it’s a struggle to keep your head above water. It sure is different than putting it on autopilot for 25 years and mailing in the work.
Then I keep torturing myself, to boot.
I applied to this Internet sweatshop to do some freelance editing a couple of weeks ago. They sent two small articles to edit, as a test, in order to qualify for the $2.50 each that the firm pays to edit one article. I edited the articles, admittedly half-assed, yesterday. Today, I received an e-mail signed by Weng Chai Ka, saying that my editing wasn’t up to snuff. Sorry. After 31 years in journalism, I’m rejected by a Chinese sweatshop. That’s $5 that won’t be going into my Pay Pal account. How the mighty have fallen.
“You just have to laugh,” eldest daughter says.
Still, it sent me into a funk. I plopped on the bed, ready to sink into a depression. No, I said, get up and do something.
So Blessed Wife came home from her school-sponsored dinner to find two bathrooms gleaming. I polished and cleaned those restrooms so you could eat in the tub or dine on the toilet seats. It admittedly made me feel better. I am a good cleaner.
Power, through it, my friend.
Brighter days will come. There’s no doubt about it.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Hitting the books
May 13, 2009
We’re only a couple of days into the summer session and I’m already hitting the books bigtime. I spent from 8:45 a.m. until 5:15 p.m. doing schoolwork with several breaks, of course. This will be a grind, for sure. Power through it, baby. I’m enjoying most of the coursework and am learning plenty. I’ve already amassed more knowledge about teaching than I learned in my previous 52 years. And reading “heady” literature for an English class can’t be bad for you.
So I’m off and running.
I told Judy, the Blessed Wife, that I’m still mourning my old life, but I’m getting ready to celebrate my new life. She is so confident about the future. I’m hoping that some of her optimism rubs off on me.
Yesterday was a tough day because economic worries started creeping into my brain – probably because I took a three-hour break and went into the hot tub with a couple of beers. (Guilt trip) I should just stick to the books at this point.
Why is it that we find it so difficult to live in the moment? We are doing super right now, so why not just enjoy that? Why project yourself into the future? STOP DOING IT!
Wayne Dyer says live for today.
“Live for today, forget tomorrow,” say the lyrics on a famous Pink Floyd song.
Carpe Diem!
We’re only a couple of days into the summer session and I’m already hitting the books bigtime. I spent from 8:45 a.m. until 5:15 p.m. doing schoolwork with several breaks, of course. This will be a grind, for sure. Power through it, baby. I’m enjoying most of the coursework and am learning plenty. I’ve already amassed more knowledge about teaching than I learned in my previous 52 years. And reading “heady” literature for an English class can’t be bad for you.
So I’m off and running.
I told Judy, the Blessed Wife, that I’m still mourning my old life, but I’m getting ready to celebrate my new life. She is so confident about the future. I’m hoping that some of her optimism rubs off on me.
Yesterday was a tough day because economic worries started creeping into my brain – probably because I took a three-hour break and went into the hot tub with a couple of beers. (Guilt trip) I should just stick to the books at this point.
Why is it that we find it so difficult to live in the moment? We are doing super right now, so why not just enjoy that? Why project yourself into the future? STOP DOING IT!
Wayne Dyer says live for today.
“Live for today, forget tomorrow,” say the lyrics on a famous Pink Floyd song.
Carpe Diem!
Monday, May 11, 2009
The bell rings
May 11, 2009
I was up at 6:30, out the door at 7:15 and in Room 534 of the Alt Building at D’Youville College at 7:55. I have to say the first day of graduate school classes was fairly exhilarating. I’d say my performance was pretty good. I participated in class discussions and group activities, talked to some classmates from Canada and schmoozed with the professor for a while. All in all, not too shabby for the first day of school in 32 years.
I don’t feel overwhelmed by the assignments, but it’s early in the game. I have my week planned out to cover all my assignments and hopefully will start my classroom observation sometime this week, either in Williamsville or at Bishop Timon-St. Jude, whoever will take me quickly.
My graduate classmates seem to have respect for me. Most were fairly impressed that I was back in academia. I even heard one say, “It just goes to show you that it’s never too late.” I’m the oldest of the 16 students. There are probably three women in their 30s or early 40s and the rest are traditional students. We had to carpool to get our textbooks during lunch break, and I jumped in the car with three Canadian women! It certainly is more exciting and different than sitting in a stagnant newsroom all day.
I didn’t feel out of place or uncomfortable. It also felt good to be out of the house and busy – to be part of a community, to be interacting with people. I did learn quite a bit, too. I actually absorbed a good amount of expertise about being a good teacher. I'd say my professor is very solid.
On the work front, I still have this big freelance writing assignment to do – if only these corporate CEOs would send me back the surveys with answers. Also, another little freelance editing offer came in, but now I think I want to concentrate on academics.
My spirits were definitely buoyed today. I hope it continues. I have to teach for 10 minutes next Monday in front of the graduate class. I feel pretty confident about that. I’m not going to stress about the schoolwork. It all will get done, and let the grades fall where they may.
I’d give my first day of school an A.
I was up at 6:30, out the door at 7:15 and in Room 534 of the Alt Building at D’Youville College at 7:55. I have to say the first day of graduate school classes was fairly exhilarating. I’d say my performance was pretty good. I participated in class discussions and group activities, talked to some classmates from Canada and schmoozed with the professor for a while. All in all, not too shabby for the first day of school in 32 years.
I don’t feel overwhelmed by the assignments, but it’s early in the game. I have my week planned out to cover all my assignments and hopefully will start my classroom observation sometime this week, either in Williamsville or at Bishop Timon-St. Jude, whoever will take me quickly.
My graduate classmates seem to have respect for me. Most were fairly impressed that I was back in academia. I even heard one say, “It just goes to show you that it’s never too late.” I’m the oldest of the 16 students. There are probably three women in their 30s or early 40s and the rest are traditional students. We had to carpool to get our textbooks during lunch break, and I jumped in the car with three Canadian women! It certainly is more exciting and different than sitting in a stagnant newsroom all day.
I didn’t feel out of place or uncomfortable. It also felt good to be out of the house and busy – to be part of a community, to be interacting with people. I did learn quite a bit, too. I actually absorbed a good amount of expertise about being a good teacher. I'd say my professor is very solid.
On the work front, I still have this big freelance writing assignment to do – if only these corporate CEOs would send me back the surveys with answers. Also, another little freelance editing offer came in, but now I think I want to concentrate on academics.
My spirits were definitely buoyed today. I hope it continues. I have to teach for 10 minutes next Monday in front of the graduate class. I feel pretty confident about that. I’m not going to stress about the schoolwork. It all will get done, and let the grades fall where they may.
I’d give my first day of school an A.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Attention, class
May 9, 2009
Well, there won’t be any last-minute jobs appearing to keep me from my appointed rounds as a graduate student. The employment cavalry won't be riding over the hill sounding its job bugle. Classes formally begin Monday but my English 216 class came up on the Internet on Friday, so I did the first week’s assignment. I read Kafka’s “The Metamorphosis” and answered the eight essay questions that followed. It took about five hours. So I'm off and running with schoolwork.
It was strange indeed to be doing coursework in my home.
“It’s what you always wished for,” the Blessed Wife said to me, "to work out of our home.”
That is true. I could learn to enjoy working and studying out of the home, but it’s just strange at first. Everyone shuffles off the street in the morning to their little widget-production jobs and there I am still hanging with the retirees and career homemakers. It takes some getting used to.
My eight-hour education class meets on Monday. Part of me wants to ditch this whole undertaking, part of me just wants to return to my drone job at the newspaper and part of me is excited about returning to the classroom, in effect turning back the hands of time. It’ll be like going back to the 1970s, only with a lot less hair.
I continue to network for future jobs and for possible shots at student teaching in the Williamsville School District. In my best moments, I tell myself to go for the gold, to shoot for teaching at one of the best school districts in Western New York. I have to heed everyone’s advice: Stay focused and get completely immersed in school. Don’t look back, only to what lies ahead. Believe me, I want to heed that advice, but Mr. Ego keeps telling me that I am the family breadwinner and have to generate cash for the cause. Go away for a while, Mr. Ego. OK?
Going back to school is very enlightening. I’m reading Jose Saramago, for instance. I relearned the difference between a metaphor and a simile. I read Franz Kafka. I was never exposed to this at Syracuse University. What the heck was going on in higher education 30 years ago?
Meanwhile, most of the family is at Chautauqua for Mother's Day, which is tomorrow. It was a pretty enjoyable reunion except for the 60 mph winds howling through the area. The children chastised me for being money-centric, but they don't know that Mr. Ego wants to think that way and finds it difficult to stop that monkey mind.
At this point, there’s nothing more to do than put my fate in the hands of the Lord. I learned that as a child as part of my Catholic upbringing and now find myself returning to that premise. Or is it just a convenient crutch? I don’t think so. I have to believe the universal mind, God, Buddha, or whatever you want to refer to as the supreme being has some plans for me. I just need help to show me the way.
I remember sitting around in January and February, mulling the buyout offer from my former employer and thinking that the easy thing to do would be to stay at the newspaper and continue to work in a pretty difficult environment amid a lot of unhappy people. The hard choice, I thought, would be to take the buyout, go back to school and reinvent myself. Well, hello, hard choice. Time to put up or shut up. This hasn’t been easy and it won’t be for the next 12 to 15 months. I have to learn to enjoy the ride, as scary as it may be.
In the words of my daughters, I’ll just have to “power through it.”
Well, there won’t be any last-minute jobs appearing to keep me from my appointed rounds as a graduate student. The employment cavalry won't be riding over the hill sounding its job bugle. Classes formally begin Monday but my English 216 class came up on the Internet on Friday, so I did the first week’s assignment. I read Kafka’s “The Metamorphosis” and answered the eight essay questions that followed. It took about five hours. So I'm off and running with schoolwork.
It was strange indeed to be doing coursework in my home.
“It’s what you always wished for,” the Blessed Wife said to me, "to work out of our home.”
That is true. I could learn to enjoy working and studying out of the home, but it’s just strange at first. Everyone shuffles off the street in the morning to their little widget-production jobs and there I am still hanging with the retirees and career homemakers. It takes some getting used to.
My eight-hour education class meets on Monday. Part of me wants to ditch this whole undertaking, part of me just wants to return to my drone job at the newspaper and part of me is excited about returning to the classroom, in effect turning back the hands of time. It’ll be like going back to the 1970s, only with a lot less hair.
I continue to network for future jobs and for possible shots at student teaching in the Williamsville School District. In my best moments, I tell myself to go for the gold, to shoot for teaching at one of the best school districts in Western New York. I have to heed everyone’s advice: Stay focused and get completely immersed in school. Don’t look back, only to what lies ahead. Believe me, I want to heed that advice, but Mr. Ego keeps telling me that I am the family breadwinner and have to generate cash for the cause. Go away for a while, Mr. Ego. OK?
Going back to school is very enlightening. I’m reading Jose Saramago, for instance. I relearned the difference between a metaphor and a simile. I read Franz Kafka. I was never exposed to this at Syracuse University. What the heck was going on in higher education 30 years ago?
Meanwhile, most of the family is at Chautauqua for Mother's Day, which is tomorrow. It was a pretty enjoyable reunion except for the 60 mph winds howling through the area. The children chastised me for being money-centric, but they don't know that Mr. Ego wants to think that way and finds it difficult to stop that monkey mind.
At this point, there’s nothing more to do than put my fate in the hands of the Lord. I learned that as a child as part of my Catholic upbringing and now find myself returning to that premise. Or is it just a convenient crutch? I don’t think so. I have to believe the universal mind, God, Buddha, or whatever you want to refer to as the supreme being has some plans for me. I just need help to show me the way.
I remember sitting around in January and February, mulling the buyout offer from my former employer and thinking that the easy thing to do would be to stay at the newspaper and continue to work in a pretty difficult environment amid a lot of unhappy people. The hard choice, I thought, would be to take the buyout, go back to school and reinvent myself. Well, hello, hard choice. Time to put up or shut up. This hasn’t been easy and it won’t be for the next 12 to 15 months. I have to learn to enjoy the ride, as scary as it may be.
In the words of my daughters, I’ll just have to “power through it.”
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Choose abundance
May 6, 2009
Could the lesson of this journey be to keep your ego under control?
I had my “unemployment seminar” today in a storefront in Transitown Plaza along a busy strip of businesses. It was 45 minutes of bullshit, and the hostess basically said, “We can’t help you find a job. Do it yourself, but we’ll sit around, sip coffee and offer you some lame advice. There are so many people unemployed that we can’t find squat for anyone.”
Why bother looking for jobs, was the message, when there are none out there other than pooper scooper and hamburger helper?
OK, I can buy that. Thanks Mr. Bush and Mr. Cheney. The residue of your squalid years at the helm of state are is coating everything in slime. But what the heck? I didn’t have to voluntarily resign my job – I chose to in the hopes of finding a more fulfilling life. I jumped into this of my own free will. We’ll see what happens.
Anyway, my fellow unemployed seminar-takers turned out to be mostly men – probably a 3 to 1 ratio -- and they ran the gamut in ages from 21 to 60 and from laborer to accountant, it seems.
What a strange turn of events in my life. Living the life of humility. Isn’t that what Jesus did? Only he didn’t get $382 a week (after taxes) plunked into his bank account for doing gardening, vacuuming the house and sending out resumes all morning on the Internet. Just think, only four more days till school begins.
After the scintillating “unemployment surrender seminar,” I made my way to the shopping arenas. At first, I hesitated to buy food for the birds, flowers for the garden and a trellis for our clematis (which we call chlamydia). Then I thought: You know what? I choose to think in terms of abundance, rather than scarcity. Live for today, feed the birds, your appetite and your soul and you will be provided for in a year’s time. I had a real feeling that blue skies are ahead, that there is a reason why I took this big gamble.
If nothing else, it taught me to rein in the ego.
Could the lesson of this journey be to keep your ego under control?
I had my “unemployment seminar” today in a storefront in Transitown Plaza along a busy strip of businesses. It was 45 minutes of bullshit, and the hostess basically said, “We can’t help you find a job. Do it yourself, but we’ll sit around, sip coffee and offer you some lame advice. There are so many people unemployed that we can’t find squat for anyone.”
Why bother looking for jobs, was the message, when there are none out there other than pooper scooper and hamburger helper?
OK, I can buy that. Thanks Mr. Bush and Mr. Cheney. The residue of your squalid years at the helm of state are is coating everything in slime. But what the heck? I didn’t have to voluntarily resign my job – I chose to in the hopes of finding a more fulfilling life. I jumped into this of my own free will. We’ll see what happens.
Anyway, my fellow unemployed seminar-takers turned out to be mostly men – probably a 3 to 1 ratio -- and they ran the gamut in ages from 21 to 60 and from laborer to accountant, it seems.
What a strange turn of events in my life. Living the life of humility. Isn’t that what Jesus did? Only he didn’t get $382 a week (after taxes) plunked into his bank account for doing gardening, vacuuming the house and sending out resumes all morning on the Internet. Just think, only four more days till school begins.
After the scintillating “unemployment surrender seminar,” I made my way to the shopping arenas. At first, I hesitated to buy food for the birds, flowers for the garden and a trellis for our clematis (which we call chlamydia). Then I thought: You know what? I choose to think in terms of abundance, rather than scarcity. Live for today, feed the birds, your appetite and your soul and you will be provided for in a year’s time. I had a real feeling that blue skies are ahead, that there is a reason why I took this big gamble.
If nothing else, it taught me to rein in the ego.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
OK to have fun
May 5, 2009
A ray of sunshine lights the way to the future. I’ve received my first post-employment break. There is a glimmer of hope for my working future.
A local major university has hired me to write an article for one of their school’s quarterly publications and it is paying what was a week’s worth of take-home wages from my previous job. This is a fairly major piece so it will take me at least a week’s worth of labor to get it done properly, but the big thing is, it is work and it is making a valuable contact for me at a major employer in the area.
It’s nice to think that I could possibly make a decent living as a free-lancer. I know how tough that is from previous dealings with free-lance writers as a newspaper editor. My article is due by May 25 so I’ll be very busy the next couple of weeks, especially with school starting on Monday. That’s OK because the inactivity was wreaking havoc on my mind. I am a person who needs to be busy.
By the way, I got the work as a result of a networking connection with a local friend. That proves correct the advice I got from a "headhunter" a couple of weeks ago who said it is almost worthless to respond to “help wanted” ads in the newspaper or on the Internet. He said the way to a new job is through networking. Who knows where this gig will lead? That’s the excitement of taking this opportunity to make a midcareer change and try my hand at going back to school.
I also figured out that because I wasn’t actively generating income anymore, I was punishing myself by not allowing myself to have a good time. I enjoy our hot tub, for instance, and I haven’t been using it for a couple of weeks. Self-flagellation. I wasn’t allowing myself to bask in the sun during the afternoon or enjoy a hockey game on TV. That changed today. I ventured into the hot tub. I must be regaining some self-worth and a sense of identity. I am a writer and editor, and also a student. I am pretty good at all those tasks, so how hard should it be to get hired in a year?
A note to self: It’s OK to have fun, to enjoy life. I haven’t done anything wrong, and with all the positive support I’ve received, I should be floating on Cloud Nine.
A ray of sunshine lights the way to the future. I’ve received my first post-employment break. There is a glimmer of hope for my working future.
A local major university has hired me to write an article for one of their school’s quarterly publications and it is paying what was a week’s worth of take-home wages from my previous job. This is a fairly major piece so it will take me at least a week’s worth of labor to get it done properly, but the big thing is, it is work and it is making a valuable contact for me at a major employer in the area.
It’s nice to think that I could possibly make a decent living as a free-lancer. I know how tough that is from previous dealings with free-lance writers as a newspaper editor. My article is due by May 25 so I’ll be very busy the next couple of weeks, especially with school starting on Monday. That’s OK because the inactivity was wreaking havoc on my mind. I am a person who needs to be busy.
By the way, I got the work as a result of a networking connection with a local friend. That proves correct the advice I got from a "headhunter" a couple of weeks ago who said it is almost worthless to respond to “help wanted” ads in the newspaper or on the Internet. He said the way to a new job is through networking. Who knows where this gig will lead? That’s the excitement of taking this opportunity to make a midcareer change and try my hand at going back to school.
I also figured out that because I wasn’t actively generating income anymore, I was punishing myself by not allowing myself to have a good time. I enjoy our hot tub, for instance, and I haven’t been using it for a couple of weeks. Self-flagellation. I wasn’t allowing myself to bask in the sun during the afternoon or enjoy a hockey game on TV. That changed today. I ventured into the hot tub. I must be regaining some self-worth and a sense of identity. I am a writer and editor, and also a student. I am pretty good at all those tasks, so how hard should it be to get hired in a year?
A note to self: It’s OK to have fun, to enjoy life. I haven’t done anything wrong, and with all the positive support I’ve received, I should be floating on Cloud Nine.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Weekend vibrations
May 4, 2009
I think I have it figured out: I feel fairly normal on weekends because I'm at the cottage “cheese” and I’m used to relaxing and spending my time in Chautauqua on Saturdays and Sundays. I’m in my comfort zone on weekends. It’s what I’m used to.
Then come Monday, the anxiety level ramps up because most able-bodied people head off to work. It kind of gives me the creeps to be stuck at home. That will end one week from today when my first postgraduate class begins. We’ll see how that goes. I have to remain optimistic and grow some stones. It can’t be that difficult. Hundreds of thousands of people accomplish their degrees every year.
I’m thinking I might spend a lot of study time at the college. That might help reinforce my sense of purpose. That will help get me out of the house. (The “grass is always greener principle”: I had always dreamed of staying home and doing yard work and gardening. Now that I have that, I’d rather be trudging off to work.)
There’s not a lot to report. The days at home seem to have taken on a rhythm: wake up, go on the Internet, do a little studying for some CLEP exams I’ll have to take, do some yard work, pester the Blessed Wife at her place of employment by calling a couple of times, lay around with the cat, try to dust off the jacket of anxiety that seems to be wrapped around me and then set to preparing dinner.
For all those people who make midcareer changes, I salute you. It takes real determination to accomplish that goal. I need to turn up the volume on those knobs as well: determination and happiness. Don’t worry, be happy.
I think I have it figured out: I feel fairly normal on weekends because I'm at the cottage “cheese” and I’m used to relaxing and spending my time in Chautauqua on Saturdays and Sundays. I’m in my comfort zone on weekends. It’s what I’m used to.
Then come Monday, the anxiety level ramps up because most able-bodied people head off to work. It kind of gives me the creeps to be stuck at home. That will end one week from today when my first postgraduate class begins. We’ll see how that goes. I have to remain optimistic and grow some stones. It can’t be that difficult. Hundreds of thousands of people accomplish their degrees every year.
I’m thinking I might spend a lot of study time at the college. That might help reinforce my sense of purpose. That will help get me out of the house. (The “grass is always greener principle”: I had always dreamed of staying home and doing yard work and gardening. Now that I have that, I’d rather be trudging off to work.)
There’s not a lot to report. The days at home seem to have taken on a rhythm: wake up, go on the Internet, do a little studying for some CLEP exams I’ll have to take, do some yard work, pester the Blessed Wife at her place of employment by calling a couple of times, lay around with the cat, try to dust off the jacket of anxiety that seems to be wrapped around me and then set to preparing dinner.
For all those people who make midcareer changes, I salute you. It takes real determination to accomplish that goal. I need to turn up the volume on those knobs as well: determination and happiness. Don’t worry, be happy.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Tranquility of Chautauqua
May 1, 2009
Sitting on the porch of the cottage “cheese” on this Friday night, I don’t have any pressing blog concerns. I see the weekend warriors starting to arrive after their hectic workdays pursuing the Almighty Dollar. They look beat. They arrive, look at the undulating water, grunt and retire to the couch inside their weekend domiciles. Just a month ago, I was among them. Now I’m not. Now I’m a graduate student. When does the party start?
I find that the peacefulness of Chautauqua brings a sense of tranquility. Maybe we will start calling the cottage “Tranquility Base.” I can immerse myself in the atmosphere, the care of the lovely little beige cottage (especially since the garage has a new roof on it), and the gardens that surround is. The neighbors came home this afternoon carrying hanging baskets of flowers. What a heart-warming sight! Our other neighbor, a spry 86-year-old, just came out in his fishing outfit and a couple of poles in hand to drown some worms in the Vukote Canal. The wind is friskily blowing around our flags, our neighbor’s Old Glory and our three-flower offering, both snapping in the breeze. A gray blanket of clouds has shrouded what was a lovely, late-afternoon sun. The lake is still kicking up waves. There is hardly a sound. A paddle boat tied up in the canal is rhythmically hitting the breakwall. Occasionally a bird sings a brief song. The laptop computer emits a soft hum. But that’s it. Oh, what a difference from the cities.
What a joy it was planting the gladiolus bulbs in the garden, bringing them from the long winter slumber in our basement to their summer home in the soil of Vukote. Maybe that is my calling – gardener, caretaker, keeper of the soft and beautiful vegetation. That brings the mind to focus, telling me that is what is important in this world – life and its nurturing.
As dusk approaches, I wait for my son to arrive. Tomorrow morning we help our good friends put the dock in the lake. It’s a major project (three or four hours), and a small army of men and sometimes women lend their hands. I view it as one of the happiest days of the year because it signals the start of the summer season – a time for fun, conviviality and long nights spent around bonfires. The boat also goes in the water. I can’t wait to take the first seasonal ride down Chautauqua from Bemus Point, where we launch it every year, under the Veterans Bridge and into the open south basin. I hit the throttle and the 18-foot Searay screams down the lake toward the Vukote Canal. What a fabulous rush that is. And it only happens once a year, so you better savor it.
Anyway, I’m looking forward to seeing my son. I think his anti-materialistic outlook on life played a part in me forsaking a safe corporate job and taking off on this weird path of going back to school. I hope a year from now, I can thank him and all my wonderful family and friends for helping me to re-invent and reshape my life.
As a final note, I haven’t mentioned my “going away” party that some former co-workers held for me earlier in the week. It was a low-key, maudlin affair. I knew that night that I hadn’t made a mistake.
Sitting on the porch of the cottage “cheese” on this Friday night, I don’t have any pressing blog concerns. I see the weekend warriors starting to arrive after their hectic workdays pursuing the Almighty Dollar. They look beat. They arrive, look at the undulating water, grunt and retire to the couch inside their weekend domiciles. Just a month ago, I was among them. Now I’m not. Now I’m a graduate student. When does the party start?
I find that the peacefulness of Chautauqua brings a sense of tranquility. Maybe we will start calling the cottage “Tranquility Base.” I can immerse myself in the atmosphere, the care of the lovely little beige cottage (especially since the garage has a new roof on it), and the gardens that surround is. The neighbors came home this afternoon carrying hanging baskets of flowers. What a heart-warming sight! Our other neighbor, a spry 86-year-old, just came out in his fishing outfit and a couple of poles in hand to drown some worms in the Vukote Canal. The wind is friskily blowing around our flags, our neighbor’s Old Glory and our three-flower offering, both snapping in the breeze. A gray blanket of clouds has shrouded what was a lovely, late-afternoon sun. The lake is still kicking up waves. There is hardly a sound. A paddle boat tied up in the canal is rhythmically hitting the breakwall. Occasionally a bird sings a brief song. The laptop computer emits a soft hum. But that’s it. Oh, what a difference from the cities.
What a joy it was planting the gladiolus bulbs in the garden, bringing them from the long winter slumber in our basement to their summer home in the soil of Vukote. Maybe that is my calling – gardener, caretaker, keeper of the soft and beautiful vegetation. That brings the mind to focus, telling me that is what is important in this world – life and its nurturing.
As dusk approaches, I wait for my son to arrive. Tomorrow morning we help our good friends put the dock in the lake. It’s a major project (three or four hours), and a small army of men and sometimes women lend their hands. I view it as one of the happiest days of the year because it signals the start of the summer season – a time for fun, conviviality and long nights spent around bonfires. The boat also goes in the water. I can’t wait to take the first seasonal ride down Chautauqua from Bemus Point, where we launch it every year, under the Veterans Bridge and into the open south basin. I hit the throttle and the 18-foot Searay screams down the lake toward the Vukote Canal. What a fabulous rush that is. And it only happens once a year, so you better savor it.
Anyway, I’m looking forward to seeing my son. I think his anti-materialistic outlook on life played a part in me forsaking a safe corporate job and taking off on this weird path of going back to school. I hope a year from now, I can thank him and all my wonderful family and friends for helping me to re-invent and reshape my life.
As a final note, I haven’t mentioned my “going away” party that some former co-workers held for me earlier in the week. It was a low-key, maudlin affair. I knew that night that I hadn’t made a mistake.
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