Happy Birthday to My Blog—Now What?

“Everywhere is within walking distance if you have the time.”

Steven Wright

My father always used to surprise and delight me when I was a child when at random times he stated some often inconsequential but fun fact about our family such as “7 years ago this day, Mom and I had to wait in line extra early to get tickets to see Dog Day Afternoon.” Sometimes he’d have more significant milestones to remember such as the day we went on a certain vacation or the day he got sworn into the bar (for lawyers, not drinkers, although I’m sure there are correlations in some circles). He wrote it all down, and as best I can tell, by sticking to the simple facts, he was freed up to keep a very replete record of events big and small.

I don’t know if it’s as a result of that per se or of just being wired so similarly (I wouldn’t make a good lawyer, but then again, it was always a question to me whether his heart was in the law)—but I do enjoy marking time and remembering certain noteworthy events if only in my mind. Thus we have a birthday blog.

I said I was fearful to write one. This quickly gave way to being fearful I’d drown in the vast ether-wasteland of bad bloggers or worse yet, those blogs that get completely ignored for lack of anyone noticing they exist!

That has given way to delight that my very dear friends and some friends I haven’t even met, do read and supply the most affirming encouragement to go on (which is not a nice way of saying you have only yourselves to blame for this blog’s livelihood).

The original inspiration for the blog was having seen the movie “Julie and Julia,” three times in all. Considering how many times I go to the movies (and let’s just say that a full 50% of my movie going times these last 12 months involved seeing THAT movie)—it pains me to say that the only other films intriguing enough for me to break away from my sewing machine in order to see them in the theater had the words 3-D (are those words?) and Pixar embedded somewhere in the advertising.

I still smile every time I think of that self imposed mission of Julie’s, and in a way, I consider myself on such a mission this year—particularly since my formal work as a technical writer ceased in March of this year—2 days before my 46th birthday, another fact mentioned in my first post.

This brings me back to my father’s perceived mixed feelings about his work. I so want to have meaningful work, something that draws me toward it, even if that’s idealistic. I take it as no coincidence that this year brought the occasion of my brother’s graduation from law school, at age 43. 

I know, at least I think I know, that it took great courage for him to walk unhesitatingly toward the drum of yearning for this career, the same one that sometimes seemed to imprison my father, and darn well do it. Anyway. The look on his face when he walked out of the auditorium in cap and gown said it all and I perhaps egocentrically took it as a harbinger of a similar conquest in my life.

I spoke of my training as a social worker and a process of inching back toward it. Well in 48 hours my private office opens for business. I am volunteering at a crisis hotline as well, and am preparing a presentation to give to our couples’ group. It was so easy, really. I asked and they said yes—but what it took to ask is the story I’ve been telling in this blog.

So what lies ahead? Of course, as ever, I haven’t a clue, and I’m becoming more comfortable with as well as delighted by that fact. Writer that I was and am, the words may not come quickly but you’ll find them here as long as they keep coming.

Happy Birthday to my blog and thank you for riding along. 

"I have met the builder and broken the ridgepole. I shall not build that house again."

THE BUDDHA, UPON HIS AWAKENING

Getting Even

"I thought such awful thoughts that I cannot even say them out loud because they would make Jesus want to drink gin straight out of the cat dish." — Anne Lamott

If my internal world had a patron saint, it would be Anne Lamott. I had her book about writing, Bird by Bird, alongside my computer as I worked on my first user manual when I was taking classes to be a technical writer in 1996 (Fun Fact: we insiders referred to the Internet back then as 'the web' and we dialed into it!). Her way of describing every day struggles to remain motivated each day as a writer are laugh out loud funny and I find, with the above being one of my favorite sentiments (you saw this was coming Cathy B, didn't you?) that she describes thoughts I didn't even know I had, with much more hilarity.

Another favorite example is her meeting with a therapist for the first time and assuming that when there was a pregnant pause following her description of what was on her mind that she was certain this was so the therapist could subtly reach around with his or her foot for the secret button in the floor that would sound an alarm somewhere to signify that this person was dangerous and needed serious restraint, stat.

Pointing closer to home, I'm faced with my last week at work. Having not lined up another position in house, I will be shown the door, literally. It's the gentlest, most civilized of partings and as stated numerous times in writing and out loud, will afford me the opportunity to forge ahead in reply to a drum I can't stop listening to off in the distance.

The hitch in the giddyup as my daughter enjoys putting it, is that I don't get to choose and I can't stop replaying conversations between myself and various managers and coworkers about the projects we ought to take on and the transfer I 'might want to consider' (You're the only one in your family working right now, right? was the sidebar conversation "man to man" if I was a man that is). That and understanding what COBRA and unemployment really means for our family (it means rushing everyone off to the dentist, oral surgeon and eye doctor before the month ends, STAT) leads me to A.L.'s quote above.

The gotcha of course is, we hardly ever really know in real time that we are being given a solid--a lucky break. It's our hindsight glasses which often as not I use to lament as to reflect with gratitude on a passage, that assist us in figuring those things out, if we ever do. What would the last 10 years have been like if I hadn't taken "Intro to Technical Writing" when I was home with my 11-month old ("hitch in the giddyup" gal about to turn 17) 'just to see' if I could do it or would even like it? And what about all the transfers that resulted in the avoidance of getting laid off until now? No need to go into what flex schedules and work at home privileges mean for moms.

I just about have the version of my resume I'm sending to apply for a clinical internship in San Francisco and 2 glowing letters of recommendation (neither person I asked made me feel even for a second like they were searching for the secret button on the floor in reply). Oh, and if you don't have the inclination for a Zen teacher, you really should consider having others write letters of recommendation on your behalf, even if you don't need any-- it's delightful!

I don't have a rock solid plan for income generation at my fingertips, but I have many relevant thoughts in that direction and still plenty irons to fire there (at least in the inner world presided over by Ms. Lamott in sainthood). Even though sad, I manage to have no lack of enthusiasm for saying goodbye and a tremendous thank you to what feels like casts of thousands who have been fellow sufferers, interlopers on my behalf over and over, and the best of buddies. (You know the type-- the ones who know you full well but like you anyway. That's them. Us.)

That brings me to the less humorous but much more relevant quote I discovered when searching for the exact wording of the Jesus cat dish quote, also brought to us by Anne Lamott, "You can either practice being right or practice being kind." I have years of practice being 'right,' I'm all over the alternative.

"The only people with whom you should try to get even are those who have helped you." John Southard

First day of the rest of my life- oh gawd

I am the most chatty person you'll ever meet. If it's anything I do well, it's keep in touch over email, often portraying myself in a far more interesting fashion than were we to speak face to face. Yet the notion of a blog somehow terrifies me (which in and of itself is odd if you consider what a person has to do these days to navigate the sea of blogs to find one worth reading).



So why am I blogging? Frankly, I just saw "Julie and Julia" for the second time in a month and I can't think of a direct application between blogging a journey through a classic cookbook for a year (though one of Ina Garten's would be my choice I'm sure!) and quilting-which would be my equivalent source of joy and comfort to that of Julie Powell's.



All I know is right now I sit here on the cusp of ending 10 years as a technical writer for a Fortune 100 company in Silicon Valley and I just know that in one year from this date my life might not look (probably won't look) a thing like it does right now. And I don't want to miss it- so writing about it will give me something to do and if I pick up a reader (or cajole enough friends to come along for the ride)-- so much the better.

Why is my story unique? I'm 45, which maybe the new 35, but it's not the new 25 in the job hunting world, that's for sure. As everyone knows we are in a 'down economy,' my husband has been unemployed by a combination of choice and chance for the prior 4 years, and to complete the picture I've been turning toward career change for quite a while now.

I trained as a clinical social worker and have been inching slowly toward returning to that field and have just found the courage to start mentioning that when people ask how my job search is going.

Wish me luck,

C

"I have met the builder and broken the ridgepole. I shall not build that house again."

THE BUDDHA, UPON HIS AWAKENING