I saw this video the other day on VH1 that featured real unemployed Americans holding up placards that listed their credentials, skills, and commitments. One of them was an MIT graduate with a pretty lofty degree who couldn't find work, another was a man with five children he needed to take care of, and it just got more heartbreaking from there.
It struck a chord with me as I've been hitting the employment websites pretty hard myself of late, in anticipation of my current employer's end of term (which also means end of job for me and everyone else on staff). There's the hope that the Cruz/Espaldon team will win the election this year and that we'll be picked up for four more years, but even that means employment with an eventual expiration date.
Truth be told, I haven't had a "permanent" job since I graduated from college. Each job, and they've been great jobs, has been a temporary position, which is very stressful for a single mother, especially when you're on your own with no support system.
My brother, bless him, has been after me to relocate to the US mainland with assurances that everything will be fine. He thinks I'm such a talented radio announcer that stations will just fire their staff to make room for me. Its nice to have someone believe in you to that degree... misguided though it may be.
After watching that music video, I feel even less optimistic about finding employment anywhere else but in my own backyard. The video starts by stating that there are currently 14 million Americans unemployed... that's a heap of people, folks!
If you have a job, you really should treat it like its something special and protect it at all costs! I've always been a bit spontaneous but our current employment circumstance has shown me that this is not the time to be impulsive. These days, what's called for is perseverance and a lot of faith. It does pay off eventually and fingers crossed, I finally have a shot at an excellent payoff myself very soon.
I recently got a message from a media colleague alerting me to a job she'd seen advertised that she thought I would be perfect for. I read the advertisement and she's right! This is a dream job that would allow me to put all my talents and skills to their best use, plus sounds like it could be permanent. The last sentence in the ad said you could apply via email - I don't think I've ever applied for a job so fast in my life! Hahaha!
I did take the time to review my CV and rework my cover letter so I'm putting my best foot forward. Now I just have to wait for the call. What I'm wondering is if its inappropriate to say in an interview that there is no one in the world who wants this job more because there's no one who needs it more? Or is that too pushy?
Whaddya think? I really would like to get this job! I'd love any advice you'd like to share!!! And my advice to you if you're in the same predicament, job hunting and all that: stick to it, keep your chin up and your hopes higher! And pray!!! Prayer always helps! Like right now... I'm praying you have some great advice to give me to make sure I give a winning interview!
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Stop Screwing with the Skyline
My background in media began in radio, something I still do on Saturday mornings when I co-host a show called "Tourism & You," which airs on Newstalk K-57 at 10 am (except for the 3rd Saturday of the month, which is when The Food Guy does his thing). My co-host Norm and I like to joke about the number of soapboxes we each have from which we expound our theories on a variety of topics, most recently in my case, the changes to the Tumon skyline.
My recent rant was prompted by the clearing of a large section of land in Tumon, which if you're unfamiliar with Guam, is where the majority of our hotels and resorts are located. The land in question is between the PIC and the Marriott, though no one seems to know what is planned for the newly cleared area. My fear is that its for the four towers that were proposed a couple of years ago.
I have never been a fan of progress for the sake of progress and often feel we run willy-nilly after the chance to make a dollar, ignoring the hundreds that could have been made with a slower approach. It is a curse this island falls privy to far too often. Case in point, the four Verace towers that are currently being constructed at Oka Point.
The four towers are part of what is touted to be a gated community for the elite, complete with all the amenities one could possibly want, including a wall and security guard designed to keep the riff-raff out. When I first heard about these towers, I thought they sounded like a ridiculous idea. Like much of the world, our island is experiencing economic hard times, so I couldn't imagine who was going to be purchasing these condos (all of which run close to a million dollars a piece).
Sadly, the people of Guahan are rarely asked for their input when it comes to progress and even if we are, as in the recent invitation from the US military to comment on their proposed plans for the military buildup, it has little, if any, impact. So, needless to say, the four towers are well underway and as they've climbed higher and higher, I have been shocked by the change they have wrought upon the skyline of Tumon and Tamuning.
Where you could once see ocean, you now see only concrete. This would be bad enough if it was only affecting Tamuning... but I live in Asan, frequently referred to as the first village of the south (though most of us tend to think of that as being Agat), and you can see these four monoliths just fine from there! What was once a beautiful view now looks very sad.
The whole project has reminded me of that poor misguided Senator from Alabama who believes that if we bring too many Marines from Okinawa to Guam, our island will tip over. If he could see what Tumon looks like now, he might be able to make a much more convincing argument for Guahan's eventual capsize.
A real estate agent friend of mine told me that most of the Verace units have been pre-sold. I find that hard to believe, as it is apparent that many of the units in the Alupang Beach Tower still sit open a decade later. And now not just one, but two large scale areas in Tumon have been cleared and neither is for the additional four towers still on the proposal block... maybe buying life jackets isn't such a bad idea.
On the bright side, Asan will remain the same whether Guam tips over or not. We'll still be the first village of the south... but the southern most village will be Yigo instead of Malesso.
My recent rant was prompted by the clearing of a large section of land in Tumon, which if you're unfamiliar with Guam, is where the majority of our hotels and resorts are located. The land in question is between the PIC and the Marriott, though no one seems to know what is planned for the newly cleared area. My fear is that its for the four towers that were proposed a couple of years ago.
I have never been a fan of progress for the sake of progress and often feel we run willy-nilly after the chance to make a dollar, ignoring the hundreds that could have been made with a slower approach. It is a curse this island falls privy to far too often. Case in point, the four Verace towers that are currently being constructed at Oka Point.
The four towers are part of what is touted to be a gated community for the elite, complete with all the amenities one could possibly want, including a wall and security guard designed to keep the riff-raff out. When I first heard about these towers, I thought they sounded like a ridiculous idea. Like much of the world, our island is experiencing economic hard times, so I couldn't imagine who was going to be purchasing these condos (all of which run close to a million dollars a piece).
Sadly, the people of Guahan are rarely asked for their input when it comes to progress and even if we are, as in the recent invitation from the US military to comment on their proposed plans for the military buildup, it has little, if any, impact. So, needless to say, the four towers are well underway and as they've climbed higher and higher, I have been shocked by the change they have wrought upon the skyline of Tumon and Tamuning.
Where you could once see ocean, you now see only concrete. This would be bad enough if it was only affecting Tamuning... but I live in Asan, frequently referred to as the first village of the south (though most of us tend to think of that as being Agat), and you can see these four monoliths just fine from there! What was once a beautiful view now looks very sad.
The whole project has reminded me of that poor misguided Senator from Alabama who believes that if we bring too many Marines from Okinawa to Guam, our island will tip over. If he could see what Tumon looks like now, he might be able to make a much more convincing argument for Guahan's eventual capsize.
A real estate agent friend of mine told me that most of the Verace units have been pre-sold. I find that hard to believe, as it is apparent that many of the units in the Alupang Beach Tower still sit open a decade later. And now not just one, but two large scale areas in Tumon have been cleared and neither is for the additional four towers still on the proposal block... maybe buying life jackets isn't such a bad idea.
On the bright side, Asan will remain the same whether Guam tips over or not. We'll still be the first village of the south... but the southern most village will be Yigo instead of Malesso.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
It's just another day
Well, Father's Day is coming up this weekend and its not exactly an anticipated event in my household. It is said that little girls grow up to be with men who are just like their own fathers... and that is definitely true in my case. Sadly, my son's father is just as neglectful and hurtful as my own. I kick myself for not making a better choice for my boy, though ironically, I do thank him for the "sperm donation" that resulted in my beautiful son.
A friend of mine put it beautifully, "Anyone can be a father but it takes a real man to be a Dad."
My son's father pays child support but only because he has to. It's court ordered and because they don't trust him either (they've had to toss him in jail a few times for non-payment), it is taken directly out of his check and sent to the three women who gave birth to his three children.
When I first filed for child support, I was awarded $320 per month, but after he had another child, it was lowered to $22o. I don't think I have ever received anything close to either amount. This month, my child support payment was a whopping $43. Whoo hoo!
I realize that there are women out there who get even less and many who don't get a dime. In that respect, I suppose I'm lucky, although it doesn't feel that way when I'm wheeling and dealing with the power company so they won't turn our electricity off.
My ex is a park ranger these days, making just over $8 an hour. When we were together he earned between $12 - 40 an hour fixing computers, at which he is quite gifted but that requires work. Not his favorite thing. His wife is a real mover and shaker, earning pretty close to $100K.
They live in a huge 6 bedroom house on a near acre of forested land. They have two big screen TVs and when I say big, I mean 70+ inches. They go out to eat whenever they like, drive nice cars, and take lots of trips. It makes me sick.
I would love to be angry at the wife for encouraging this loafer to be such a waste of space, but it isn't her fault. I might not be as angry if the man paid even the slightest attention to any of his children, but he doesn't. Despite his living the high life, he hasn't sent any of his children a card or a gift or even made a simple phone call for their birthdays or Christmas in over three years.
One day, all three kids will hate him and he will have earned every bit of that emotion. His daughter already has nothing nice to say about him, though his two sons (one of which is mine) still hold out hope that one day their father will care as much about them as they do about him.
I have not reminded my son that this weekend is Father's Day and I am hoping he doesn't remember. I would be heartbroken to have to witness a repeat of last year, when my son asked if we could call his dad to wish him a happy Father's Day and I had to remind him that we don't have his phone number.
Oh, the man has a phone... but he won't give anyone the number, not even his children. The only way to contact him is to send an email to his wife and hope that she will get back to you. She usually does, but she doesn't like to because she doesn't like any of the mothers of her hubby's children. You see, she thinks we're all horrible people for thinking so poorly of her wonderful man.
I will never cease to wonder at successful women who have relationships with men who are such glaringly obvious losers.
So, if you will be celebrating Father's Day this weekend because you have a deserving Dad, think of my son and his brother and sister. Then give your Dad an extra tight hug for being such a great man and a wonderful father. You are very lucky.
Then give your Dad another hug, this one from me and tell him I said "thank you." It is somewhat comforting to know that there are some very good Dads in this world... even if neither my son nor I were lucky enough to get one.
A friend of mine put it beautifully, "Anyone can be a father but it takes a real man to be a Dad."
My son's father pays child support but only because he has to. It's court ordered and because they don't trust him either (they've had to toss him in jail a few times for non-payment), it is taken directly out of his check and sent to the three women who gave birth to his three children.
When I first filed for child support, I was awarded $320 per month, but after he had another child, it was lowered to $22o. I don't think I have ever received anything close to either amount. This month, my child support payment was a whopping $43. Whoo hoo!
I realize that there are women out there who get even less and many who don't get a dime. In that respect, I suppose I'm lucky, although it doesn't feel that way when I'm wheeling and dealing with the power company so they won't turn our electricity off.
My ex is a park ranger these days, making just over $8 an hour. When we were together he earned between $12 - 40 an hour fixing computers, at which he is quite gifted but that requires work. Not his favorite thing. His wife is a real mover and shaker, earning pretty close to $100K.
They live in a huge 6 bedroom house on a near acre of forested land. They have two big screen TVs and when I say big, I mean 70+ inches. They go out to eat whenever they like, drive nice cars, and take lots of trips. It makes me sick.
I would love to be angry at the wife for encouraging this loafer to be such a waste of space, but it isn't her fault. I might not be as angry if the man paid even the slightest attention to any of his children, but he doesn't. Despite his living the high life, he hasn't sent any of his children a card or a gift or even made a simple phone call for their birthdays or Christmas in over three years.
One day, all three kids will hate him and he will have earned every bit of that emotion. His daughter already has nothing nice to say about him, though his two sons (one of which is mine) still hold out hope that one day their father will care as much about them as they do about him.
I have not reminded my son that this weekend is Father's Day and I am hoping he doesn't remember. I would be heartbroken to have to witness a repeat of last year, when my son asked if we could call his dad to wish him a happy Father's Day and I had to remind him that we don't have his phone number.
Oh, the man has a phone... but he won't give anyone the number, not even his children. The only way to contact him is to send an email to his wife and hope that she will get back to you. She usually does, but she doesn't like to because she doesn't like any of the mothers of her hubby's children. You see, she thinks we're all horrible people for thinking so poorly of her wonderful man.
I will never cease to wonder at successful women who have relationships with men who are such glaringly obvious losers.
So, if you will be celebrating Father's Day this weekend because you have a deserving Dad, think of my son and his brother and sister. Then give your Dad an extra tight hug for being such a great man and a wonderful father. You are very lucky.
Then give your Dad another hug, this one from me and tell him I said "thank you." It is somewhat comforting to know that there are some very good Dads in this world... even if neither my son nor I were lucky enough to get one.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
What my son doesn't know is... hilarious!!!
An incident occurred at our house yesterday which reminded me again of how much I need to stay on top of my son's in-house education! I was home sick with a really bad tummy ache, which had started the day before. I was in a lot of pain, but around 3:30 in the afternoon, the Menstrual Faerie showed up, waved her magic wand, and *presto* - I suddenly understood what all the pain had been about.
On the heels of this, I received a text message from a girlfriend telling me she hoped I felt better soon. In a round about way, I explained what had happened, ending with "Darn that Eve and her love of fresh fruit." My son saw the text and asked me to explain what I meant.
(Darn those kids and their inquisitive young minds...)
So I had to explain the story of Adam and Eve, which included several instances of my saying, "Son, we really need to get you enrolled in Sunday school." At the end of my Biblical explanation of why women have their periods, my darling son asks me, "Mom, if women get periods, then what do men get?"
Before I could come up with an answer (which was taking a long time because I was reminiscing on my once asking his grandmother the exact same question), he says, "Oh, I know. It must be sinus infections."
When I could breathe again after the outburst of laughter, I asked him what made him think that, since both men and women can get sinus infections. "Well, when I was taking the dogs outside earlier, my sinuses started hurting," he explains, rubbing his abdomen. I told him that wasn't where the sinuses were located, and though I still don't understand the connection between taking dogs outside and abdominal pain, he got it, but was still wanted to know what men "get" in relation to women getting their periods.
I told him exactly what his grandmother told me at his age: "Men get to have their balls hurt when you kick 'em."
He nodded his ten year old head sagely and said, "Yes, that makes sense."
God, I love that boy!!!
On the heels of this, I received a text message from a girlfriend telling me she hoped I felt better soon. In a round about way, I explained what had happened, ending with "Darn that Eve and her love of fresh fruit." My son saw the text and asked me to explain what I meant.
(Darn those kids and their inquisitive young minds...)
So I had to explain the story of Adam and Eve, which included several instances of my saying, "Son, we really need to get you enrolled in Sunday school." At the end of my Biblical explanation of why women have their periods, my darling son asks me, "Mom, if women get periods, then what do men get?"
Before I could come up with an answer (which was taking a long time because I was reminiscing on my once asking his grandmother the exact same question), he says, "Oh, I know. It must be sinus infections."
When I could breathe again after the outburst of laughter, I asked him what made him think that, since both men and women can get sinus infections. "Well, when I was taking the dogs outside earlier, my sinuses started hurting," he explains, rubbing his abdomen. I told him that wasn't where the sinuses were located, and though I still don't understand the connection between taking dogs outside and abdominal pain, he got it, but was still wanted to know what men "get" in relation to women getting their periods.
I told him exactly what his grandmother told me at his age: "Men get to have their balls hurt when you kick 'em."
He nodded his ten year old head sagely and said, "Yes, that makes sense."
God, I love that boy!!!
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
I love you, Mickey Mouse!
It seems of late, again, most of my blogs have been "doom and gloom," which I don't like as much as you probably dislike reading. I thought we all deserved something fun, light hearted, and totally ridiculous.
I have been a fan of Mickey Mouse since I was a little girl. Though I spent most of my life on Guam, we also lived in California for a few years, during which we went to Disneyland often. In truth, I had been to Disneyland four times before I was of age and left each time, a little crushed that I hadn't seen Mickey.
I looked for him every time and during a visit when I was 18, even begged the park officials to tell me where he'd be next. Turns out, at the time, it was a closely guarded secret. In fact, the park folks told us that Disneyland is actually filled with "behind the scenes" tunnels and secret doors, all designed so that Mickey could step out in public unexpectedly.
The reason for all the mystery is because the beloved mouse would get pounced on by excited children and more than a few happy adults as soon as he made an appearance. The only way Mickey Mouse could appear at different places throughout the park was by using the secret passageways.
Of course, these days, there's an app for your cell phone that will tell you exactly where he is. I have no idea how Disney manages the security to deal with this little bit of technology, but actually, no longer care. I have since met Mickey Mouse in person.
In 2004, my sister and I took my son to Disney World for his first visit to the Magical Kingdom. He was only four years old and very excited, though I suspect his mother and aunty may have been on par with him in the excitement arena. We arrived, bought our tickets, and began making our way towards the Haunted House.
It's kind of a family tradition that this is the first ride we go on... that or else Pirates of the Caribbean. (By the way, regardless of tradition, I don't recommend taking a four year old to the Haunted House for his first introduction to Disney rides. A very bad idea, but I digress.)
If you've ever been to Disney World, you know that you must walk down Main Street and pass Cinderella's Castle as you proceed in to the park. As we were walking in the direction of the castle, I saw a tall, blue figure walking out from a side garden. It was Stitch (of Lilo and Stitch fame, a movie my son liked). I excitedly began raving to my son, "Ezequiel, look, look! It's Stitch! It's Stitch!"
Of course, he was thrilled to see the "real" Stitch. Within seconds, Stitch was followed by another character, a yellow figure I recognized immediately from my own childhood. It was Pluto, who had a leash attached to his collar, though you couldn't see who was holding the end of it. Pluto came out very slowly, so that the one holding the leash was revealed even slower. (I think you can guess where this is going, can't you?!)
It was Mickey Mouse!!!
Within seconds, I realized that what was about to happen. Huge lines were going to form so that people could shake hands and have their picture taken with their favorite characters - and we were standing right where the lines would be forming! I grabbed my son's hand, and suspect he may even have become partially airborne, as I bolted towards the line for Mickey. We ended up being second in line.
The entire time we waited for our turn, I was talking excitedly to my boy, hyping him up to meet the most famous mouse in the world. Finally, it was our turn. We walked up to Mickey Mouse and before anyone could do or say anything - I burst in to tears!!!
Literally sobbing my silly head off and recognizing in some distant corner of my mind that this was really just a person in a costume, I managed to choke out, "Oh, Mickey!!! I have been looking for you for thirty five years!!!"
(Apparently in the face of a dream come true, "some" adults have absolutely no shame whatsoever!)
And what did Mickey do? He threw his arms open wide, took me in to them, and patted my back, chittering away while I bawled my head off, like the biggest dumbass to ever hit the kingdom!
Eventually, I calmed down enough to pose for a picture with my son and sister (who, I might add, was also crying by this point, though in her defense, it may have been from the sheer embarrassment of having me as an older sister).
We thanked the mouse profusely and as we began walking away, Mickey grabbed my hand. He pulled me back in to his arms and gave me a final hug, a final pat on the back, and a final (very understanding, I thought) chitter.
And that, my friends, is how I finally met my beloved Mickey Mouse!
I have been a fan of Mickey Mouse since I was a little girl. Though I spent most of my life on Guam, we also lived in California for a few years, during which we went to Disneyland often. In truth, I had been to Disneyland four times before I was of age and left each time, a little crushed that I hadn't seen Mickey.
I looked for him every time and during a visit when I was 18, even begged the park officials to tell me where he'd be next. Turns out, at the time, it was a closely guarded secret. In fact, the park folks told us that Disneyland is actually filled with "behind the scenes" tunnels and secret doors, all designed so that Mickey could step out in public unexpectedly.
The reason for all the mystery is because the beloved mouse would get pounced on by excited children and more than a few happy adults as soon as he made an appearance. The only way Mickey Mouse could appear at different places throughout the park was by using the secret passageways.
Of course, these days, there's an app for your cell phone that will tell you exactly where he is. I have no idea how Disney manages the security to deal with this little bit of technology, but actually, no longer care. I have since met Mickey Mouse in person.
In 2004, my sister and I took my son to Disney World for his first visit to the Magical Kingdom. He was only four years old and very excited, though I suspect his mother and aunty may have been on par with him in the excitement arena. We arrived, bought our tickets, and began making our way towards the Haunted House.
It's kind of a family tradition that this is the first ride we go on... that or else Pirates of the Caribbean. (By the way, regardless of tradition, I don't recommend taking a four year old to the Haunted House for his first introduction to Disney rides. A very bad idea, but I digress.)
If you've ever been to Disney World, you know that you must walk down Main Street and pass Cinderella's Castle as you proceed in to the park. As we were walking in the direction of the castle, I saw a tall, blue figure walking out from a side garden. It was Stitch (of Lilo and Stitch fame, a movie my son liked). I excitedly began raving to my son, "Ezequiel, look, look! It's Stitch! It's Stitch!"
Of course, he was thrilled to see the "real" Stitch. Within seconds, Stitch was followed by another character, a yellow figure I recognized immediately from my own childhood. It was Pluto, who had a leash attached to his collar, though you couldn't see who was holding the end of it. Pluto came out very slowly, so that the one holding the leash was revealed even slower. (I think you can guess where this is going, can't you?!)
It was Mickey Mouse!!!
Within seconds, I realized that what was about to happen. Huge lines were going to form so that people could shake hands and have their picture taken with their favorite characters - and we were standing right where the lines would be forming! I grabbed my son's hand, and suspect he may even have become partially airborne, as I bolted towards the line for Mickey. We ended up being second in line.
The entire time we waited for our turn, I was talking excitedly to my boy, hyping him up to meet the most famous mouse in the world. Finally, it was our turn. We walked up to Mickey Mouse and before anyone could do or say anything - I burst in to tears!!!
Literally sobbing my silly head off and recognizing in some distant corner of my mind that this was really just a person in a costume, I managed to choke out, "Oh, Mickey!!! I have been looking for you for thirty five years!!!"
(Apparently in the face of a dream come true, "some" adults have absolutely no shame whatsoever!)
And what did Mickey do? He threw his arms open wide, took me in to them, and patted my back, chittering away while I bawled my head off, like the biggest dumbass to ever hit the kingdom!
Eventually, I calmed down enough to pose for a picture with my son and sister (who, I might add, was also crying by this point, though in her defense, it may have been from the sheer embarrassment of having me as an older sister).
We thanked the mouse profusely and as we began walking away, Mickey grabbed my hand. He pulled me back in to his arms and gave me a final hug, a final pat on the back, and a final (very understanding, I thought) chitter.
And that, my friends, is how I finally met my beloved Mickey Mouse!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Some things just don't get forgiven...
I watched the opening credits of a movie tonight with trepidation, not really sure why. Turns out it was "The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood." As soon as I read those words, my unease grew deeper. I have a friend who likes to refer to her, myself, and our mutual girlfriends as the "Ya Ya Sisterhood" and that's never sat well with me, though I have never been sure why.
After watching for a few minutes, I suddenly remembered the first time I'd seen this movie. My son was only two years old and if you've seen the movie, you know there's a scene where one of the main characters, who it turns out was suffering a mental breakdown, severely beats her children with a belt, though they'd done nothing wrong. (This on the heels of deserting them time and time again with no explanation.)
I will never forget that scene because it was so unexpected. when I first saw it, I was completely engrossed. Terribly, I hadn't realized that my baby had come in to the room and also watched the mommy beating her babies in the pouring rain, for no reason, while they screamed at her to please stop.
Ezequiel became hysterical and I felt so horrible that I'd been so engrossed in a movie that I hadn't realized he was there to witness the terrible scene. He kept asking why the mommy had been so mean and telling him it was only make believe did very little to relieve his terror.
I have reflected on that moment many times over the years, though until tonight, I hadn't remembered the name of the movie. I suppose if I had remembered, I'd of felt I understood why my friend referring to us as the Ya Ya Sisterhood had bothered me... but as I watched the entire movie, I realized that wasn't the reason.
That movie, a good part of it, is the story of my childhood. Growing up with a crazy, self absorbed mother who was angry at the world, and most especially her children, for keeping her from whatever dream life she felt had been intended for her.
I'd never noticed until tonight that the crazy mother's three children were two girls and the youngest, a son, the exact same make up as my family. I'd never noted before that the oldest daughter took the brunt of the abuse, trying unsuccessfully to protect her younger sister and brother - who, in the end, took as much of it as anyone.
The scene that did my head in tonight wasn't the scene of the mother beating her babies, terrible as it was. It was the daughter saying as an adult, after having her mother's absence finally explained to her (the mother was committed), "I am adding it all up in my head... all the money I spent on therapists trying to figure out what it was that I did wrong." (I haven't cried that hard in a very long time. It was quite unexpected.)
Sometimes Hollywood really should leave well enough alone. Not all of us get the celebrated epiphany that results in the wronged receiving heart wrenching apologies, the "I'm so sorry" speech and hugs all 'round, everything is forgiven, and we'll all just live happily ever after now. Although, in my case, like in the movie, I did get the "you are now disinherited" notification with regards to the crazy mother's Last Will... useless though in my case, since I'd been asked to disinherit myself years before and had gladly done so.
Life is not a movie and much as we'd like, and perhaps even believe we deserve it, we don't always get a happy ending... that's just not the way it works. For some of us, the nightmare just continues year after year and no matter what mature kind of action we take, in the end, we simply end up right back where we started.
It is ironic that what initiates the stroll down "nightmare lane" in the movie is that the daughter has given an interview to the press about her horrible childhood. Of course, Hollywood got that one wrong, too, at least in the case of how this movie relates to my personal story.
Nope, sorry, Hollywood, sometimes our parents are simply no damn good and sometimes they really do deserve our contempt, our hatred even - because that's just how life is and it isn't always pretty.
My revenge will be to try my very hardest to never put myself, and most especially my petty desires, before the welfare of my child. Children are blessings and gifts to be cherished, loved, and nurtured. That is my commitment to my son.
After watching for a few minutes, I suddenly remembered the first time I'd seen this movie. My son was only two years old and if you've seen the movie, you know there's a scene where one of the main characters, who it turns out was suffering a mental breakdown, severely beats her children with a belt, though they'd done nothing wrong. (This on the heels of deserting them time and time again with no explanation.)
I will never forget that scene because it was so unexpected. when I first saw it, I was completely engrossed. Terribly, I hadn't realized that my baby had come in to the room and also watched the mommy beating her babies in the pouring rain, for no reason, while they screamed at her to please stop.
Ezequiel became hysterical and I felt so horrible that I'd been so engrossed in a movie that I hadn't realized he was there to witness the terrible scene. He kept asking why the mommy had been so mean and telling him it was only make believe did very little to relieve his terror.
I have reflected on that moment many times over the years, though until tonight, I hadn't remembered the name of the movie. I suppose if I had remembered, I'd of felt I understood why my friend referring to us as the Ya Ya Sisterhood had bothered me... but as I watched the entire movie, I realized that wasn't the reason.
That movie, a good part of it, is the story of my childhood. Growing up with a crazy, self absorbed mother who was angry at the world, and most especially her children, for keeping her from whatever dream life she felt had been intended for her.
I'd never noticed until tonight that the crazy mother's three children were two girls and the youngest, a son, the exact same make up as my family. I'd never noted before that the oldest daughter took the brunt of the abuse, trying unsuccessfully to protect her younger sister and brother - who, in the end, took as much of it as anyone.
The scene that did my head in tonight wasn't the scene of the mother beating her babies, terrible as it was. It was the daughter saying as an adult, after having her mother's absence finally explained to her (the mother was committed), "I am adding it all up in my head... all the money I spent on therapists trying to figure out what it was that I did wrong." (I haven't cried that hard in a very long time. It was quite unexpected.)
Sometimes Hollywood really should leave well enough alone. Not all of us get the celebrated epiphany that results in the wronged receiving heart wrenching apologies, the "I'm so sorry" speech and hugs all 'round, everything is forgiven, and we'll all just live happily ever after now. Although, in my case, like in the movie, I did get the "you are now disinherited" notification with regards to the crazy mother's Last Will... useless though in my case, since I'd been asked to disinherit myself years before and had gladly done so.
Life is not a movie and much as we'd like, and perhaps even believe we deserve it, we don't always get a happy ending... that's just not the way it works. For some of us, the nightmare just continues year after year and no matter what mature kind of action we take, in the end, we simply end up right back where we started.
It is ironic that what initiates the stroll down "nightmare lane" in the movie is that the daughter has given an interview to the press about her horrible childhood. Of course, Hollywood got that one wrong, too, at least in the case of how this movie relates to my personal story.
Nope, sorry, Hollywood, sometimes our parents are simply no damn good and sometimes they really do deserve our contempt, our hatred even - because that's just how life is and it isn't always pretty.
My revenge will be to try my very hardest to never put myself, and most especially my petty desires, before the welfare of my child. Children are blessings and gifts to be cherished, loved, and nurtured. That is my commitment to my son.
Friday, June 4, 2010
You're HOW old? Did you know any dinosaurs?
I was filling out an employment survey the other day and one of the questions asked was whether or not I am over the age of 40. This question stumped me. I answered it, but have been left wondering what my answer could mean to my future.
If I was hiring for a management position and the candidate was over 40, would I look at that in a bad light? Shouldn't someone in their 40s have been with an employer already and for quite sometime? Or, would I look at it as an opportunity to acquire a seasoned professional?
(By the way, the reason I'm job hunting is because my last few jobs have all been temporary... so if you know of anyone interested in acquiring a "seasoned professional" on a permanent basis, let me know! But I digress...)
The question was disturbing... I don't tend to think of myself as being old until I'm asked a question like that. Recently, I received an invitation to join the "youth team" promoting a political candidate. Yet, when I looked at the materials, it clearly said that the age of team members was between 18 and 30. Yeah, I've been out of that category for quite some time.
Wow. So I guess I'm old now. I kinda figured there was a good chance that I was. Those gray hairs on top of my head are getting pretty ornery. (Seriously, they just show up whenever they want, without notice of any kind, and refuse to leave when asked, no matter how nicely.)
I still get along very well with young people... I find that helps keep the mind young, but I don't know what to do about occasionally having to tell someone when my birthday is. They say they don't believe me when I tell them how old I am... but I'm not so old yet that I believe them when they say that.
Well, at least not entirely!
If I was hiring for a management position and the candidate was over 40, would I look at that in a bad light? Shouldn't someone in their 40s have been with an employer already and for quite sometime? Or, would I look at it as an opportunity to acquire a seasoned professional?
(By the way, the reason I'm job hunting is because my last few jobs have all been temporary... so if you know of anyone interested in acquiring a "seasoned professional" on a permanent basis, let me know! But I digress...)
The question was disturbing... I don't tend to think of myself as being old until I'm asked a question like that. Recently, I received an invitation to join the "youth team" promoting a political candidate. Yet, when I looked at the materials, it clearly said that the age of team members was between 18 and 30. Yeah, I've been out of that category for quite some time.
Wow. So I guess I'm old now. I kinda figured there was a good chance that I was. Those gray hairs on top of my head are getting pretty ornery. (Seriously, they just show up whenever they want, without notice of any kind, and refuse to leave when asked, no matter how nicely.)
I still get along very well with young people... I find that helps keep the mind young, but I don't know what to do about occasionally having to tell someone when my birthday is. They say they don't believe me when I tell them how old I am... but I'm not so old yet that I believe them when they say that.
Well, at least not entirely!
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