For Better or For Worse

Hi.

Hope you are well.

I'm a bit surprised that it's been a month since my last blog.  Then again, I'm not.  I haven't wanted to share much with you recently.  So I didn't.

To quote an ancient and remarkably unremarkable Rolling Stones song [click here for the YouTube video), "There've been good times. There've been bad times.  I've had my share of hard times." 

(Yes, that song was released 47 years ago.  Back when I first saw The Rolling Stones in concert.  Yes, I am ancient too.)

My month has been full of life.  Like yours.
Ups and downs.  Highs and lows.
Nothing too remarkable.
Just a matter of whether we let it freak us out or not. 
That's all.

**

Work -- Or the Lack Thereof

I'm thankful for quite a few freelance writing and editing gigs, but nothing like a steady income.

No, I don't have a job.

I'll pretend to be all optimistic and say "yet" -- even though my hope is fading.

Not that it's an emotional thing, mind you.  Not a "poor, poor, pitiful me" whine.  Just the realization that the days of walking into a great high-paying job are dead and gone, in my humble opinion (imho).

Could I get another good job?  Sure.  Probably not the one I saw on the Internet today [click here for link] that pays a $5.00 for a 250-500 word story about Broadway musicals.  Five dollars for polished writing that cannot be a rewrite of previous material.  ["What?  We cannot plagiarize other works?  <gasp>"]  The employer wants a six-month commitment to write two new pieces daily.  Fifty dollars a week for ten new stories (and all the glory you can eat because you can tell your friends you are a professional writer).

My goal is to land more work that pays $50/hour for creative advertising or promotional copy writing.

****

Not sure what to expose to you about the last month.
I make it a goal in life to at least *attempt* to encourage others.

I try to give more than I take.
To offer kind words and friendship.
Help, when I'm able.

***

The Good Times

My daughter brought forth a beautiful little boy a couple of weeks ago.  We're all thankful for ten new fingers and toes, and a happy healthy mom.

This is the season that she and I usually lay aside old battle wounds and stroll the grounds of Burt's Pumpkin Farm together.  We help The Princess choose pumpkins for everyone.  We go on a hay ride -- sometimes twice -- looking for deer and the lone waterfall in the distance.  Then we part.

Not this year.
Have I met my grandson?  Not yet.
Will I?  Sure.  Someday.  Right?

Life goes on. 
For better or for worse.

**

My "best friend" is all in love.  Sold his old house.  Bought a new one 50 or 60 miles away.  New church.  Engaged to be married.  Happy in his new life.

Joy that he deserves. 

Marrying a nice lady.  Nothing fancy or spectacular.  A lady he loves.  A lady who loves/enjoys him too.  (Not enough, imho, but that's none of my business anymore.)  I'm happy because they're happy.

That's the deal.

**

Dad is in the third hospital in a little over a month.  No surgery on his broken right arm.  While he was still in hospital #1, the dox figured it was best to pop a pacemaker into Dad to regulate his otherwise healthy heart.

Quickly afterward he was in a rehab hospital, learning to care for himself with only his left hand. 

Tough.  For anyone.  But Dad does not whine.

He's in a longer-term facility now.  Not permanent.  Just another halfway house before returning to my brother's home, where Dad is loved, honored and cared for in a most magnificent and magnanimous manner.

**

Reminds me of the time my former boss was dying of cancer.

We used to take turns going to his home to spend nights with him.
To attempt to return a minimal portion of the love he showed us.

Helped him pee one night
... as he tried to stand ... all wobbly ...
into a small sink in the power room in his basement
that would not accommodate his wheelchair/walker.

I didn't mind.
Any more than the time I held a bottle for my own dad, post-surgery.

Hands can be washed.
People come first.

I found it so disturbing that The Boss was in such ignominious straits.  Spoke to one of The Leaders where I worked.

The Leader was dumbfounded that I would have the gall to assert that he or anyone at The Ministry was responsible for The Boss's bathroom facilities. 

That was clearly the domain and bailiwick of The Family ... I heard loudly, passionately, angrily, clearly and finally.

That was a Thursday.
On Friday, I lost my job of 15+ years.

My time was up.  This was only one additional straw.

Was I a victim?  Nope.  Not at all.
More than 150 others were blown out afterward.
One-by-one, in spurts, flocks and, finally, one vast herd.
I wasn't the first.  Wasn't the last.

Got laid off again a year or two later, after being out of work for many months.

Got laid off again a couple of years later, after being out of work for many months.

Who knows?  Maybe I'll be fortunate enough to get another job.
After being out of work for many months.
(I'm only at 111 days today.)

I'll get a job.
Sooner or later. 
Might as well look on the bright side.

**

Donna the Honda hit 329,000 miles the other day.
The Bike hit 54,000 miles yesterday.
My savings took huge hits in the past 30 days.

I am just like America.
My financial situation is unsustainable.

But I was happy living in a tent in Alaska.

I've had nice apartments smaller than my first little house.

People tell me I am a survivor.
Yup.  They're right.

But it takes a toll.
Everything does.

Some things suck the life out of you.
Some people pump it back into you. 
Like grandchildren.

Giving and encouraging gives life to others ... and ourselves.
It just works out that way.

**

The Hard Times

How stupid of me to inflict pain upon myself by being jealous/covetous.

A skilled writer and I are working on the skronked manuscript of a mutual friend.  We've gone back to the rudiments of writing.

What is a sentence?
What is a paragraph?
How do you develop an outline for a book that's already written?
How do you stick to an outline?

What is a chapter?
How do you develop the theme of a chapter?
What is a key point within a chapter?
What is the purpose of a chapter?
How do you recap a chapter?
What is the application of a chapter?

My associate, it turns out, is a rather famous writing instructor.

More than 6,000 people follow his Twitter account.
More than 1,000 people "like" his Facebook business page.

He makes a living writing and editing.
I don't.

Pisses me off.
:-)

(Hey, do you want Openness and Honesty or don't you?)

This gentleman is half my age and has twice as many official qualifications.  He deserves to be well compensated.

Love the line in The Princess Bride (even if it's not a worthy illustration of my point), "There's not a lot of money in revenge."

**

Used the Department of Labor (DOL) website to apply for a job that I have the experience, skills and talent to do quite well, thank you.

If you meet the stated qualifications, your request to have your application forwarded to the employer is granted.

One job demanded a four-year degree.  I applied anyway.  Tried to flash my resume and blind them with the brilliance of my writing.  DOL rejected my request to forward my application because I did not meet the stated requirements.

Took a shot at a second prospect.  This time a degree was "preferred," as compared to required.  DOL saw no difference and rejected my request to forward my app.

Am I a victim?  Nope.
There are thousands of qualified applicants.
There are bazillions of people like me who believe we are qualified.

Ya gotta follow the rules.

**

A friend asked if I have ever done grant writing.
"No, I haven't."
Never heard back from him.

Bought three books on the topic.
(Something I've wanted to do for years.)

They arrived yesterday.
I'll study and I'll study.
By God's grace, I will learn a new skill.

But I will remain -- as the New Testament apostles were called -- "agramatta."  A man without letters, such as BA, MBA, PhD or MDiv.

I did not complete my degree, after studying Business Administration for two years at a community college, and several other courses at two additional colleges.  My fault, no one else's.

**

Looking into getting Social Security in a couple of months, right around the time my unemployment will run out.

SS pays less than unemployment, which doesn't pay much.
With savings depleted by then, keeping my house will not be an option.

If all I have to live for is this house, my life will end in defeat.
If all I live for is devoted kids, my life will end in defeat.

If all I live for is to be loved by a faithful wife, my life will end in defeat.

If all I live for is to be successful in business or art, my life will end in defeat.

I'm glad that isn't the case.

There are other pleasant places to live.  Plenty of them.
You cannot control your kids.  We cannot even control ourselves much of the time.

Perhaps you have learned the secrets to being loved and lovable.
I have not.

Perhaps you are a smashing success in your professional life.
I am not.

Yet, I will survive.
Employed or not.
In my current home or not.
With my best friend or not.
In the company of my children/grandchildren or not.
In the arms of a loving wife or not.
With money in the bank or not.

That's the deal.

For better or for worse.

**

Won't tell you where I heard this, but I was among a crowd of young people early one morning.  One cheerleaderish chicklet was locked in mortal combat with a bagel. 

She fussed and clucked as if she were miserably failing to push a car out of a mud bog.

I'll bet I heard her say a half-dozen times, "This is SOOO HARRRD!!!"

(Which meant, of course, "Do this for me or I'll make even more noise!")

Here was a pretty young girl who could not surmount the obstacle of cutting a bagel open with a plastic knife.  My harsh judgement is she was used to having others (parents? boyfriends? siblings?) immediately rescue her from all such horrid tasks lest she bear them -- and defeat them -- all by herself.

Pity the girl. 
She will not survive. 
Unless others bear her "burden/s."
Or unless she changes.
Which do you think is more likely?

I shall survive.
And you will not have to bear my burdens.
I haven't asked you for help yet.  Have I?
Not gonna.

All you have to do is read about me whining
and fussing and clucking
about my life being oh, so very, very hard.

Ha! 


I have a great life.
God loves me.
My children are well.
My grandchildren are well.

I have the time, toys, and opportunity to write this blog.
When I am finished writing this, I will earn actual money writing for a paying client.  Afterward, I will meet friends for dinner.


I am blessed.
I will be blessed.

In good times
in bad times
and in my share of hard times.

By God's grace, I will be thankful for whatever transpires
for richer or for poorer
for better or for worse
in sickness and in health.

As long as I shall live.