"china gets broken and it will never be the same..."

i've learned a valuable lesson this week, or relearned it, as the case may be. the specific object of the lesson doesn't matter, and won't be told in this space, in any case. the underlying point is that i should heed first warnings--my own and others'. my old, almost lover once told me that i seem like the kind of girl who would put her desires on hold for the good of others. you do that at your peril. it always backfires.

well, sometimes a good failure is just what the doctor ordered. and to be sure, something has failed. something is ruined.

Shiftless negroes* and the sons of field hands

The Office of Congressman Elijah Cummings organized a job fair that was held today at the Fifth Armory Regent in Baltimore city (near state government offices).

Former coworker The Encyclopedia Veronica and I met up this morning in a spirit of joint industry and purpose to go to this city-sponsored event to peddle our resumes and show off our respective "I'm incredibly employable" faces and can-do spirits. Per the suggestion of the Web notice, participants should "dress for success and bring plenty of resumes." Check. Check. And we were off…

I woke at just a few mintues before 8 and my first thought was to get the Eight O'Clock coffee brewing and the shower head pounding. I was aware of a slight pinching sensation in my shoulder. I must have slept in an awkward position. My sister had just left for work. I could hear the dog munching on her dry food pellets with impressive enthusiasm.

After showering and getting dressed, I took one last gulp of coffee and walked downstairs. I pushed open the gate that separates my apartment complex from the main arteries of the Mt. Vernon neighborhood and saw that the EV was already waiting. I knew the job fair was close, but was unsure of its exact location, so I thought we'd just cab it. EV did know where to find it and suggested we walk. It's a brisk day, but I found myself in immediate support of saving the money and hoofing it—Chunky Mary Jane heels and all.

Just as we passed the corner of Charles & Preston to head west, I saw, in the distance, a n'er do well tenant of my former building—a guy who asked to "hold 30 dollars" a scant week after I'd moved in. To hear the onsite property manager of that building tell it, he did not pay a lick of rent, but instead lived off the disabled woman with whom he was shacking up. Incidentally, he proved to the most vocal, demanding resident in the building. He'd gotten a haircut, I noticed, and was wearing dark sunglasses and a trench coat, like some sort of Inspector Gadget meets Shaft hybrid.

Once he got closer, he said "Are y'all going to the job fair?" We indicated that we were. "It's garbage!" he spat.

EV and I exchanged looks.

"What about us screams Job Fair?" we mused. "Yeah, I mean, what if we were just going to our places of business or somewhere else?"

I told her what a questionable character he was and we pushed on. I went on to conjecture that "garbage" to him probably meant he got kicked out for being inappropriately dressed or not being able to hold audience with potential employers because of his checkered and likely criminal past.

Once we reached the crosswalk to head into the Fifth Regent Armory where the fair was held, we saw the throng. Traffic cops had been employed to help mitigate the cluster fuck. People were detraining the light rail carrying their resumes in translucent portfolios. The EV and I exchanged glances. Apparently, the entire city is unemployed our look communicated.

Finally, the cop motioned for us to cross and we joined said throng. There were easily 500 people moving to get into the building meshing with those who were already leaving. The crowd was overwhelmingly African American and for every person whose attire at least approximated business casual, there were 50 people in do-rags, jeans, and stained t-shirts. Of the t-shirt contingent, there was one man whose shirt bore a slogan that went so beyond the outer boundary of appropriate, that I still cannot quite get over it. "Son of a field negro," it proclaimed.

Even though a dress code was suggested and a photo id required in order to gain entrance, no official was on hand to verify that participants were dressed appropriately or that anyone had any sort of identification.

Once inside (with at least 1200 other people), we started to scope out the booths. Plenty of city government representation. The Deparment of Labor, Licensing and Regulation was there. No, more accurately, there was a sign bearing the agency's name. The station was unmanned. There were no pamphlets, applications, or brochures for passersby to take. Every other company booth's line was at least 50 people deep, and if you chose to stand on those lines, then what?

I took what I thought was a conservative number of resumes with me. I expected to take a lot of business cards, if nothing else, and e-mail any prospective employers with whom I felt any type of professional simpatico. Instead, EV and I looked at each other. "Do you want to try to stand on some lines, or should we wait it out until things drop off a bit, or do you just want to leave and get on with your life?"

We left to get on with our lives.

On our way out, we saw people sitting on flat beds hastily filling out applications, or wandering aimlessly, hedging their chances of talking to someone against making the next light rail back home in time for lunch.

A man with a lisp (who had troubled to wear a suit, poor thing) complained bitterly that no company reps wanted to take the resumes he'd "made up." No one
took resumes at this job fair.

So, what are two ironically distanced unemployed girls to do? We headed to our neighborhood Bistro for an early lunch—The Disenfranchisement Special—and decided that this would make an excellent absurdist French film.

We parted ways at Mt. Vernon Square—EV home to her cat and a nap, and me to the dog.

Disclaimer: "shiftless negro" is an old expression that is particular to African American subculture. Literally, a negro without a shift. No job.

Denied

So, it's as i suspected. my notice from the DLLR came on saturday. due to my inability/unwillingness to work, i'm being denied funds. apparently, taking evening classes and working full-time prior to my lay off is tantamount to a "severe restriction upon [my] time."

i've already posted a written appeal, per the instructions, that clarifies (as I thought I did on the phone with the interviewer) that my course schedule is not prohibitive--that my classes are mostly in the evenings, that i won't have a course load this summer, etc.

i tried to substantiate my claim by mentioning that i already know my fall schedule (which i do), and that all of my courses take place after traditional working hours. i even let them know that my program was created with adults who work full-time in mind.

maybe it was heavy handed, but i stressed that my taxes, for the last 14 years, have gone into this very system, and now I'm in need of its assistance.

i spelled it out. i'm willing to work, and yes, if need be, i would interrupt my course of study, but that it isn't necessary, at this point.

beyond that, i'm trolling a job fair tomorrow, and i have a meeting on wednesday.

as for boxing class, it's out of my league. i need to lose weight and build up endurance in other ways, first. it took four days to recover from one hour of high impact exercise. that's a grim forecast, but it's important to be realistic.

Mint Tea & Honey (before Bed)

I've been on a cooking jag lately (drat! I should have taken and posted pictures!). Last night, I made guacamole and broiled steak (the instant mashed potatoes and broccoli don't count); today, redskinned potato salad and sauteed shrimp. Oh, and for breakfast this morning, I made chocolate chip muffins--albeit from a box. The point is, I've got time to do these things. Cooking for my sister and taking naps is oddly fulfilling.

after memoir workshop today, I had the occasion to talk to a classmate who's been laid off since november. she said she only wished that she'd not spent the time at the beginning being stressed out, that she'd just enjoyed it. Now, after months, she's understandably feeling the need to get herself a situation.

I have one lone iron in the fire, and I don't know if it will spark, or if it will be enough of a spark. I don't know what's best. I do know that I have actually been enjoying the time. I do know that it was best for me to be let go from my old position before I became a complete liability. Things come to the organic--to the right--conclusion. Sometimes we have the luxury of being able to see that in the moment.

This is not acceptable to say, I know, but I have yet to see any jobs that I actually want. Is that terrible? Am I prideful because even though I have just about a month's worth of my old salary to my name, I'm not willing to be an Administrative Assistant, let alone wash dishes or sweep floors somewhere?

Practically speaking, how much less my old salary should I take? At one point do I have to take what I can get, no matter what?

Most days I have the sense that things will be fine. I just don't know what fine will mean in a week. In a month. In a year. I've already given up hope of owning a home by this time in 2010, but maybe in the most crucial ways I haven't made all the necessary adjustments.

Unemployment is still a mystery.

The only thing to do right now is watch The Gilmore Girls Season 7 on DVD and drink peppermint tea w/honey. It goes down just a little easier that way.

Still sore

I don't know what I did in that boxing class on Monday, but the fatigue and soreness that resulted are positively flu-like. I don't know if there was a weird convergence of some actual malaise with exercise fall-out, but man! I just can't seem to get up and going in a real way.

I've been making liberal use of my heating pad and all the naps an unemployed grad student can take, but I'm still not rebounding. A herculean vacuuming effort aside (which may have made things worse), there's been little indication that I have any actual energy levels. Yoga Basics yesterday morning helped to offset the pain, some, but I knew that I needed to stay home and sleep as long as I needed to this morning.

Other than that, the "find a job" campaign is still in full swing. No word yet on the verdict re: my unemployment claim, but I'm still okay. Still making it.

Think I'll make some green tea.

punishing hour

i made it to boxing class. okay, so i knew i was out of shape. i knew that the efforts i began two years ago that led to me being svelte for a time were no longer in effect. i expected this class to be hard.

i didn't know i was so out of shape that i'd feel like i was going to throw up five minutes into the sprinting (up and back), push ups, foot shuffling, etc. "When do we get to the punching?" I wondered. Soon enough.

that wasn't too bad; i like the jab-punch-hook combo best, and found that it was equally easy with the left as it was the right (my dominant hand). i'm sure the punches didn't have as much power with the left, but it didn't feel awkward.

roundhouse kicks were awkward. i am, afterall, the most uncoordinated human being on the planet, but i managed to connect the side of my foot with the bag more than once.

i'd forgotten how pure exercise is, how single-minded it requires you to be when you're really in it. i had only two thoughts during the class: when is this over? and i don't think i can come back. Three thoughts if you count "i think i'm going to be sick."

a television pilot, my almost lover, and lunch at a french bistro

i've always said that mt. vernon is the closest thing baltimore has to new york. in fact, it's often new york's stunt double in films. as i was walking home from some light marketing this morning, i saw a few catering trucks, but didn't think much of it. it wasn't long ago that The Wire crew was in residence, so I took it all for granted. i reasoned that it might well be for some neighborhood to do. whatever.

i've been looking forward to seeing V all week and introducing her the quaint Marie Louise bistro where i find myself more and more these days (all efforts to think like a poor person aside). as we were walking there, i saw the back of his head.

he was far enough away that i had to trot--well, run--to catch up with him, but close enough that in two seconds i was standing in front of him. he was with a friend, a guy i met, briefly, a couple of years ago at a happy hour (the happy hour where my almost lover let me know that we were done, in so many words). after brief hellos there was the awkward standing around on a streetcorner small talk that i like to avoid if at all possible. i tried to hurry the moment along without being too brusque (something of which i am often guilty).

clearly, something in me still wants something from him, but the actuality of the situation is that we have nothing to actually communicate to each other. editing his book gave us a means and a reason for communication, but i can't get past meeting him two years ago, and the subsequent realization (on his part) that it just couldn't happen. it makes me reticent when i actually see him.

it wasn't terrible, the brief run-in. in fact, it was validating in a way. V had no proof that he existed outside my stories, and suddenly, as is always the case, there he was. he always appears out of nowhere, right in my path. she indicated she understood what all the fuss was about.

V and i went on from the corner of Charles and Read to Marie Louise and i tried to explain to her what it is i really want to do now that i am moorless and nothing is really panning out.

on the walk back to her car and my apartment, we noted the presence of a long line of taxis--all marked NYC cab co and scads of crew members and folks with clipboards and headsets. looks like we're standing in again.

when we asked what was being filmed, a dreaded guy in all black said simply "television pilot."

agencies

it's friday morning at the baltimore chronicles and i'm trying to keep the bitterness at bay.

a phone interview with the department of unemployment yesterday left me reeling and confused. because i indicated that i am unwilling to drop my master's program for the sake of full-time employment--with the qualifier that i worked full time up until two weeks ago with my current schedule. i also stressed that after the beginning of May the schedule won't be an issue again until the fall. Summer financial aid is not possible, so I'm free from like May 7 until the end of August to work full-time to their heart's content.

I'll likely be denied, though I hope not, because of a bureaucratic refusal to embrace nuance in interrogation. I can appeal, but I am absolutely frustrated that I have to prove my willingness to work when I've never NOT worked (from right out of college until two weeks ago), and I've paid into this sham of a system for 14 years.

to quote a loony bird of a former colleague: I feel like I'm trapped in something written by Kafka.

I'm starting to feel desperate. Nothing I'm doing is working. I know this is the world we live in now, but I have to figure something out soon.

on other fronts, I am seeing dear V for coffee and such at Marie Louise, the new(ish) French Bistro.

Me & The Dog

i think i know what she's thinking, and i know what she's hoping for. these languid days have afforded me something priceless.

just watching her sleep makes me a better, calmer person. her wants are simple, her striving based in the complete trust that someone--either my sister or me--will meet her needs. when she sleeps, it is artful sleeping. when she wants a game, she comes trotting up, growling in mock agression, batting at my shins. "Chase me! Chase me!" she's saying. she unhinges her jaw, grabs my hand in her mouth, or tugs on my sleeve--hard enough to let me feel the tiniest sliver of her power--never ever enough to hurt. if the game is getting too rough, she self corrects, and i know that her doggie spirit understands the frailty of human skin.

she is tolerant of all the kisses with which i dot her muzzle, all the pressing into her fur of my unadulterated longing to care for her. and she sleeps on while i run my fingers through her fur. she knows i'm there.

she does not have the detached majesty of a cat, but she can sit in perfection. just watching. the difference is that she wants, for the most part, to be near. if i go into a room, it is only a matter of time before she follows. sometimes, she sequesters herself without ceremony. her retreat says "it's nothing personal; i'm just tired."

of course i go in to kiss her, and my kisses say " i haven't forgotten you little girl." she expels a breath. a sigh, really, as if to say "if you must. if you must."

she sees the weakness in my insistence on such constant affection, but does not bedrudge me that need. with her, i am something i can never be with a human being. completely transparent. absolutely no artifice. the simple elegance of her being requires nothing less.

indicative

i had a dream last night that i was at work in some place that i don't recognize from the waking world. my colleagues in this place were weird amalgamations of people i know or have known, but a reigning ambiguity about who they were or what any of us did prevailed.

i do know this: everyone was up for a promotion and got one. except me. apparently, the committee had decided i just wasn't ready.

all quests for industry aside, i can see that i'm cast adrift and need some sort of mooring influence. not structure for structure's sake, but something i can commit to, emotionally, i suppose.

i've been reading an actual book--not listening to it--these days. and that feels surprisingly comforting. physically turning the pages, holding it by the crease. of course, i'm such a connoisseur of audio books now that i can so clearly "hear" it in my head and have opinions on which of my favourite narrators i'd like to have perform it.

C made this tremendous corned beef & cabbage (w/Irish soda bread on the side)for dinner last night. i realized that i have precious little green in the closet. my wardrobe has evolved away from that end of the spectrum, it seems.

Forgot to mention this...

A few weeks ago my youngest sister had a housewarming at her new place. Several of her friends, most of whom I had never met, were there. The mood was fun and festive; a great, young person's party vibe was in full effect.

Then something weird happened. One of her colleagues from the music school where she works said something. I hadn't been "working the room," or anything like that, but I grabbed a seat near this guy, and I must have engaged him in a superficial level of conversation.

Somehow Oprah came up.

For the sake of my story you need to know that this guy is white and that his girlfriend is Indian (not Native American). I believe that their relationship gave him some sense of entitlement where discussing matters of race with strangers is concerned, because he looked right at me and told me he thinks Oprah is a racist.

'Go to your diplomatic place. Don't just get up and walk away,' I coached myself inside my own head.

"Really? How so?"

He went on to explain that two adoptive families with strikingly similar situations were on the show. Apparently, the black family got a ton more air time than the white family. This, he proclaimed, was the one example he could think of, but there were others.

He went on to say that her school in South Africa was a great thing, but "why did she have to attach her name to it?"

So, let me get this straight.

Because she did not anonymously adopt a group of African children (yes, she did legally and fully adopt several), and because she did not anonymously build a school that may well have not gotten off the ground had her name not been attached to it, she's a villain?

Also, just to make sure I get this, I'll reiterate: in one instance, black people got more air time than some white people, so that belies a pointed, targeted socially exclusionary paradigm? Black people, who at one time would not have gotten any air time at all, were priveleged, time-wise, and this is our definition of reverse racism?

I was seething. This is the kind of racist ignorance that actually makes me want to clock someone.

I forced myself to ask him in a measured tone "You do understand that it is impossible for any person of colour in this country to be racist, don't you? 'Racism' implies institutional power, of which we have none, so while it is possible for a person of colour to be prejudiced, we don't have the leverage to be racist."

Let me just say for the record, white people, it is not reverse racism when black people finally get a piece of the damn pie, okay? It is not racism when something is not about you.

And please, as your black friend, let me tell you that 1)you need to make sure you really know the person you're talking to and that you have a real foundation of friendship before you go trying to have a candid talk about race--specifically about a black person or black people you think are racist--at someone's party, with someone who is not white.

2)Just because you are dating someone who is not white doesn't mean you're not ignorant.

3)Consider how you might be holding a black person, or other person of colour (in this case, Oprah) to a standard you wouldn't/don't hold white people on the same level to.

Cause the message I heard is "If you're black and have power, you need to demure and bow and scrape."

Um, somebody hand this moron the memo.

the old 1-2 punch

there's a boxing class at my gym. Crystal and i have talked about going to it, but it's at the brutal hour of 6 am on the most brutal of all days--Monday.

[i know i said i was quitting to save money, but because i missed the window to cancel for April, and paid the last month's fee when i joined, the membership is active through the end of May.]

anyway, of the two of us, Crystal's been way more excited than i have been, but i've still been intrigued. i knew my sister had her eye out to purchase her own boxing gloves (who'd want to wear the ones at the gym? bleah.), and the thought of that made me feel a little like buying my own pair, too.

completely unexpectedly, she surprised me with a pair today. so, unless my body betrays me, it's me and punching bag tomorrow at the crack of dawn.

Good Morning, Baltimore!

Day 2 of Having a Reason to Get Up in the Morning is going well. I'm awake, showered, though not quite completely ready to leave the house; and am excited to meet up with my long-time friend, L, in the Nation's Capital.

I passed through a barrier in my memoir workshop yesterday; I finally gave them what they wanted. A concrete story with no abstraction at all. I actually left there feeling happy.

As far as other good things on the horizon go, this summer is likely to see the return of PLM.

In Search of Industry

in an effort to stave off inertia, i've decided to wake up every morning and get dressed as though i have some place to be. while sleeping in and wearing your pajamas all day are benefits of being unemployed, it gets old fast.

i went to bed at midnight last night and didn't wake up until my sister called me at 8:45 this morning. i managed to get some coffee going and eat a bowl of cereal before falling back asleep on the couch until just before 11:30. I kept trying to wake up, but was so sleepy...

i've been on the grind, as they say, when it comes to looking for work, but i feel purposelessness creeping in. it's been a week and i am fully out of the routine of a working adult. when it's time to go back, whenever that is, the transition will be rough.

packing up the laptop and going to nearby cafes or to the library are one way to redeem the time. i've already planned to travel to dc on friday morning to hook up with an old friend. i'm trying to remind myself that there is ample opportunity in the midst of the uncertainty and stress.

Progress?

Filing for unemployment was a breeze. On Friday, Sarah and I headed to Blacksburg, Virginia to visit a long-time friend of Sarah's. The intention was to have a low key, cheap weekend somewhere other than home. Upon our late-afternoon arrival I saw the voicemail indicator on my phone.

I did not get the temp job because I have never edited marketing material; apparently, it is crucial to have done so in order to be interviewed for the position, so that put me squarely out of options. I had my laptop with me, so I bit the bullet. I don't mean to imply that I considered filing to be beneath me or anything like that; I just didn't want to start the process if there was any chance I would be starting work this month.

Because you have to apply for at least two positions per week and are encouraged to do so immediately, I submitted an application for a job that same night. Tonight, I applied for at least three others. Tomorrow, I'll work on a few others that require samples or mail-in submissions.

In other news, I am going to quit the gym I joined in late january and downgrade the cable (keeping the Internet and going to basic cable so we can at least watch network television, which means we likely won't watch tv at all anymore).

I'm also going to call the financial aid office at my school to inform them of the change in my work status so that my fall/spring aid can be calculated differently. I also want to let them know so that I can potentially get more aid for the summer. Depending on what's available, there may be some reprieve in the option of looking for work, but going to school full-time this summer.

the goal right now is to not have to move out of my apartment, which is conveniently located near my sister's job, my school, and is really the most ideal location for me given that I don't have a car.

starting again

I have joined the growing number of Americans who have lost their jobs due to some come combination of economic downturn and industry crises. i cannot say that it's a surprise that this issue has touched my life--why shouldn't it? why should I be exempt?

So, in lieu of something permanent, I'm going to try to embrace the world of the cobbled together income, for the foreseeable future. I signed up for a free trial with a freelance writers association, I've posted an ad on Craigslist, and I'm posting here. I'm a Writer/Editor for Hire. Tell all your friends.

There's also the possibility of a six-month gig that a recruiter turned me on to. And it would be nice to get that gig as I am not exactly holding any winning cards at the moment, but I am going to learn to think of myself as a grad student first and foremost, and I'm going to make any work I do for the next couple of years serve that priority.

I've always wanted to be one of those people who determines her own schedule, is free to meet people for breakfast on a weekday morning, and who ambles through museums on Tuesday afternoons for inspiration. I'm not there yet, but I'll work toward that accessible dream.

As my old, almost lover would say: What a gift. How awesome.

March 2

Working from home today, not so much because of what's on the ground, but because of what's on the ground, low temps, and the stuff that's still falling. my class will still meet tonight (and I definitely have to go since I skipped last week for a couple of reasons), but I can forego subjecting myself to the Light Rail and its inconsistencies and fragilities since I went to pick up my work laptop yesterday in anticipation of the weather.

it's 5.41 and I can't get back to sleep, so I'm going to power on the Mac, get some coffee going, and see what happens.