The gifts that just keep giving

Well, I finally entered the 21st century and installed high speed internet, having ditched both my trusty ancient computer and dial up. Oh, the days when things were easier. I went to get the handy dandy home install, that, of course, did not work, and had to call an installer, for a few. He was quite nice. I have real fast awfully good access to the internet, but no job. And this whole mail thing defeats me. I think things were easier when we traveled to our local monestary and had the monks do our writng for us. Nicer to look at as well. I am set up in a corner, without proper light, my computer on one TV table to my left and the keyboard on another--niether of which are stable. It's also cold. I willl not turn the heat on, so I am huddled in a dark, cold corner, looking for a job. Life cannot get better than this. And I still have trouble logging on to this page.

All of life's problems are solved at the movies

So, I'm sitting here weeping over The Holiday--a film that for whatever reason I gave a pass when it opened--for the same reason why I weep every time I see Crossing Delancy, one of my favorite movie. It's about toxic relationships and our unwillingness to either see them for what they are or to get out of them--and what happens when we are forced out. And this does tie into my recent work disaster. Because we stay there in the hope that it will get better, that somehow through some force of will, we can make them better. The Holiday is written and directed by a woman, of course. Only a woman could understand why we do it and repeat the bad behavior and are surprised by the inevitable end.

And it is a chick flick. I cannot imagine any man who could understand why this movie resonates with women. That sounds like a sexist comment, which it may be, and the movie is not perfect, but it spoke to me. I suppose in both cases, it's the happy ending, both of which are wholly unbelievable. In the case of Crossing Delancy, no guy waits that long and in the case of The Holiday, it was too pat, too predictable. But jeeze, wouldn't it be terrific if life's ends were like movies?

Neither The Holiday or Crossing Delancy elicited the great gulping sobs precipitated by The Prize Winner of Defiance Ohio, All Mine to Give or Dumbo, but I wept anyway because there was a lot of truth there. We cripple ourselves by staying in relationships that do us no good and by our hubris: we think this time it will end differently.

Successful people understand timing; the know when to hold and, more importantly, they know when to fold. I never learned that and maybe it is too late. But I keep plodding along, hoping for a happy ending--often feeling like a tennis ball as I bounce for here to there and off the wall back again. There has to be an answer, there has to be a time when I will find that answer. I have no idea how this will end and so far, I have been frustrated in my attempts to move forward toward something new. But I think it must be positive that through no fault of my own I have been shoved out of a bad working relationship, into a whole new and far scarier world toward something else. If my life was a movie, something wonderful would have fallen into my lap. But this is real life, and my way out is not so clear. But I do believe there is an exit sign somewhere.

Dumb questions

I haven't applied for a job since 1990 and I haven't worked a cash register since 1964. But there I am, old and weary applying for a cashier's job at a Halloween specialty shop. I am old enough to remember when the Halloween decorations came to the door demanding candy and then went away. But holiday decorations have gone way past the Polk Brother's Santa that sat on our front porch. I need a job, they need a clerk. it's part time and season, and pays a whopping $8 an hour. Who knew that during the interview the harried manager would actually ask me, "Why are you looking for work." I should think the fact that I am unemployed was sufficient, but she wanted an answer. Always happy to spin a tale, I told her one. I'm bored with retirement, which is less dramatic than "I am desperate and broke."

Even when I was somebody who hired people, I never asked that job. I might ask what it was about the job that attracted the applicant. But I never asked, "Why are you applying," because when the applicant is unemployed, it seemed obvious. I also never asked anyone "Where do you hope to be in five years?" Obviously, the hoped to be gainfully employed.

Anyway, the manager took a long leisurely up and down look and me in my decrepitude and asked "Are you up to this?" So, I suspect the other, younger, more physically fit applicant gets the job.

Look, I am glad, glad, glad not to be where I was and should have left there long ago. But, I've made such a has of my financial life that I need something, and need it soon. I am looking for work because I need the money and because I am no longer able to find something for which I may be more qualified. Although, I gotta tell ya, I ain't feeling qualified for much lately.

Jayne Mansfield redux

The world likes nothing better than a hot celebrity meltdown and Britney Spears is the gift that keeps on giving. Yesterday, she lost custody of her two sons to their father. That's how bad it is. A gigolo was determined by an LA judge to be the more competent parent--and no doubt with child support from Britney. She reacted in true pop tart fashion by turning over the kids to their pop and going to a tanning salon. Reportedly, she is under a suicide watch--whether at the tanning salon or not, the news stories do not say.

How the hell did this happen?

You might want to begin when her parents put her into show business, stage parent being the job of choice for underskilled parents with champaign taste on Pepsi money. Anyway, the kid gyrates herself into some sort of adult stardom and then finds true love with one of her back-up dancers. What Kevin Federline lacks in talent, he makes up for with street smarts. Yes, he was co-habitating with another woman, and yes they had children, but there was Britney all lush and flush with cash, the darling of the tweens and with a future and, according to sources, SHE asked HIM. Can you blame the guy? So they get married, have two kids and do not live happily ever after--well, she didn't anyway.

The thing is, K-Fed's initial grab for bags-o-cash was woefully mistimed. All he had to do was wait for the time bomb to explode, which it did, giving us all an unwanted gynecological education. So now he's got the kids and access to the cash. Is this a great country or what?

All that's left now is for him to bleed her financially dry and for her to end up doing dinner theater in some cheesy Louisiana location. I see the ghost of Jayne Mansfield before me and it ain't a pretty site.