I had a good week at work. I got knee deep in a couple of medical malpractice cases, where I wallowed like a pig in mud on an August day. Reading, writing, researching, the things in life I love most.
As for the paralegal job I have interviewed twice for, I have come to the conclusion, it is not for me. Without getting into rabid details, I don’t have the kind of enthusiasm I should have for it, and frankly, following another conversation with the HR manager, I wanted to… just tell them to forget it. I didn’t at the time and I should have. The HR manager called me again at home late Friday evening and I didn’t get the message until yesterday. I will call them back on Monday.
The fact is this: I’m a writer.
Let’s be honest about it. I read, I research, I write. Its what I’m best at, its what I love. While I get that opportunity in my current job, there are other things I have to do as well. I do them well, I just don’t like them as much and when they take center stage for too long a period of time, I get distracted. Its not about my boss or my co-workers, its about me and what I need to do to be happy.
Granted, financially, I need a job. I’ve been bringing myself back around to my current position and what has to be done. As wonderful as my boss is, I mean, come on, he puts up with me, he needs someone who has a better, well-rounded enthusiasm for the whole job, not just parts of it. However, its where I am and its what I have to do for now.
Trouble is, my boss has also been distracted with a lot of things, and somewhere in there, we lost our communication. My boss can be extremely moody and he’s been very moody for about the past 10 months. Its come to the point where I just don’t know what to expect. Its not that I don’t understand his perspective. I certainly do. I can’t get into that since its not anyone’s business but ours, but let’s just say, things have been so “iffy.” If its affecting the rest of the staff then it must be affecting him even worse. He realizes that the decisions he makes affect the rest of us and that’s a tremendous burden.
Problem is, I’m very sensitive to that. As much as I try and close off my empathic abilities, my boss is one of those few people that has such strong emotions boiling underneath that I cannot always block him off. I can go to his office totally psyched about something and come back wondering why I’m even trying.
People either love me because I know how they’re feeling or they hate me. Sometimes, I don’t even like that part of me that much. Especially when I have trouble blocking things out. I try not to let it affect me, but it does. That, I have to take responsibility for.
I also take responsibility for finding another job in a field better suited for me. That’s why I’ve spent a great deal of time searching Craigslist for writing jobs. All of them telecommuting. My only other option is to sell my soul and go back to college, perhaps while telecommuting. The world is my oyster right?
Everyone has been very supportive about my interviews. You guys rock!! Thank you so much, you have no idea how great it feels!
But what are the chances . . .
Yesterday, I interviewed with a guy named Will, and guy named Bob and another guy named Bob.
Today, I interviewed with a guy named Will.
Will and Will and Bob and Bob.
Five and a half years, I haven’t had an interview . . . is it just me? Or do you guys see a pattern here?
As you can tell, things have been a little slow around “Anything Goes.” That’s because I’ve been so damn busy with other things. Plus, my jaw is still hurting and the accompanying fever makes me very tired, irritable, and distracted. You’ll notice I haven’t been around your blogs as much, and when I did get around to it, Haloscan sucked yak balls and I was unable to comment anyway.
The long and short of it is, I’ve been tied up at work. First, with work itself, a new medical malpractice case which is pretty interesting. I’ve learned more about the human nose than I care to. Be good to your nose. No drug snorting, get those sinus infections and other nastiness cleaned up real good. Plus, I’ve also been going on interviews. Well, two interviews with the same company.
I spent in inordinate amount of time yesterday night actually writing out answers to interview questions. If you’re going to have an interview, the best list of questions that I’ve ever read is at the University of Indiana website. I’ve run into quite a few of these in other interviews. So, I thought in order to be well prepared, I needed to answer these suckers. Go on, read a few of them, I’ll wait.
Done? Great. Even though I knew at least three or four of the lawyers that I might be interviewing with (just one firm), I still wanted to be totally prepared for the ONE QUESTION they asked me. ONE.
I guess that says something about my reputation that when Mr. Barbera walked in and said, “Well, I only have one concern, really just one concern, and that is, how do you feel about keeping a time sheet?” *Blink*
Not exactly the question I had been expecting. However, I recovered well from that tricky introduction. (I’m being sarcastic, okay?) Really, Mr. Barbera and Mr. Bashful (shut up, he’s very sweet and a little bashful, I in no way mean to insinuate that he’s a dwarf) did their best to answer all of my questions and then we spent time just getting to know each other better and then Mr. Barbera stopped the interview and then asked me a few personal questions, which of course we know is a no-no in the true interviewing process.
He asked about my pentacle, the one my cousin got for me on my trip to Louisiana. (His second question after asking about the time sheet was whether I was a Wiccan and I reminded him he can’t ask me about that :)) Yes, I discussed religion not in an interview, but in an interview and I also talked about Nate. Luckily, Mr. Barbera has three children and Mr. Bashful has five, and the head of the department has, I think, six.
Anyway, I’d like to say I have a lot of respect for my current boss and the other attorneys here, most of my co-workers as well, however, there has been a break down in communication between my boss and I for about the past 10 months. I can’t also say that I’ve been on my game. I’ve never said I was totally on my game. There’s a lot more things that I don’t really feel I can discuss now. I may never talk about them here, I may wake up one morning and puke it all out. I don’t know.
Truth hurts, even when leveled at myself. I know that peeps in my office have the URL to this blog. So, you can see my predicament. Too bad they never thought it was necessary to come and talk to me about whatever I had written.
Further, thanks to the incredible Lois Lane, I applied for a Blog Master job with a metaphysical website/company. That interview is this evening over the phone. Basically, I would be writing a blog about metaphysical stuff. Not sure what all that entails right now, but I’m extremely psyched about the opportunity. I have a TON of ideas although I’m not sure what direction this will be taking. I’m not sure if its part-time or would turn into a full-time responsibility. Still, I’m extremely, extremely excited about it.
Its probably the first job I’ve ever seen, other than legal, where I read the ad and said, THAT IS 100% ME!!! I’m a writer, I write a blog, I luuuuv metaphysical stuff, I’m part of a larger blogging community, and I know how to infect that community… oh, what I meant was, I know about viral marketing.
And for Half-Nekkid Thursday… my favorite witch…
Samhain is pronounced different ways depending upon the origin (SOW-in in Irish, SOW-een in Welsh, and SAV-en in Scottish). Samhain is one of four fire festivals in the Wiccan year.
Samhain is the most important of the Wiccan celebrations as it is time when the veil between worlds is the thinnest. It is a time to honor the dead and to take stock of our own lives. Wiccans are a very eclectic group of folks and draw from a variety of pagan beliefs in their rituals. Last year, we gave an offering of apples and other harvests to honor the dead. We raised energy by playing music, dancing using drums and tambourines. We then had a naming ceremony where the members present give their name or invoked a God or Goddess. Hecate is a favored around Samhain.
Samhain is an introspective time. Although we have fun, its also a very solemn affair. Nothing like May Day where we get to dress up and dance around the maypole in a frenzy. A couple of Samhain’s ago we had the big bonfire outside and did a cleansing of particularly “dark” area. Some areas just tend to draw bad vibrations and they get stuck there. Its not ghost hunting but spirits tend to be drawn to these areas and by cleansing we free them to move on.
I think every witch has a different take on Samhain. For me, its about dressing Nate up and taking him out and after he falls asleep, taking out my ceremonial dress, which is a black abaya which Troy bought for me in Kuwait. I wear the scarf around my head, swathed in black from head to toe, although I’m nude underneath. (Skyclad, or nude, worshiping, I save for summer months) I have my wand which doubles as my athame (ceremonial knife) and I set my candles (I set a white candle to represent the Spirit) and call the Guardians (those who watch over the circle), then I use my wand to draw a circle deosil or clockwise around me and I visualize white light (if you’ve seen Star Wars, Episode I, its kinda like when the Gungans use their trusty white shield against the clone droids).
I invite whatever deities I want to join me in my ceremony. There are certain Gods and Goddesses that are particularly strong at certain times of the year. Regardless, I always call my patron Goddess, Inanna. Cernunnos or “The Horned God” otherwise known as Pan, Herne, or Hades, is the Lord of the Underworld, and who wouldn’t want to call him. Cerridwen, or the Goddess of Death. Hecate is a very important Goddess and is associated with childbirth and is part of the Triple Goddess including Persephone and Demeter. There are others, multitudes of others, that’s just an example.
Then, there’s the Feast of the Dead. The candles are lit representing whatever or whoever you want. The Feast of the Dead is the time to remember those who came before us, our ancestors, our family, our friends, those who have crossed over. You invite them to join you, you remember them, you feast with them. I take as long as I want or need. The joy of being a solitary practitioner at this time.
Then I can banish something from my life, or let go of something which I feel is holding me back from my achievements. Cleaning spiritual house, if you will. (Samhain is the beginning of the Wiccan calendar, similar to New Year’s Day) I may use tarot cards or water scrying to assist me in determining things that are detrimental that I may not be aware of or unwilling to face. I pray and ask for the assistance from the Gods and Goddesses to show me my true path and to guide me. Again, this could be a laundry list of things so it could take a while. I may meditate looking into the candles or with my eyes closed. Depends.
Finally, I will thank the deities, retract the circle by turning widdershins (or counter-clockwise) and thank and dismiss the Guardians. Surprising to many, are the Guardians which I chose to call, and they are Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, and Metatron (sometimes Raphael), four of the seven archangels. The reasoning behind using the archangels is that I believe your God is my God and my God is your God, regardless of religious preference. Plus, I like angels. And imagine in your mind, those four standing watch over you. Amazing isn’t it?
Its hard to describe the feeling I have being a Wiccan. When people ask why I’m a Wiccan, its because it feels right. I like the philosophies, especially that we’re responsible for ourselves. We don’t owe allegiance to one God or Goddess, we’re not held in line by thoughts of hell or eternal damnation. We are responsible for ourselves. The choices we make determine our place in life. Our choices determine our happiness and well-being. Our choices determine, now, in the here and now, whether we get bitten on the ass or patted on the ass by karma or the Threefold Law (whatever you do comes back thrice).
And these words the Wiccan Rede fulfill,
An it harm none, do what thou will
Not so easy sometimes.
So, you guys wanted boobs, supernatural stories, Halloween and Wicca. So, I kinda gave you a supernatural story, the boobs are down there, and I’ll tell you now about my ghost sighting.
Apparitions can take the form of living, solid human beings. Not just miasma or lights or shadows. They are rare. This is only the second I’ve ever seen (that I know of).
I was standing in the parking garage at my car. Nothing special about the day at all. Nothing on my mind but getting something out of my car and going back to work. I heard a car coming up the parking garage and I turned and saw a relatively new silver sedan with a man driving and a woman in the passenger seat. Something was not quite right about the woman.
First, she wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. Second, her dress and hair were out-dated. If you’ve ever seen “That’s 70’s Show” then she looked like the Mom, hair-do and all. From what I could see, her hands were folded in her lap. I turned back to my car and did something and when I turned back around, the car was just reaching mine and the woman was gone.
I watched the car as it wound up to the next level. I wanted to run after the car and ask the man about the woman. Of course, I didn’t. Yeah, can you imagine someone coming up to you and asking about a ghost they saw in your car? I got the feeling it was his mother, who had died in the early 70’s, when he was relatively young, about my age.
Why I saw her, I have no idea.
Boobie Blog is below but I had to share this.
Got a call from T-Bird who works at a local hospital. EMS brought in a 26 year-old female, 32 weeks pregnant, drooling and unresponsive. Initial thought is she had a stroke. CT scan showed an aneurysm. The baby boy was delivered by C-section (full head of hair and sideburns to match) and was wisked away to NICU at another local hospital affiliate. All indications were the baby was going to be just fine and the mother was . . . well, not going to make it.
4 a.m. this morning, the mother wakes up and says, “I need to hold my baby.” She was transferred to a regular bed and recounted to her cousin, who then told T-Bird, that she had seen her grandfather and her husband’s grandfather, both of which had crossed over within the last year. They told her she had to go back, it wasn’t her time, she had a baby to take care of.
Its always good to have someone pullin’ for ya upstairs.
And, as creepy as it is sometimes to be in my life (I actually SAW the second ghost of my life (not just a shadow or a light) but a real apparition a couple of weeks ago) these spirits appear out of love. Love for us. Love for others. Love is infinite. Love never dies.
Hi, we are Inanna’s boobies. Pleased to meet you. We have been with Inanna since we grew overnight from size A’s to D’s when she was about 13, causing considerable consternation and discomfort, not to mention, boys had no idea what to do with us.
Inanna was quite a lady (back then) and kept us firmly under wraps and underwire bras until about the age of 20, when she discovered… men really liked them. And we really like men. Inanna has been known to flash us in bars, even when not intoxicated and lovingly allows the sun’s rays to warm us when she can get away with it, especially in Europe.
Since we were good enough to supply copious amounts of milk to that nipple-knawer, Inanna is good enough to feel us up, once a month, to make sure nothing nasty has invaded we girls. Please, be good to your girls and feel them up and have them felt up on a regular basis.
Since Inanna is ready to turn 35 in ONE MONTH she now understands the importance of firm support and low cut tops. She was once told that no one cared about her baby belly because, they just couldn’t get past those magnificent breasts. That’s us. Once, when Inanna was having… ummm.. an intimate moment, in the dark, she sat up from what she was doing, which shall not be disclosed, and when the light hit us, we received an appreciative, jaw-dropping-eyes-glazed-over “WOW!” We are certain it was due to us and not anything that tramp was doing with her mouth.
We have gotten her into some trouble over the years, especially at that Christmas party where she left us vulnerable in that strapless bra and spaghetti strap dress. Although it’s nice to be loved, one at a time, please!
And, as if the nipple-knawer wasn’t enough, we’ve been soaked in beer, wet t-shirted, and ice-cubed, and let’s not get into that other stuff. We retaliate by making it impossible for her to find a dress or bathing suit that fits both us and her ass (which ain’t that great).
Well, the mistress has to go and that means we have to follow or lead, as the case may be, so ya’ll stay cool, be good to your girls, and let the bead throwing commence.
I just have a lot going on and what I want to write about, I can’t. So, aside from my job, what would you like my next dysfunctional, dysortation, to be about? Sorry, this is not a multiple choice, this is an essay question.
When I was a little girl, one of my favorite magazines was Life. I always wanted to be a photo-journalist for them. I wanted to travel to exotic places and see life as it really was.
My host father traveled in the 1960’s to Central America, and being an amateur photographer, took striking black and white photographs, very much worthy of the pages of, not just Life, but National Geographic, Time and other national publications.
He returned to Central America in the early 90’s and again took photographs, some color, some black and white. When compared to the earlier photographs, practically nothing had changed, for the most part, just the faces. But through his photographs he captured their lives in deep, rich detail. His photographs were so intense, you could almost feel the grit beneath your nails.
Imagine life without art. No photographs, or paintings, no singing or dancing, a life without movies or sculptures or books. No jewelry or different hairstyles. No Tolkien, no Lord of the Rings, no Viggo. No face-painting or balloon animals at the County Fair. No doodling during a long meeting.
No Tennessee Williams, “Amazing Grace,” or Nine Inch Nails. No cave paintings to give clues to the past, no ornate sarcophagus for King Tut, no Guggenheim, or Eiffel Tower, Westminster Abbey, or Tower of Pisa. No knitting, quilt-making, beading, or scrapbooking. No free-thinking.
Support the arts.
Having solved a major story problem in my novella, I have forged ahead with completing it. Unfortunately, the story change also meant deleting almost an entire chapter, which still must be re-written, and most of the ending, which must also be re-written, from scratch.
I realized that Chapter Five was very schmaltzy and unrealistic, compared to the other chapters and one of the characters just wasn’t dastardly enough, so he too was re-written. I had changed the conflict between the siblings and at the behest of my cousin, who read the original, I reverted back to the original conflict.
The battle scene is my favorite indeed, and although I tweak it left and right, the crux of it remains the same. A minor character still needs to be written into the battle scene and plays a crucial role in the new ending. In the former version, he was killed off in Chapter Four.
The spy’s role has been changed and although I JUST deleted a crucial dream sequence of the heroine, I will now have to re-install that dream sequence. Luckily, whenever I do re-writes, I save them all under different names. Makes doing things like that much easier. Tweak, tweak, tweak.
Also in the former version, everything was pretty much tied up in a neat little bundle after the battle, with only one small problem left to content with. Bor-ring. Now the sex and violence must continue to its heart pounding climatic conclusion, which, I still haven’t figured out. I know what has to happen, yet I’m still contemplating who will be the one who comes through for the heroine and goads the re-written, dastardly character from above into doing something stupid which will cause his untimely and violent, bloody demise, leaving our heroine and hero to live happily ever after. Awwwwwwww…
As this is an erotica novella, believe it or not, its the last three chapters, five, six, and seven, which must burn the pages and make it difficult to read. Squirmy, why-couldn’t-that-hunka-hot-man-sex-me-up-like-that difficult, or how-come-he-gets-a-virgin-and-the-rest-of-us-have-to-fast sorta thing. And, of course, I just realized the first four pages of Chapter Six must now be moved to Chapter Five. To give you some idea, when I started working today, I had over 32,000 words, now, 26,000.
*Sniff* *sniff* I only cry a little when I delete.
But this is what I love about writing. Figuring out those story problems, making things fit, making things more realistic (well, realistic if you believe in faeries and elves and enchanted rivers), and watching my characters leap to life (and into rivers, and onto the backs of horses, and into the sack with a hunka hot man) under my fingertips.
Even if its never published, or never even makes it far enough to be read by a publisher, I’ll still sit down to read it and say, “G-d, I love this story!”