Thursday, July 23, 2009

Tin can phones and training wheels












I was supposed to have been job hunting this week. That did not happen. I could not force myself to do it. The invisible hand kept pulling me back. Away from my desk, my computer and the piles of unprocessed paperwork, unanswered mail, unactivated credit cards, and monster.com.

This job hunting in the age of technology just sucks my hairy ass. I mean seriously. Most of the ads say no phone calls and do not give an address, and many don't even give you a salary range! You just have to hope that it's some kind of match for your needs so that you are not wasting time and energy trying for a job that won't even cover your damn electric bill. You are expected to give them all of your info, and they give you shit. Maybe a website, an email address or a fax number. Then just wait, because what the fuck else do you have to do, you're unemployed and powerless! Well, I am someone who shines ever more brightly in person. My sincerity, intelligence and verbal communication skills are evident. On paper, I'm just another in a long line of schmoes. I haven't done anything really significant or stand outie. I don't know anyone important anymore because I am not social. I'm not a joiner, so I don't belong to a bunch of cheesy clubs. I've never really "proven" myself in any one area, which is my own fault, but knowing what I CAN do, as opposed to what requirement "hoops" demand on paper, is pure torture.

I used to be a much more endearing person in my youth, and that helped. As I've grown older, I've also grown crustier, more cynical and socially awkward. I am a pagan in the bible belt. I'm a liberal in sea of conservatives. My spirit and soul are utterly exhausted from constantly being on guard. Trying to figure out when it will NOT do any good at all to speak up or act, when there may be some reception to (God forbid) alternative concepts, and when my temper just cannot stay in check and I run off at the mouth about some dumb ass jargon that spews out of someone's mouth at the wrong time. So needless to say, the only job I've stayed at for more than a couple of years is my bar tending job. Ten years! Why? Besides being in a rut the size of the Grand Canyon, I was so well liked that I could go off on people when I needed to with few repercussions. Well, that and my boobs. (That's another story for another time though) We had a joke about tenure at University, which goes for me at this bar. I'd have to be shooting up Heroine, while fucking the rugby team on the bar and waving a loaded pistol, to get fired... and even then, I may get hired back for the side show advantages. Good for business! But put me in an office, oppress me and not pay me... well, it's only a matter of time before I sabotage that shit. Either that or just wake up one day and quit.

So what does all this have to do with tin can phones and training wheels? Well, it's what I've been doing instead of job hunting. Harley and I have decided that we simply MUST make a tin can phone. The time has come. We've been reading about them in Winnie the Pooh stories and seen them on cartoons long enough. I've been waiting till a time I thought Harley could handle a can without cutting his fingers on the edges. There's always an edge that goes unnoticed, so I just needed to wait till he was out of the stage of being completely tactile oriented. So, we have saved our first can. It was peas from yesterday's supper. It's washed and ready to go. Now we are waiting till we open another can to proceed. I may just pick one today and throw the contents in a Tupperware. Didn't do that yesterday because I wanted to stretch out the process of making it and looking forward to the different stages. One day seems enough time though. So, we will finish our phone today and play with it most of the afternoon. We will also hunt down another Chickfile balloon. The one we've been batting around for the last week or so finally popped in play yesterday. We LOVE playing balloon volleyball. I'm not sure why at 46.5 years of age, that is still so damn fun! But it is.

This morning Harley announced that for his birthday, he would like a helmet and bike with training wheels... "You know, the kind that keeps going even when you stop peddling"?? He currently rides a beautiful, apple red Radio Flyer trike, which sadly, does NOT keep going even if you stop peddling. You see, I do so love the RF trike. It is so damn cute. It looks like a trike straight out of a heart warming kid movie-- complete with red and white streamers and ring-ee bell to let others know we are coming and sometimes just to say HI!
See? TOO DAMN CUTE, no?

Plus I'm not sure I'm ready for my baby to be outgrowing his trike. He's just growing too quickly for my taste. I'm also floored that he actually asked for a helmet too. I'm someone who thinks that we are becoming pansy ass idjits when it comes to parenting. Part of the fun of riding a bike to me, was racing around with the wind in my hair, the freedom and the idea that you could at any moment bust your ass! But instead you were flying down the street! It also taught me the importance of safety, respect for speed, and to take responsibility for my riding and for the care of my bike. I don't know. Maybe there are millions of kids brought into hospitals with brain damage from riding their bikes on the side walk... but I doubt it. Sometimes I feel like we're taking all the joy out of being a kid, and many important lessons too boot. Lessons that cannot be learned by always being "preventative" and "controlled". But that's just me. Harley is looking forward to his new helmet. sigh* So maybe we will go check out some bikes and get a feel for what he wants. And a shiny, colorful reminder of the my newly obtained behavior modification leverage/tool. "If you want a big boy bike, you will have to show us that you can take care of it by cleaning up your toys when you are finished playing." You know the drill.

Anyway, have I illustrated how easy it is to procrastinate job hunting when you've got so many other fun and intriguing adventures and projects to distract? Lessons to teach and to learn? Love and joy to be shared? Maybe next week, I'll be ready.

Maybe.

7 comments:

downtown guy said...

Well, let's look at numbers. More than 373,000 children ages 14 and under were treated for bicycle-related injuries at hospital emergency rooms in 2000. 2/3 of those were brain and head injuries. A helmet cuts the risk of head and brain injuries by at least 85% (if it fits right).

You know, there are "necessary precautions" worth ignoring, and there are some that make sense. This one makes sense to me, just like wearing a seat belt. Sure, it was more fun as a 4 or 5 year old to stand up in the middle of the back so I could see out the window, but I'm guessing I would have been one dead baby if we'd got into a major wreck.

May said...

I know exactly what you mean about job hunting! It's so awful.
Making a tin can phone is lovely. You could also make him tin can stilts, although maybe he is too small. They are a little tricky. Soon though! That boy is growing up so fast!
I'm sure you'll find a job soon. You are smart and beautiful and talented. And you do have great boobs.
love,
May

Petit fleur said...

DTG,

Thanks for stopping by! And thanks for your concern about Harley and for providing stats... They are indeed very scary, and surprising. I just cannot imagine how the hell one gets a brain injury riding on the sidewalk... especially on a tricycle! What the hell are these kids doing, trick riding??! Seems like we always used to land in the grass or a nearby shrub.

In any event, Harley and his dad are very much pro helmet, so regardless of what I may feel about it, he will have one. No worries.

May--Thanks. You are a tender heart. The postpartum boobs thank you too! They've been a little "down" lately. hahaha!

Steph said...

I just hate it when they stop being babies, and damned if they all do stop.

I don't get the impression here that you are going back to tending bar. Is it the schedule?

Petit fleur said...

Nope, can't go back to the bars... For so many reasons. It would be the most money I could make though and probably the most flexible hours. I kind of wish I could.

Zengoof said...

Maybe calling prospective employers on the old tin can phone would provide you with both the satisfaction/feeling of diligence of job hunting, and at the same time extending play time virtually indefinitely!

Petit fleur said...

See, not THAT's FUNNY!!! Good one!