Sometimes, I just want to scream!

I should be blogging more. I have a million things on my mind, but so much of it I can’t say—not even here. Crazy dreams, crazy moods, feeling of being lost somewhere in the shuffle… It’s like I keep spinning around trying to decide which way to go, but I don’t know which direction to take, so I just keep spinning…and spinning…and spinning…

It makes me want to scream. Loudly and for a long, long time.

Maybe then my head would clear, and I could tell which way is forward.

OUT of my head!!

No, I’m not out of my head! But someone keeps creeping in that I don’t want there, and I don’t know why my brain insists on letting him back in…

He broke my heart; not just once—but three times. He was one of my first loves, and when it was time for college, he left me behind to pursue his own lofty political and financial ambitions.

Strike 1.

We kept in touch and remained friends for a few years, until the day I called to chat and found him newly returned from his honeymoon with a woman he’d known for three weeks.

Strike 2.

After 20-something years of marriage, he had divorced and I was about to be free as well. He came back into my life and swept me off my feet. He told me he’d never forgotten me, never stopped loving me, and wanted me for good this time. All I had to do was pack up and go with him. And then…he just evaporated. He never even had the nerve to tell me himself that it was over; he just disappeared. Next thing I knew, he was engaged.

Strike 3. You’re out!

After the last time, I swore, “Never again!” and I haven’t seen, spoken to, or heard from him in more than two years. I rarely even think of him, except when he shows up in my dreams. Every time he appears, the dream always includes a multitude of people and problems keeping us apart, but we both desperately want to be together, and we continue to try.

But when I’m awake, I don’t ever want him back. My sense of self-preservation is too strong. And he’s remarried with a new baby—obviously he isn’t sitting around regretting any pain he’s caused me!

Every time this happens, it takes me days to get him off my mind again. And I don’t want him there. So why does my head keep letting him in?

Never forget

A friend of mine posted this status on his Facebook page:

“We have these memorials and constant repeats of documentaries so that no one will forget what happened on 9/11. I can appreciate that, but I don’t need that stuff to remember. I know what happened and I won’t forget.”

Very true. Those who lived through it; those who lost friends, coworkers, and loved ones; and those of us who stood helplessly and watched don’t need the reminders. We’re lucky if we aren’t reminded of it in our dreams.

As for me, I will never forget the brilliant blue of that cloudless Tuesday morning sky, and wondering how a plane could have NOT seen the building—until the second one hit. I remember the deserted roads—even here in Dallas—as I drove to work, because I didn’t know what else to do. I also remember how, for months, I cringed and ducked every time I heard an airplane flying low overhead. I could never even bring myself to watch any movies about United Flight 93 until now.

But on the other hand, my son was only 7 in September 2001 and he didn’t really comprehend all of it at the time. Now, he’s 17, and I want him to know not only what happened, but also to know what real Americans and real heroes are all about. If we are truly dedicated to “never forget,” every generation needs the chance to know.

The perfect job?

All my adult life, I’ve been searching for the “perfect” job. I think most of us look for it, even if most settle for a job that deviates from that ideal, to varying degrees. I’ve had some jobs that I enjoyed more than others, but all in all, I don’t think I ever really found one that was “perfect” for me.

To me, that entails doing something I love, so that it doesn’t feel like work. I also need to feel appreciated for what I do; to be treated as if my contributions are valued. Last, it has to be about more than just money—I don’t need to get rich, but I also don’t want to waste my life making someone else rich.

Since I lost my “steady” job back in October of 2009, I have thought a lot more about what I really want to do with the rest of my working life, and I’ve made some discoveries.

1. I’ve discovered that working with words is my love; my talent; my “calling,” if you like. Writing and editing were always my
   hobbies, and I’ve found that I enjoy them just as much if I’m getting paid.
2. I want to do something that makes me proud. When I worked for TI in the Defense group, I had the small comfort of knowing that at least the projects I worked on weren’t bombs, but who’s to say whether they were used by people who dropped bombs? When I worked for Solomon, if I did a good job, either a consultant or an oil company made money—and I haven’t seen many of either who really need any more money.
3. I want to do something that changes someone’s world, even if it’s only in some small way. The older I get, the more I question the difference I’ve made, and the more I find it important to me that I have a positive impact on those around me and the world at large.
4. I want a job that gives back to me as much as I put in. I will give my absolute best to every job I do, because that’s the way I was raised, and it’s what I believe God expects from me. Whether that’s working for an employer or raising my son—even if I make mistakes along the way—I don’t want anyone to be able to say that I didn’t do my best. I would appreciate a  company that believes it’s important to support me as an employee and as a person.

Too good to be true? Maybe not—if you believe.

I interviewed this week with a company that seems to fit all those expectations. And as a bonus, it’s close to home. It’s a company I’d be honored to work for, and they are making a difference in the lives of their employees as well as their clients. There would be opportunities every day to make a real and lasting difference in people’s lives. I believe it’s a place I need to be.

Who could ask for more?

…

Hobo Bard of the Skies

For Andy

When my friend Andy died suddenly, and I realized that there was no way I could afford to go to his memorial service, I struggled with my feelings. There were feelings of guilt for not being there, and despair that I had no choice in the matter. I wasn’t working, and I simply couldn’t afford to go. Of course, not working made things worse because I had nothing but time on my hands; hours and days to sit alone and think about how desperately I wanted to be there. My heart was breaking from the loss, and from my helplessness.

I thought about sending flowers, but that seemed such a waste. Andy wouldn’t be there to enjoy them; there was no family to take them home and appreciate them, and even if there were, flowers would fade and die in a few short days. That was small consolation. I tried to imagine what I could do to honor Andy—and at the same time, comfort myself and his many scattered friends.

One night, as I watched a sad movie (which I probably shouldn’t have been watching), I received an inspiration. The teen-aged girl in the movie was dying, and the young man who loved her had named a star for her, and built her a telescope so she could see it. Although she would never realize her dream of becoming an astronaut or astronomer, he found a way to bring the stars to her.

That seemed like the perfect idea! I decided I would honor Andy’s life with a star. I consulted some of his Facebook friends to help me find the right name. I pondered and debated and weighed all the options, and finally made a choice.

I’m fully aware that no one can actually pay for the right to officially name a star, but many companies will let you symbolically name and dedicate a star to someone for free or fee, depending on how big a deal you want to make of it. I chose www.nameastarlive.com, which provides the opportunity to select a star in a specific constellation, give it a name, and make a dedication. The unique service that they offer is that your registered star name and message are actually launched into space to orbit Earth aboard a commercial mission—a new place to visit! I know Andy would think that was cool! His flight will be in late 2011.

More than that, a star—with its specific celestial location—gives those of us who are left behind and who can’t visit a gravesite, something tangible to view as a reminder. I hope that all Andy’s friends will search for it.

I selected a star in Ursa Major—the big bear—because to me, Andy was a big teddy bear despite his tough, New York-street-hardened attitude. I finally settled on the name Hobo Bard of the Skies, because hobo was a term Andy liked; Bard of the Streets was the name he used when he wrote his wonderful poetry; and streets was changed to skies to reflect his new territory.

My dedication was simply this:
As you wander the heavens we will see, and remember with love.

Same song, next verse…

Here we go again. Once more I’m looking for work, trying to figure out how to make my way, at MY age! It’s frustrating and embarrassing. The uncertainty, the stress, and the sleeplessness—it’s all back again. It’s 6:30 a.m. and I haven’t been able to sleep yet. My head pounds and I squeeze my eyes shut. My body wants to sleep, but my brain just won’t stop running.

I’m sure God is STILL trying to teach me dependence—but it’s a hard lesson for someone who’s always been self-sufficient and stubborn. It’s hard for me to ask for help, even when I need it. I would rather count out change to buy what I need than to ask anyone for money; but I don’t seem to have enough change anymore. Not the spending kind, anyway.

Drifting

Andy, I feel like I’m lost at sea without you; adrift in an unending ocean with no land in sight in any direction.

It may seem odd that you—a man with no permanent dwelling—should have been such an anchor for me, but you were. You were always there to keep me grounded any time, night or day. We could (and DID) talk about anything and everything.

I find myself fighting the urge to call your number just to hear your voicemail message.

Strange, but although we never met in person, you knew me better than many people I’ve met face-to-face. You were always there for me when I was hurting…

…until now.

I love you and miss you with all my heart, my dear, dear friend.