Or - as my brother would say - "High! There?"
Not much time for blogging the last few months. Been busy with a few other things, like watching my nest empty out as the last kid left town to join the Air Force, beginning a home re-decorating project that will probably never end, evaluating my professional direction, and redirecting my career (less corporate BS, more real writing).
To that end, allow me to direct you to Amazon.com, where you can purchase for a mere $11.99 (plus shipping cost) the 2011 Calliope, the annual anthology of Women Who Write. For that matter, you also can get the 2010 edition - I have pieces in both of them! And coming soon, a cookbook with a first-prize winning entry consisting of the recipe for Grandma Lil's Genuine English Trifle and an essay about the history of trifle, as Lillian and I decided it must be.
Next stop: a couple of regional and national publications, and I'll keep you posted on the details! :-) And a couple more extensive projects underway. Again, details later.
In between - since those pesky Women Who Write (yes, I'm a member ... in fact, I edit the monthly newsletter) insist on noting my blog in my bio - I'll try to keep this space a little more current in the future.
And if you'd like to receive the Writers' Wire (newsletter mentioned above), send me your email address. Organization membership, being a writer, and even being a woman are NOT required!
Pedal on, y'all!
Showing posts with label career planning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label career planning. Show all posts
14 December 2011
24 February 2010
Inedibility
My friend Kirk (of PedalAround) said the other day that "change is inedible." After a little good-natured ribbing, I forgot about looking for a snappy comeback and moved on. But not until after I laughed - and that's good.
It's been a trying week. Last Wednesday, several hundred of us - me and my husband included - got the news that our positions were being eliminated. Nothing personal, of course, but it smarted. Still does, a bit.
Nevertheless, it comes to me over and over again that this is a gift from the Universe. This is a gift. From the Universe. Really.
How often does one get the chance - at the age of 55 - to step back and, with the cushion of a few months' severance pay, evaluate where one is, where one wants to be, and how to get from here to there? How often is that restless sense that there's something more one should be doing met with the chance to find it?
One of my friends is collecting cliches. I'm totally with her; if one more person says to me, "God never gives us more than we can bear," or "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade," I'm gonna have to snatch 'em bald-headed. Not because of the attitude (although I don't think God had a whole lot to do with any of this), but because they're clearly unoriginal, unimaginative people who live in boxes and couldn't "think outside" if their lives depended on it. (Although I have to confess to using "waiting for the other shoe to drop" more than once lately.)
My outlook has nothing to do with lemonade. I don't believe God has a plan. I do believe God has a purpose, but that's the difference between being process-oriented and goal-oriented. The Universe has a rhythm, a rightness, that will always find itself. It doesn't matter what we do to gum up the works or "throw a spanner in the hole" (as in "Industrial Disease," one of my favorite Dire Straits songs) - whatever we do will fit into the purpose.
Be that as it may, I do see something cosmic in this. For both of us - Ed and me - to be laid off on the same day, getting the news within 30 minutes of each other, sounds to me like Reveille. It sounds to me like the Universe dropping a book on the floor, like Mr. Clark used to do in Algebra class to wake up the nappers. It sounds to me like The Great Favog saying, "Right. So how's that workin' for ya?" (Don't remember the Great Favog? Google it. Saturday Night Live, first season. I'm dating myself, and I love it!)
Yes, change is inevitable.And - as Kirk said - inedible. Can't digest it sometimes. Leaves a knot in your stomach. But sooner or later, you have to decide how you're going to deal with it. Do you take more antacids and hope it will go away? Do you cry and fight and rail against the decision-makers? They've already decided, and you're not going to change their minds. Do you snipe and complain and vent, thinking maybe you can at least take someone down with you?
I choose to use it. I'll digest what I can, when I can. I'll have my moments of wanting to fight or snipe or vent, but I hope for the most part I can let those impulses go. And I'll be eternally grateful for the friends who let me vent in private and don't repeat anything I say, because they know it's just venting and I'll get over it. And then I'll go back to being the dogged Pollyanna I am, and looking for something in this mess we call "life" that might work for me.
No, the world's not perfect. No, there's not always a "bright side." But it's possible to find a positive lesson in even the worst that happens. And the worst hasn't happened. My family is well. The dogs are alright. There are possibilities waiting out there. I just have to go find them.
It's been a trying week. Last Wednesday, several hundred of us - me and my husband included - got the news that our positions were being eliminated. Nothing personal, of course, but it smarted. Still does, a bit.
Nevertheless, it comes to me over and over again that this is a gift from the Universe. This is a gift. From the Universe. Really.
How often does one get the chance - at the age of 55 - to step back and, with the cushion of a few months' severance pay, evaluate where one is, where one wants to be, and how to get from here to there? How often is that restless sense that there's something more one should be doing met with the chance to find it?
One of my friends is collecting cliches. I'm totally with her; if one more person says to me, "God never gives us more than we can bear," or "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade," I'm gonna have to snatch 'em bald-headed. Not because of the attitude (although I don't think God had a whole lot to do with any of this), but because they're clearly unoriginal, unimaginative people who live in boxes and couldn't "think outside" if their lives depended on it. (Although I have to confess to using "waiting for the other shoe to drop" more than once lately.)
My outlook has nothing to do with lemonade. I don't believe God has a plan. I do believe God has a purpose, but that's the difference between being process-oriented and goal-oriented. The Universe has a rhythm, a rightness, that will always find itself. It doesn't matter what we do to gum up the works or "throw a spanner in the hole" (as in "Industrial Disease," one of my favorite Dire Straits songs) - whatever we do will fit into the purpose.
Be that as it may, I do see something cosmic in this. For both of us - Ed and me - to be laid off on the same day, getting the news within 30 minutes of each other, sounds to me like Reveille. It sounds to me like the Universe dropping a book on the floor, like Mr. Clark used to do in Algebra class to wake up the nappers. It sounds to me like The Great Favog saying, "Right. So how's that workin' for ya?" (Don't remember the Great Favog? Google it. Saturday Night Live, first season. I'm dating myself, and I love it!)
Yes, change is inevitable.And - as Kirk said - inedible. Can't digest it sometimes. Leaves a knot in your stomach. But sooner or later, you have to decide how you're going to deal with it. Do you take more antacids and hope it will go away? Do you cry and fight and rail against the decision-makers? They've already decided, and you're not going to change their minds. Do you snipe and complain and vent, thinking maybe you can at least take someone down with you?
I choose to use it. I'll digest what I can, when I can. I'll have my moments of wanting to fight or snipe or vent, but I hope for the most part I can let those impulses go. And I'll be eternally grateful for the friends who let me vent in private and don't repeat anything I say, because they know it's just venting and I'll get over it. And then I'll go back to being the dogged Pollyanna I am, and looking for something in this mess we call "life" that might work for me.
No, the world's not perfect. No, there's not always a "bright side." But it's possible to find a positive lesson in even the worst that happens. And the worst hasn't happened. My family is well. The dogs are alright. There are possibilities waiting out there. I just have to go find them.
10 March 2009
Achievement
Tomorrow is my second day teaching high school.
Okay, not entirely - it's a once-a-week gig for the next seven weeks, one class every Wednesday morning. A Junior Achievement pilot program called "Real Jobs, Real World," intended to introduce high school freshmen to the concept of career planning.
I'm thinking back to when I was 14, like most of these kids, and my brain is going off in 19 directions. (Nothing new there.) The main ones: (1) Who cares about planning anything at 14? (2) I wish someone had told me 40 years ago that a plan might help. (3) I wonder if I'd have listened. (4) Probably. I was dumb enough to listen when they said I should forget being an architect because I was no good at math.
Last week, I blew the curriculum all to hell. We were supposed to focus on how you need to go to college, although trade school is okay and graduating high school is okay, but you need to go to college, and by the way, only about one-third of one-third of one-third of Kentucky high school students will even make it to their second year in college, and incidentally, you can't bomb out like that, because you'll never get the career you want if you do. To which I said ...
Never mind. This is a family blog. I won't tell you exactly what I said. My meaning was, essentially, "What a crock of crap."
Yes, the statistics are true. What they leave out, though, are the very things that 14-year-olds won't be able to "abstract out" (as my old friend Bill used to say). First, there's no such thing as an "average" student. Everyone is different, and there is no norm. Second, if there were such a thing, it wouldn't look like you. And third, anyone who tries to tell you that your dream is unattainable is The Enemy. Trust no one who tries to take your dreams away from you.
So I followed the curriculum outline, but I don't think my class of 21 heard much of it. What they heard - over and over - was if you don't have passion for what you're doing, you're wasting your time and making your life miserable, whether you realize it or not. And follow your dream - success is a lot more than what kind of car you drive or how many bathrooms you have in your house. And I don't care where you live or what your family is like or what anyone else has told you - you can have any dream you're willing to work for.
I did also say that having a plan helps - that it took me 30+ years to attain my dream because I didn't plan for it - and that it's also a good idea to have a Plan B, so you can keep the lights on, the cable working, and ice cream in the freezer while you're working on Plan A.
Somewhere in there - I think while getting sidetracked by a young man who speaks Albanian at home and a bilingual Hispanic young woman - I also mentioned Dr. Ricky L. Jones, head of the Pan African Studies program at the University of Louisville. None of the kids had heard of Dr. Jones, so I gave them a thumbnail sketch of his bio. (If you're interested, google him. Good story. Also an excellent writer and an engaging speaker, not to mention a rabble-rouser par exellence, which for a Question-Authority Mama like me is the finest kind!)
This week will be a little closer to the book. We have videos of employers in the immediate area, and we're supposed to talk about what you can do close to home. And we will.
But I'm also going to send them to their next class with a copy of my IDP (Individual Development Plan), which aligns my professional goals and personal dreams and enlists my workplace manager and others to help me accomplish both, and an interview with Dr. Jones from the Courier-Journal a couple of years ago. I want these kids to see what dreams can do for you if you work your plan.
I wish someone had shown me that.
Okay, not entirely - it's a once-a-week gig for the next seven weeks, one class every Wednesday morning. A Junior Achievement pilot program called "Real Jobs, Real World," intended to introduce high school freshmen to the concept of career planning.
I'm thinking back to when I was 14, like most of these kids, and my brain is going off in 19 directions. (Nothing new there.) The main ones: (1) Who cares about planning anything at 14? (2) I wish someone had told me 40 years ago that a plan might help. (3) I wonder if I'd have listened. (4) Probably. I was dumb enough to listen when they said I should forget being an architect because I was no good at math.
Last week, I blew the curriculum all to hell. We were supposed to focus on how you need to go to college, although trade school is okay and graduating high school is okay, but you need to go to college, and by the way, only about one-third of one-third of one-third of Kentucky high school students will even make it to their second year in college, and incidentally, you can't bomb out like that, because you'll never get the career you want if you do. To which I said ...
Never mind. This is a family blog. I won't tell you exactly what I said. My meaning was, essentially, "What a crock of crap."
Yes, the statistics are true. What they leave out, though, are the very things that 14-year-olds won't be able to "abstract out" (as my old friend Bill used to say). First, there's no such thing as an "average" student. Everyone is different, and there is no norm. Second, if there were such a thing, it wouldn't look like you. And third, anyone who tries to tell you that your dream is unattainable is The Enemy. Trust no one who tries to take your dreams away from you.
So I followed the curriculum outline, but I don't think my class of 21 heard much of it. What they heard - over and over - was if you don't have passion for what you're doing, you're wasting your time and making your life miserable, whether you realize it or not. And follow your dream - success is a lot more than what kind of car you drive or how many bathrooms you have in your house. And I don't care where you live or what your family is like or what anyone else has told you - you can have any dream you're willing to work for.
I did also say that having a plan helps - that it took me 30+ years to attain my dream because I didn't plan for it - and that it's also a good idea to have a Plan B, so you can keep the lights on, the cable working, and ice cream in the freezer while you're working on Plan A.
Somewhere in there - I think while getting sidetracked by a young man who speaks Albanian at home and a bilingual Hispanic young woman - I also mentioned Dr. Ricky L. Jones, head of the Pan African Studies program at the University of Louisville. None of the kids had heard of Dr. Jones, so I gave them a thumbnail sketch of his bio. (If you're interested, google him. Good story. Also an excellent writer and an engaging speaker, not to mention a rabble-rouser par exellence, which for a Question-Authority Mama like me is the finest kind!)
This week will be a little closer to the book. We have videos of employers in the immediate area, and we're supposed to talk about what you can do close to home. And we will.
But I'm also going to send them to their next class with a copy of my IDP (Individual Development Plan), which aligns my professional goals and personal dreams and enlists my workplace manager and others to help me accomplish both, and an interview with Dr. Jones from the Courier-Journal a couple of years ago. I want these kids to see what dreams can do for you if you work your plan.
I wish someone had shown me that.
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