Siriusly Sinatra on Sirius and XM Radio has become the newest soundtrack of my life. I'm going through a phase, I suppose. Something about the music they play is so glamorous and kitchy and really, it's hard not to like it. Not only are many of the songs classics, but they are so simple and easily understood; the rhythms are fun and uplifting, the lyrics, generally romantic, are touching, sometimes cute, sometimes emotional. Always fun. Makes me want to get up and dance.
Something about the 40's and 50's in the US has always had an allure for me. I jest that I was born in the wrong time, preferring the fantasy of white picket fences and neighbors with apple pies in the windows of Suburbia, USA to the modern ideal of the business woman with her hair done up and her heels and her guts and her determination. I've always preferred the simpler ideals of the 50's. Family, friends, home, connections.
Perhaps it is the lack of connections we have in our current time that makes it such a draw for me. Lost are the days of potlucks and town picnics, housewarming parties and cocktail parties among friends, family values are much more skewed these days. The "net-worth" of many things has decreased, while other things have become more valuable to the 21st century family. People used to be delighted with a night out at a restaurant, a new appliance, a family achievement, a good grade in school, a smile from a friend. These days, those things are commonplace and taken much for granted. Instead, we sing praises over designer brands, expensive jewelry, the latest gadget, the hottest car, the swankiest restaurants and the poshest friends. America has shifted it's focus from the family values, turning instead to concentrate on status symbols and upward movement.
Perhaps I am too simple, perhaps I am too easily sated, but I for one am tired of climbing ladders. I yearn for a family, a picket fence and a roof to call my own. Beyond that, my goals are simple and basic. They are wholesome. They put a smile on my fancy. Just like ole Frankie boy and his dashingly romantic ballads of love and delight. Fly me to the moon, and let me sing among the stars!
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Trials and Tests
Life has a way of throwing curve balls and testing one's patience and tolerance. I often lament the fact that I did not heed the oft-mentioned advice, "Don't try to grow up too fast." Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.
My primary job is coming upon some rough times. The commodity business is never a good business to be in when there is a nation-wide recession, and we are definitely beginning to feel the crunch up in rural New York. It's so bad that I did not receive my regular paycheck last week, which is admittedly rubbing me quite roughly in the wrong direction. I've always be a very patient and tolerant person, but having already been through a similar situation with a waitressing job I held a few years ago, I am hesitant to let this get out of hand. I am assuming (hoping) that the issue will clear up swiftly, but if not, I think I might not show up to work if this continues for longer then a week.
On a brighter note, the stray cat that adopted us, lovingly dubbed "Little Ma" by my boyfriend, has successfully given birth to her babies. We are now the proud parents of five squeaking kittens. They are so precious, with their silly ears and squinted eyes, fur as soft as cashmere. I hope to have pictures affixed soon. It was wonderful to see the joy on the mother cat's face. I know it sounds cheesy, but yes, you could see her joy. Her happiness. Her love. She is an attentive and doting mother to her babies and spends the majority of her day cleaning, checking, feeding and basking with her kittens, constantly purring and kneading the nest.
With nine cats in the household now, I am desperately trying to place the two nightmare cats gifted us by our 'friends'. My patiently forgiving side is trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, but the fact of the matter is that they knew the cats had serious issues when they offered them to us, and they neglected to relay that same information to us. Unbeknown to us at the time of the adoption, these two long-haired female cats do not get along with any other felines, and when sharing a house with other cats, they will not only fight and terrorize the offending member (who happens to be our first cat, Lila, aka my Princess), but they will refuse to use the litter box. Given that we rent our home, and all the furniture therein, this is becoming a HUGE issue. Not only have the cats defecated in the middle of the floor on a number of occassions, they have also urinated on area rugs, carpeting, quilts and bedding, mattresses and the couch.
After two months of patiently breaking up cat fights, scrubbing couch cushions and laundering innumerable loads of towels, bedding and rugs (which surprisingly do not take well to washing machines), we have decided the cats need to be separated until we can find suitable arrangements. It pains me to keep them secluded in such a small place, but a large dog kennel is all we have to keep them from destroying our home and costing us large sums of money in replacing the landlord's furnishings. Having a soft spot for animals makes it impossible for me to simply bring them to a shelter or SPCA location; the chances of an adult cat getting placed are low. I am hoping I will be able to find a sanctuary that will care for them. As much hell as they have put us through, I would hate for something bad to come of them. It wouldn't be right for us to take on the responsibility and then turn around and put them in a worse position, regardless of their behavior and problems. They didn't ask to be adopted.
My primary job is coming upon some rough times. The commodity business is never a good business to be in when there is a nation-wide recession, and we are definitely beginning to feel the crunch up in rural New York. It's so bad that I did not receive my regular paycheck last week, which is admittedly rubbing me quite roughly in the wrong direction. I've always be a very patient and tolerant person, but having already been through a similar situation with a waitressing job I held a few years ago, I am hesitant to let this get out of hand. I am assuming (hoping) that the issue will clear up swiftly, but if not, I think I might not show up to work if this continues for longer then a week.
On a brighter note, the stray cat that adopted us, lovingly dubbed "Little Ma" by my boyfriend, has successfully given birth to her babies. We are now the proud parents of five squeaking kittens. They are so precious, with their silly ears and squinted eyes, fur as soft as cashmere. I hope to have pictures affixed soon. It was wonderful to see the joy on the mother cat's face. I know it sounds cheesy, but yes, you could see her joy. Her happiness. Her love. She is an attentive and doting mother to her babies and spends the majority of her day cleaning, checking, feeding and basking with her kittens, constantly purring and kneading the nest.
With nine cats in the household now, I am desperately trying to place the two nightmare cats gifted us by our 'friends'. My patiently forgiving side is trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, but the fact of the matter is that they knew the cats had serious issues when they offered them to us, and they neglected to relay that same information to us. Unbeknown to us at the time of the adoption, these two long-haired female cats do not get along with any other felines, and when sharing a house with other cats, they will not only fight and terrorize the offending member (who happens to be our first cat, Lila, aka my Princess), but they will refuse to use the litter box. Given that we rent our home, and all the furniture therein, this is becoming a HUGE issue. Not only have the cats defecated in the middle of the floor on a number of occassions, they have also urinated on area rugs, carpeting, quilts and bedding, mattresses and the couch.
After two months of patiently breaking up cat fights, scrubbing couch cushions and laundering innumerable loads of towels, bedding and rugs (which surprisingly do not take well to washing machines), we have decided the cats need to be separated until we can find suitable arrangements. It pains me to keep them secluded in such a small place, but a large dog kennel is all we have to keep them from destroying our home and costing us large sums of money in replacing the landlord's furnishings. Having a soft spot for animals makes it impossible for me to simply bring them to a shelter or SPCA location; the chances of an adult cat getting placed are low. I am hoping I will be able to find a sanctuary that will care for them. As much hell as they have put us through, I would hate for something bad to come of them. It wouldn't be right for us to take on the responsibility and then turn around and put them in a worse position, regardless of their behavior and problems. They didn't ask to be adopted.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Preface
Blogging for me is much like public speaking is to the socially awkward or anxious. The blank page is daunting to me, and I become nervous and discouraged. I was never one to articulate my life into words; I never kept a diary, I rarely penned my thoughts or concerns, seldom do I confide in others. I suppose the best place to make a start at is the beginning. We shall play a bit of catch up...let us get to know one another.
I am a twenty-three year old college drop-out. I completed my first year before making the decision to withdraw. I could not justify the amount of money it necessitated. Not to say I wasn't good at it; academics have always come easily to me. But the cost was exponentially growing and I was not getting what I felt to be an equal payout from it. In hindsight, I am glad for the decision. If I had continued, I would have graduated this past spring into a frozen job market. I have heard too many horror stories of women my age with decorated college degrees bar tending, waitressing, stripping and selling their eggs to make ends meet.
I live in rural, upstate New York with my boyfriend of almost two years (We will call him Joe). Two years in October, to be precise. Both of us are on the cusp of many major life decisions. We both have 'dead-end' jobs that are unsatisfying and leave us with a bitter taste in our mouths. He works two jobs; his main job is as a carpet cleaner-become-personal assistant. He receives a salaried amount of hours per week, but if there is no work, he has to tally the hours up and work them off at a later time. For instance, he gets paid for thirty hours a week, but if he works only 20, he still gets the same paycheck. But the following week, if he works forty hours, he still receives the same amount and the extra hours go toward the balance. He also has a side job as a pizza delivery boy. I work as an art gallery/personal assistant roughly twenty-five hours a week, and I have a side job as a gas station clerk, as well as odd-jobs babysitting and tutoring when I can scrape them up.
We rent a modest two-bedroom house and have, currently, four cats. We started out with one, and temporarily adopted two from friends who were moving in with a roommate who was allergic to cats (Big mistake, more on that in the future). Then we were adopted by a stray who ingratiated herself into our lives when she became pregnant. I am a sucker for animals and couldn't leave her to suffer outdoors with kittens. So she is on maternity leave in my guest bathroom. We have a clunker car that we bought for $1k from a friend of ours, no furniture to our name, accumulated debt and big dreams.
Recently, Joe and myself have been contemplating our future, leading to the discussion of his enlisting in the US Army. Big decision. Scary decision. But at the same time, it is exciting. The idea of change thrills me, and I am optimistic that this move will be one that will help us to begin climbing our way out of the slump we have found ourselves in. It almost feels like the pieces will fall into place with just the right amount of maneuvering and support.
This should be enough of a background picture to move forward. This will be a chronicle of my experiences as a twenty-something girl and her average Joe, embarking on the search for the 21st century American dream. It will not be easy, it will not be quick. But it will be exciting, and it will be real. And you are all invited to join me.
So let's go!
I am a twenty-three year old college drop-out. I completed my first year before making the decision to withdraw. I could not justify the amount of money it necessitated. Not to say I wasn't good at it; academics have always come easily to me. But the cost was exponentially growing and I was not getting what I felt to be an equal payout from it. In hindsight, I am glad for the decision. If I had continued, I would have graduated this past spring into a frozen job market. I have heard too many horror stories of women my age with decorated college degrees bar tending, waitressing, stripping and selling their eggs to make ends meet.
I live in rural, upstate New York with my boyfriend of almost two years (We will call him Joe). Two years in October, to be precise. Both of us are on the cusp of many major life decisions. We both have 'dead-end' jobs that are unsatisfying and leave us with a bitter taste in our mouths. He works two jobs; his main job is as a carpet cleaner-become-personal assistant. He receives a salaried amount of hours per week, but if there is no work, he has to tally the hours up and work them off at a later time. For instance, he gets paid for thirty hours a week, but if he works only 20, he still gets the same paycheck. But the following week, if he works forty hours, he still receives the same amount and the extra hours go toward the balance. He also has a side job as a pizza delivery boy. I work as an art gallery/personal assistant roughly twenty-five hours a week, and I have a side job as a gas station clerk, as well as odd-jobs babysitting and tutoring when I can scrape them up.
We rent a modest two-bedroom house and have, currently, four cats. We started out with one, and temporarily adopted two from friends who were moving in with a roommate who was allergic to cats (Big mistake, more on that in the future). Then we were adopted by a stray who ingratiated herself into our lives when she became pregnant. I am a sucker for animals and couldn't leave her to suffer outdoors with kittens. So she is on maternity leave in my guest bathroom. We have a clunker car that we bought for $1k from a friend of ours, no furniture to our name, accumulated debt and big dreams.
Recently, Joe and myself have been contemplating our future, leading to the discussion of his enlisting in the US Army. Big decision. Scary decision. But at the same time, it is exciting. The idea of change thrills me, and I am optimistic that this move will be one that will help us to begin climbing our way out of the slump we have found ourselves in. It almost feels like the pieces will fall into place with just the right amount of maneuvering and support.
This should be enough of a background picture to move forward. This will be a chronicle of my experiences as a twenty-something girl and her average Joe, embarking on the search for the 21st century American dream. It will not be easy, it will not be quick. But it will be exciting, and it will be real. And you are all invited to join me.
So let's go!
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