So, the big news is that I did NOT get the job that I used to hold. That's right, there was, apparently, a more qualified applicant than the one that successfully held that position in excess of seven years (me). Of course, I don't REALLY think that there was anybody more qualified than I, but that is what I must tell myself. Otherwise, it means that the selection was based merely upon familiarity with the individuals applying or on more nefarious grounds (as I understand it, the girlfriend of the person with whom I interviewed will be getting the job that was vacated as a result of me not being hired). Besides, I like to give people the benefit of the doubt, and I'll just keep telling myself that it just wouldn't be the same job without my good friends Thomas and Shawn in the mix.
The weird part of this whole experience is that I've been reading an UTNE Reader that Garrett passed me, lately, and there are a few articles referring to the loss of identity facing people that now find themselves without a job or with a job providing much less reward for much more effort as a result of the financial "crisis" (I hesitate to use that word, since it sort of implies an element of surprise). I feel the same thing. I don't feel the new identity of "dad" has become primary, even though I get inklings of it now and then. Andree is such a terrific mother, even with the demands of being a full-time teacher, that I'm not sure I'll ever feel sealed in my new fatherly vessel (probably a good thing). At least, I don't feel enough like a dad to the point that it has replaced my desire to also be identified as the bicycle mechanic or the environmental educator or practitioner of whatever other trade/discipline in which I may find myself in the coming years. As a result, I feel incomplete (like it isn't enough to be identified as all of the above!). Of course, were I to have any friends, at all, in the immediate area, things wouldn't feel so overwhelmingly lonely and crushing and dependent upon my profession, but we have what we have.
I would suggest that it is a fault of mine to feel like I must be largely (not entirely, mind you) defined by a vocation, but when one is surrounded by such a perspective, it makes it harder to refrain. I've always thought of myself as a Brad-of-all-interests-trades-etc., but I think I might be stuck in a period of my life where a well-defined, even monotonous job would be beneficial. I know that I'll eventually get back to something more noble, but I must be honest and say that, right now, I am considering the most boring of jobs (library, warehouse, or some such thing), so that the stress of and on the girls is tempered. They don't deserve to have to deal with this crap.
I'm signed up for the 12 Hours of Santos race next week. We'll see what comes of it, not having had much weather that would permit trail training opportunities, lately. All told, though, I'm just happy to be getting to hang out with Dave, again, before he trades this pool of blue blood (Charleston) for the puddle of redneck (Myrtle Beach) to which he is headed. I'm also happy at the idea of spending some quality time in the meditation of the race. It's not that I've done much racing (in fact, this is only my second race...ever), but I know enough about it to know that it provides a great conduit to a level of concentration that brings me peace.
The Cooper's Hawk was in the live oak in the front yard a few weeks back. I noticed it after the characteristic, post-kill feather rain from the unidentified carcass within its clutches. The girls enjoyed the viewing, though I'm not sure they gathered that it was at the expense of another unlucky bird.
The witch hazel that a friend gave us is blooming, as seen in the photograph (I'm a sucker for those understated tree flowers that are so critical to getting the animal world back on track for the breeding season), and I finally got the ball rolling on the vegetables for the season...standard leafy stuff, radishes, and carrots, though I also planted some pomegranate seeds this time (I read that they're somewhat weedy and will do just fine in a temperate latitude, so we'll see). The grapefruits have done well in the cold frame box for the winter, though I can't say the same for the pineapples. The plum trees and the peach that survived the squirrels are looking good, as are the blueberries. Now, if I can just keep everything watered enough...
I don't want to get too deep into the political realm, right now, but I do want to say that I am finished caring about everything except these stupid fucking wars that still have us so embroiled and destitute and looking like a bunch of assholes to the world, especially in light of the recent uprisings in Egypt, Tunisia, and Yemen. It makes me think of recent comments I've heard about how there is no pull on the president from the progressive side of things like there is from the other side of the spectrum, so why would the milquetoast do anything other than maintain the status quo?
I know that the absence of "defense" spending doesn't translate to immediate relief for everything else that ails us, but it would certainly make a huge dent and shut up a bunch of wingnuts that think their pedestrian interests have anything to do with those that make over a quarter of a million dollars a year (Do you know anybody that makes that much? What kind of person is he/she?). I know their ears are being stretched by corporate tentacles, but we've got to talk to our "representatives" and tell them that no war is good war.
Oh, and I'm reading "Interpreter of Maladies" and "Blood Meridian" among other things, right now. I'm impressed by both, but was also taken by the recent "Sunset Limited" that showed up on cable. I'm stuck on McCarthy, but will also be tackling Jensen's "What We Leave Behind," soon, so I'll be sure to comment on how positive that makes me feel.
Speaking of feeling positive...this one's for you, Bob. All hail Price-Leblanc:
