Things I Should Have Said

Some things to see

2011-05-15T19:26:00.003-05:00

I'm doing some test videos of me playing music, which will eventually get turned into a bunch of videos that I can use to send, for example, couples who have asked me to play for their wedding. I realized this was a good idea after sending a couple a raft of YouTube links to help them select pieces for their wedding later this month. Why should I send videos of other people doing pieces, when I can just send links to me playing the pieces?

So here's the result, shot on my iPod (which I had to position on books, music stands and whatever I could find) and edited in iMovie for iPod (to remove those images of me reaching toward the iPod). Comments and suggestions are welcome.

Look at this mess

2011-04-24T21:14:00.005-05:00

Who made this mess?

I made this mess. And for good reason. I needed to eliminate a bigger mess.

The music at church is supposed to be in a series of big binders (about 10 to 12). Unfortunately, a large segment of it is in another series of binders, these ones small, about 40 to 50 of them. After another week where I couldn't find a song I needed to play, I had had it.

Cleanup time.

So I took all those binders and emptied them of music that should have been in the big binders. After I finished doing that, I had this stack:

Which might not seem like a whole lot from this angle, but it took me about four hours to put it all away. Some of the music went into 10-year-old books. Others went into the new Spanish books. Still others went into the current bilingual books. All together, I probably put some 300-odd pages of music away. And yet there are plenty of pages that remain missing.

So I got a start toward super organizing action. I still haven't figured out what to do with all those small binders, but there's time. And it gives me a summer project: to figure out what all we actually have music-wise in the choir loft.

Whatever I said, I must have said correctly?

2011-04-17T17:27:00.003-05:00

So before Mass at my regular parish last night, I had a chat with a parishoner.

The chat was almost entirely in Spanish.

But wait, Tim! you cry. You don't speak much Spanish, do you?

Well, no. I took two semesters of Spanish in college, and that was it. Even at most Spanish Masses, I generally speak English, because most folk are bilingual. And I don't have a significant number of friends who speak Spanish.

Still, somehow, I managed to describe my jobs (all of them), my family, my music, and more over the course of 15 minutes. And I did most of it in Spanish, because the parishoner spoke little English. (I did warn her: "No hablo mucho espanol." I don't know whether that sentence is correct, either.)

I stopped by church again this morning, because I needed to drop in and prep for some housekeeping I'll be doing on Good Friday. (I'm taking the day off from the day job, and there's about a ream of paper's worth of music that needs to be put back into their individual English and Spanish books.) I saw the Sunday Spanish cantor (who is bilingual) and said hello, telling her about the chat the prior night.

"You know what it is -- it's like a file cabinet," she said, referring to the dos semestres of Spanish I'd taken earlier. "You can retrieve it, even if you didn't think you could.

"And a little goodwill goes a long way. They know you're trying, and they appreciate it."

And of course, she said, there's always God. After all, she said, you might not quite know exactly what you're saying. (And I sure didn't.) But perhaps with just a little help, it gets that much easier to communicate.

No rest for the energetic

2011-04-05T21:13:00.002-05:00

I really should blog more often. But then again, I do work seven days a week.

Five days a week, I work here. It's been six weeks, and I love the new job. It was definitely the right move to jump from my old job. Not that the old job was bad. But it also didn't have a whole lot of future upside, and I needed benefits.

Two days a week, I play church music. I play at my regular church every Saturday and am a free agent on Sundays. I've played every Sunday somewhere since the second week of January or so. I used to take most Sundays off, but a church lost its organist and I'm filling in there from time to time.

But wait! There's more! It's also Lent, so I'm doing extra practices for Holy Week and Easter services a couple evenings a week.

But wait again! There's even more! See, my commute isn't a short one. I drive from home to the train station, then take a 55-minute train to the city, then take another 15-minute bus to work. I'm away from home on a normal day from 6:45 a.m. to 7 p.m.

Yet I don't mind. And I love my work. And I'm more energetic than I have been in a long time.

Turns out if you love what you do, it makes a tough schedule that much more bearable.

It's that time of year

2010-12-05T17:59:00.002-06:00

(Not 'tis the season. Ugh.)

The Advent time of year is always busy for a church musician. Take the last 9 days or so for me.

Last Saturday: I played a funeral, then played my two regular Masses.

Last Sunday: Sang at the morning Mass.

Monday: Practice at one of the churches where I'll be playing on Christmas Eve.

Wednesday: Funeral at midday, then evening practice.

Thursday: Another funeral! (Must be one of those weeks, on top of it being that type of year.)

Saturday: My regular two Masses -- plus I headed out to pick up a piece of sheet music for a parishioner who had found comfort in it when her husband died.

Saturday: Sang, and gave the parishioner that music.

This isn't quite as bad as last year, when I had practices three nights a week, but it's still keeping me busy. (As a trade-off, I won't be playing Saturday Masses during Christmas season, because there won't be any; Christmas and New Year's both fall on Saturdays.)

And that's combined with my regular work, of course. Rest? I wouldn't count on it -- not for a while.

Take the weekend off

2010-08-22T21:45:00.004-05:00

TARENTUM, Pa. -- For the first weekend since late last November, I didn't play a Mass all weekend.

I'm out here because my cousin was married Saturday, so I went to a church in nearby New Kensington today. And lo and behold, almost everyone sang at Mass! (Even though the opening song, "All Are Welcome," is high, high, high on my list of least-favorite songs.)

I was a happy camper, though, because the organist was young (probably around 19) and good, and I complimented her afterward. And the organ was in fantastic shape, too.

And maybe, just maybe, I learned a little bit more than I can take home and use at church there. After all, getting people to sing is my goal, right?

Mother Nature and the music (complete with photos)

2010-07-25T12:58:00.009-05:00

It's a challenge to play three Masses (all with different music) in one day.

Now factor in just 1.5 hours of sleep. And a morning spent fighting the elements. And my power not being on. And no real chance to rest until late in the day.

That was my Saturday.

We've had some nasty weather the last few days, and Friday night into Saturday was no exception. So my Saturday started with the power going out. Bye, air conditioning and fan. It quickly became too uncomfortable to sleep, unless I passed out around 4 a.m.

At about 5:15 a.m., I woke up to this: That's not really a blurry shot. It's just how hard it was raining. Our gutters were overflowing because the leaves that had blown around were clogging them. That led to large puddles outside the house, and worries about water showing up in the basement. That's where I sleep, so I was certainly concerned.

Soon, the street sewer drains, well, weren't:

And up the water came toward the house. So the family spent three hours trying to unclog the sewer drain (successfully) and clearing out the gutters (semi-successfully), while it was still pouring. To clear the gutters, my dad climbed up an aluminum ladder during a thunderstorm. He did not slip or get zapped, thankfully.

By 9, the crisis was over without any water in the basement. But I needed to be at a church (not my regular one) by noon to play a wedding, and the power was out. I needed to iron my clothes, clean myself up and shave. Off to Grandma's I went.

Got to church on time and played the wedding. Then I got notice from work that something I'd been waiting on was ready for me to look at it. I went to a restaurant with Wi-Fi and took care of it, then went back to my regular church for 4:00 Mass on the piano, not the organ. Apparently, I can't hide when I'm tired, because everyone asked if I was OK. Well, yes, just tired.

At this point, I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. After Mass, I asked the Spanish cantor (who was at 4 even though Spanish Mass is at 7) to wake me up at 6:30, because I was going to get some sleep in the organ loft.

OK, I couldn't sleep. So I spent a while staring at the ceiling:
Then I got some caffeine, played 7 p.m. Mass, drove home and slept 11 hours.

I'm not sure whether I played well. I hope I did (wedding fees aren't cheap, so I owe it to the couple to not stink). On the bright side, if I was horrible, at least I could blame it on the rain.

(Sorry. Couldn't resist.)

Actually, don't give me a break

2010-07-23T21:17:00.004-05:00

If anyone asks, I definitely didn't break the organ at my regular church.

I may have been present. I may have been playing the organ at the time. I may have pulled out all the stops and pushed the volume box to 11 while playing a very loud postlude I was trying to practice.

But I didn't break it, I swear.

It was going so well. The piece I was playing wasn't as hard as I thought. I was getting it to sound pretty good. I'd already practiced the stuff for the wedding I was playing.

I was about halfway through the piece when sound stopped coming from the pipes.

Uh-oh.

Then I heard the organ shut itself off. (It kind of sounds like a vacuum turning off, without the high-pitched whine.)

Oh, no. That can't be good.

Then I smelled what sure seemed like smoke.

Crap.

Into the pipe room I went. Was anything on fire?

No. Whew.

But I needed to get into the bell tower, where some of the electrical stuff was, to make sure none of that was smoking. To get there, I had to climb a rotting wooden ladder to a plywood platform, then climb another ladder to get into the bell tower.

I'm not light, by the way. But I did it. Nothing on fire. Good.

I reported the outage to the appropriate authorities. We thought it was just the circuit breaker quitting on us. Nope.

So now I won't be playing the organ at church for at least a couple weeks; I'll just be playing the piano. The piece that apparently broke had recently been replaced, making this doubly frustrating. And, of course, it won't be cheap to fix, either.

Argh.

Good thing we have that piano, though. Or we'd be singing a capella. And that wouldn't be much fun.

When Church songs suck

2010-07-21T16:13:00.005-05:00

Obviously, a church musician like myself prefers to praise all music in honor of God that comes my way. After all, shouldn't it be the thought that counts?

HA.

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. A person may have the love of God inside them to write a powerful song, but the talent might be significantly trailing the intent.

Or, in cruder and slightly less charitable terms, the song sucks.

Now, I'm not the type who thinks the vast majority of church music post-Vatican II is worthless. Not by a long shot. (Though there's plenty of earnest but bad stuff I've had to play over the years.)

But it's a big deal, because songs are intended for the people to praise God. If they're not motivated to sing, they won't. And if they don't like the song, they really won't.

Here are some signs (but not guarantees) that your Church song sucks.

1. The congregation can't sing it. One problem of modern church music is the completely unnecessary 5-, 6-, 7- or 8-note jump. Or a near-trill. With trained singers, it might not be a huge deal, but your congregation is not auditioning for "American Idol." Make things as easy for them as you can.

2. Weird, "stopper" lyrics. By this, I mean those hymns with lyrics so odd, it actually stops your singer to think about how weird -- not how meaningful -- those words are.

For example, this song:

Deep the joy of being together in one heart
and for me that’s just where it is.

It's a semi-pretty song, but it's also pretty frustrating, because those song lyrics (and I played the song Saturday, where I used an oboe stop to try to make it sound a bit less blah) are horrid. (The lyrics are also indecipherable.)

Lest anyone think this is a new-song problem, here's an oldie but a goodie with a bad lyric:

God of God, Light of Light,
Lo! he abhors not the Virgin’s womb.

That's from an old verse of "O Come All Ye Faithful." Almost no one uses it now, for good reason.

3. The music doesn't match the melody. And this one's frustrating for me, because too many church music writers have decided they want the organist or pianist to show off. WRONG, and they're making my job harder that way. During most of Mass, the church organ/piano is there to lead people in song. (I will happily show off before or after Mass, but even then, the aim is to create a prayerful atmosphere or a jubilant one.) If the organ's not playing the melody, no one will sing the melody.

When this happens, I generally ignore whatever's written there and just play the melody, in hopes that someone, anyone, will sing. If I'm lucky, it'll work.

(There are exceptions, especially if a church song is very well known by its congregation. My usual exception is "On Eagles' Wings," which sounds hollow if you're not playing what's written there.)

I won't list my least favorite songs (though I have a few I hate), but suffice it to say, if the hymn you're considering fits at least one of these criteria, there's a good chance you need to dump it. Your congregation will thank you -- and perhaps, so might the One to whom these songs are going.

(Photo of the St. Therese of Lisieux window at St. Therese Catholic Church in Aurora, where I'm playing a wedding this Saturday.)

Profiting from the dead

2010-06-28T16:19:00.004-05:00

In many respects, playing the organ for a funeral is fairly easy. Rarely are the songs anything but the Catholic Church's Greatest Hits ("Be Not Afraid," "On Eagles' Wings"). Only a few people drop in to sing as part of the funeral choir -- and they all know the songs they're doing.

The difference between the singers and the organist, of course, is a big one. Like the funeral home, the hospital/hospice, etc., organists get paid. Yes, we make money off the dead, and it's something we can't take too lightly.

But it's also quite a necessity. As I've learned since I got back to town, organists (especially for funerals) are in short supply (unlike singers), so they need to pay them. (When organists aren't full-time for their churches, their day jobs may make it very hard to play such funerals.) And in my case, my debts total up to pain and suffering, between longstanding student-loan debts and the new car I just bought out of necessity -- the old minivan was on its last legs and about to give out.

I need that money -- all weddings and funerals go to paying down my debts. But I'm fully aware that something sad -- something bad -- has to happen for me to earn my pay. And the gravity of the work (even if it's not technically difficult) makes it that much more meaningful.

So here's what I do now

2010-05-24T11:03:00.008-05:00

I've been playing Saturday Masses at St. Mary's Catholic Church in Aurora for a while now, and I added the two Sunday Masses while the regular guy recovers from surgery. (His wife is my cantor at the Saturday Spanish Mass.)

Each weekend has two English Masses and two Spanish Masses. I play the organ for one English Mass and the piano for the other three.

This is the church:

The church was built in the 1870s and is the oldest Catholic church in Aurora. In the background is the rectory; a parish center (formally the parish school) sits behind the two other buildings.

I play this organ from about the 1930s:

And here's a picture of the choir loft where the organ is contained. The pipes are behind the back walls. A large stained glass window lets light into the loft.

I also play this gently used piano (that sounds better than it looks) for the other Masses and for bilingual Masses. It's towards the front of church, on the right side. Because the church isn't too big, the sound carries fairly well.

Here's the front of church after the Spanish Mass on Sunday:

At this Mass, 15 kids received communion for the first time, which is why there are so many people in front, taking pictures. The fabrics hanging from the lights were there for the Easter season, which concluded Sunday with Pentecost.

It's fun work, with good people. And, of course, we're all there for God, so with any luck He appreciates it too.

I took all photos on my new BlackBerry, which doesn't, sadly, have a flash.

That last taste of freedom

2010-05-16T21:21:00.003-05:00

Two friends and I had tickets to the Cubs game today -- not just any tickets, but bleacher seats, the best tickets there are.

Coincidentally, it was the day that Cubs broadcasters Len Kasper and Bob Brenly were broadcasting from the bleachers. And I have proof that I was near them, not to mention Tom Ricketts, one of the Cubs' owners:

If you click through that to my Twitpic page, you'll get a better look. We were five rows behind the broadcasters, and we probably got at least a little bit of airtime. (Alas, no one has called me to inform me they saw me on TV.)

After the game (which the Cubs won), my friends and I crowded into a bar to watch the end of the Blackhawks game (they won too). I had a few beers, had a lot of fun and even came home in one piece, though I'm fairly sunburned. (The weather report was very, very wrong. It was not 60 and cloudy. Not at all.)

But coincidentally, the game and associated festivities wind up as a sort of last blast, as my summer weekends are now more or less gone (save for Friday nights -- maybe). I was already planning to do some fill-in work at the church I play at, as the regular Sunday guy had surgery and will be out for a while. The guy they had planned to do the rest of the Masses ... has bailed. (That's bad. More on that in another post, which I've written and rewritten and finally dumped as things developed.) So I've agreed to step in and handle the rest of the Masses until the regular guy is good to work again.

In a way, it's twice the work -- but then again, I'm playing the same songs I played Saturday, on Sunday. So it's not too horrible. I lose some more free time, but I gain some more $ and keep playing the songs I like for a cause (you know, God) I love.

And if I have to take a break from weekend fun, isn't the best way to do so with a huge event, surrounded by friends and meeting celebs? Yeah, that's what I thought, too.

Good news, bad news

2010-05-07T19:56:00.005-05:00

Good news: I can hit the A-flat above Middle C when singing. I did so today while playing and singing "Bridge Over Troubled Water," which was one of the songs I bought last week on a sheet music buying spree. (All sheet music was 25% off.)

Bad news: I shouldn't hit the A-flat above Middle C when singing, no matter how good "Bridge Over Troubled Water" is. Owwie. But if I need a nice, calm, middle-range song whose notes I can hit (an octave lower) easily, I also bought this song last week during my sheet music buying spree:

I also bought a book of Ave Marias in about 20 different keys, but let's face it, as meaningful and awesome as the Aves are, it's just not as much fun as that, is it?

Exit interview

2010-05-02T13:38:00.004-05:00

I didn't get one when I was laid off, and it's been a year now, so let's pretend, shall we?

Did you like working at your last job?

I always did, even as people kept getting laid off and the product got worse and worse, through no fault of the rank and file. (Amazingly, the people in charge of deteriorating the product are still in charge, thanks to the economy largely stopping the layoff bleeding.) I liked the vast majority of the people, I liked the work and I liked that it still meant something. But it was heartbreaking to watch a once-proud paper get destroyed by morons who didn't know anything about it, despite the best efforts of the rank and file.

Anything you would have done differently?

I wouldn't have been so damn agreeable. I almost never turned down overtime or trading with someone else. I would start at 6 p.m. one day and 11 a.m. the next day, and I never complained. I should have. But I was too worried about losing my job. So much for that, eh?

Anything else?

I really didn't develop a social life outside of work (where I was younger than everyone else by a lot) and the friends I had in high school and college. In part, that was because it was really hard with an ever-changing schedule. (For example, I couldn't do a church young-adult group because it met on Sundays, and I always worked Sundays.) Thankfully, the friends I had were quite accommodating, and I got to spend enough time with them.

Were you surprised that your job was eliminated?

Yes and no. I just got that bad vibe a few days before, though I slept well the night before I was laid off. But I thought to myself -- didn't they just spend all this time training me to do other stuff? And haven't I been involved in a whole lot of new sections and other things? (Yes and yes.) For some reason, they didn't factor that in. And now I'm using those skills elsewhere, and those skills are being appreciated elsewhere. At this point, it's my prior employer's loss.

You realize you got dumped just to keep older people from suing, right?

Yes. But the prior employer hired me when I was 22 years, 2 months old. They made that investment in me ridiculously early in my career, which I'll never be able to thank them enough for. The problem is, though, that that made the layoff harder to understand. Don't they want people who can work across media? Don't they want people in the demographic they're trying to attract in hopes of saving the newspaper? Don't they want people who show up for work on time, are respectful to all involved and work hard?

Apparently, they didn't, and that's a bitter pill to swallow. Supposedly, someone tried to save my job, but failed, so I bore the consequences of bad decisions.

Angry much?

At times, yes. After all, I tried so hard to do everything right, and it didn't matter. Compounded with my broken arm and moving home, it set off a horrible downward spiral that I wouldn't wish on anyone.

But I had a lot of support, which not everyone has. And I had an old job I could return to in playing the organ, and I just didn't know how much I missed it until I was doing it again. I've reconnected with my family. I've learned a lot. So when I feel that anger, that resentment, it always helps to remember that. If I impressed my old employer, just imagine what I could do in the future. I'll be fine.

So don't worry about me. Old wounds sometimes take a while to heal. But it's a process that, slowly, is making me stronger.

We should talk more often

2010-04-28T18:13:00.002-05:00

I'm pretty busy these days. Between little-brother wrangling, freelance editing, freelance writing, going to the gym, getting on my bicycle, playing the organ and visiting friends, I don't have a whole lot of free time.

But I do plan to post to this blog more often. The good news is that I don't have to post on the frustration of being unable to find work. Nor do I have to post about the Illinois Department of Employment Security, which is a well-intentioned but ultimately overwhelmed agency. (Though I'll keep an eye out for scammers, which more than a few people seem to appreciate.)

Instead, I can post on happy things. And whimsy. And memories. And such. And I shall. We'll catch up on the last few months.

And we'll look forward to the future, because for once, it's looking optimistic.

Back to the scene of the crime

2010-04-25T22:13:00.006-05:00

For the first time since I moved home, I visited an old friend. This old friend was there for me when I lost my job. This old friend was there whenever I needed to chat. This old friend was happy to welcome my friends, as well.

OK, it's a bar. I'm a little rusty at writing things that are longer than 20 words, so I'm going to write a clunker every once in a while.

Nonetheless, one year and one day after I drank my sorrows away in that bar, the Billy Goat Tavern beckoned again. I hadn't been there since shortly before I moved home at the end of August, and I needed a visit. A day with friends to mark my birthday and the anniversary of the layoff (a day late) was about the best way.

So after burgers and a movie, the friends and I dropped into the tavern. All the people I remembered were still there. The Cubs were on the TV. The cheeseburgers were as tasty and popular as ever. The beer was just as cold. And the friends, some of whom had been there the day I got cut, were just as talkative and vivacious as ever. It was like I'd never left the city -- almost like none of the bad stuff had ever happened.

Over the ~~new~~ next (you're mean, James A. Molnar) few weeks, I'm pretty sure I'm going to spend plenty of time talking about how I'm re-establishing myself in my old home. But never let it be said that I will ever forget Chicago, nor how wonderful the place is.

The next time I get to the Goat won't be soon enough.

25 years. 1 year.

2010-04-22T12:03:00.001-05:00

Last year at this time, I was hoping to enjoy my birthday, only to have that wrecked by losing my job. I instead spent the evening getting very, very, um, full of beverages at the Billy Goat, accompanied by friends and co-workers, making it the bestworst birthday I've ever had.

This year, I can't get laid off on my birthday. So it should be an improvement.

In between, I've had a few years worth of, um, "experiences" crammed into a year. A couple months after getting axed, I broke an arm after my bike collapsed under me; that pretty much ended my summer in the first week of July. I had to move home. I tried, and tried, and tried to find a new full-time job. I had a very nasty crisis of confidence after months of nothing but frustration and a few close calls on the job hunt.

But it hasn't been all bad. I got back into Catholic church music on both the piano and organ and play at least two, sometimes more, Masses a week, picking up weddings and funerals. (C'mon out to Aurora to hear me. And if someone you know needs an organist for a wedding nearby, have them drop me a line.) I got to spend time with my family and get to know a few relatives better. I have two regular freelance gigs that, between them and the church music, amount to a full-time job with at least some flexibility. I'm in good health and good spirits. I'm saving money and paying down my student loans.

Slowly, but surely, I'm moving on. And things are looking up, thanks to a whole host of people to whom I will always be grateful.

First, my family, who took me back in and helped me get back to work.

My friends, who listened to me, supported me and helped me work through both the layoff and the arm injury. (A true friend ties your shoes when you can't do so yourself.)

My former colleagues, who sent along job info, sat me down for lunch and talked over what was next. (And bought me plenty of beverages to get me through my birthday layoff.)

More than a few told me I was headed for bigger and better things. It took a while, but I'm finally feeling that too. And if I'm lucky, when I turn 26 I'll be well along that path.

Cross-posted on my Facebook page.

Timeout

2010-01-02T10:51:00.003-06:00

I closed 2009, perhaps fittingly, with a funeral and party.

The deacon at one of the churches I play for died suddenly two days after Christmas. I had seen him Christmas Day, and he seemed just fine. He was only 60, and it was such a terrible surprise.

His funeral, as it so happened, was New Year's Eve.

After that, I had to scramble to get ready for a New Year's party in Oak Park.

And I opened 2010 with by playing two Masses, perhaps also fittingly.

2009 was a terrible year for most of us, and I'm in that group. And a chunk of the year was spent mourning. Grousing. Angry. Broken.

But toward the end of the year, things started to pick up. I'm playing the organ and am in demand for that. I have regular freelance editing and a consulting/editing gig with a firm in Chicago that's starting to produce pages for a West Coast newspaper. I don't have five-day-a-week work, per se, but I have income -- and most importantly, I should be able to get off unemployment soon.

And 2010 looks so much better than 2009 did. It'll be a time to rededicate myself to my family, my friends and my God.

Which means, in the short-term, that it's time to take a hiatus from this blog. It's not that I don't like it or anything. I do. But there isn't a whole lot new to post. I've learned a lot. I've thought a lot. But life has started to settle down again.

So later for now, blog. It's been fun. And with any luck, the future is nothing but bright for me.

Repita, por favor

2009-12-13T20:36:00.003-06:00

I think I've noted before the frustration of applying for a job, only to find another job posting for the same job a couple weeks later.

This isn't quite the same thing, but after doing this for a while, it seems to be getting more common.

Today, I applied for a different job within the same company for which I'd already applied for a job and was REJECTED. The first time I did this was over the summer sometime, but it was a little odd doing it again today.

Of course, this time, the job requirements are a little bit more up my alley, so maybe this one will go a little better than last time. And I don't think the HR person for the first job is the same one as the HR person for the second job.

Still, it's kind of weird. But who knows? Maybe the second time is the charm.

We're too young to think about this

2009-12-12T10:29:00.004-06:00

One of the things I have to constantly remind myself is that as bad as this last year has been (and let's face it, it's been pretty bad), so many other people have it worse. And though I may deserve better, so do they, and it wouldn't be the biggest deal in the world if they got theirs before I got back to where I was. After all, I'm very lucky to have the support system that I do, not to mention the side career in church music available to me.

And I'm not dead. I don't say that flippantly, after all, it's rather true.

I woke up this morning to the awful news that a friend from college had died of a relapse of leukemia. She and I had lost touch (such things happen, alas), but I'd always admired Alice as someone determined to overcome the many obstacles (and there were many) in her way. And it seemed like she had. She'd graduated, married and moved with her husband and child to start their lives together, and it seemed like her life, even if not perfect, was one where she was happy.

But, so far as I can piece it together, only a few months after she got married, the leukemia hit. And though it seemed as if she might recover, a relapse hit with a vengeance, and she wasn't able to recover.

And that makes me pretty angry on her behalf. Maybe she didn't look at it this way (frankly, I hope she didn't), but it seemed to me that every time something when well in her life, some awful occurrence or challenge cropped up to try to take it away.

My best memory of her comes from my freshman year. We had the same English class, and she, I and another student bonded while in the same presentation group. As it happened, my birthday was toward the end of the semester. And she knew I'd had a rough first year in la universidad. So on my birthday, for someone she still didn't know all that well, she insisted on baking me an angel food cake (my favorite), then she brought it in and shared it with the class.

Those who know me will tell you: My freshman year sucked, for a number of different reasons. But that sort of simple action helped a struggling 19-year-old get through that first academic year.

Rest in peace, Alice. You were a wonderful lady, and I'll miss you.

Thanks for letting me know

2009-12-03T13:02:00.002-06:00

So my former employer once had an employee stock-ownership program. But no more. It's being shut down once my former employer exits bankruptcy, whenever that will be. But thanks to Da Rules, they sent me this:

Shares allocated to your ESOP account: 70.5266
Value of each share as of Dec. 31, 2008: $0

In other words, my "stock(?)" of my former employer isn't worth the paper that I got the notice on.

And even then, it doesn't appear that I'd be able to do much with my $0 anyway. Since I was there just under two years, I'm not vested to make any moves on that $0.

Good thing I wasn't too attached to that $0 anyway.

I'd make a church music joke, but you wouldn't get it

2009-12-02T19:18:00.002-06:00

So am I any closer to getting an editing job? Well, no. At least, it doesn't seem that way. At least I still have some freelance editing to do, right?

On the other hand, I'm pretty glad I restarted my liturgical music career. I've returned to one parish on the East Side of Aurora and will be doing fill-in work at another one on the West Side of Aurora. Christmas Eve and Day? I'll probably have four Masses over three parishes (the two mentioned earlier, plus one in North Aurora). Every weekend? Most likely four.

And as long as I'm freelancing, I'm available for funerals and weekday weddings (the most irritating of recent wedding trends).

If I plan right, I could, indeed, set myself up for a decent freelance-ish future. But obviously, I'd still rather have a full-time gig on top of the music, right?

Dem scammers are sneaky, Part II

2009-11-29T17:57:00.003-06:00

So remember when I wrote about a not-as-obvious scam?

I wonder if the scammers that be figured out I was on to them.

Because today, instead of "Olivia Burrows" at career-jobs-updates, I got an e-mail from "Rob Gilbert" at "career-today."

But the mailing address (a residency in Texas) is the same.

SPAM DELETE.

Why, yes, I'll be attending?

2009-11-24T19:34:00.002-06:00

So I get an invite to a Facebook event: "Christmas!"

Just the day Christmas. Dec. 25. Nothing's really happening that day, of course, except for the celebration of the birth of Jesus, which is, itself a big deal. But the Facebook invite listed no party, no event that required driving, nothing like that.

This feels kind of fake. And it feels kind of wrong. I'll be celebrating Christmas, of course, but it just feels odd to be like, "So, yes, I'm attending Christmas on Facebook."

I'm not sure I'll be attending.

The previous month is under review

2009-11-15T21:43:00.003-06:00

[Pardon as we take a look at the replay to see whether things lately have made forward progress.]

When you get laid off, your confidence starts to shake. You wonder to yourself, "Well, am I actually good at this? Or did I get the ax because I suck?" When you can't find a job easily, you wonder why you're worthless.

(In other words, your self-esteem takes a hit.)

And let's face it, that's true--you do wonder. If you've read my blog, you probably understand that these sort of questions flowed through my head, especially after moving home. Especially after the crushing FAIL for the big job I thought I had.

So it damn well made my day today to get this from a writer for the freelance site I'm currently editing for:

Thank you for steering me in the right direction. You are the best editor I have had and I really do appreciate your help. I am new to this and a little intimidated. With more editors like you, I know I can be a better writer.

And it really made my day when I got my first "performance review" from a top editor at the same freelance site:

This [copy editor] is fairly new, but he’s already adding value to the site. In addition to his eye for typos, grammar and syntax, he also seems to have a handle on the strategy and how-to article formats, with the exception of a few too-short overviews and scrambled [site-specific] lists. He also has a very nice touch with his rewrite requests—both tone and content are constructive and upbeat.

It's nice to feel wanted. And it's nice to be appreciated, too. Is this a little self-promotion for me? Well, sure. But you know what? After the doubts and pains and fears of the last few months, it's good to have people I don't know saying nice things about me.

[After review, the author has made forward progress. Detractors will be charged with a timeout.]

Dem scammers are sneaky

2009-11-13T20:55:00.003-06:00

I've poked fun before at some obvious scams. You know, like the type where they offer you a position and all you have to do is provide a bank account?

But this one is sneakier. You see, someone like me has their resume in a few too many places, largely because companies insist on using their system or the system of some cheap-o "job site." It's annoying, but you're kind of stuck with it, because, after all, you want a job.

That's why something like the following could getcha caught.

Timothy,

This email details your job matches, along with today's postings...:
Chicago Assistant Subject Editor, Today's Job Postings

Olivia Burrows

Take your free Media-Journalism-Newspaper Career Test

This message was sent to you by Jobsearch 2009
9408 SASSAFRAS DR
DALLAS, TX 75217-8681

Sigh. That address, by the way, is in an apparently residential area of Dallas, in a delightful cul-de-sac near St. Augustine Baptist Church. But when you get flooded by job postings and crap like that, see how it could be very easy to get suckered in like that and victimized by God knows what?

It appears they stole my info from (who else?) CareerBuilder, who really should have a better handle on this. But it sure scares me that someone could fool for this seemingly innocuous bait.

A song from the big chair

2009-11-11T22:56:00.004-06:00

There's something to be said for this freelance editing business.

Today, I sat in a chair, wearing sweatpants.

I had my laptop.

And I edited all day (perhaps while watching TV. Only my TiVo knows for sure).

This sounds pretty darn good, eh? No office needed. No boss, really. And, again, I'm in my sweatpants. I could head out for lunch whenever I wanted to. I can get on the bike for a while until it's too cold to do so. And I've made a little bit of decent money so far.

Now, here's the rub, though, and why I probably can't do this long-term:

It doesn't quite pay as well.

Oh, right, that. Rats.

On top of that, I have to pay my own taxes. That's not cool.

So freelancing actually isn't that great a deal. Some of those tradeoffs are kind of tough.

On the other hand, it keeps my mind busy.

OK, maybe it's a great deal.

P.S. If you get my title reference, you WIN.

It's who you know

2009-11-09T21:04:00.002-06:00

Here's a difference between living in Chicago and living in Oswego.

In Chicago, it was unlikely I would run into someone who knew a relative, friend, classmate, etc. Not impossible, but in a city of 2 million or so people, the odds aren't so great.

On Saturday, I was the accompanist for a Mass at an Aurora church. I mentioned to a cantor that I had gone to my quality all-boys high school. She just happened to have gone to the accompanying all-girls school, but graduated five years before I did.

As it turns out, I know someone in her graduating class, whom, of course, she remembered. Ah, connections.

Then I get home. I mentioned the name of the cantor to my mom, who's only lived in the area since [redacted for my own safety]. That's a relatively long time -- in fact, her whole life. For whatever reason, she knew who this lady was and her maiden name. (Whether or not the lady knows my mom, I don't know.)

OK, so maybe adjusting to my oldnew surroundings hasn't been quite so difficult. After all, the more (people) you know....

We want to be wanted

2009-11-03T22:16:00.002-06:00

I spent a chunk of my weekend in Oak Park at a Halloween party, wherein I realized in between sips (yes, sips) of Heineken that my friends, all well-educated, are nonetheless having a tough time finding anything related to our fields.

For instance:
Me: Formerly employed in my field. Now underemployed, though I do feel more optimistic about running a freelancing career if I needed to.
Friend A: Has a job, sort of, in her field. But it's below what she could do in her field.
Friend B: Has a year-long internship in his field. But after he graduates next May, he doesn't know.
Friend C: Studied history, but is now working as a foodservice manager. The pay is good, but the job is tougher than you might think. He's considering switching to air-traffic controlling.
Friend D: Picked up a nursing degree. Worked overnights for a while, but finally got an ER job. Lived at home two years and saved enough $ to buy a house and a new car.

That's four out of five of us not quite getting the best possible scenario for us.

You want to know why this recession is so bad?

Ask us. We're on the sidelines, and we know damn well that's not what's supposed to be happening.

What they don't know can't hurt them

2009-10-30T20:57:00.003-05:00

So one of the freelance sites I edit for from time to time has a section that seeks a little bit of biographical information about the person involved.

Here's the bio I wrote in the space they provided:

I'm an editor, writer and musician based in the western suburbs of Chicago, though Chicago is my true home. A graduate of Marquette University, I have edited at [my previous employer and the place I interned after junior year of college].

Heyyyyy! Sounds like that guy knows his stuff, given that he's worked at two high-profile publications. And, of course, I do, and I'd like to think I'm very good at what I do and have excelled at everything handed in front of me.

On the other hand, I'm 24. (Yes, still.)

And my actual experience isn't as much as they might think. After all, I've been out of college for a little more than two years.

So it brings up a little thought experiment. Let's say that I put my age and years of experience in my bio, which writers can see when I send their articles back for repair. (If you write about a "drug regiment," you're going to meet me, and I will not be happy.) Thus far, they've been respectful. But what if it's a freelancer who's been doing this 30 years, and they figure out that the cranky editor who asks him or her a question is a mere baby in comparison?

I dunno. But I know one thing: I don't want to find out.

It's as easy as 1, 2, ... 250

2009-10-28T23:09:00.002-05:00

So I have the freelance editing, which is bringing in a little bit of income. And hopefully soon, I'll have weekend income from playing music for Catholic masses.

Today I got out the ol' back of the envelope. If I were lucky and made X amount of money (best case scenario) from my music, what number Y of articles at value Q on the freelance site would I have to edit to reach a gross income Z comparable to my last job? (Each article is very short, and little is paid per article.)

So, let's see here. That's X + (Y*Q) = Z. Too much algebra for one night. I should have just dumped this off on the little brother, who's been taking algebra.

But anyway, the number I came out with for Y (a.k.a. (Z-X)/Q)? Somewhere around 250.

To get that much done, I'd have to sleep about 5 hours a night.

Don't know about you, but I value my sleep.

Crappy birthday to ya

2009-10-21T00:41:00.002-05:00

So six months ago, on my birthday, I was laid off.

Today was my little bother's birthday. We were planning to go to Olive Garden and eat cake. Mmmmm, cake.

He got sick at school and I had to go pick him up.

No Olive Garden. He had to go back to bed when he got home. He was finally allowed to have cake later, but the family made him get out the candles by waving his arms.

He's feeling a little better now, but it wasn't quite the birthday he wanted either.

If you call it "transitioning," I will shoot you

2009-10-18T21:22:00.003-05:00

I've hit, I suppose, a transitional period of unemployed.

For one thing, I'm not technically "unemployed."

Sort of.

I think it's probably better to consider myself "underemployed."

I've started a new freelance gig that will take up a few hours of my time each week. So that's something.

And it looks like a good shot that I'll be doing liturgical work, which should put a little more money in the coffers while I look for full-time work.

There's been very little worth applying for lately, so it's definitely good to have this work to tide me over until I figure out what I'm doing next.

So away goes the sense of desperation, mixed with despair. I have part-time work, supplemented by unemployment, and the potential for more.

And I'm a little bit older, and a little bit wiser.

I've learned that I'm both less resilient than I think I am, and more resilient when I think I am. And I surprise myself all the time.

I've learned how important it is to have that support system. My family, friends and former co-workers have all tried to help me out, some with great success, others with less. But the spirit, and the heart, was there. I am grateful for them all.

I've learned more about disappointment than I'd rather have, but on the other hand, I needed a little bit of perspective. I've been very lucky. I was in the best schools, got many lucky breaks, and got my dream job at 22. Maybe it was time that I get cut down to size for a little while, with the unemployment and the broken arm. Maybe it got me a little more focused on what's truly important to me.

If nothing else, I've learned more about listening. I've heard, well, scads and scads and piles and piles of advice, much of it good, much of it bad. But everyone involved had my best interests in mind. I owe them, even if I didn't follow their advice.

This road isn't over. There are still, I'm sure, a lot of ups and downs left. And perhaps I won't be as optimistic tomorrow, or next week, or after I post this.

But those times aside, I know I'm a very blessed and lucky guy. And no amount of misfortunate, I hope, can take that away from me.

A hymn of employment harmony?

2009-10-15T22:08:00.004-05:00

Maybe God is happy with me today.

I mentioned before that I was seeking a bit of weekend work as a musician for Catholic Masses. So I sent out a mailing on Monday. Which was a holiday, so the mailing went out on Tuesday to area Catholic parishes.

Number of parishes queried: 22.
Number that have called back in the two days since the mailing came out: 2.

That's an incredible 9.0909090909090909090909090909%. (No, really, if you think about it, it sounds small, but consider how many applications I've sent out for communications jobs and how few interviews I've had.)

So I'm in the running for one long-term gig and substitutions at another parish. And who knows? I could get another call tomorrow.

Maybe this is something I should try for the communications jobs.

OK, maybe not. Not quite the same situation.

But things are looking up again. Believe me, that makes me happy.

Getting down to business cards

2009-10-13T20:02:00.002-05:00

OK, here's a winner for things I should have done a while back: Get business cards.

Yeah, it was one of those things I intended to do right away.

Then I forgot about it.

Then when I remembered about it, I was somewhere like in the car, or in Oak Park visiting friends, or in a bar.

Then I forgot about it again.

So last week, I got business cards for what I'm hoping to set up as a weekend gig (liturgical music), and tonight, after receiving the first set of cards, I ordered business cards for what's supposed to be my main source of income (you know, editing).

The process of buying these cards was fascinating.

See, I bought the cards for the lowlow price of something-or-other. I clicked to check out.

"Say, would you like refrigerator magnets, based off your business cards?"

No.

"How about address labels?"

No.

"Coffee mugs?"

No.

"Business card holders?"

No.

Finally! The last page. I've turned down business card Frisbees and those trailers behind the airplanes. All I have to do is click, and I get my business cards in up to seven days. Anything else they could sell me?

"How about ..."

No.

That sinking feeling

2009-10-01T14:39:00.004-05:00

I've been away from this blog for the last few days for a very good reason: The last few days have sucked. Discretion being the better part of valor, I kept myself from posting stuff I was going to regret in the morning.

Disappointment ran wild. At least one reference had been called on one of the jobs, which meant the company was really considering hiring me, and I really thought I'd nailed the interview. But in the end, they didn't pick me, and I found out the other day.

Now, through the last few months, I've gotten used to disappointment. (Something about a broken arm.) But this one really was tough. I thought I was just about at the end of unemployment. Instead, we cue the "The Price is Right" loser sound.

So there are a few ways to react to this.

Give up for a while and collect your unemployment. This is very tempting, for a few reasons -- the unemployment $ comes from my old company, and it's unlikely the state would actually look into whether I've been seeking work. (There are way too many people on the unemployment rolls right now.) However, that temptation is fairly easy to REJECT. For one thing, I'd rather be working. For another thing, I'd feel rather guilty about doing that. So instead, I filled out a few more applications, and i'm trying again.
Anger. But I wasn't mad at the employers that said "nein." I was more mad at myself. After all, as a generally high achiever, I'm not really accustomed to FAIL. So fair or unfair to myself, it feels like I screwed up, keeping myself from the jobs I wanted. What could I have done wrong? I asked myself. How did I screw this up?
Regroup and replan. I'm devising a plan to get myself some weekend work, falling back on my old sidework of serving as a music minister for weekend masses.
Watch TV. Did that. My Tuesday was a brew of "NCIS" (complete with usual plot holes), "NCIS:LA" (not sure about it), and "The Good Wife" (good show). Then Wednesday was "Modern Family" (runs hot and cold) and "Law and Order: SVU" (of course). Ah, TV. It helps you not feel.

So here we stand. Five months of non-work, and not much to show for it. It's enough to drive a normal person up the wall. And much of my initial optimism is gone. Actually, I wonder if my initial optimism wound up costing me later in the form of more crushing disappointment. But we'll see, I guess.

The nightmare has to end one day. I keep telling myself that. I just wish I knew when.

Jobfox boxes out

2009-09-26T22:06:00.003-05:00

You have to be kidding me.

Applied for a job today, and I had to sign up through Jobfox to do it.

Filled out the stuff. Put up my resume. All of that stuff.

We've submitted your application, but the position doesn't appear to be a good match, it squawked to me.

Shut up, Jobfox. It's a communications specialist position. I happen to be in communications. What the hell about the position doesn't match?

So here's the key. If Jobfox doesn't think the position is a good match, does that mean they'll mark it in some way before sending my application to an employer? Or would they just not send it?

Its job should be to send the application, and get the hell out of the way. But now, I'm not sure it will.

Which means I'm going to try, very hard, to avoid Jobfox from now on.

Yes, it's cliche, but the waiting is the hardest part

2009-09-24T19:10:00.002-05:00

"Soon."

That's probably the word I hear the most when I ask prospective employers how long it will be before they make a decision. (Or I don't ask and they tell me anyway.)

(Note to other editors out there: I know you're cringing at my first paragraph. At least I didn't write "Soon!")

So I've been waiting the last couple weeks for a possible employer that I'd really like to work for.

(Note to other editors: Fix my last sentence, and I will attack you.)

At about 1:00 this afternoon, the call finally came, I thought.

The caller ID on my cell phone read "Private Number." Hey! Sometimes employers use those!

But my policy is not to answer any phone call from a number I don't recognize, or a private or "unknown" number. So I let it go to voicemail.

My phone dinged to let me know a voicemail had indeed been left. I pushed the button to call my voicemail. My heart raced. My body tensed up. Could this finally be the end of my five nightmarish months of sitting on the sidelines?

"Hi, this is (some guy) who's doing a background check on (one of my friends). Would you be willing to speak with me tomorrow?"

Heart went back to normal. Body relaxed. Blood pressure may stay high, though.

After all, the call still hasn't come in.

A super-dee-duper "speling wose" of the day

2009-09-22T21:08:00.004-05:00

CBS EPIC FAIL.

I see spelling errors all the time on CNN, MSNBC, Fox News, etc. Those are bad, but not as bad as this one on the right, because some flunky is typing those chyrons during the shows and they air a few seconds later. But for the love of heaven, the promotional powers that be had plenty of time to fix this one, a promo for next week's "NCIS: Los Angeles," before it aired.

After I saw it, I had to halt the TiVo and go frame by frame until I found it again, delaying my mom's viewing of "The Good Wife." Which, thus far, isn't bad. ("NCIS: LA" is OK.) Found the frame, took a pic with my BlackBerry, TwitPic-ed it, Facebooked it, and was greatly amused.

After all, I can't think of anything worse than a bunch of federal agents wearing too much makeup.

For the love of humanity, he didn't start the fire

2009-09-18T19:34:00.005-05:00

Maybe it's the journalism background, but I don't mind knowing nothing about something.

OK, journalists might write that last sentence a little better. And as an editor, I would write that a lot better.

But such was the case last evening, visiting at a local Irish pub with a friend who's a firefighter in a nearby suburb.

Approximate amount people think they know about firefighting: Lots.
Approximate amount they actually know: Zero.

I was fascinated. We stopped by one of his town's stations on the way there, and he showed me around a little bit -- I hadn't been in a fire station since I was little, doing one of those school field trips. A call came in, and I watched firemen (all men, in this case) head out to the call and come back.

And the stories. He had plenty of 'em. Carrying that equipment? It ain't easy, especially if you're going up the stairs, he said. And there's that adjustment to seeing your first dead bodies -- he had co-workers who responded to the tragic crash of a flight-for-life helicopter in a field and found the bodies of the victims, including the toddler who was being airlifted to a hospital. And there's the daily routine and looking to relax and taking those irritating overnight calls. (I'm not sure he sleeps much one out of every three days.)

I'm not a journalist at the moment, but it's one of those conversations that's vital to any of them. It better informs those who report on them. It also helps ensure understanding of what they go through. (OK, I say that because he was annoyed that a report on his department was missing some context, and I tended to agree with him.)

And, if nothing else, you get some great stories.

Supporting her sister act

2009-09-16T14:38:00.004-05:00

I wrote before about a friend who's on her way to becoming a nun. Turns out that before she can become a nun, she needs to unload her student loan debt.

Now, my student loan debt was, when I graduated, somewhere in the neighborhood of $18,000, and is somewhere around $14K-$15K now.

The debt for my friend, Alicia Torres: $94K.

Good heavens. That's a chunk of change, definitely, and it's a wonder she ran up that much in four years.

But she wants to follow her calling, so it's necessary to unload that debt. So she's gotten a big write-up in my former employer (linked above), as well as interviews on a Catholic radio station and NPR, seeking donations to help her dump the debt. She also ran a half-marathon recently in hopes of raising the funds (that's her in the photo, above and right), a creative way to get the word out about vocations and her aim.

Which means, with her asking for $$$, the hecklers and cynics are out. Go ahead, check out the NPR link and watch as the peanut gallery weighs in, mostly with sneering and, well, cluelessness.

Says one:

What was Alicia's major? (I couldn't find it even on her website.) Has her $94,000 education equipped her to do anything at which she might, living frugally, work off her debt in a reasonable time? Most people who suddenly change their career goals don't have the option of creating their own charity to undo past mistakes; indeed it would never occur to them. And from a non-believer's point of view, becoming a nun is essentially a self indulgence. She may not consume much, but she won't produce much either. Show me a young physician who wants to become debt free so she can spend a few years with Doctors Without Borders, and I'll gladly pledge for her marathon or any other gimmick. But someone who wants to engage in full-time religious introspection should do so at her own expense.

Ah, anti-religious bias. Isn't it fun? OK, let's discuss this silliness.

Let us first stipulate that Alicia's debt situation is, tragically, not that uncommon. Yes, it was a bad idea to run up $94K in debt, especially given where she works now (the Archdiocese of Chicago), which simply isn't able to pay her a whole lot. But more than a few people run up a lot of debt (wisely or not) to get their education, because they want a good education and they consider it worth that. That's clearly the case with Alicia.

The undercurrent that bothers me here is that because she's affiliating herself with something religious, it has inherently less worth -- after all, she's going to waste a bunch of time praying, isn't she? In fact, the commenter cluelessly calls her endeavor "self-indulgence." She wishes to minister on the West Side, to give her life up to God, to work with the poor in a violent area where few want to work, let alone try to help, and she's being the self-indulgent one? Needless to say, it would be silly, if not dishonest, to refer to her work as full-time religious introspection. (Talk to the Poor Clares about that.)

Those who have donated to her cause (alas, given my unemployment, I can't be one of them) understand. She's not in this for herself, in the end. She wants to serve others and be closer to God. She's doing this for them. For this to be seen as a quixotic religious quest, or as a purely selfish endeavor, gives short shrift to her aim.

Photo from thenunrun.com.

Cutting to the chase

2009-09-15T10:31:00.003-05:00

I've written before about my irritation with CareerBuilder, which has a worthless social networking thing and barely relevant e-mails. Oh, and there's the scammers and classless insurance firms, though those haven't shown up as much lately.

To put it mildly, the site (which was or is partially owned by my former co-worker) hasn't done me a whole lot of good.

But this? Why would I get this e-mail? Which had "Work for Students" at the top (but not in the subject line)?

Vector Marketing is a North American firm established in 1981. We have part timeas well as some full time work opportunities.

These opportunities are great for college students, recent high school graduates and any individuals needing extra income. Vector representatives market Cutco products through a low key one-on-one approach. After completion of our brief training, representatives place a fully refundable security deposit for product samples, which they use on appointments as well as some full time work opportunities. These opportunities are great for college students, recent high school graduates and any individuals needing extra income. Vector representatives market Cutco products through a low key one-on-one approach. After completion of our brief training, representatives place a fully refundable security deposit for product samples, which they use on appointments.

Good grief. Yes, I'd definitely like to sell knives. And yes, I'm pretty sure this is one of those jobs that isn't very good for the taker.

DELETE.

2009-09-13T22:33:00.005-05:00

It's rare that I'm bothered by a story in the news, thanks to my journalism background. When some tragedy or something like it erupted, my job was to stay calm and stick to the facts as they developed.

Then there's the Annie Le case. Le, 24, whose body was probably found over the weekend, was a Yale med student who was supposed to get married on Saturday when she disappeared just a few days before.

This case is haunting me, most likely because Le, 24, is my age. By all accounts, she was beautiful, driven, excited for her wedding, putting on her Facebook status that she was "lucky to be in love with my best friend." (The writer of that piece wasn't aware that they were nauseating song lyrics.) Hell, she wrote an article on staying safe on campus. She did everything right.

And it didn't matter.

And for me, as a 24-year-old now living in the suburbs but once a city denizen, it's a familiar theme, especially given the reason I live out here now.

You can do everything right. Go to the right schools. Get a good job. Do the right things. Work hard.

And it may not matter.

Instead, you do all you can, and you hope for the best.

And you try to roll with it when something not-the-best happens.

Le should have had that chance.

No, not quite

2009-09-12T00:00:00.003-05:00

Got the following in my Facebook inbox the other day from a name I didn't recognize but sounded Danish:

Hi Tim,
I'm new at Facebook. I think you're a relative of mine. Was your fathers' name Tiemen? If that is so, then you're my cousin. I think my mother (Diny) is your fathers' sister.
Well, hope to here from you some day.
Greetings, [name]

Well, let's see here. No, you're not a relative, unless it's about sixth or seventh cousin. No, that's not my father's name, which means no, you're not my cousin. Also, I have only one father, as far as I know.

And it's "hear," not "here," in that instance.

I didn't write him back. I bet he'll understand what that means.

Teenage wasteland

2009-09-10T19:20:00.003-05:00

Ah, teenagerdom. Weren't we all remarkably stupid then? And didn't we all think things were soooooo much more important than then they actually were?

And didn't we come up with pathetic ways to prove our coolness?

I thought of this when the little brother and I went into a Subway today, he having had a shortened day of classes for some stupid reason. Outside the Subway (yes, a Subway) were a few freshman football players. (Mark, also a freshman, chose not to acknowledge their presence.)

Oh, and the boys with girlfriends were totally making out with them in front of the restaurant. It was all I could do to avoid snickering in front of them.

Yes, kids, you're cool. Loitering outside Subway, making out with your girlfriends. With whom you are running the danger of getting your braces interlocked.

I feel so old.

But at least I'm amused.

Dear Illinois Dept. of Employment Security: All I wanted to do was change my address, and you didn't even get that right

2009-09-08T14:50:00.002-05:00

So remember how last week, it took me a really long time to change my address? I was on the phone for darn near an hour, calling several different phone numbers, just trying to change that stupid address?

I got the statement of certifying my benefits today.

And the new address is spelled wrong.

So I've called in to fix the error. Same number (the last one) from last week, where I almost got sent to voicemail because it TOOK SO DARN LONG to reach someone? Sigh. And today, it being the first business day after a holiday, I eventually got sent to voicemail.

At least I got the unemployment funds. And have a check or two in the mail.

The crazy 88

2009-09-04T21:01:00.003-05:00

Here's an added benefit of being at home again: The piano (which I've played since I was 4) is at my disposal again.

We gotcher sacred music. We gotcher classical music. We gotcher secular music, including a delightful piano version of "The Hustle" from an old sheet music magazine my grandmother had.

We even got some American folk stuff. Except some of it, being rather old, comes with the distinction of having the original lyrics.

The racist ones.

Oh, goody. Fun way to learn the original lyrics to "My Old Kentucky Home." Though another way would be to watch last Sunday's "Mad Men," which had a stunning scene of Roger (John Slattery) singing the song (and using the racial slur) ... in blackface. Yikes.

For the record, the hagio-museum of Stephen Foster at the University of Pittsburgh (my dad's alma mater) maintains that Foster didn't mean anything racist with lyrics like those in "My Old Kentucky Home" -- he merely fit in with the customs of the times. Or something like that.

Where was I?

Oh, yes. So for a half-hour or so, I dig through the old music and start playing. Sometimes, I start off with a Mass, other times Gordon Lightfoot's "If You Could Read My Mind." I also have a copy for electric organ (one of which we have) of "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds," though it's better to interpret for piano.

And for a little while, just with the simple pleasure of playing and sometimes singing, I lose myself for a little while. It's not Tim Horneman, not particularly employed most of the time. It's Tim Horneman, musician.

And man in control.

Dear Illinois Dept. of Employment Security: All I wanted to do was change my address

2009-09-02T22:44:00.004-05:00

I should have known it wasn't going to be that easy.

Somewhere around 10 a.m. this morning, I certified for unemployment.

Somewhere around 11 a.m., I would have had a beer, but there aren't any in the house.

In the middle was a gigantic pain in the ass.

As you may or may not be aware, I moved last week. That means le stat needs to know that. So I went through the process of certifying, informed the state I worked (!) last week, told them how much I made, and then told them that yes, I had a new address.

"You'll need to call this number*," the nice automated voice said. It was the number for the nearest unemployment office to my old place.

OK. I can handle that. I rang the number and got another nice voice, this one not automated, but still not live.

"If you'd like to change your address, actually, you'll need to call this number," the nice voice said.

Ugh. This is going to get annoying, I figured.

Indeed. I call the next number, an 800 number. I first got a busy signal. Tried again. It went straight to voicemail(?). Baffled by that, I tried one more time. A nice automated voice put me on hold.

"The average wait is 10 minutes. Your call will be answered by the next available operator. Though if you'd like to leave a voicemail, push 1 -"

Not an option. I need to change my address, which will take a couple minutes.

"After 12 minutes, we will automatically ship you to voicemail," the nice automated voice said.

So, of course, with maybe half a minute to spare, it finally put me through to a REAL LIVE PERSON.

I gave them my change of address. I confirmed it with them. Then I was about to complain to the nice man about what a pain in the ass it was to change this stupid thing.

"Thank you for letting us know about the address change. Have a good day."

"But--"

[click]

Drat.

*OK, this should be obvious, but these aren't exact quotes. I wasn't recording them or writing them down (I didn't think about blogging about this until maybe a couple hours ago), so I've made them into something that amuses me but isn't too far afield from what was actually said.

So long, COBRA

2009-09-01T23:11:00.002-05:00

As of today, I'm not on COBRA.

YES!

We figured out that thanks to some new loophole or something, I was eligible to be on my mom's insurance. So no more paying $165 a month for insurance. (It would have been some $460 without the stimulus set of laws.)

The one good thing about moving home, if nothing else: My costs have plummeted. This helps, I guarantee it.

Where I've been working

2009-09-01T11:22:00.003-05:00

Over the weekend, as I mentioned last post, I actually did some work.

Sweet.

I edited and wrote headlines for Appolicious, a start-up by one of my former co-workers, Eric Benderoff. It deals with iPhone and iPod Touch apps, and is hoping to soon expand into applications for other phones. It's a fun site that helps you decide where to spend your money on cell-phone time wasters. (And, let's face it, the quality of apps is bound to be very, very uneven.)

Go check it out today. It just might make you app-happy.

Finally, I get to work it out

2009-08-31T23:33:00.003-05:00

DEAR STATE OF ILLINOIS:

I'm sorry to report that I did not try to find work last week. After all, it was a rough week. I moved home. Then I moved my sister into college. And there was that Cubs game that they lost 15-6 to the Washington Nationals (good time to take my sis to her first game).

Oh, and I worked. I'm pretty sure that counts for something.

I can't divulge for what yet, though I will as soon as I can (shameless promotion is fun!). But I spent the weekend editing. And writing headlines. And fixing people's grammar. And straightening out their spelling. And everything else I love doing. And don't worry, dear state. You'll get a full report on Wednesday when I certify. It wasn't full-time work, but it was a lot of fun, and I might get to do a little more for it soon.

So, beloved state, take that! I've done my part. And this week, with two job interviews and a few new applications already (yes, I know, it's Monday), I've made up for whatever lack of looking for work you think I may have done.

And, hey, maybe, if things keep going like this, I won't need help from you for too much longer. Sounds like a plan, eh?

With all my love,
Timothy J. Horneman

It sounds good, until...

2009-08-29T14:28:00.003-05:00

Got a letter in the mail from someone who apparently got my name from my old high school. Why, yes, they have job potential for me!

Dear Marmion Graduate:

There's a growing need for expertise in the financial security arena, and our office is in an excellent position to meet that need. As a result, we are currently looking for high-quality people to join us as financial representatives.

You may or may not be considering a career change at this time. However, learning about our selection process might be of interest to you or someone you know. It's a great process to help people decide whether our business is a good fit for them. And, it may open the door to a tremendous business opporuntiy.

Please call me at (number) for more information or visit our website at (website).

Sincerely,
(name)

Financial security? Why, that doesn't sound too bad, although I'm a writer, not a numbers guy, though I can do the numbers if I had to.

"They want you to sell insurance," my dad said.

Oh. Well, you know what that means.

RECYCLE.

Yes, I'm totally jumping at the chance!

2009-08-28T18:58:00.002-05:00

Editor's note: The new perma-dateline is Oswego, Ill., not Chicago. Any blog posts from Oswego won't have a dateline; any from elsewhere will.

Into my e-mail the other day:

Large Call Center in Ennis, TX has immediate openings for EXPERIENCED Level II & Level III Call Center Representatives.

PAYS $11-13/hr - depending on experience. Temp-to-hire Opportunities!

I haven't a clue how this one wound up in my inbox.

DELETE.

So it's come to this

2009-08-27T21:37:00.003-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill. -- At about 2:15 today, I closed up my apartment (above, after the movers had been through it a few times) for the last time, left the keys there, got in the packed minivan and drove home.

I am now a resident of this fair suburb, a short way into Kendall County, about an hour and a quarter outside of Chicago.

Or, to put it more cruelly, because I lost my job, I couldn't afford to have an apartment anymore and now am living in my parents' basement.

All my stuff is now there, including stuff that won't do me any good while I'm here (microwave, extra silverware, etc.) I haven't a clue how long it will take me to unpack all of it. I'm not even sure I'll unpack all of it.

There's the gigantic couch that took the movers longer than half an hour just to get out of my apartment. There's an entertainment center and two TVs. My computer. Its desk. More than 20-odd boxes.

The odd thing is that as bad as today looks, my outlook is about the brightest it's been in a while. I'm probably going to do a little bit of freelance work over the weekend for a former co-worker. I have two good interviews next week that I'm going to prepare for over the weekend.

And I got some encouragement from former colleagues that I really appreciate.

This is a very, very painful bump in the road, no doubt. But I'm not feeling as bad as, well, I should.

Chicago: Sweet, but no longer home

2009-08-24T22:31:00.008-05:00

With Thursday set to be my last day as a resident of Chicago for the foreseeable future, let's review some of the events that made my time in the city so damn memorable. They will not be in any particular order. Sorry.

Two days after I was offered a full-time job at my former employer (a promotion from lowly intern), I was pickpocketed on the subway. God has a sense of humor, doesn't he? Anyway, my friend Joe picked a very upset me up. Knowing me well, he took me to McDonald's for a tasty ice-cream-related treat. He then lent me some money. The next day, I got lunch at the Merchandise Mart with my friend Heather. "Tim, I'm sorry you got pickpocketed. Let me buy you ice cream." The day after that, I went out to Oswego to replace my IDs. My mom picked me up at the train station. "Tim," she said, "I'm sorry you got pickpocketed. Let me buy you some ice cream."
Bar after bar after bar after bar after bar. I have never been a heavy drinker, but I spent a lot of time at places like this with friends, co-workers and occasionally, a sister. The night I was laid off, I spent six-plus hours in the Billy Goat, spending a lot of time with my suddenly former co-workers. Another night was spent in a '70/'80s bar. All my drinking comrades remember the shows from when they were first on. I remembered them from ... Nick at Nite.
The first time I was handed a front-page story to edit. It was a thrill to see the headline I had written show up on the front page.
The time the other copy desk intern and I went to the Southwest Side to see the 7-Eleven turned into a Kwik-E-Mart for "The Simpsons Movie." I bought pink-frosted doughnuts (mmmmm, donuts) and a poster adapting Homer to "The Scream." And my more courageous co-worker bought a Squishee. Oh, and I got to pose next to Chief Wiggum. That's some good posing there, Lou.

I was in Holy Name Cathedral the day before a fire attacked the church and left it badly damaged.

By sheer bad luck, I was rarely in the office of my former employer on days of big news. When the governor was arrested, I wasn't around. Same with when he was thrown out of office. When my former employer filed for bankruptcy, I was in Oswego having lunch with friends. The exception was the day of the presidential election -- but I hadn't been scheduled; I was asked to work overtime a few days beforehand. I then walked the four miles home, starting on Michigan Avenue, surrounded by throngs of still-rowdy Obama supporters leaving Grant Park and still giddy over his win.

There's still plenty more memories, but I'll end with this one: The apartment I lived in during summer 2007 was in the "colorful" Uptown area. This was the view from my apartment. That lot is now being built on, and will have senior housing and a Target there within a year or two. Nonetheless, on the way home, I'd often have to step over homeless people and keep an eye out for marauding robbers. The high point of living here, though, was July 3 and 4. I was high enough to be able to watch several suburban fireworks shows. I usually hate fireworks, but being able to see so many was, admittedly, a thrill.

And there, for now, we have it. With any luck, I'll be back here soon enough. No guarantees, of course. And the last few months have gone pretty awful, for various reasons. I've looked at moving back to Oswego as a last resort, perhaps even hitting bottom. But oddly enough, even as my nightmare scenario is playing out, there are signs of hope.

My future on the job front seems much better than it did even than at the beginning of this week. The arm fractured in the bike accident is just about OK, although it still makes this occasional irritating popping noise.

And besides, by moving home, I get to drive all the time again. There's something to be said for that.

My semi-last blast tomorrow is a visit to the Cubs game with a friend and the younger of the little sisters. Wednesday, I go home, and Thursday, I drive up, help the movers, and drive home.

Goodbye, Chicago. It's been awesome. (And infinitely better than those four years I spent in Milwaukee. Sorry, Milwaukee.) With any luck, I'll be back soon.

And if anyone asks, it wasn't your fault. Of course, it wasn't mine either.

A happy face, put on

2009-08-21T21:35:00.003-05:00

Throughout the whole mess of the last few months, my goal has been optimism -- tempered by a little bit of realism. For a while, being optimistic wasn't difficult.

Then, of course, I got hurt. And if you read through the blog posts after I got hurt, you'll know I didn't feel a whole lot of optimism. I was trying to see the bright side of things, but it wasn't working, especially after it became obvious I wouldn't be able to stay in Chicago.

Maybe it's that my arm is almost back to normal. Maybe it's that I've gone out three nights in a row and socialized. (Been to the Billy Goat twice, including once with my not-one-for-dive-bars sister.) Maybe it's that I took my first bike ride in seven weeks yesterday, heading out to Northerly Island to see where the mayor carved the X's in the Meigs Field runway. (Alas, the runway is gone.) And my arm felt fine after the bike ride.

Or maybe it's the first good job-related news in more than a month -- and it was a goodly amount of good news.

No, I don't have a new job yet. But it feels like the odds are better.

Things can, nay, they will, get better. And now it feels more like that's the case.

No bad "kick" puns, I promise

2009-08-20T12:47:00.002-05:00

I don't particularly care for soccer. It's deadly boring to watch on TV, even if it's on a big-screen giganto-plasma flat-panel. There's not much scoring and not as much fluidity as there is in, say, hockey. And I played the game for a few years growing up, which helped me develop a dislike for the game. (I was bored, and I was on the field.)

So why, oh why, did I wind up at Toyota Park in the Chicago suburb of Bridgeview, to watch the Chicago Fire (clever, guys) take on the L.A. Galaxy?

Well, for starters, it was free. My friend was handed a pair of tickets by his friend, so all it cost me was the price of getting to the park using the CTA and Pace.

Our seats, when we got to them in about the 25th minute (Pace was late), were in the third row and provided a darn good view of the field. It was also next to Section 8, the unfortunately named and not particularly loud (though they were trying) superfan section.

The good news is that the fans are not as hooligan-ish as they are in other countries, although when the L.A. goalie and a Fire player got into a nasty collision late in the game, the Fire fans, intelligent all, referred to the goalie with another name for a cat and flung beer at him. Dude was on the ground, alternating between writhing in pain and apparent unconsciousness. (He was also heavily bleeding.) No, that sort of stupidity doesn't happen (often) at baseball games.

And the game is a lot easier to watch in person -- something I found to be the case with hockey, too, although I've warmed up to watching hockey on TV. It helped in the second half, when the Fire were shooting at the goal I was behind. And it was interesting to watch superstar Landon Donovan take off on a breakaway and score the Galaxy's second goal. And it was amusing to realize that David Beckham was suspended and couldn't play. Ha. Take that, Mr. Posh Spice!

I'm not a soccer fan yet, by any means. But it was an interesting experience, and I suppose I can't rule out a return visit.

We're almost back to normal

2009-08-19T00:04:00.002-05:00

Went to the doctor today to check on my arm.

Good news, again. No physical therapy. The arm is basically fine, though it still has to work itself back into playing shape.

But the best news of all: I can get back on my bike.

FINALLY.

It's too late to salvage this summer, but I've been pretty badly in need of optimism. Getting back on my bike just might be enough to push me back into a more optimistic mode.

And I've got a busy few days set up. Besides packing, I've got a Chicago Fire game, a bar night and a Cubs game.

I will enjoy the last few days in Chicago if it kills me.

Carrying baggage

2009-08-13T22:28:00.002-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill. -- Packed a few more things today. Not a lot of fun.

I'm not trying to get like one of the columnists at my old job, who often made overwrought statements about relatively minor details. (I once edited a column about why the leaves had to fall in autumn. Not scientifically why, but philosophically why.)

But this isn't an insignificant part of my life. It's a move prompted by events largely out of my control. So it's irritatingly symbolic.

Over the last couple years, I had carefully established myself in Chicago. I had friends, a great job, a life. And the stuff I'm packing now is largely from those last couple years. Then there's the couch I bought, the Wii, the TVs (though those were given to me).

The good news is that I'm not losing that stuff. But I can't afford to live in Chicago, which means I have to pack up my stuff and move to a much cheaper hideout (the parents' house).

So in the boxes go the DVDs, the games, the books, the lights, the chairs, the clothes, the dishes, the mementos, the crock-pot, and Lord knows what else. All the stuff I'd built up to establish my own life, and I'll have to put it aside for a little while.

See, this is why that columnist shouldn't try to make these grandiose statements either.

Vocational training

2009-08-12T23:35:00.002-05:00

I and a few friends went to visit with an old friend who's soon going to be entering religious life (for the non-Catholics out there, that means she's going to be a nun).

It was tough, watching her laughing and dancing and drinking (just a little) tonight, to imagine her as a nun, though she's long been active in the pro-life movement and speaks with an intensity in her faith that the rest of us can only dream of. But she has a sense of purpose in her life that few will ever have, and there's something to be said for that.

One of the toughest parts I've had in this whole experience is figuring out a new sense of purpose. When I was in journalism (and God willing, I return one day), I felt the power of being involved in stories that changed lives, hopefully for the better. But now? I dunno.

Shortened form

2009-08-11T21:48:00.002-05:00

Another irritating part of applying for jobs: the incorrectly done job posting.

Wanted to apply for a freelance thingy. But I can't, because the e-mail to apply to got cut in half. So it ends after the "@."

And, alas, no recourse on this one. No one else to contact. With any luck, the same thing pops up, with a correct address, somewhere else soon.

Hope on the ropes

2009-08-09T15:55:00.002-05:00

Traded Facebook messages the last couple days with a former coworker. He had been a former foreign correspondent, national correspondent, White House correspondent, editorial board member, and national editor until our former employer unnecessarily dumped him along with me.

And out of the 53 of us trimmed on that fateful day, he's only the second that I know of to get a new job. (Others are freelancing, but that's not quite the same.) But really, it is encouraging news. I know journalists have skills that employers want. And eventually, we'll all wind up somewhere.

A little encouragement in the last month and a half's sea of misery is always a good thing.

The secret of my birth

2009-08-05T22:15:00.002-05:00

For the last 24 years, I fear, I have been keeping a secret. For, I'm sorry to say, I was not born in an old hospital in Illinois. And I have the birth certificate to prove it.

Frustration also is...

2009-08-05T21:43:00.003-05:00

When seemingly all the hands you play in poker FAIL when you need them most.

Examples:

I have Queen/Jack. The flop is 2/J/J. I push all-in and am called with ... 2/2. LOSE.
I have pocket aces. The flop is 9/9/Q. I push all-in and am called with ... Q/J. Sounds good, right? Chance of me winning: 85%. The only thing that bails the other guy out is a queen... which he caught on the turn. LOSE.
I have 10/2. The flop is 9/5/10. I push all-in and am called with 6/7. Only an eight bails the dummy who called me out. Chance of me winning: 80%. But he got the eight on the turn. LOSE.
I'm short-stacked and have 10/2 again. But flop is 10/2/5, so I have two pair. I push all-in and am called by someone who paired his five on the flop. Then he caught another one on the turn, beating the 85% chance he had of losing. LOSE.
After a blank flop, I push a guy all-in with my A/K. He calls with A/10 (a very, very bad call), but catches a 10, crippling me.

So needless to say, it was a very bad day on the poker tables, though not as bad as yesterday (flopped a straight, moron calls with a pair, picks up a miraculous flush with help from the turn and river, sending me out). And, like everything else that isn't going well in my life, I've done all I could to put myself in the best situations possible. But I lost anyway.

I really wish that lesson weren't continually being reinforced on me.

ADDENDUM: I'm chip leader by a little bit. Have A/Q. Called by second place, who's barely behind me in chips. Flop another ace and two low cards. With a lot in the pot, I push all-in. He calls with ... K/K? Really? Stupid, stupid, stupid call. (I'm 90% to win.) Not that it matters, because he snagged a third king on the turn and crippled me, essentially knocking me out of the tournament. (My chips finally gave in a few hands later.)

Frustration is...

2009-08-04T22:22:00.002-05:00

When you see new job postings for jobs for which you applied, a month (or more) after you applied for them.

I'm half-tempted to just hold up a sign with "For the love of God, I'm an excellent editor! Hire me! I'm sitting here idling while my former employer mistakes 'breech' for 'breech' in the phrase 'crossing the breach!'"

The latest in Twitter-ventures

2009-08-03T23:29:00.003-05:00

Editor's note: I pledge never to use the words "tweeps." What a stupid word.

So I posted a few days ago about an absolutely awful quote by last year's Republican vice presidential candidate, Sarah Palin. (A few days later, bloggers, who are not the media, made stuff up about her, saying she and husband Todd were divorcing. This, I fear, only reinforced the wrong impression in her mind.)

I also posted my irritation on Twitter. Then, some person who apparently idolizes Sarah Palin decided to reply back:

COMMENTS LIKE WHAT? PROVE IT! What comments did Sarah Palin say?

Apparently, she hadn't read the previous tweet, which gave the quote about the media makin' stuff up, which they should stop in honor of the American soldier. (Yes, her statement was pretty incoherent . And the media annoyed me by simply giving her quote and not noting that she didn't cite any examples. And yes, I'm a conservative, but a very frustrated one at the moment.)

So let's check out some of our Twitter friend's other tweet replies, eh? (I won't link, to protect the stupid. Everything is verbatim, bad spelling and all.)

AND I will show u documents that Obama was a REGISTERED MUSLIM SOCIALIST when he lived in indonesia.

FOLKS. Here is the deal. We have a maniac in the WH. He is determined to make the USA socialist. WHAT R WE GOING TO DO ABT OBAMA?

HEY LADIES! DO U THINK SARAH & TODD PALIN ARE GETTING DIVORCED? HAVE U REALLY LOOKED AT TODD? Obama ur rumor FLUNKED!

NOT TRUE. OBAMA DID NOT SEND B CLINTON TO FIGHT FOR THEIR FREEDOM. Hillary sent her house boy! Obama is so done!

Speaking of troops. Obama wants an "internal security force better trained and armed than our military". BE VERY AFRAID!

Sigh. All I want is a rational political discourse. But as usual, the idiots rule the day.

I know the feeling

2009-08-02T13:17:00.002-05:00

As usual, today's rerun of "Peanuts" offers a little bit of perspective. Yeah, I know, things are rough these days. And it's true, even with how badly things have gone lately, that I'm relatively fortunate. But still. Be nice if things were going better.

Haven't been particularly active lately, because I've been sidelined with an annoying summer cold. Played some poker. Watched some TV. Applied for jobs. That's been about it, because I've been too sneezy and coughy and sore-throaty to do much. My body's so irritable that I had to turn the air conditioning on when it was 68 out. (Although I don't have cross-ventilation in my apartment, so it actually felt like about 78.)

Perhaps a nap is in order before I pick myself up and get to church.

Me as a 1960s ad exec

2009-07-31T13:45:00.001-05:00

Actually, it even looks somewhat like me. So I'll take it.

Winding down

2009-07-29T23:42:00.002-05:00

So here we are. About a month left in the big city. That's it. Then Oswego, although I'm sure I'll be visiting the city (and Oak Park, where a couple friends live) as often as I can.

Dad drove me back from Oswego today and took some stuff with him. For example, I won't need my Christmas stuff for a while. Nor will I need a bunch of plastic drawers, nor my winter clothes.

On the bright side, I did some more get-rid-of-old-crap cleaning. So another bag's worth of recycling is gone.

Tomorrow, another moving company is coming to do an estimate of how much it would take to get all my stuff back to Oswego. After that, I make the call and set that up, making a final date to exit.

So that meant I needed a distraction. After all, that's more bad news, isn't it? So a bit of poker play.

I entered a $5 buy-in, 45-person tournament and took fourth, exiting with $28. And I won a few other small tourneys (6 people), finishing well ahead for the night. Still not a career, obviously, and I could lose all of it tomorrow. But it made me feel good, so I'll take it.

Opportunity knocks

2009-07-28T21:31:00.003-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill. -- I've spent a chunk of the blog lately complaining about how it's the Worst Summer Ever! And that's true. This summer has really, really stunk, especially the last five weeks or so. (Basically, everything after my vacation at the end of June has been skunked.)

So with the inevitable moving home near and only about a month or so left in the big city, I thought I spend a chance talking about what I can do when I get back to Oswego for "good." For there is some good stuff I should be able to do when I'm back. For example:

I can drive regularly again. Really, there's something to be said for driving. Public transportation isn't bad, mind you. $5 to get from Chicago to Aurora? Not bad at all. But it's just not the same as driving. And with the younger of my sisters college-bound this fall, I should have a car available when I please.
I can freelance as a writer, possibly for my old employer, who doesn't have much of a presence out here. I've been thinking about this one awhile. I maybe could have freelanced during summer in Chicago, but there wouldn't have been too much available.
I can serve as a musician for Masses again. I used to play the church organ and piano regularly when I was in high school (and not quite as much in college), and it'd be nice to do that weekly again.
I can spend more time with my family (good), though not quite as much time with my friends (bad).
And, of course, I can save money. I can supplement my unemployment, hopefully, while I keep looking for something permanent. And with most of my expenses taken away (save for cell phone bill)

So there you go. No, this isn't the optimal situation, nor even a good one, my family and I would agree. But it could be even worse. Best to try to make the best of it.

Best to try to see the upside in things, too.

Quote of the day

2009-07-27T00:23:00.002-05:00

From Sarah Palin, on the media:

"You represent what could and should be a respected, honest profession, that could and should be a cornerstone of our democracy. Democracy depends on you, and that is why our troops are willing to die for you. So how about, in honor of the American soldier, you quit making things up?"

Now, I don't delve into political stuff too much here. Reason being: I don't care enough. But is she serious? Did she really just say that?

Inexcusable.

The sport of the injured

2009-07-24T23:53:00.003-05:00

The first sign I might be able to push the arm was my first visit to the orthopedist, when I got a brace instead of another cast.

That was two weeks ago.

Thursday, the good doctor told me my recovery was ahead of schedule, and he was optimistic that I wouldn't need too much physical therapy.

So carefully, over the last few days, I've started pushing myself to get the arm back up to speed, until I found the holy grail of getting the arm moved all over the place: Wii Sports.

Now, I've seen those articles about seniors regaining some mobility from Wii Sports. One Christmas, we even persuaded my grandmother to try the game, and she liked it. (The next Christmas, we had her playing drums on "Rock Band" to Weezer's "Say It Ain't So.") So if you have a cranky, irritable injured dude (moi) who needs to get exercise other than the walks I've been taking and has a bum wing that could use some (gentle) twisting and turning while holding an object (such as, say, a Wiimote), that seems like a game that would work.

And indeed, it did. I bowled and golfed and baseballed and bowled. And I didn't rebreak my arm, have it quit on me and send a Wiimote into the teevee, or experience any pain until my wrist, which has had to put up with extra work with my elbow still ginger, signaled its irritation.

I even tried, a second time, some "Rock Band" guitar afterwards, but my wrist didn't like that much so I quit.

The goal is to be as normal as possible, relatively quickly. (Though it's unlikely I'll be able to help myself move out, because it'll still be a while before I can do heavy lifting.)

Back out to Oswego tomorrow for a cousin's wedding. Then back here. Then back out there. Then back here. So much Metra, so little time.

And another domino falls

2009-07-22T22:05:00.002-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill. -- I learned this morning that the job for which I had interviewed a couple weeks ago was no longer available because of a sudden hiring freeze. (It was a state job, and the new budget is a doozy.)

So now it's official: I'm going back to Oswego at the end of August, when my lease expires.

Even if I got a new job in the next month, I wouldn't have enough time, barring something very lucky, to get a new place. So I'll be spending at least a full month living at home, banking my unemployment and running all the errands the parents need while they're at work.

I swear, I'm trying my damndest to stay positive. (Remember how chipper I was shortly after being laid off?) But the last month has been a steady stream of bad news, with only the semi-good news of my arm not being as badly hurt as we thought it was.

I told a friend and former colleague I was half-considering tossing it all away and becoming a professional poker player. The longer this drags out, the better-looking that option is.

"Speling Wose" of the day

2009-07-22T15:40:00.002-05:00

Yay for Internet advertising! Although I bet that by posting this, I'm now "inelegible."

In the interest of equal time

2009-07-22T15:03:00.004-05:00

BrightFuse, who along with CareerBuilder had me very irritated last evening, saw my blog post and sent me a couple tweets to explain some stuff. So here goes:

BrightFuse@tj00226 hey tim! saw your blog post.We're a talent community, so it's a bit different than LI + FB.about 6 hours ago from web in reply to tj00226

And:

BrightFuse@tj00226 There's a sign up box on CB when you post your resume...sometimes people forget they opted in--just wanted to explain! :)

Fine and dandy, though I can't imagine why I would have opted in. Anyway, I played along. I just sent over:

tj00226@BrightFuse ok, i'll bite. how would brightfuse help me? i'm 24 and already on linkedin, fb, twitter and my blog, so i have a net presence.

And they answered:

@tj00226 it's a community of professionals that you can get help from and then give back to. You are def. ahead of the game, though!

Sooooooo you're like LinkedIn?

Sorry, guys. Good try, and I wish you the best of luck, but I don't have a use for you. (Bless them for trying to compete, though.) Now, to change my e-mail settings on CareerBuilder so they stop annoying me as much.

Anyway, off to Oswego tonight; I have an early-morning visit with my orthopedist tomorrow. With any luck, my arm is healing just fine and I get some badly needed good news.

Because clearly, I should be working in accounts payable

2009-07-22T00:15:00.003-05:00

I'm not even bothering to read the e-mails I get from CareerBuilder anymore.

For one thing, they are useless. For another thing, they are very useless.

Here's a listing of some of the jobs they think I should consider, according to the e-mail I got tonight. Keep in mind, I'm a journalist.

Energy engineer
Inside-sales professional
Accounts payable
Plainclothes "loss prevention" agents. (Yes, that would be a glorified security guard.)
Service writer and parts counterman at an auto dealership
Custodian at a community college. The software honestly thinks that's a "fair match."
Staff pharmacist
Agricultural chemicals research scientist

And don't get me started on BrightFuse, their fake social networking thing. "Employers want to know more about the real you," it says. Well, it says something like that. So CareerBuilder (which used to be, and might still be, part-owned by my former employer) keeps sending me e-mails: "Whoops! You forgot to activate your BrightFuse profile that you requested." (I didn't forget, and I didn't request it.)

Besides, I'm already on LinkedIn, Twitter and Facebook, though the last one is private. So why, exactly, would I need another one?

When the chips are down

2009-07-21T00:41:00.003-05:00

So, you're funemployed for three months. What, on the surface, is the absolutely stupidest thing you could do after three months?

If you answered: "Playing online poker," you would probably be right.

Here's the part where I carefully back what I've been doing (playing online poker) away from "absolutely stupidest thing you could do after three months." This should be fun.

Just for a lark, I signed into my online poker account (which I was too lazy to close) and found, lo and behold, $10 in it.

And a couple days later, that $10 is now $50 in playing small-stakes Texas hold'em 6-person tournaments.

That means, mind you, that I haven't spent any money in my bank accounts on poker, nor wasted my unemployment on gambling. See, this isn't as bad as it sounded at first, right?

And that means, also, that at least thus far, I'm winning. Though I'm not going to make it a second career, by any stretch of the imagination (its dubious legality being one thing), it'll be pretty hard for me now to run out of the money in the account. (By small-stakes, I'm talking $5-entry tournaments.)

This takes me back to college, when I was a regular online poker player, starting when I was about 19. I still played for small stakes, but I made a few bucks while playing. But I gave it up when I got my job after college. Didn't have time; didn't really have the money either. So it wasn't hard to quit.

Now, it's mainly going to serve as something else to take up my time while I can't ride my bike or, say, work. It makes me use my brain, which is always good.

So we'll have a bit of fun, and play a little bit. Ain't nothing wrong with that.

Literally, it's the grammar disaSTAR of the day

2009-07-19T14:56:00.003-05:00

Ugh. If you're going to criticize the media, please don't do it in such a way that exposes your inability to use English. Like this essay, which employs a sadly common misuse:

The only way to test my thesis is to apply it only to female candidates who have actually had the nomination for national office. Enter Sarah Palin. Palin was literally butchered by the mainstream media by every measure.

Whether you think Palin was poorly treated by the press or not, fine. But I think we can all agree they didn't show up in Wasilla, Alaska with axes, knives and saws and bringing a portable meat locker with them.

The misuse of that word drives me up the wall.

But not literally.

Misadventures on Twitter, chapter 233: "Speling wose" of the day

2009-07-18T21:53:00.007-05:00

As has been made clear here before, I joined Twitter with quite a bit of reluctance. As it has proven a useful way to irritate my friend Heather, I've kept my account. But I have to admit, it's proven a semi-interesting experience.

For example, I've been following The Onion on Twitter. But they made a boo-boo in one of their latest magazine cover parodies (right):

See that? They wrote "tussle." WRONG! It's "tousle." (Oddly, The Onion usually has better copy editing than 95 percent of publications these days. I almost never see them with a typo.)

Anyway, where was I?

Oh, right. So someone in California decided she would follow anyone else who made a note of this on Twitter, and I had. So she started following me. She's reported that she's following at least five new people, of which I must be one. Given that The Onion has more than a million followers, there's gotta be more than five people out there who noted that.

UPDATE, 10:34 P.M.: Actually, there were only about five. The Twitterer in question sent me a link to her search results.

Anyway, she wasn't a spammer, which made her better than 90% of the accounts who try to follow me. (My block button is getting some overuse.) So I'll follow her back. Might be interesting.

But the winner is that something I wrote on Twitter to someone with whom I went to college wound up on a site run by ...

Of course.

... my former company. On their new "blog aggregation" site. (Which employs a former colleague I respect, who had no control over this.)

I've always been a bit fuzzy on the definition of irony (largely using the "I know it when I see it" definition), but I think this might count.

For the last time, accentuate the positive

2009-07-18T00:50:00.003-05:00

I chatted today with a university professor doing a paper/presentation on copy editing in the 21st century. It was a good hour of conversation, after which she asked me:

"Are you sure you don't mind having your name used in this?"

That, and whether she could use the name of my former workplace, too.

Which led me to reflect: How unhappy did I sound during the interview? (I should note the professor didn't ask the question in a tone that suggested I could cross the line or get myself into trouble. This was all my brain working in safe mode.)

So, like a good interviewee, I backpedaled a little bit. There were, admittedly, many things about the former employer that I wasn't happy about. Fair enough. That's true for any employee, anywhere. You can't like your job 100%. But for the mess that everything was at the time I was axed, there were still more positives than negatives.

The people. The sheer depth and breadth of stuff I would read. The experience of having a job that played to my strengths. And really and truly, the people.

But time has been tough on me, and it's starting to color how I'm viewing my time there. We complete month three of unemployment next week. The bike accident took an even bigger toll, leading me, for the first time, to drift that closely to despair. And as things drag on, it does, admittedly, get a lot tougher to stay positive.

I knew, and was told as well, that unemployment would go like this. But that doesn't make it any easier.

And as much as I hate to say it, it's not fun anymore.

Stay positive, they say. And dammit, I'm trying. But one can only last so long.

My little brother, the editor

2009-07-16T15:06:00.004-05:00

I am so, so proud of my little brother.

I zipped into Oswego yesterday to visit with a few friends, where I came across my little brother, 14, reading the suburban newspaper.

"Hey, wait a minute!" he groused. "This story isn't about a teenager!"

He pointed at the headline, which was something like "Teenager falls asleep in car, is arrested."

The story, he then noted, was about a 20-year-old, making the perp not a teenager.

Not good when a 14-year-old can pick out the problems with a story. But good that the little brother can find this stuff. Maybe he'll go into a career in editing when he grows up, just like his big brother.

Cause for optimism

2009-07-13T22:15:00.002-05:00

BACK IN CHICAGO, FINALLY -- Went, tonight, to my second job-networking meeting at my church.

And it really did make me feel better.

For one thing, people in the group are finding employment. For some, it may not be the most optimal work, but it's still something.

And a recruiter who visited said she saw the job market starting to loosen up a little, which, obviously, is to the jobseeker's advantage.

So there's room for hope. And tomorrow, I'm back at applying after my little injury layoff.

Pick a pic

2009-07-13T00:47:00.006-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill. -- I've been through some 300 old photos now in cleaning out my enclave here.

Not a good pic in sight.

What I'm looking for is a non-stupid-looking photo out of those shots from when I was in 7th grade. Today, I found some photos from my 8th-grade trip to D.C. (as opposed to my one from junior year of high school), but I'm not in any of them, because, well, I was taking the photos.

There's one of me, taken presumably by my 7th-grade girlfriend, of whose fate I haven't a clue. But dear Lord, I look stupid. I have this idiotic plastic grin and the light reflects badly off my face, making my lips look like I just downed a case of Kool-aid.

Then there's one of me at the kitchen table, taken by a mischievous sibling. But someone "accidentally" dropped food on that photo. Oh, darn.

But the winner in this pile of mediocrity is the one at the right here. My mom was looking through those photos and found one of me, then 14, and my 8th-grade girlfriend, who is now married to someone with whom I went to high school, and whom I cropped out because I'm not sure how happy she'd be if I posted a pic with her in it on the Interwebz, eh?

Anyway.

"You know, Tim, you look just like your little brother did at that age," mom said.

Oh, yeah? I took it to the arbiter of judging whether I look like my little brother.

Also known as my little brother, now 14.

"Ha!" said the little twerp, glancing at it. "Nuh-uh."

Then he went back to watching "Dodgeball."

Hmmpf.

Back to Chicago tomorrow.

Getting a load off my chest out of the basement

2009-07-11T22:30:00.004-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill. -- Maybe, just maybe, I'm a little bit of a pack rat.

In case I wind up moving back here, and because my parents wanted the space, they "kindly suggested" I go through the boxes of crap I still have here and start "kindly removing" everything I no longer wanted.

In the process of doing this, I came across the following, in no particular order:

About 200 pictures, most from high school, some dating back to a seventh-grade field trip. I only vaguely remember the circumstances under which some of them were taken. None of them is good enough for me to scan in and post here. Sorry. I wasn't good at taking pictures in seventh grade.
My wisdom teeth, removed when I was 18. They put them in a nice little bag and let me keep them. (I won't post of picture of them out of respect for the squeamish. Sorry. But, seriously, they're cool.)
A lot of papers from high school. Not sure what exactly Latin conjugation lessons will do for me now.
Letters from a retreat during my senior year of high school.
A few "participant" ribbons from (not kidding) fall 1991 and spring 1992 soccer, not to mention winter 1997 basketball (cleverly labeled as "A Jammin' Good Time").
A couple years' worth of old magazines.
College notebooks and reporter's notebooks. The notes no longer matter to me, so out they went.

Two bags of recycling and one bag of garbage later, I was, well, not done yet. There was a lot of stuff I was happy to part company with, and more memories brought back than I realized. Some good, some bad, of course, but all rather vivid.

I wonder, often, whatever happened to those people from my past. There's Vicky, who disappeared after 8th grade with her family to Florida. Julia, who was one of the nicest grade-school classmates I had. And Angel and Erin and Julian and Manuel and a few others. And all the people I met from that week I spent in Washington, D.C.

Are they happy? What has happened over the last ten years or so? Obviously, I don't really know. But admittedly, I wouldn't mind finding out.

OK, I know there should be a better way to end it, but I don't have it. I'm tired, and possibly heading back to Chicago tomorrow, a full week earlier than I had expected. Better get myself a good night's sleep.

Laying me off doesn't pay

2009-07-09T19:56:00.004-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill. -- I can't believe I forgot this story from last week, before I got hurt.

I went to the Taste of Chicago, where my former employer, a sponsor, had a couple booths. One of the salesflacks came out to greet me.

"Hi, would you be interested in subscribing?" she queried.

I smiled weakly. "Used to work there."

"And what happened?"

"I was laid off."

Silence. Sweet, sweet silence. I calmly walked away toward the lottery booth, where I won $3 on a $3 scratch-off ticket.

And though I had been relieved of my duties for more than two months, it was the first time I had gotten to tell off, um, some poor salesperson. OK, it doesn't sound as good when I put it that way. But it sure felt good.

Finally, some good news

2009-07-09T13:12:00.002-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill. -- I'm a very lucky man today.

For I no longer have a cast on my arm.

Instead, I now have an elbow brace. Which means:

I might be able to return to Chicago earlier than expected.
I can use my right arm a lot more.
I can type with two hands again. Believe me, that's a big plus.

So that's some good news, finally. I've been waiting for that for a while. Let's see if we can get a little momentum going here and get a nice, long streak of good news.

Break an arm, break the ice?

2009-07-08T23:22:00.007-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill. -- I have a few T-shirts I call "conversation starters."

One is my University of Missouri shirt -- "I went to Mizzou!" someone will tell me. (I, however, didn't go there. By telling them that, we often have a nice chat.) Another is my Kraft Macaroni and Cheese shirt, because everyone loves the food and wants to tell me how much they love it. And there's my Oscar the Grouch "Talkin' Trash" shirt, a yellowish garment with the green monster looking, well, grouchy.

But now, a new accessory has drawn comments and concerns from strangers, friends, famiy members, even the folks with whom I had a job interview today.

This accessory, of course, is my cast, accompanied by its old friend, my sling that won't hold up and constantly has to be adjusted. I didn't realize this until yesterday, when dad and I went to Chicago to get some stuff I'll need while I'm recovering here. After loading up, we stopped in the corner diner, at which point one of the old-timer waitresses, to whom all are "Sweetie," zipped over.

"Oh, no, sweetie, what happened?" she asked.

"Bike accident," I said.

"That's why I don't ride," she said, assuming wrongly that I got hurt out in the city. And then she kept talking. And talking. And talking.

In an Oswego barbershop yesterday, a similar thing. First thing anyone talked about when they greeted me was the injury.

At fireworks? Same thing. Sister brings home new boyfriend? Yup. Off to Walmart? Bingo. Then today, I decided to explain what happened at my job interview so that the folks interviewing wouldn't have to wonder all hour what happened. (Admit it, you'd wonder too.)

I'm torn about this. I don't mind the attention, but people have an innate curiosity about this sort of stuff that I'm not sure I appreciate. (Apparently, this is semi-similar to pregnant women annoyed with everyone rubbing their bellies. I dunno about that.)

And I have at least five more weeks of this to go.

Then I'll be back to wacky T-shirts as my meaningless coversation starters. And I'll be pretty happy about that.

Sweet freedom

2009-07-06T20:49:00.003-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill. -- Took off the cast for about 45 minutes this afternoon.

Oh, thank God.

It's a temporary cast, mind you, held on by ACE bandages (the real one comes Thursday), so it's not hard to remove. And the cast was covering a lot of still-yucky scrapes that needed a cleaning, so I freed myself and cleaned the wounds, then went downstairs for a while to rest the arm and give the wounds their first air in three days. I even stretched my arm, but only a little.

Then the little brother helped me rewrap the arm. It wasn't a long while, but it was one of the few rest-easy moments I've had in the last few days.

I keep getting older; the scams stay the same

2009-07-06T10:47:00.003-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill. -- I'm not even sure I'll be able to apply this week for jobs, but luckily, the jobs are following me.

LEAD Co. Invitation.

This is private, welcome for finding current members to fill open vacancies.

LEAD Company invites you to join an Internet Business. Now we invite new officials and partners. Ideally we invite men and women in USA and Europe. Experience is not essential but the competitor should be willing to work hard and be of friendly character. Job can be done without affecting or you leaving your current job. You need to be able to spend 2 hours + every day on the position.

Available Vacancies (18 and older only):

Finance Analytic Assistant..........(Full-time. work at home) - Pay: $8000-$12000/month
Admin/Logistics Officer.............(Full-time. work at home) - Pay: $8000-$12000/month
Office Manager......................(Greece full-time) - Pay: �2500/Week
Local executive manager.............(HOT) - Pay : $500-1500/Week
Conference Interpreter...............Senior Communications Officer (Greece) - Pay: �4000/Week
Corporate executive manager.........(Any location - business partner) - Pay: As the parties agree ($4000/week+)
Interpreter.....(3-4 European languages min. distant work at home) - Pay per piece
Please feel free to contact me should you have any questions about this offer and the job in general. All inquiries will be answered.

To reply please send back this invitation, your name and area you live in to this email : [e-mail]
Best regards
Veana Seoria, jr.manager
LEAD Co.
HR Department
Messogion Ave. 2-4
Athens Tower, 31rd floor
GR-115 27 Athens
Greece

And what do we always say when we get e-mails like this? But wait, with a busted arm and only one hand to type, it'll have to be an extra-special dispatching:

DELKERTWE.

Off to pick up my X-rays.

Wiped out

2009-07-05T23:40:00.003-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill. -- Tried to type with hurt hand.

Failed.

Still, with my pain starting to lessen and my uninjured wing finding new mobility, today wasn't nearly as difficult as yesterday.

Let's look at yesterday's list, shall we?

I can't tie my shoes. I can't use a recliner easily. I can't open anything. I can't close a car door after getting in. I can't hold anything with my right hand. I can't button anything, so I have to wear athletic shorts.

Today, I can (poorly) tie my shoes. I got better at the recliner and at opening stuff. Because it no longer hurts simply to move, I can, indeed, close a car door. And I can button, thus saving an awkward exchange with the little brother before church (can't wear athletic shorts there). Still can't hold anything heavier than an ounce or two with the bum wing, though I draped the game parts over it while playing ladderball with the older of the little sisters today. One day, indeed, can make a big difference.

And Dave came over again, this time staying here and helping me get by. Man's a damn saint, I tells ya.

I think the most frustrating part of this is that my brain is working fine. But my body's at half-speed. Not only that, but I lost about 10-12 hours of activity a week with being unable to bike, and walking won't come near filling the gap. (A diet will be necessary.)

Still, I'm feeling better. And starting to cope and compensate. And getting some sleep.

And wishing, and hoping, and thinking, and praying that good news comes my way, and soon.

Feel the pain

2009-07-04T21:42:00.003-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill. -- Since dad's bike quit on me, causing my arm to sustain a few dents, it's been rough.

And it's barely been more than 24 hours.

I can't tie my shoes. I can't use a recliner easily. I can't open anything. I can't close a car door after getting in. I can't hold anything with my right hand. I can't button anything, so I have to wear athletic shorts. I can't do a lot of crap, and it's driving me nuts. Plus I'll be staying in Oswego for most of the next two weeks, if not longer, and I can't go to a conference for which I'd signed up.

And I slept two or three hours last night, popping pain meds whenever I needed them. So I woke up this morning in a foul mood. (And you don't want to know how long it's taken to type this.)

Meanwhile, as I've bitched and moaned (job absence + injuries = a very potent combo that I wouldn't recommend), I've had to let others take charge of a lot of my life. Too pained at the ER, I let my sisters handle most of the details, then get my prescriptions filled. They've driven me around, helped me get my sling off and on and made sure I'm taking my meds. Which I am, because the consequences of not doing so is EXTREME PAIN. Even the little brother, 14, is pitching in -- as much as one could get a 14-year-old to. (My parents, by the way, are in Indiana. We persuaded them not to come home until Monday, only a day earlier than planned, though they offered to return today.)

Then my frend Dave took me to his house, and we watched the Cubs game and hung out for a while, leaving me off the sibs' hands -- after all, they have lives too. And other friends have volunteered to help out when I get back to Chicago, and I'll have to take them up on that.

I am lucky indeed, even if I don't look or feel the part at the moment.

Down a wing and a prayer

2009-07-03T23:58:00.005-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill.-- This was me at approximately 11 tonight.

I was on my dad's bike when it suddenly locked up, sending me flying. I scraped up both hands and my forearm and broke a bone in my right ~~foreman~~ forearm. ADD: (Look, you try typing with one hand.)END ADD My summer is effectively over, and so is the biking for a while. (And typing this was a gigantic pain.)

I'm pretty mad. And starved for good news. Hopefully, something soon. Right?

Scoooooooooooooreboard

2009-07-02T16:38:00.002-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill. -- So after almost two and a half months of this, here's where we stand so far:

Weeks on unemployment: Just short of 10.
Chance I'm going to end up in another tax bracket: Good. With any luck, the severance pay (which was taxed at a much higher rate than my usual) will come back to me next year after I've done my taxes.
Interviews I have had/will have: 2. Only two. Ergh. One of those is next week, though, and I'm feeling pretty good about it.
Jobs I've applied for: More than 2. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 30, which is actually (regrettably) high, considering the economic climate. Stupid jobs being a lagging indicator of economic health.

My issue is that I'm considered underqualified for quite a few positions that I think I could do. Obviously, I think my time at my former employer should give me somewhere in the neighborhood of about 5 years equivalent experience. (But employers don't really see it that way.) On the other hand, I'm also considered overqualified for a lot of stuff too. And clearly, it would be a step back for me to try an entry-level job. (My typing is 70 wpm, so that probably qualifies me to be an office manager.)

So I'm gearing up for this interview next week. I'm going to need to nail it. Unemployment has been fun, but it's also getting very, very old, very, very fast.

OneRepublic gets a Speling Wose AND a Grammar DisaSTAR

2009-07-01T21:55:00.002-05:00

The latest in my ongoing vendetta against the band OneRepublic, who made the mistake of following me on Twitter after I bashed them in a tweet:

So I'm still not following them on Twitter, but I was curious and looked at their page.

They posted the following:

"We are very sad for the death of the world greatest micheal jackson."

Jeez. Painful, guys. Painful. Please, learn to a: spell and b: write.

Grammar disaSTAR of the day

2009-07-01T01:36:00.004-05:00

It's been a rotten, crummy, terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad couple of days. A long trip to the doctor's office to ~~get my head examined~~ get an MRI (scary stuff, lemme tell ya) will do that to you, as will bad news on the job front. (On the bright side, I had a long visit with an old friend this evening, which helped me clear my mind a bit, and a nice lunch with the old friend and another longtime friend.)

So it's time for another day-brightener before I hit the sack. On our way to Door County, or maybe it was shortly after arriving, we came across this ad:

Darn. The BlackBerry was doing pretty well with these vacation pics.

Nonetheless, I think it's just good enough for you to see: "Bea's Ho-made Products."

I wasn't aware there were that many prostitutes in Ellison Bay, Wis., and that they needed, um, other work?

Anyway, this is one of those examples of branding gone awry. I suppose, yes, that it's attention-grabbing. But I can't imagine how exactly it helps a business, er, position itself.

And on that note, good night, everybody.

Back, back, back, back, back

2009-06-30T15:28:00.003-05:00

I didn't.

Surely, I couldn't have.

There's no way.

But I did.

I applied for a different job in the company for which I used to work. They have a publication written by and aimed at high school students, and the publication needs an assistant editor. Yes, that's something I could, and yes, that's something I could do well. And I'd be good, I think, at helping young writers develop.

So I'm going for it. It sounds, really, like it might be fun.

There we go. That'll probably be my applying for jobs this week. There isn't much out there, and I'm skipping town Thursday to keep an eye on my little brother for four days.

We're well past two months of unemployment now. This is really starting to get old.

The obligatory vacation photo post

2009-06-29T12:44:00.007-05:00

Back home, now, and slowly getting back into whatever it was my routine used to be.

Total of money spent: Unknown.
Amount of alcohol consumed: Just a beer. And a little bit of wine, but more on that later.
Amount of pie eaten: A lot. Had it for breakfast one day.
Number of brownies eaten: Many. Had them for breakfast two days.
Putt-putt score: Pretty darn good.

Anyway, for some of the details. And if I catch anyone calling them "deets," I'm getting a-shootin'.

I and six of my closest friends stayed four days, three nights at the ominously named...

Yes, Journey's End Motel and Cabins in Baileys Harbor, Wis. (The Web site makes a point of it having "color TV." It means "satellite TV.") And the seven of us crammed into this cozy little cabin:

But actually, we were all pretty comfortable, although I would have to occasionally squish myself between a couple others to get around the cabin while they were still sleeping. I slept upstairs:

You might notice a bit of a slope there for the ceiling. When I would wake up in the morning, it was the first thing I would see, maybe a foot and a half or so over my head. While I never hit my head, it looked like someone ahead of me had:

Ouch.

But anyway, there was a great deal of fun. We cooked out, headed to the beach (where I got sunburned and farmer-tanned and probably strained a muscle playing football), checked out Wilsons Ice Cream for some excellent food and insanely great ice cream, putt-putted a couple rounds (both of which I won), chowed down on a fantastic clubhouse sandwich at Weisgerber's Cornerstone Pub, and so much other stuff.

So there you go. If you go to Door County, try out those places.

Maybe tomorrow, I'll be back to the job-hunting mentality. (I have a doctor's appointment today and simply don't want to do it.) I skipped the bike ride today to sleep in again, too.

But let's not worry. Routine will be back soon enough.

ADDENDUM: OK, so I forgot to follow up about the wine thing. With friends Ben and Lorna, I, a non-drinker of wine, sampled from a few batches with a little tasting at Stone's Throw Winery in Egg Harbor, Wis. I didn't like most of the ones I tried, but I did wind up walking out with a bottle of riesling (which I did like) and a wine glass. (Yes, I paid for both.) It was a lot of fun and a new experience, and it might be something I'd be willing to try again.

Slow news day

2009-06-26T23:45:00.000-05:00

BAILEYS HARBOR, Wis. -- OK, so the last couple days have not been slow news days.

Still, I haven't, despite this phone's status as "smart," kept up too much with the Michael Jackson stuff. (That hasn't stopped our jokes about it, though.) Oh, and the Farrah Fawcett stuff, too. Haven't read a paper. Haven't been on the Internets too much. Been too busy playing on the beach and eating out and putt-putting.

Imagine if I were on this vacation while still working. I would have felt compelled to buy a paper (my former employer is available up here). I would have scoured the Internets and watched a lot of TV and followed this about every minute.

But only around the time that I got a text announcing he was in the hospital. And after it was official (beyond TMZ) that he was dead, that was it.

It's such a good feeling, oddly, I like being tuned in. But this feeling of being (semi-)tuned out is new, but needed.
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone with SprintSpeed

Away from it all

2009-06-25T17:17:00.001-05:00

BAILEYS HARBOR, Wis. -- Yeeeeeeeessssssssssss!

Successfully out of town with five (soon to be six) friends, two doggies, and a nice, cozy little cabin that we're all fitting into.

The Internet on my phone is spotty, and I'm spending time with my friends anyway, so I probably won't update again until Monday. So adios, and off to play I go.
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone with SprintSpeed

Check, please

2009-06-24T21:41:00.002-05:00

OSWEGO, Ill. -- I've been so wrapped up in the vacation planning that I forgot to note about another domino falling the other day.

After two months of living off severance, vacation pay, unemployment, etc., and with a vacation looming near, I finally had to give in and dip into my savings.

Rats. Another domino down.

The good news, such as it is, is that I have a good lead for a temporary gig working on a project, which makes me a happy camper. And, let's not forget, the vacation is worth its expense.

And tomorrow, if you're lucky, I'll have a dateline with something like I HAVEN'T A DAMN CLUE WHERE I AM.