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Do Divine Forces Communicate To Me Through The Radio?

I don’t believe in God. Although I do think there might be some sort of higher force affecting our lives on a daily basis. That force might be Fate. I also believe that Fate can play cruel tricks on us at times.

GOD RADIO-music prayer

All that aside, do you think that it is possible that God communicates to me through my car radio?

Because after this week, I think that maybe he just might. If he existed.

This week I was on my way to work, wondering why I was going in when the job clearly makes me miserable. So much so that there was an anonymous vote at Thanksgiving dinner saying that I should not head into work that night. But I did anyway. Not really sure what is wrong with me in that respect. I usually blame my freakishly responsible nature on being a Capricorn.

Anywho, while on my way to work Friday, there was a radio ad. For the very shopping location that I work at. It said,”[Enter Shopping Location Here] wants to give YOU the gift of MORE TIME this holiday season.”

This was my sign.

Now, the commercial actually goes on to try to impress customers by talking about the extended shopping hours available on Thanksgiving and Black Friday.

It was not meant for employees at all.

But I took it as my sign that I should terminate my employment soon, in order to return to some semblance of sanity and to enjoy the holidays with my family.

The irony of all this? My boss most likely arranged and paid for those commercials.

After this, I was pretty certain of my course of action, but worried about how my family would manage with less income.

Then on Sunday morning, as I went to the grocery store in my pajamas and slippers to buy more pop, the local station had on some religious programming. Usually I change it right away, but this time I didn’t. The pastor was talking about moving to a small town and trying to find an office job right as the recession hit. I don’t remember his exact words, but it came down to that he was fretting about if they had made the right decisions or not. He worried that they should move to the city.

Then he realized that he should just stop and be grateful for what he did have. The jobs that he and his wife had, even if they were not ideal. The friends who touched their lives every day.

I don’t know much, but I do know that gratitude works. I was always grateful for my Pontiac Aztek, even after it died. The Universe provided me with a Jeep Patriot to purchase that I am very happy with. I do fret that committing to the loan may have been an error. But my asbestos friend would tell me to not turn down gifts from the Universe. But the Universe is not always clear on what decisions I should make.

Unless I hear them on the radio…

iNsTaBiLiTy: a poem

I want to cut this pain
right out of me.
Take a sharp knife
and set it free.
There is no reason for this agony.
It is just my body
choosing to wage war
Against the everyday monotony.
And you can’t see it.
You can’t try to understand.
I hide the rolling sobs.
The hyperventilation is reserved
for my hiding place.
You only see the aftermath–
the red-rimmed eyes
the loud, ragged breaths.
You might be inclined
to want to help.
But you can’t.
There is no fucking way.
I have internalized
all of the bad in my world.
It boils inside of me,
robbing me of
my time
my youth
my sanity.
I want to roll up in a ball–
coccoon myself–
let the world just pass right over me.
Because I would rather feel nothing
than to feel this
instability every day.
–JLS 11/20/14

What I Learned This Week – 10/26/14

Tonight I learned not to judge the middle-aged woman in her pajamas pumping gas at the gas station. She may have spent all morning trying to get the checkbook balanced, and after three hours had to settle for a 10 cent discrepancy.

One pair HAS actually been to yoga class...

One pair of mine HAS actually been to yoga class…

I learned not to judge the woman in yoga pants pushing the grocery cart around Meijer. It is quite possible she was wearing real clothes earlier in the day the first time she left the house. That would also be before she helped her husband pick up leaves, and got covered in dirt, rotting leaves, and dog poop.  Also, before the dog barfed up a combo of her own poo and grass in the laundry room.  Twice.

I learned not to judge the weary-looking mother staring blankly at the grocery store shelf. It is very likely that this is the only time she has been at the store without her preschooler in a very long time, and needs to take advantage of this by picking up gifts for him for his upcoming birthday and Christmas. She might just be racking her brain to remember what size Lightning McQueen he was most interested in three days ago when they were at this very same store together.

YEEESSSSS.....

YEEESSSSS…..

For all you know, that woman has worked for the last 6 days straight. She could have bitten off more than she can chew. She misses her family. She misses her dog.

I learned not to judge the woman with her hair quickly escaping her pony tail and no makeup out in public at 9:00PM. She knows damn well that she has no right to be out. But she also spent all of her day doing so many other chores, that she still needs to buy groceries, including supplies for her son’s lunch at daycare tomorrow. And when she arrives home, she still will need to put away the groceries, pack said lunch for the son, pack one for herself, and tuck the tiny night owl into bed.

Then eat some Halloween candy.

Then type up and publish a blog post.

Then start reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower as preparation to publish her own YA book, hopefully before midnight.

WEEK-candy

This week I learned that I am totally that woman. You can judge me all you want, but I am drained.  Stay-at-home moms always argue that the work they do is REAL work.  And I wouldn’t argue that point, having done it for almost 2 years myself.  But, it is DIFFERENT work.  For all the days when the house ends up more of a disaster at the end of the day than when you started, there are many more days than not where you feel a sense of accomplishment of actually finishing the dishes, making a semi-nutritional and/or delicious dinner, or spending an actual 10 minutes of quality time with your child.  Working full time makes those tiny accomplishments impossible.

Morning Thoughts

I often think it would be better to live back in the pioneer days. My mom pointed out the other day that people back then worked from sun up to sun down, and it was a hard life. But think about it.

Hahaha

Hahaha

Farmers, for instance largely (with exceptions, of course) worked for themselves. Sure, we can get a 40 hour a work week, and the rest is free time. But that is 40 hours of YOUR LIFE every week that you are working for someone else, doing their menial tasks, and missing out on seeing your family. If you were back in the old days, you had to spend all day washing clothes, growing and preparing food, and making your own clothes, soap, etc. But it was FOR YOU! If you slacked off, then you had nothing to eat. Your family worked at your side next to you.

MORNING THOUGHTS-pioneer woman

I used to have a monotonous job that I knew exactly what to expect everyday. That job bored me to tears, and I hated it.

Now I have a job that challenges me. Everyday is something new. Now I crave the familiarity of boring.

I have issues with having a job just for a paycheck. I feel like I should enjoy it, and be happy to go and spend my time there. This is where my anxiety comes from. What if I am wasting precious hours of my life doing THE WRONG THINGS? I don’t have a problem with being a responsible adult. I have problems with the precious moments of my limited life slipping away. That is why getting up every morning currently give me life-altering anxiety.

MORNING THOUGHTS-anxiety girl

When I was in school, I once thought if I sat for long enough and thought hard enough, that I could figure out how the universe was created. I tried it one day.

Nothing.

But this illustrates my point. WHY can’t I just accept the Big Bang theory or Creation or Aliens grew us in their laboratory? Why do I feel like I have to do everything myself? It was the same way when I started my quilt. I didn’t want to read any books about it or ask anyone. I just wanted to invent my own way.

I am a person who felt guilty leaving my dog at home by herself for 4 hours daily. My husband and I worked different shifts for years, and one consideration for that for me was always that the dogs did not have to hold their pee for 8 or 9 hours. Now, our one remaining dog is now along for 9 hours in a day. But we avoided it for as along as possible.

Other people seem to be able to just work 40 hours (or more) and drop their kids off at daycare with no problem. Some people do this from the time that their children are born. I was lucky enough to have three years at home with my rug rat.

What is wrong with me? Why do I have to question every tiny aspect of my life to try and figure out if it is right or wrong until everything just seems wrong? Why can’t I just chill and be happy?

And the thing is, when my kid and I were at home, he spent large quantities of time watching television and trying my patience until I yelled at him. Maybe he is better off learning educational fundamentals and surrounded by adults who have to be more patient with him, because it is against the law not to?

I can’t be the only one bothered by all of this. My asbestos friend makes an annual list of why she home-schools. Near the top (not that the reasons are ranked) is always “we would miss our girl if she was gone to school for 8 hours everyday.” She works part-time, so somehow her life magically balances out with lots of family time, even with all the volunteering she does. Her family gets along very well on little income.

My household does not. We bought our modest house at the height of the real estate market. We both recently bought new cars, now incurring car loans. We didn’t do this lightly. We had kept the old vehicles for 14 years and 10 years. But now we are trapped in this work cycle. It is not so bad for my husband. He worked 4-10hr days. Therefore, he gets a 3 day weekend every week.

MORNING THOUGHTS-Oregon Trail

Sometimes it hits me that my dog is gone.

My car is gone.

My best friend’s dad is gone.

All in the last month.

Soon I will be gone as well.

I have to hurry up and get my eight potential books published before it is too late…

(Maybe I should start with ONE book first.)

A Degree I Do Not Use

Posted on
Me, 1981

Me, 1981

I have a Bachelor’s degree in Communications-Mass Media, specifically Radio & TV Broadcasting.

I have never used it.

People ask me why. I have always dodged the question.

Why would you ask someone that? It is just pointing out that I failed. How, I’m not sure. But that question still makes me feel like a failure. It is like a big gray cloak being pulled over me.  It suffocates me.

My mom probably hates me for not using my degree. But she was the one who made me go to stupid college in the first place. If I was going to be there for 4 years, I wanted to do something fun.

I was a fan of many local DJ’s at the time. While I was still in high school, I even got to be on the most popular local radio station for an hour and pick all the songs. I thought the Universe was telling me this was my thing.

Me on "Look Ma, I'm on KISS-FM", 92.5 WVKS Toledo, 1994

Me on “Look Ma, I’m on KISS-FM”, 92.5 WVKS Toledo, 1994

None of my college projects turned out perfect. I got A’s on most of them. But there was always something about the audio quality or length or lighting or editing that bothered me about every project I did. I wasn’t used to not being perfect in school.

Four years later, after spending time on half-broken, analog equipment, I didn’t feel like my college had actually prepared me for the real world. I didn’t feel confident I could walk into a radio station and operate their board. And the college gave me no assistance in finding a job.

Laryngitis. The only time in my life I have ever lost my voice was the last month before I graduated from college. Right when I wanted to make demo tapes to send out to radio stations. While my voice came back, it wasn’t the same for about 2 months. I had a limited window of time that I had access to the recording equipment, so I made tapes anyway. They didn’t sound like me. I did send them out to stations. None of them called.

But I took the laryngitis as a sign that I wasn’t meant to go into radio. The Universe is a fickle mistress. It broke my heart a little. But I was also scared to death to go out into the big bad world and be that brave. I think my discouragement was equal parts laryngitis and fear. I decided maybe I was just a better radio spectator than player.

I got a boring office job in a giant corporate building filled with cubicles I hated. My mom had always worked in offices.  It felt like a safe bet, if not one I was thrilled about.  I hated the long commute. I hated the work. But I liked the people. I made some great friends just at the time in my life when I needed them. We had lots of important experiences that shaped me into the dorky weirdo that I am today. I wouldn’t trade the chance to meet those folks for anything. (Love to Patti, Carrie, Jeff, Linda, Ann, Megan, Paul, and the rest…)

I recently applied a few times to the local radio station. I got an interview, but with no current experience, they didn’t hire me. Other stations are an even further commute for me. Or I would have to move. I don’t want to move. For many reasons.

You might look at this post as a list of excuses. I suppose it is. But I don’t have a better explanation.

The Universe told me it wasn’t my thing. I believed it.

Maybe the Universe was trying to tell me that my words were important, just not the ones that come from my mouth. Maybe the ones that come from my fingers are more important?

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