Being thankful

Being thankful

A new year, for me, doesn’t usually bring any resolutions. This year, since I began the year up north visiting my in-laws, I didn’t make any special observation of the annual change, and had no intention of doing so before or after. But sometimes these things creep up on you like cheap underwear, and I found myself one morning after I'd returned home, wandering around the yard thinking that I needed a way to put a new spin on life. This will be my first full year of unemployment (or self-employment, depending upon how you look at it), and I thought it deserved at least a theme, if not the full formality of a resolution.

I had been noticing a slight bent towards discontent in myself, and so I asked myself what I could do to help deter this unwanted behavior. The answer, of course, was simple: be thankful. In whatever situation is irking me, look for the thing that I should be thankful for. If traffic is slow, stupid, and stressful, be thankful that I have a car to get entangled in the mess. If I manage to get in a tiff with someone I love over something trivial, remember to step back and be thankful that I even have said loved one with whom to quarrel. Quite simple, really, yet seemingly so often forgotten in today’s world.

I think this was brought on mostly by my unshakeable feeling of victory in having escaped the workaday world. Even on my most depressed, cloudy-headed, miffed-at-all-existence days, I have only to remember that, hey, at least I now have the luxury of snuggling down in my bed and moodily sleeping the day away if I choose. Putting up with the BS of office life when I was already having a bad day was always the worst. The pure joy of a self-directed existence helps me cope when my chemical imbalance threatens to get the better of me. Some days I still can’t shake those blues, but at least I thank goodness that I have the choice of blowing off all but the most basic of duties (basically, eating and sleeping) without having to call in sick, or explain myself to anyone. Not that I ever even called in sick, but there were plenty of days I wish I had.

Occasionally I peruse the writings of other proponents of “alternative lifestyles.” No, not gays & lesbians; people who have likewise found ways to avoid needing a job or a business or a ton of ready cash or a passel of real estate holdings in order to eat and keep a roof over their heads. Many of them are downright passionate that no one should have to work for a living. It’s an idealism I can’t really relate to. I’m pretty sure that there are an awful lot of people who should work for “tha man” in order to make their way in the world. It takes a lot of intelligence, independence and desire to make this sort of lifestyle work. In fact, I doubt I would be where I am if I hadn’t met Jeff at just the right time in my life. I always thought that there must be some way for me to make my way in the world as a “renaissance woman” of sorts; I have been a Jacquie of all trades at almost every job I’ve ever held – I learn quickly, retain what I’ve learned, and have little trouble adapting to almost anything. But because I was well-indoctrinated into the security mindset – the “own your own home, can’t live without health & life insurance, and kiss whatever butt you must to keep a well-paying job” thought process – I couldn’t see my way clear to the freedom I craved. Finally someone came along and helped me understand that by lowering my requirements about a standard of living, I could greatly increase the quality of my life.

But back to my point…I feel that there are as many ways to live as there are living creatures, and so the mindset that no one should work for a living does not make much sense to me. I understand that for some folks, life on a commune is ideal; I likewise know myself well enough to realize that it would fall far short of what I desire. Besides, when you really look at it, when you live in a commune you work just as hard (I would argue even harder), but for some reason it is viewed by those who would choose such a lifestyle as less degrading because you are contributing your efforts for the good of the community. While this ideology does hold some draw for the idealist within me, the reality of it would not be fulfilling at this stage of my life. I still have a handful of consumerist tendencies which would not mesh well with the commune mindset, and I am unready and unwilling to give them up just yet.

Speaking of unwillingness, I found reason to rejoice in my life choices yet again over the weekend. Our food supply was dwindling, as was our bottled water. But since gaining my freedom, it has become one of my idiosyncrasies to refuse to go to the store during the day on a weekend. Early morning or late at night perhaps, but to brave such places on a weekend day (especially during snowbird season!) has been placed on my list of no-nos. There is nothing I need so badly that I will put up with the stress that such a trip entails. Sure, I suppose I could do the re-framing trick and look on the experience as a chance to practice my patience, but I honestly get enough of that practice going on a weekday; why press my luck? See? It’s the little things. I’m easily amused. Just being able to go to the store when I please makes me happy. Why would I ever want to go back to the world of living by someone else’s schedule, and being forced to buy into bigger and more expensive dreams in my spare time in order to preserve some shred of sanity or, as the ad agencies would label it, “happiness?”

But I keep digressing. My point, simply put, is that I’m pretty sure civilization as we know it would crumble if tomorrow everyone were liberated from their jobs. There is probably a pretty small percentage of people capable of spending their days constructively outside of the structure of the workday. The rest of the population would probably wind up adrift in a sea of boredom, drugs, vandalism and the like, just to keep themselves occupied. I know most folks dream of having more time to pursue the activities they love (assuming they are not so enamored of their paying pursuits), but to find yourself actually given those forty hours (or more) per week to fill of your own accord requires quite a paradigm shift. Prepared as I was, I still some days wandered about bored. It’s actually a challenge to fill one’s waking ours with creative, productive pursuits when you don’t have to “work” in the way our ancestors did just to provide food and shelter. So I read a lot – something I enjoyed immensely as a child but almost never found time for as a worker bee. And of course I have my scrapbooks, and the organization of my scrapping supplies to keep me busy. Then there’s my eBay stuff, but that’s mostly just dribs and drabs that I put forth to peck away at the load of crap sitting out in the warehouse, as well as to fund my occasional scrapbook shopping forays. I guess the brunt of my “work” is done in four or five hours of scouting at thrift & library stores, and perhaps another eight or so hours on Friday and Saturday mornings. Beyond that I do my needlepoint. Or go to the gym. Or help Jeff with whatever he’s doing. Or solve a Sudoku puzzle (curse you, who got Jeff – and by extension me – into them! Yes, you know who you are!!!). Or putz with a boat or a car. You get the idea.

I suppose it helps that I’m in recovery for my Type A personality. I have heard many a horror story of folks set hopelessly adrift upon the event of their retirement, for these same reasons – too much time, not enough hobbies. It seems that in most cases the preferred method of dealing with this situation is to go back to work, even if only part time. They are so conditioned to the working world that they need a job, even if it is an insignificant one, or a volunteer position, to give purpose and meaning to their lives. I would therefore reason that, if it is possible for one who has looked forward to their retirement for 30+ years to find themselves depressed and unfulfilled by not working, it certainly seems likely that others cut loose at even younger ages would have similar problems. Let’s face it; our schools are just a training ground for the work force. They test and re-test until they have assured the most homogeonous, dumbed-down herd possible in the current information society. They do their best to produce compliant, unquestioning worker bees. They leave behind only the best and brightest students, so that the simple-minded and conformist will early on develop a taste for rising to the height of their incompetence. Since the vast majority of the country’s population was so conditioned, would it not then follow that they would be quite aimless if the activity to which they were bred were suddenly yanked out from under them? So I say, work isn’t for everyone. But it is certainly quite good for most. Though I may tout and brag on my lifestyle, I admit it has been a considerable transition, and that it can’t possibly be the best choice for everyone. But since I have chosen it, I shall continue to be thankful for the power my choice has given me, as well as the sometimes rough lessons it occasionally teaches me.

Same crap, different year...

That title sounded a little too bleak, but I think of it as an amusing and slightly different take on the "misma mierda" thought that got me through so many of my working days.

The trip to Minnesota was fun, as always, despite the fact that (as I learned when Jeff's mom sent me a clipping after the fact) we were there during the fifth gloomiest 11-day period they've had since 1963 (thanks, Jo, for the newspaper clipping -- I'll see to it that it makes it into a scrapbook :). Sheesh, we sure can pick 'em. Actually, it seems we always bring warm weather up with us. And of course the cold stuff followed us home. After sleeping under an electric blanket for a week and a half up there, I was also quite spoiled. So I wanted MY electric blanket, which I had never previously had any use for. I knew it was around somewhere, but it eluded me during the couple of cold weeks after we returned. I finally found it, though...Jeff had hidden it in the back of his pickup truck, of all places! So now it's on my bed, and boy is it nice to crawl into a pre-heated bed when the temps get down in the 30s and 40s! Jeff, being able to tolerate down, has his down sleeping bag which I guess is just as good. Gee, wish I could try it and see, but breathing is still a little too important to me.

We got to go cross-country skiing a couple of times; once down the road in the schoolyard, when the snow kept sticking to the bottom of my skis and preventing me from gliding, and again around the yard and the neighbor's yard, when the snow was melting as we watched. Of course, when we went around the yard, I gave Jeff the camera (as he's more likely to stay upright on skis) so that I could finally have some pix to scrap. Naturally, when I fall down in a big wet soggy spot in the yard, and need him to help me up so I don't get soaked...he has to whip out the camera and shoot a dozen photos, leaving me drenched. Gee, thanks hon. And it wasn't even a kosher skiing mishap...I was just trying to walk myself in a 180 when my ski got caught and I went down. Sheesh. Oh well. I wound up with some good pictures in spite of him :)

We also spent a couple of days helping his brother Dave move...what a workout! Although I didn't kill myself as badly as when I helped Mom move a couple of months ago, which also involved stairs. Could it be I'm in better shape now? Nah, must've been the fact that there were several of us moving, instead of just 3. Now Dave and I are tossing around ideas for an Access DB that will help his bike shop keep track of repair tickets, and boy is that fun! I forgot just how nice it is to flex my software development muscles. Of course, I suppose this shouldn't surprise me, since I often say that the programming was the only part of my day job I truly enjoyed. I know I enjoy a challenge, and problem solving has long been one of my fortes, but there's just something about the whole process, from design & coding to debugging & implementation (and more debugging :) that is really satisfying for me. I still don't think I'd want to do any serious freelance work, but I might go back and take another stab at automating some of the mundane tasks of bookselling.

Speaking of bookselling, I met a really neat lady at a book sale this evening. Although she is of (traditional) retirement age, she, too, was a programmer, and is now an avid scrapbooker. So we chatted and jawed the evening away while Jeff diligently hunted for books :) Of course, he was the only one equipped with a scanner, so I didn't feel too bad. It was the first time that he spent the greater part of a sale on lookup duty while I kept bringing new fodder. Usually my phone is the only one that works, so I get stuck on lookup duty. I suspect our best find of the night was a big cache of old National Geographic maps for just $2.00, but I haven't had the chance to see what they're bringing on eBay yet. Speaking of...there were a couple of things I wanted to look up & see if they were worth going back for...I suppose I ought to toddle off now and do just that.

Type at y'all later!