May 18th, 2004

(no subject)

On the positive side:

My body-clock seems to be working again. Data sample only one day so far, but I got up when I wanted to, and felt good about it.

I've got a reasonable and possibly even do-able To Do list for the day; only eight items, four of which only require contacting someone and getting a yes/no answer from them. The other four are job applications, visiting the DMV, housecleaning, and getting a load out of storage. Need to get the boys camping gear for Memorial day.

On the negative side, the rationalization engine (the part of my brain that invents explanations) is telling me I *should* be miserable. I need to find a way to shut it up, fairly quickly. Hmm; let's see if I can apply it against itself.

Rationalization engine says I'm well past broke, unemployed, and can't get a job because of the "spotty" resume left by two decades of being Supportive Husband/Father (i.e., years of six-month jobs). I've got no health or car insurance, nor the money to get them with. I'm out of anti-depressants, and have about a week's worth of heart meds left. I seem to be in a state of feud with my mom, who insists that it's okay for her to yell at me, but if I yell at her it's "abuse"; so much for any support from that direction. And if I complain to anybody about anything, it's only worthless whining, because after all, I'm a Privileged White Male.

Starbucks wouldn't hire me last time; I'll try 'em again today. Is it because I'm too old for the image they want to project? Possibly; I'm 47. Or maybe the guy interviewing me, right after realizing I can do the job he needs done, realizes I can do *his* job, too. And his boss's job. And *his* boss's job. And have done so before, and done very well at it, if not at his particular company. Why hire a potential threat to his own employment?

I'll try Home Depot, too. Ah, mandatory drug testing for the privilege of getting paid to tell people where to find a hammer. If I'm lucky. But I can point to the house I rebuilt, even if the court ordered me to sell it. I did rewire it, re-tile the bathroom, air condition it, re-paint and decorate it, and rebuild the kitchen.

So how do I turn the rationalization engine back on itself? By going and doing, and seeing what I can accomplish. The eight-item list has grown another two phone calls, but I think I'll save them 'til after I get back from Starbucks, the temp agency, and Home Depot.

What about the Grad School plan? I need to write something about my research plans, immediately if not sooner. I need to be able to describe those plans in happy and optimistic terms. And without donuts; can't afford that luxury any more. Onward, ha.