"Write when you get work" is what my mom used to say to us when we were heading back to college after one of our breaks. It was meant tongue and cheek but it popped into my head as I am about to embark on a new journey and join the ranks of the employed once again. As hard as it is to fathom that I've been off for 15 months, I also cannot believe where the time went. I mean I was busy. It's not as if I was just hanging out watching Regis and Kelly at 9, The View at 10, my "stories" all afternoon while waiting for Ellen to come on at 3 (ok, MAYBE I stayed home a few days but I was busy most days) . For example, I took on a couple of contract jobs so at a minimum I could brush up on my social skills before going back to work full time. I tortured myself selling church calendars for 4 months which I am convinced earned me direct access to the gates of heaven. (Up to this point I've been concerned that my soul wouldn't actually leave the coffin but I am confident now I will at least get to plead my case to St. Peter). Can I say the pain and suffering I went through selling calendars compares to the pain and suffering of Jesus hanging on the cross? Yes, I think I can. But, I plan on confirming with Him if I get past Pete. Now, there's still a good chance I'll get rejected and head straight down to stoke the fire in hell while awaiting my friends but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

From the calendars, I moved into a banking environment for 2 1/2 months to do a mindless job filling in a database. There was absolutely no challenge to the task I was performing but I wasn't on the phone getting screamed at so it was a welcome change. Plus, the bank served another purpose. Once I was back in the financial world I started to feel like I was ready to get back to work. I updated my status on LinkedIn and could not believe how many of my former colleagues were working in the area. People were calling to do lunch and go out for happy hour. Suddenly, I felt like the most popular girl on LaSalle Street. For those couple months I was Mary Tyler Moore...I was gonna make it after all.

As mind-numbing as the work was at the bank it provided me with a lot of fodder. I won't speak for the entire floor I worked on but I will say 70% of the employees had not updated their wardrobe or hair styles since 1989. There was easily a month's worth of episodes for TLC's "What Not to Wear". From the over-sized eyeglasses, the perms and the blouses with shoulder pads I thought it would be best if some of these people got laid off just so they could watch TV and notice things have changed since the "Growing Pains" years. And there was one woman in complete denial that she had gone up a pant size in the past 2 decades. It was so uncomfortable to watch her parade around the office with her entire inseam tucked into her crevices. One afternoon I actually saw her bottom eat her khakis as she fought to pull them out. And, to top it off she was wearing a thong! Made me really happy I'm not a pair of pants.

The banking job served its purpose and I was able to secure a permanent job. I took 3 weeks off before starting and there was truly a difference in how I felt. As much as I enjoyed being off, I realized things were becoming very familiar now that Spring had arrived. I was back walking on the lakefront, taking pictures for tourists and giving directions to the museums. I watched the bulldozer spread the sand on the beaches in anticipation of the summer season. The buoys were being dropped in Monroe Harbor waiting for the boats to arrive. And the warm weather had all the outdoor cafes open for the fabulous people-watching lunches in the Gold Coast. I love sitting outside watching perfectly coiffed ladies walking dogs the size of ferrets. Or, the old men peacocking arm in arm with jail bait 30 years their junior hoping they get back home before their Viagra wears off.

Then, as I sat for my last lunch before going back to work I spotted "exercise man". He's a tall, lanky guy in his mid 50s who wears the kind of smile that tells you he's probably just a little bit crazy. He walks briskly in his daisy duke shorts and wife-beater while tugging on a resistance band over his head. Until I saw him, I think I was a little worried I might miss something if I was tied to a desk all day. But once I spotted him, I realized I had seen it all and it was time to get back to my real life. Plus, I started to worry people might recognize me. Not that I'm famous, but I do have a routine. I've been walking from my house to the north side for over a year and I'm willing to bet since I'm starting to see the same people I might get recognized as well. So I think the timing is perfect that I'm heading back to an office Monday through Friday. I'll be back here on the weekends but frankly, I'm just not sure I want anyone pointing at me and saying "there goes the streetwalker".

Today's EiPod: "Working for the Weekend", Loverboy

What happened to 2009? I feel like it was only yesterday when my job was eliminated, I was planning a road trip and had a whole year to look forward to new challenges and positive changes. Don't get me wrong, all of that happened, it just feels like it went so quickly. Before going back to work in the fall, I knew I had some projects I still had to finish and although I had the entire summer to get to them, I waited until the 11th hour to do them. By the way, if I haven't already made this point clear, selling church calendars was by far the worst job I've ever had. After being verbally abused by funeral home directors because their calendars weren't delivered or they had a typo, I have made the decision I will be cremated. Anyway, I've been off for the holidays and am heading back to work again on Wednesday. This time I'm going to work at a bank in another temporary assignment for the next several months. But, of course I realized I had another unfinished project staring me in the face. It's not like I had to install French doors or sand the wood floors. I had to clean out my storage unit. How hard could that be and why did it take me so long to get to it? It's only a 4x6 cage. But I waited until yesterday when I un-friended Christmas (I love that "un-friend" term...it's got so many uses). And that means I procrastinated 369 days before I attempted this project and I'm not even happy with the results. How could that happen? Do I have a time management issue? I wonder if that's why haven't landed a full-time job. I should probably contact some of my previous bosses and delve into that subject little deeper. Maybe I'll do that later.

So now it's 2010. Which means it's time to set goals. I've set some personal goals already but have a few more to think about. Now, I'm not foolish enough to write them down here as the 3 of you reading this may try to track down my progress and it's hard enough to be accountable to me. Plus, you've seen my procrastination numbers already so I don't need the added pressure.

For the past several years I had "goals dinner" with a few of my friends. We all kept our personal goals but thought it would be fun to develop some goals that would be a stretch for us as individuals. After a few glasses of wine, the creative juices started to flow and we always came up with a few interesting objectives. I think we typically threw in the generic "do something good for others" which can be done in many ways and we each found our own path on that one. More challenging goals we came up with were ones such as "hand out your business card to a stranger", "mend a broken relationship", "go to a bar alone and order a drink" (something we gals were never comfortable doing), and, one of my all-time favorites "look like Diane Keaton in Something's Gotta Give". This wasn't meant to be shallow. We all saw the movie and when we found out she didn't have a body double for the scene when Jack Nicholson cut off her turtle neck, frankly it was a little embarrassing that she was 53 years old with a 35 year old body and we were 40 years old with a...well, never mind how old our bodies looked...we just didn't look as good as her. So, each year we would set out to try and accomplish the group goals and would share our victories with each other. We'd make a call after our "solo drink" or if we handed out our business card. I have to say, the Diane Keaton goal was a bit tricky and by the time we met the following year for the new goals dinner, none of us had met that one. It was a little tougher than it appeared. I mean, she was single like us but I'm willing to bet she spent loads of money on personal trainers and chefs. And, we chose to spend our money on wonderful dinners or sitting on the beach watching the sunset for 2 hours sharing bottles of wine, bricks of cheese, sleeves of crackers and 100 pistachios. I think we just had different priorities and that's why she had that body and we had all the fun. The following year at our goals dinner we decided to keep the Body by Diane on the list because we were sure we'd get to it. Or, as sure as you can get after a few glasses of wine. But alas, when another year flew by and we found ourselves reviewing the previous year's goals, we knew by looking at each other that we had failed once again. Finally, we decided to take the pressure off and tweak the goal to simply say "get to your ideal weight". I thought it was a nice compromise and didn't really highlight the fact that we procrastinated for 730 days before giving up.

Now that I'm a little older and hopefully a bit wiser, the next time I'm at one of these dinners I'm going to write the goals before I take one sip of wine. For example, if I were more on the ball, I would craft the "Something's Gotta Give" goal a bit differently. I think I would write a nice note to Diane Keaton and ask her if she'd like to make it one of her goals to try to get my body. And, while I was at it, I'd ask her to take a stab at cleaning my storage unit.

Today's EiPod: "Don't Wait Too Long", Madeleine Peyroux

I haven't decided if I'm going backwards in my life or am just in a holding pattern until this economy straightens out. And my quandary is completely related to what I'm doing for a living. Sure, it's a temporary job but there are certain duties that remind me of my past and have me wondering if I've actually gotten anywhere.

In 1985, a year and a half after finishing college, I took a job at the Chicago Tribune. Sounds a little prestigious but I'll be the first to tell you it wasn't. The job I held just after college had a much better ring to it...maybe because I made it up. Right after I graduated from Cornell College in Iowa, my roommate and I moved to Tempe, Arizona. I had $40 cash, an Amoco gas card and two fairly aggravated parents to my name.  Since I had 4 siblings ahead of me, I knew what it was like to move back home and sport a blue suit to go to work for the rest of your life.  So, I decided to take door number 2 and head out West to a place nobody I knew had ever been. 

Arizona was fun. It was an extension of my college days. My roommate's brother had moved down there from Iowa a few months before and said we should come. We pulled up with our clothes on our back to a big house with a pool in the back. So far, so good. Our new roommates were older than us and a mixed group of transplants from around the country. They did all types of work to make ends meet and we were welcome to stay on the hide-a-bed until we got our feet on the ground. It was a stranger environment than what we just left, but after spending most of our lives in terrible winters and short springs,  we loved the climate change...and the pool.  In a matter of weeks, we found jobs, got our own apartment with a pool and talked 8 of our college friends into moving down there. Life was good.

After quitting my first job in Arizona, I found another that I knew would be better pay and I'd enjoy more. I was an "Executive Beverage Distributor" at Butch O'Leary's in Mesa. That's the title I gave myself because I thought it sounded impressive. When I told my parents, my mother was quick to point out that I was a "cocktail waitress serving drinks to executives". I swear nothing EVER gets past that woman. In any event, after spending 8 months working 5 nights a week at a job that entailed vampire-like behavior of staying up all night and finally retreating at sunrise, I decided it was time to put my college degree to work. I woke up one day and realized I didn't want to be a 40 year old Executive Beverage Distributor and within 2 weeks I was packed, said farewell to the fun, and moved back into my parent's house where a blue suit awaited me. 

I had a good connection at the Chicago Tribune so the interview process went well and I was reporting to work soon after returning home in September of 1985.  Like my current job, I had to punch a clock, was selling advertising and wasn't making much money. Hence, I can't figure out if I've actually made ANY progress in the last 24 years. The duties were a little different but the concept was the same. People would call into 222-2222 and I would write ads that would appear in the classified section of the newspaper. We had to identify ourselves when answering the phone and after a few days, my manager pointed out there was another Eileen on the floor who had been there for 15+ years and her customers were getting confused when calls were transferred to me. So,  I was asked to change my name.  I thought it was an odd request but after pondering for a few minutes, I decided on a name and began answering the phone "Tribune Classifieds, this is Alexis". It was 1985 afterall, and Dynasty was in its hey-day.

During my 1.5 years as Alexis, I would help thousands of people sell their cars and houses or rent their apartments. I was an hourly employee but got a small commission for ad space sold. Ironically, as I deal with funeral homes in today's job, my favorite ads to write were the death notices. I would typeset what the undertakers rattled off about the "beloved husband of" or "loving sister of". But, my favorites were death notices that started off with the person's name, age and then used the word "suddenly". I was ok with that for the younger people and it peaked my curiosity of what happened to them.  However,  I think there should've been an age limit when using the word "suddenly" to describe a death.  I can't remember how many notices read "so and so, age 94, suddenly...". Really? You mean to tell me that everyone was surprised when Grandpa Simon expired at 94? How long did they think he was going to live?  Personally, I think anything after 76 is gravy so if it were up to me, I wouldn't allow the word "suddenly" to be used in a death notice for anyone older than 76. I mean, it's a risk at that point anyway. Your eyes are going bad, legs are getting weak, memory is failing so the likelihood of having some type of accident is much higher.  If I were an undertaker, I would choose the word "happily" for anyone dying between age 76-90 because that's more fitting. And, anyone after 90 I would just throw in a "finally" because at that point everyone probably feels that way, including the deceased. 

So fast forward to 2009 and I'm taking phone orders to purchase Catholic calendars and dealing with churches and undertakers all over the country. I'm an hourly employee and I punch in and out. I don't get commission like the full-time employees but did receive a "Visa" debit card Human Resources distributed as an appreciation to the employees. The value of the card was more than I make an hour. And neither denomination is a lot.

The past couple weeks have been really busy. We're almost to the end of the year and the churches and funeral homes want their calendars. The transition from paper to paperless has not been seamless so the level of frustration is growing.  A panic is starting to set in by the customers and they are fearful that the 2010 spiral calendars won't be distributed to parishioners by Christmas. And, frankly I don't know if they will either but my job is to calm them down and assure them the calendars will certainly  arrive before they sing Auld Lang Syne. I've been doing this long enough that customers are now asking for me by name.  And some are not happy because the calendars haven't been shipped yet or they don't like the way their ad looks. The job doesn't pay me enough to be as stressed out as I am some days. But my boss is a very good friend and he is depending on me to help him through this crunch. Plus, I'm too dedicated to just blow this off as if I don't care. It's a great cause that I believe in so I will do whatever it takes to make sure this is a successful year. But, as Thanksgiving approaches and there are still orders hanging out there, the angry calls are going to increase ten-fold. I may need to call in back-up to take some of the stress off me.  Maybe it's time to bring Alexis back.

Today's EiPod: "Calendar Girl",  Neil Sedaka

Work. It's a four letter word. So is blog. And now that I'm at work, I don't have enough time to blog. I try, but other four letter words get in the way. For example, now that I have a little pocket change I look for the word "sale" so I can buy some new work clothes. I also like to go out and meet friends for a "bump" after work at a new hot spot or an old stand by.  So, it turns out I'm not home as much as I used to be which makes it difficult to find a peaceful time to blog.  Which is a quandary because my work has provided me with much to blog about. 

Since I started this job a month ago,  there are many four letter words that pop into my head throughout the day. Those are the dirty ones like "shit" or "damn" and sometimes even an "f-bomb".  I have to admit, shit is one of my favorite words in the English language. It's so versatile. It can be used in frustration, anger or disbelief. Sometimes that's the only word that comes out of my mouth when I'm laughing so hard. And if you throw a "holy" in front of it you can really get your point across. Ironically, my current employment happens to be in a holy place that I probably shouldn't be using words like shit as much as I am.  

I'm working for a Catholic not for profit organization. I always pictured myself to be much older when I'd be working in a place where there was a crucifix on every wall. Back in 1987, I had an opportunity to work for the General Counsel of the Archdiocese of Chicago. I was just a couple years out of college and getting back into my religion after taking time off to explore other "higher" beings. I went downtown to look at the office space and after perusing the area realized my boss had placed me 2 doors down from Cardinal Joe and directly across from the Chapel. My exact words to him were "I can't say "shit" here can I?" He gently replied "no".  So, I turned down the job and went to work in the commercial finance industry for the next 22 years. In that environment I could say whatever four letter words I wanted because we were a for profit organization lending money to rich people so they could get richer. And after a while, the most important four letter word seemed to be "cash" and how much of it we were going to make after the rich people paid back our loans.  Everyone seemed to be happy the way things were going for those 22 years. Until last fall when the credit world crumbled and none of the rich or poor people could pay back their loans.  In case you didn't notice, rich,  poor and loan are also four letter words. 

So now I've entered a whole new world in not for profit. I've done a fair amount of volunteering for these types of organizations but now that I'm a temporary employee I feel like I should take my job a bit more seriously.  Since I'm getting paid in cash and holy cards, I'm trying to be as productive and professional as I can. I truly am happy to be back in the swing of getting up and reporting to work everyday. It's how I'm wired and I know that simply from not having anywhere to be for the last 8 months. I did not however, expect the frustration level to be as high as it is doing the Lord's work. And I certainly didn't think I'd be swearing under my breath as much as I am. 

The job I was assigned to do seems pretty simple. I'm taking orders for parish calendars. They're the same spiral calendars that my grandparents had in their house and my parents have in their house. At the bottom of the calendar is the church name with the Mass times and next to it is typically an ad for a funeral home. I never quite understood why churches always want to align themselves with death. Why don't they ask the local Greek diner to advertise? I know I'd much rather check out an ad for where I can devour an omelette after Mass instead of staring at an ad that will lovingly and gently handle my remains. But, I was not charged with sales or marketing for this job. My task at hand is to get these churches to go from paper to paperless with their ad information. It's clergy meets computers. 

Computers can be frightening and I get that.  It's a big change taking a completely counterproductive process and streamlining it for maximum efficiency and cost savings. The calendars are free to the churches and 100% of the proceeds from the ads go to the small, mission churches located in remote areas around the country. So my first week or so, I was very sympathetic when listening to church personnel tell me they didn't know how to use the computer very well.  After a couple weeks I became a bit empathetic listening to more tales of woe but I was starting to say "shit" under my breath a lot. But now, I'm in my 4th week and fully entrenched in this crap (a four letter word) and I just think most of their stories are pathetic. I mean, I spend  anywhere from 3 minutes to 20 minutes listening to these people belly-ache about how tough this is and why do they have to do "my job".  Hey, guess what, this isn't MY JOB and your calendars are FREE! And the best part is, all of the callers that like to tell me how terrible this new system is always end with a "God Bless You". Ok, wait a minute. You just chewed me out because you're too lazy (another four letter word) to take 10 minutes to typeset your ad and you just said "God Bless You" to me before slamming down the phone? I'm afraid by next week I'm going to be so tainted by this experience if a priest tells me it's too hard to type his church ad on the computer I might just reply "no shit but you still have to do it Padre!"

I am working harder than I have in a long time. It's not that it's really challenging work, it's just very tedious and there are no breaks in the day. I only have this job until the end of November and I don't really want to be released before my expiration date. I think while I'm there I'll try to focus on a different four letter word so I don't get fired for swearing at a priest. Maybe "pray" would be a good place to start. 

Today's EiPod: "Dirty Work",  Steely Dan

I told myself I was going to do 2 things in September. I was going to get a job and I was going to take up running. I may have set the bar a little high but I have a reputation of being focused so I really needed to put both feet forward to accomplish these two goals.  And one of them required both feet not only going forward but faster.  To be honest,  I was really hoping the job thing worked out so I could use that as an excuse for not signing up for any crazy Chicago runs that are always going on. Clearly if I went back to being a busy executive I wouldn't have the time to train for a race since I'd be climbing a steep learning curve in the business world. On the other hand, I've been walking a lot all summer and figured I put on close to 400 miles on my shoes so running might not be that tough of a transition.  Shoot,  Forrest Gump started out walking and suddenly he was running and running and running and before he knew it, he ran across the country. Talk about focus!  Although, he was also a bit of a simpleton and had a lot of time to run because he would never have the opportunity to become a busy executive like me. Wow, the fact that I just compared myself to him is making me question who the real simpleton is here.  

Anyway, I've been networking a fair amount and planned on using Facebook as a tool. Now I can say it did drum up a bit of attention but for the most part, I've reconnected with college friends and have spent a lot of time in ridiculous and hilarious conversations that were not going to lead me to a job. But, I was still very determined to go back to work so I kept spreading the word.  And as September was approaching, it was becoming more and more clear the running career was going to come first. Before I knew it, August 31 rolled around and there I was at Fleet Feet buying the new equipment...running shoes. The very thorough salesman video taped my running so he could properly fit my feet to the right shoes for my new venture. And shoes aren't cheap, either. So now I still don't have a job and I'm dropping $95 on new shoes for a sport I don't even know if I'll like. Something is wrong with this picture. Hmm, I wonder what Forrest Gump's IQ is.

The first day of September there I was on the lakefront trying out my new shoes.  The shoe salesman recommended reading Runner's World to get beginner training information which I thought was a brilliant idea. I turned 47 a couple weeks ago and there's a high likelihood I could hurt myself  if I don't train properly.  Although I think it's likely I'll hurt myself anyway. But, I got out there and ran.  And now I officially call myself a "runner". I don't think it matters how far or long I go, I'm still a runner. I believe if  you say it enough you own it.  And after the first 2 runs, I realized I really need to step up the networking because I'd rather start calling myself "employed".  

Thankfully, good news broke on the job front during my first week as a runner. It's a temporary position at a not-for-profit that will take me through November. But, it counts and now I get to call myself "employed". Coming off of 22 years in the corporate world I'm not sure what I'm getting into but I know I'm interested because it's a job, it pays and it's still the month of September.  

So, the good news is my mission is accomplished. I'm now an employed runner.  The bad news is, I'm a bit concerned how much Forrest Gump and I may have in common.

Today's EiPod: "Walk a Mile in My Shoes",  Joe South

 

I have to start this out by stating I am not a racist. Never have been and can only hope I never will be. So, now that I put that out there...

Having free time during the day has exposed me to a lot of different things. For the past 22 years I was at my desk job using my stapler, then my stapler remover, then re-stapling the staple I just removed, calling my friends and using The Google to look up interesting factoids. Ok, that's not entirely true. I did work when I had a job. And most days I worked hard. So the fact that I am now roaming the streets during daylight hours has opened my ears to a whole new experience. 

I start my day with a walk on the lakefront. I'll be out there anywhere from an hour to 2 hours heading from Museum Park and walking north. And, I never wear headphones. I think the sounds of the city are fascinating and meant to be heard so I never understood why people want to block that noise with boom boom music. Plus, if you aren't wearing headphones you are open to lost tourists looking for directions to the Shed Aquarium or the nearest Corner Bakery. And, I must be an approachable person because at least 3 times a week I'm helping people find their way.

On my walk yesterday I not only gave directions, but also got an earful of language from 3 grown men heading south on their bikes. From about a block away I could hear them talking not to each other but AT each other.  The language was a little fuzzy but as they rode closer, the words became more clear. I'm not sure of the subject matter but it seemed like they were talking about installing a sound system. Now,  think I could probably hold my own in a conversation about aligning the colored wires with the colors in the back of the stereo. And I know I could do that without swearing once. The conversation coming out of these guys was really fast and very passionate. I couldn't understand everything they said but what I picked up went something like this "that lil' bitch put the mu-fukn' red one into the wrong mu-fukn' hole 'n shit an now ain't no sound comin' out...shit".  But, lucky for me, I was recently exposed to this dialect when I watched "The Real Housewives of Atlanta" last week. When those classy ladies get on a roll, they talk as fast and swear equally as much. I have to hand it to Bravo because they added subtitles for the dialogue on the show so the audience could follow along. It sure would be nice if there was a similar machine we could hook up to those bikes. Perhaps if I could read what the problem was I may be able to help. And then maybe they wouldn't feel the need to yell so loudly and swear so much. 

Later in the day I hopped on the Green Line to meet a friend for lunch. I haven't had much of an occasion to get on the trains during the day because, as stated above, I used to work and play with my stapler, etc. But I needed to get to lunch on time and the Green Line coming from the Southside was how I could reach my destination. 

I jumped on at Roosevelt Road and no sooner had I sat down when I heard almost the same conversation as the guys on the bikes. I took a quick look and saw a a couple of different guys screaming about something and using same words "mu-fukn' n' shit and lil' bitch".  It was uncanny. Those are the only words I could make out in the 9 minute ride I had on the train. And I have to wonder if we don't understand their English, do they understand ours? I mean the recording on the train that tells riders what stop is next is in the King's English so how do these guys know when to get off? Or do they just ride until they're tired of riding? I think maybe the CTA should follow Bravo's lead and add subtitles on the trains so everyone knows when they're stop is coming up. They could keep the English audio and add a scrollbar to interpret. So, the audio would remain "next stop, Clinton; doors open on the right at Clinton".  And, the scrollbar would read "this mu-fukn' Clinton n' shit so if this you, get off the train ya lil' bitch". 

Or, maybe I should start wearing headphones.

Today's EiPod: "In the Ghetto", Elvis Presley

I finally conceded to the masses this week and joined Facebook. Over the last year, friends have been trying to get me to join it because it's so much fun and you can see pictures of your friends and their kids and pets and blah blah blah. Yes, I was a naysayer to put it mildly. Even though I wasn't a subscriber, I'd been receiving e-mails requesting me to be someone's "friend".  My typical reply would be that I thought we were already friends so why do we need a website to solidify it. So, not only was I a naysayer, but I was a bit crotchety when it got right down to it.

The thing is, I have wonderful friends. If I was told I could choose anybody in the whole world to be friends with, I'd pick the same ones I have, no question. So, through the years I've had successful relationships because of what I call Face-to-Face Book. It's important that I spend time with everybody, both one-on-one and in groups. And, if you ask me, I think it's pretty easy to be friends with me. I like to think I have a reasonable set of  criteria for friendship; be kind, have a good sense of humor, and drink well with others. How hard can that be? So, I just didn't see any reason to join Facebook...until now. 

I am networking and in this month's Chicago Magazine there was an article about how people in my age group need to rethink how we network. It discussed how important the on-line sources are; LinkedIn, Facebook and Twitter. I'm on LinkedIn and it's been helpful getting in touch with former colleagues. I know enough about Twitter that you're allowed around 140 characters to get your message across. Well, there are many days I am a woman of few words but when it comes to writing, I can be a bit verbose. The only message I could think of to Tweet and not run over the character limit would read "WILL WORK FOR WINE". Then I thought of the type of job responses I may get and remembered that I prefer work vertically. Well,  that left me with Facebook so I started the journey on Sunday. And, I must say, it's been interesting. 

In the past 2 days I've added 30 friends; some I see regularly and others I haven't seen in 25 years. Lots of old college friends have turned up that I haven't talked to since 1984. We went to a small school in Iowa and many people have landed all over the world chasing their dreams and living a good life.  I found the whole Facebook world fascinating that one person connects with you and they tell two friends and so on and so on.  They even let your friends make recommendations for who should be your friend. And there's some kind of instant chat, a notification message button and e-mail. At one point, they were all were going off at once. And that's because I have a couple of smart-ass friends who knew I was new to this so they were trying to drive me crazy...and it worked. But yesterday alone, I was talking to Hawaii and NYC at the same time plus I had a threesome chat with a husband and wife and not one bit of that was illegal or dirty. 

So, now I'm sold on this whole Facebook concept. It's opened up a whole new world for me and I'm ready for it. It still makes me feel vulnerable but I think once I learn all the tools, it will serve its purpose. Those I've been in touch with know I'm looking for a job so the networking aspect is in play. The pictures are another story altogether. I've been "tagged" on some photos from the early '80s. Not particularly flattering but that's what I looked like back then. And, I get that it's funny to embarrass people by posting pictures on the Internet without their permission for the world to see. I just have to say now that I'm on, I can't wait to dig through my arsenal of pictures to see who I can "tag". But before I do that, I need someone to tell me what that means and how to do it.  This could be a fun game.  

Today's EiPod: "Waiting For My Real Life to Begin", Colin Hay