27 may have a bite, but hey, I've got teeth too.

I’ve been absent. My blogging buddies as we all know absent bloggers often mean something big is happening in our lives or a few somethings big. In my case it is the later. Big, I mean BIG things are happening in my little corner of the world.

As all of you know I took turning 27 a little hard.  I was panicking with my “what the hell have I done with my life?” and my 20s are just seeping away like a bottle of tequila on margarita Monday in a sorority house. A strange thing happened when the actual birthday came. I was perfectly calm and unaffected.

I’m convinced it was due to my new plan to grapple with that bitch 27, and I’m not above pulling hair or eye gauging in this case. After the initial calm 27 poked her catty head in the door, snickered at me and with the wrathful indifference only she can have threw up all kinds of suckiness on my new comfy pillow top couch and my life. Hello bad news and angry feeling. Make yourself at home. So yeah, round 1 went to 27.    

But despite the crap she brought in her wake I'm coming out the winner. 27 is going down. I've come up screaming, gasping for air and fists swinging. One month in and volatile 27 is vacuuming up my living room and tipping her head to me. And maybe we will one day be friends. Maybe. 

I’m taking that step I whined so much while tucking my head in between my knees because 26 was panicking about coming to an end. 27 seems to be respecting that as she snidely remarks "It's about damn time. That cowering whiner isn't you." I'm taking all the crap 27 brought in on her arrival in stride and stomping the hell out of it when it peeks at me in a manner other than meekly. And in the mists of all of this there was that step I'm taking that will make an exciting change for the better. The BIG change for the good that is exciting, slightly nerve racking because of the constant talk of economic issues, but exciting none the less. 

What BIG thing are you making happen?

Sitting with My Head in a Paper Bag

So I’m sitting here thinking about what is coming up on Friday and I’m panicking. Literally, I’m getting nervous, short of breath. Hell, I’m going to start sweating and may need to put my head between my knees and scream until my lungs are empty. I’m panicking. I have 4 more days before I reach the big 2-7.

Okay, I know 27 isn’t typically one of those age numbers that people get worked up about, but for me it’s began to fill like this giant drop off point and there’s a big orange and white blockade with one of those incredibly bright orange rotating lights that is trying to warn me of something. Oh, that’s right. It’s warning me that my 20s are seeping away. It’s warning me that I’ve been out of college for 5 years (where the hell did that time go?) and I haven’t been to even half the places I was so eager to go and I’m standing here staring at a computer screen wondering what the hell I’m doing.

I always figured 26 would be the one that hit me in the gut. The one that said that I’m officially closer to 30 then to 21. The one that says I can’t just act like a dumb ass or screw up monumentally if I feel like it, because I’m an adult. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been fiscally responsible for myself since I was 18. Nope. Still didn’t feel like an adult then, just a teenage with a lot of life pressure and bills.

To squelch my panic-ridden-aging-self, I’m taking another step. In truth, 26 has been filled with lots of steps from giving the idea of having a life plan my middle finger to embracing my new desire to do something good for others and not only myself. But this one is a big one. I’m making my dreams and wants a priority. No more focusing on the what I should be doing. Should is over rated anyway.

I’m not selfish; I’m just living my life for me, for the enjoyment, pleasure and fulfillment of me. I’m embracing that mantra. I’m going to tattoo it on my forehead so that when I wake up every morning it’s in my face saying “Hey. Remember me? What you said you’re going to do with your life?” I’m stopping just being and getting back to living. Maybe I'll make a bucket list for my 20s. Who said it had to be for when you die?

What is your priority?

Happy Feelings & Protest Signs

Image by Ian Kahn
Recently I felt the philanthropic call ringing in my head again. It's been a while since I've answered it so I felt the need to pick up the receiver and get back in touch. A few years ago when I was residing in the remote state of WYO, I volunteered at the local Planned Parenthood working on education and outreach. Since Planned Parenthood is an organization that's mission is very close to my heart I felt that volunteering with PPRM would be the perfect way to get back in touch with my sense of community giving. 


After contacting the organization I was scheduled for an informal interview to make sure I was volunteer material. As I headed to headquarters on the day of my interview I fully expected to encounter some protesters. After all, it's a well known fact that where there are abortion services the nay sayers won't be far behind. I was even prepared for signs with more controversial imagery. What I was prepared for was the overly aggressive verbal messages that were hollered my way.


The facility does an excellent job with security. Visitors enter through the gate and protesters are kept behind an 8 foot fence, though the unwelcoming committee does make use of ladders so they peek over the trees and fence to hurl comments at visitors. The protesters seem to ignore the blinding fact that the majority of patrons are there to take advantage of the numerous other services that the facility offers, instead opting to insult me, my mother, my intelligence and my soul.


As a strong supporter, and often horn tooter myself, I support everyone's right to free speech, even if their opinion is opposite my own. I  welcome intelligent and thought provoking arguments on any topic. However, I fail to see how anyone can think that yelling derogatory comments at other people will make them change their minds about anything. I fail to see how that will make me think twice about anything. 


In fact I found that the words spoken by the protesters had the opposite effect than what they intended. Was I ashamed to be there? No. I was even more proud of the work the organization does even when faced with such open hostility and opposition. In the end as I smiled and silently walked toward the building I felt a even greater pride on being on the other side of that fence.  

Breathing a Sigh of Relief

I often wonder how it has become such a norm to hear that a business is downsizing yet again and to see yet another business go under. Last year it seemed as if another one bit the dust every night only to leave behind an empty office space or shop window and ex-employees nervously trying to figure out where their next paycheck was coming from. We all know at least one person who fell into this category (and yes that did include myself).

In the beginning when we heard a close friend or mere acquaintance had been let go due to company restraints we rushed to tell them it would be okay. We are here for you. We'll let you know if we hear of an opening. But as time went by the shear number of people we know found themselves set out of the daily grind, our sympathy seemed to be less and less needed or even expected.

I for one always tried to keep an upbeat response to the whole situation. If you did some freelance work like I did then you weren't unemployed, just "underemployed". Or if the contract work wasn't there then you were "practicing for retirement" or "working toward your trophy wife (or husband) certification."

As time wears on and various industry's continue to be hit by ripple after ripple of our economic downturn, I've seen a different mentality being adopted by numerous people who find themselves taking a hiatus from their employment. Oddly enough, anxiety seems to be giving away to sighs of relief. As more companies siphon off a few employees here and a few there, people spend their mornings dreading the coming hours of the work day and their days developing ulcers and worrying "Will I be next?" or "what can I do to save my job?". When that ax comes down to severe their employment cord it's accompanied by a whoosh of air as victims finally gain some sense of certainty.

To me, it's a strange and slightly unsettling new norm. Will we continue to find relief in unemployment and what does that mean for our job market?