I Write Less When I'm Happy

I am quickly closing in on another birthday. And another prime number. But, for the first time in a long, long time, I am feeling...

I have a hard time identifying what I am feeling. Hopeful? Energized? Could it be? Could this be what it feels like to be happy?

One thing that is contributing to this foreign sense of smiley-ness is that I am loving my job. I love it. It engages every part of me. My analytical side, my creative side, and even my anal-retentive side. I get to make art and checklists. I get to work along side some truly brilliant people, building things for hugely important companies.

I don't remember ever liking my job like this before.

And one thing I get to do a lot in this job is write. Lots of different writing about lots of different things. I do think that is the source of my extended blogging vacation. So I owe you all a nice, long blog post.

And I will continue to owe you that. But here is one big brain dump. We can unwind it together later.

Since we last talked, I have been to San Jose, New York, and Orlando. The first two for work (but I got to visit friends in both places!). The last was for a family vacation. Which was both hugely fun, debilitatingly exhausting, and the last time that I will ever cross the Mason-Dixon line between them months of February-December. So I owe you a travel blog post.

Here is a little list of the other posts I owe you, complete with an executive summary of each:

Gay marriage: I am so happy that--for once--this Supreme Court is on the right side of history.

Obamacare: Those Supremes were on a roll!

Confederate flags: You don't have to agree that displaying this flag is racist. But you have to admit that it takes a very special type of asshole to want to fly the flag of the losing side.

Twitter improving my writing: Something about summing up a thought in only 140 characters is really making my writing tight. Twitter is a bit like a puzzle. And it is also an exercise in letting go the rules of grammar, if only for 11 seconds.

My new best friend Rosie O'Donnell: Anyone who is a woman and anyone who loves a woman should find an hour of time to watch her HBO Stand-up Special. She talks about the symptoms of a heart attack for women. I absolutely know that she is saving lives with this information. Oh, and she follows me on Twitter.(Spoiler alert. Rosie does not yet know that we are besties. But I'm sure she will be exited about it.)

Shaving my head (Half of it, at least):  I'm trying to figure out the best way to stay cool this summer. My mother commented that I looked "tough." I'm pretty sure she meant lesbian.

Another summer with MS: It is so fucking hot. I am spending my free time shopping for property in Alaska.

The stupid fucking Duggars: I don't believe in hell. But stories like the one of Josh Duggar molesting children make me wish I did.

Harry Potter World: It's like stepping right into the books. It is truly magical.

And just so you know that my blog has not been hijacked by some spliced together version of Pollyanna and Ellen Degeneres, I am fully anticipating that my grasp on this small slice of happy will soon slip through my fingers. But, what the hell. For now? Drinks are on me.

Flipping a Disadvantage?

First, my apologies for being an absentee blogger for the past month. I have lately discovered that I only have x amount of words that my spotted brain can organize and spit forth each day. And for the last few weeks, I have been word-vomiting out a novel.

My good friend Dr. D had challenged me to take part in NaNoWriMo 2014. Every November, writers and wanna-be novelists of the world take part in National Novel Writing Month, with the challenge to commit 50,000 words during the 4-week period. Dr. D and I joined the community and started our frantic typing.

So I dumped 53,675 words into a first draft. And now, I am taking the painful next step of the self edit and rewrite. It feels a bit like cleaning up after a New Year's Eve party that you only somewhat remember the events. I keep finding the literary equivalent of empty beer bottles in the laundry hamper and the occasional carpet stain of mysterious origin. When that occurs, it is best just to clean it up without investigating the source too closely.

I will keep you all posted on any progress on the book. I can't promise that this novel will be any good. But I will bet anything I own it will be 8.7 times better than Twilight. Of course, so is reading the dictionary aloud...

So that is both my excuse and apology for my blog neglect.

Meanwhile, another interesting thing is happening. I'm job hunting.

The company that I was working for was acquired by another, and that left me out of a job. Such is life with a career in the technology world. I'm not worried (yet), but I have been taking on the tedious task of filling out job applications. And that is how I am encountering the EEOC question, asking if I am disabled.

The US Department of Labor asks that employers collect Equal Employment Opportunity Commission data. It is an affirmative action plan encouraging companies to collect certain information from employees and applicants, such as race, ethnicity, sex, and veteran status.

And disability status.

By the federal government's definitions of disability, I have one. MS is listed as one of the medical conditions that qualify as a disability.

So do I list myself as having a disability? I am of two thoughts. The first is that listing myself as disabled would hurt my chances. I know, I know. Companies are not legally allowed to make hiring decisions based on the voluntary disclosure of EEOC data. But I am realistically cynical. Companies are not legally allowed to do a lot of things they do. See also: Enron, the mortgage crisis, pretty much anyone working on Wall Street.

My other thought is that maybe disclosing my "disability" would put me at the top of the applicant pile. There are federal tax benefits to hiring minorities and protected classes. And I would be all about that, except that I don't really feel disabled. Some people are living with disabilities that make huge and challenging impacts on both their personal and professional lives. I am not sure that I can claim that my MS should be put in that same category. At this point, the impact of MS on my professional life has been limited to a few sick days and having to work on my laptop while getting a steroids infusion.

So, what should I do? Do I check the box that discloses to future employers that I have a disability? Even without the ability to inform that employer what that disability is and the level of impact it has on my job performance?

For the record, I have to admit that if MS was a diagnosis that would bump me up in the line for the Indian Jones ride at Disneyland, I would happily claim it. There has to be some upside to all this bullshit.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one. Should I check that disability box?

Untying Knots

I got a phone call yesterday regarding a job that I had applied to eight or ten weeks ago.

The job was for a writing position near where Mr. Earthquake was moving.  I really didn't want to move to the South. But, a couple months ago, during a conversation about what we were doing to feed and grow our relationship,  Mr. E told me it would be nice if he got an encouraging card or loving email once in a while. He said I didn't do things like that often enough. He suggested that perhaps I could look at schools and jobs near him.

He said that it would be nice to know I was working towards being together. So, to work towards that, I looked at possible schools and possible jobs.

Taking a different tack to work towards being together, he took up with some woman that was exactly what he said he didn't want. But hey, maybe she is that needle in the haystack. Well except for that minor detail that she is a single mom--he has "tried dating women with kids and it didn't work." Oh, and that whole part about how long distance relationships are too hard. But too late now. They are Facebook official. Poor girl.

Anyway, while he was off looking behind Door Number 2, I saw a job that would be well suited for me. And I applied. I didn't tell anyone, because it seemed mean to give anyone false hope or false worry.

I had honestly forgotten all about the job. I've had other things on my mind in the last couple weeks. But they called me to set up a phone interview. I could have made this job happen. I am sure of it. I was who they were looking for. But, I had to thank them for considering me and decline.

It is too much for me to even think about. Once again, I had brushed against the beach ball.

Anyway, I had some other knots I had to wrench free. I unpacked the small box that was ready to be sent East for the most horrid of all holidays. I hate Valentines Day. I always have. But I wanted to give something to the man I loved.

Aside--I wish there was a switch I could flip to turn off love. But, nothing in my life is that easy. So who are we kidding with love in past tense.

Until my father retired a while ago, my family owned a jewelry store. My grandfather purchased it, and that is how my grandparents ended up in Utah. My father took it over when my grandpa died. One of the very special things we had at the store was a series of private label watches.

They are lovely timepieces with the name of my grandfather's store inscribed on the face. And there is a fairly exclusive club of watch owners. They are given as an award to a Westminster College graduating student who had overcome great obstacles to make it through school. Every once in a while, I come across one out in the world. And when I do, I know that, in a way, they are a part of my family.

And I wanted Mr. E to have one.

That was what was in the box. It's a beautiful watch. A dual time movement that can be set to both his and my time zones. I thought it would be a sweet reminder that we were never that far away from each other.

The watch goes back in my drawer. Maybe Kidlet will like to wear it someday, when he goes off to explore the world. The card that was on top of the box goes in the recycling bin.

There is no better place to be than Las Vegas in July (she said, with great sarcasm). But that is when RollerCon happens. And I really wanted to go. All the clinics, the friendships, the skating. I really wanted to feel like a part of it. But I didn't buy a ticket. I was planning to use the money on seeing E that week, because it is his birthday--the day after my birthday. It will be his 40th. I was trying to organize something special.

So... I'm free the last week of July if anyone wants to do anything. I took the time off work already, so I'm up for suggestions.

I built his children a board to store their Lego figures. I thought it would be nice for them to hang in their new room at their dad's apartment. I had that ready to send as soon as I had E's new address. Maybe my nephew would like it.

So, yes, because of recent events and earthquakes, I've had to undo some knots.

But, there have been other knots undone as well. The constant knot in my stomach--the one that would tighten when I thought about the next humiliation that I would experience--that knot is dissolving. The knot between my shoulder blades that burns when I am stressed and sad has gotten a little better. The other shoe has finally fallen.

The delicious irony of this whole sad story? I am the needle. And I never hid in any haystacks.