I see the flakes coming down and watching the blanket falling and getting ready to spread doesn't excite me. I see the beauty of it, but bottom line, bad back + shovel = misery. There was a time when kids would knock on your door to shovel. Not anymore. I remember one snow storm my little brother made $400 in one day shoveling out the elderly in an upscale community. The work ethic is drilled in our bloodstream.
I have the blues and the music to go with it. If you could write a brief blues song, what would the lyrics be?
Feb 2, 2012
Some days are the most amazing in your life. Other days suck the life out of you and you wonder why you even try to fight the good fight. Struggle after struggle, feeling that it is all for naught. Calling, begging, pleading with one government agency after another. Not getting any answers. Being given a random confirmation number with a promise of a call-back. I am starting to feel like a dinosaur in this day and age. I want to call a help center and get REAL help. I am so fucking tired of pushing 1 and 2, just to get a whole new round of numbers. I have a friend who threw her phone and smashed it. I understand. There are wonderful benefits to this new society that we live in, but we have lost so much in the way. Human contact. What about the people who don't have an email address or a cell phone? What happens to them? I remember the days of sitting down to write a letter. I would pick out my prettiest stationary and get my favorite pen. The writing would begin. Envelope and stamp, boom I was done. What happened to those days? Do our children even know how to write a proper letter without spellcheck and smileys? I doubt it. Letter writing is becoming an ancient form of communication. That to me is sad. Why check the mail nowadays? It is only bills and advertisements. No more letters from Grand mom and Pop Pop. I am guilty. I have a smart phone. GPS and I am in love with my laptop. Yet I still remember the other way. My friend who is 74 and goes to the library everyday and tried to fill out resumes online. He winds up getting so frustrated that he goes outside to smoke his pipe and gather his thoughts. Than he calls me. I hear the weariness in his voice. I find it heartbreaking. He is of an era where you walked into a company and met with a real person and shook their hand. You spoke and sold yourself. This new method of getting a job doesn't make sense to him. I have seen him cry. He wants to be useful. This now makes one year that he has been out of work. He is an attorney for the securities industry. Everyone tells him to retire. He says he would rather be dead. I understand. Truly I do.