(no subject)
So the other day, I received a tlc.state.tx.us e-mail in my tlc.state.tx.us e-mail inbox reminding me that exit meetings would be scheduled May 31, preparatory to sessional layoffs. Made my heart sink a little bit. I mean, it isn't as though I've been kidding myself that I was somehow going to find a way to stay up here. I've been seeing far too many change in the couch cushions bills to believe that any office located in the Capitol complex will be hiring anytime soon. But I was really, really liking that e-mail address. Of course, there have been whispers of a special session, either due to the budget or redistricting failing to pass, in which case I could hang on to it for three more weeks. But no one knows for sure.
And even if there were a special session... well, it's just a temporary delay. Which makes me sad, even though I don't think I could be a proofreader long-term. It is tedious, not to mention slightly disheartening. I've seen some crappy-ass bills come through. That nasty sonogram bill, the one that passed recently? I helped proof the first iteration, not to mention the brief that gave all the specious reasons why the State has the authority to insert a probe into a woman's vagina so the fetal heartbeat can be amplified for her listening pleasure, to be followed by a 24-hour waiting period (you know us womenfolk, we'll just have an abortion at the drop of a condom. We need special time to think special thoughts about our choices. Or something).
And then there's the life-in-a-small-room aspect. When I told people at my previous job that I was going to be working for the Legislative Council, everyone said, "Oh, how exciting!" And I said, basically, "Oh, wouldn't it be pretty to think so." Because I'd learned enough to know that I would be one of three editing geeks in a small room, reading bills aloud to one another. Which was fine with me. I guess I just didn't realize just how small a room could end up feeling. Don't misunderstand, please. I work with good people. But, damn. When I'm in one room almost all day with two other people, I become acutely sensitive to every lip smack, coffee slurp, overheard conversation, and muffled fart.
I think where I'd love to be is in either research or the writing department. Of course, there's not much--if any at all--call for that kind of stuff between sessions. A couple of friends have suggested that I gin up my courage and start knocking on doors in the Capitol. Pick a legislator, write a cover letter or an email, send in my resumé. Can't hurt, right? The idea totally gets me going. But I feel at such a loss. I mean, I really don't know what I have to offer. I rock at research, I'd be good at correspondence, I know my social media, I really, really care about some of these issues (not just reproductive choice--Texas education is seriously screwed up, for example). ...On the other hand, my typing's not great, I hate talking on the phone, I have no significant policy or legislative background, and no real experience with the Lege. Yeah, sure, hire me. I'm a shoo-in.
I'm not necessarily worried about finding another job (although probably I should be). I feel fairly certain I can find a decent job if I keep my standards nice and low. But the idea of an office job with some company or corporation makes me cringe now. My last permanent job was with a division of a large multinational company. I looked up information all day for a website. Specifically, I looked up officer names and bios and plugged those names and bios into company profiles. My employer then sold subscriptions to those profiles to headhunters and salesmen looking for leads. It wasn't just boring--it was assembly-line widget-making. Making widgets for someone else to sell to people who would in turn use those widgets to sell other, different, widgets.
My next full-time job was doing research and data collection for a engineering firm that was conducting a traffic study for TxDOT. I compiled surveys, made follow-up calls, compiled paper copies of the surveys along with whatever else they needed me to do. Was it boring? Sure. But I liked the idea that those stupid-ass surveys, compiled and crunched, might theoretically result in new roads, road improvements, something. Something that might actually affect someone else in their daily life (hopefully in a favorable way, but who knows). The other job I've had that I found kind of satisfying was when I worked for the American Cancer Society, at their call center. It was in some ways a horrible job--lots of dreary data entry and referrals to local offices and chapters, not to mention the people who called whom I couldn't help in any way. But in other ways, it was wonderful. I loved my callers and I learned a lot from them. Among other things, I learned that some burdens can't be lightened. But you can make someone at least feel a little stronger. You can listen to them and point out the ways in which they are strong. And being strong and tough is hell of a lot more helpful than being "brave"--that word that people seem to feel so comfortable using in reference to cancer patients, survivors of assault, and people coping with personal disaster in general.
So, yeah, I guess that kind of thing is what I need to be doing, somehow. And I really get a kick out of working at the Lege. I know other people detest it. But I like it here. *sigh*
On the other hand, I'm kind of looking forward to some relatively free time. I'll be job hunting, but there'll be time to make stuff--I might even be able to make some serious headway on developing product and packaging for Something Good Naturals (that's my little dream project-thingy; we'll see if it ever amounts to anything worth mentioning in detail). And I'll be able to keep the girls, H and N, longer. Longer is better.
For those not keeping score at home, the girls have been with Mom since February--their parents pick them up from school and they stay an hour or so at the apartment, which enables Mom to get her hours in, finish up paperwork, etc. They stay with their parents on the weekends. But during the week, Mom has them. In the mornings, she gets them out of bed, feeds them breakfast, and drives them to school. She cooks dinner, makes them do homework, makes them take baths, wash their hair, and brush their teeth. She moderates fights and copes with bad behavior. And there's a lot of bad behavior to cope with. H is 14, N is nine, and they're both hyper as hell--and for lack of a better term--at least mildly emotionally disturbed. H was recently diagnosed with a autism spectrum disorder, which explains a lot, but not everything.
Mom'll be 66 this June--that's not an age where most people think, "Hey, I think I want to take care of a pair of emotionally damaged, practically feral kids." On top of that, my stepfather isn't much use where the girls are concerned. Taking care of the girls must feel a lot like being a single mom again. So if I can keep the girls for three or more weeks, that gives Mom some recuperation time.
But then what? Do the girls stay with Mom? Do they go back to their parents? I hate the idea of them going back to their parents, unless things change radically, and I don't think they have--or ever will.
This is what I see happening when the girls go back to their parents: Right now, my sister is managing to keep the apartment clean. The roaches are under control. The dishes get washed more often, the clothes get folded, the cat's litter box gets cleaned on a semi-regular basis. But once the girls return, so will the chaos. Those kids are entropy personified, bless their hearts, more than most kids their age. And I see H and N mostly backsliding into their previous anti-social behaviors, refusing to bathe or wash their hair... and the other stuff I won't mention here. I see the grades going down, and all the good feelings of accomplishment being forgotten.
But I've said all this before, and the only thing worse than being a downer is being boring... So here's something somewhat more entertaining:
Donald Trump's Hair Care Secret Revealed In Rolling Stone Interview
"It's long been a mystery, how Trump manages to create the unique coif that is half combover, half Davy Crockett cap. In an effort to somehow expand his profile, he's finally revealed his hair care secrets, giving an overview of the long process to Rolling Stone."