Change is good, or so they say. I’m not quite sure who the mysterious “they” are, but they do talk a lot.
This week at work, we had a big reorganization/restructuring meeting. Although I’ve heard of these meetings referred to as rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, I’m so burned by the past eight years of gigging from one job to the next that it barely registers with me.
Four high-level middle management positions are being eliminated(is that even a thing?!), but five new positions are being created. Will these four people move sideways? Who knows.
All I know is this: There is a full-time opening that I’m more than qualified for and I WANT IT. I sent my application in today, and hope to interview for it soon.
And frankly, if I don’t get the job I need to move on to the next great gig in the sky. I can no longer afford to work part time for table scraps, hoping something more permanent comes along. If it doesn’t, that’s all the message I need.
In other ramblings, is a bad thing if you’re a two-hit wonder but both your songs are so awesome that when you are driving and they come on, they make driving BETTER?
Thank you, Golden Earring, for just doing you.
In other change news, after the news from the meeting yesterday, my mother sent me a series of e-mails saying she had something she wanted to talk about. I decided to just call her since I got home at the stupid hour of 2 p.m. and just wasn’t ready to dig into Outlander on the Xfinity Watchathon Weekend. Yet.
Besides, I already knew what she was going to tell me. My 75-year-old mother has decided, three years after my father’s sudden death, to remarry an 88-year-old man.
Forgive me if I’m not shouting Mazel Tov! from the top of buildings. I will accept it, and try to deal with it. I don’t think my sister will, but that’s my sister, who incidentally, I haven’t spoken to in two years (by choice) but who now wants to know what I think of this development.
I’m not happy. I don’t like the man very much, and there are other extenuating factors that I don’t feel open enough to get into on a blog, though lord knows I’ve said just about everything else.
But she insists they are getting an airtight pre-nup, so I guess Kanye would approve.
As for me, I can’t pretend to know what makes my mother happy. She has not had the easiest of lives. Do I think she can be naïve? Yes, and I’ve told her so just like I can be hypersensitive. We all have our flaws and tics, and if we can’t change them, at least we can acknowledge them.
But I don’t want to jeopardize the last years I have left with my mother over a disagreement. She is not senile. She does not have Alzheimer’s. She is not a child. For me to claim otherwise will be a lie.
All I could do was tell her I don’t agree with what she’s doing, nor do I particularly like her swain, who I find just as domineering as my father, albeit in different ways. But I will be cordial and polite towards him.
The heart wants what it wants. Mine wanted graham crackers with marshmallow fluff, so I ate that as a snack all week. It happens.
Life happens. Shit happens. The world keeps turning, and I don’t know if I’ll ever find out where I fit in to the whole shitty mess.
But I’ll keep trying.