The Road to Gameful Employment

I got my feet wet with my first job interview today. Now, let me just say for the record that I am not so sure that I really want a "job," per se, (I am really drawn to this life of leisure.) but lacking independent wealth, I don't see that I have much of a choice. Anyhoo, so sent out resumes and one has produced an interview.

The job was with the Greeley District Attorney's office as a Victim Assistant. I went, I interviewed, I believe I impressed. In the very least, I did well. I guess I have more marketable skills than I thought. I left with the impression, that if I want the job. I can have it. It pays well, more than I have ever gotten before. (I believe in one year I would easily surpass the sum of the last three years.) My hesitancy.... I initially thought the position was a Victim Advocate position. In that I thought I would be helping victims navigate the court and social systems, but it seems the job is more coordinating communications and logistics between the DA's office and the offender's victims. Lots of time in front of a computer and on the telephone. I think it would be fascinating for about 6 months, then I would be wanting to work on solutions rather than shuffling a revolving door caseload.

It kinda made me chuckle; I told them that I am applying to grad school and the woman just looked at me, "What do you want to do that you aren't already qualified for?" I was flattered, and I must add, a little relieved. Maybe I am qualified for something besides hammock theories. Hmm....

This must be the definition of privilege. The wealth kind, not the fleeting rich kind. The economy is in the toilet. The unemployment rate is higher than it has been in thirty years and I am nitpicking whether I think a good-paying job completes me as a person. I believe I would score pretty high on Maslow's hierarchy of needs at this point in my life.

Well, I've got a couple of weeks before the next step in the process. I have a couple more resumes submitted. Theoretically, my grad school apps will go out this week. Lots of possibilities up in the air right now, we'll see which ones settle down to earth.

Long LIve Libraries

Wednesday afternoon I went to the Loveland Public Library and got myself a library card. For those of you that have forgotten, libraries are public buildings full of thousands of books, which one can borrow for FREE. It is a subtle yet vital part of our society, a little-appreciated cornerstone of democracy.

I admit, I did not fully appreciate the importance of the library when I lived here before, but three and a half years of living without has made it's mark. So go ahead, get your card, walk the rows, run your fingers across the spines. Ponder the subtle social institutions that create a literate society. Then give thanks, because whether you realize it or not, a world without libraries is a very dark place.

Random wunderings

I just got a facebook invitation to the group 1 million strong against Robert Mugabe. The thought occurred to me, Condi Rice recently spoke out against him, and he did nothing. What would it mean if his eventual relinquishing of power is attributed to a negative Facebook group. Then, out of curiosity, I searched and Robert Mugabe does have a Facebook profile. What is even more amazing, is that he has friends. Are they real friends? Are they drinking buddies? Yes men? Or are people just approving anyone, even ruthless despots, to appear more popular? Does Robert Mugabe get sad when he logs onto Facebook and sees that there is a group called "I bet I can find 1,000,000 people who despise Robert Mugabe," or "Robert Mugabe Sucks". Does it remind him of school yard tauntings? Is that worse than the president of South Africa calling for him to step down? I mean, at this point all he's got is this ridiculous presidency charade. Who will come to his birthday parties when he is no longer president?

Lest I forget...

People ask me a lot what I missed the most while I was gone. Friends and family, of course, topping the list.

What I am going to miss the most being back here, is that in Central America, especially in El Salvador, it was really, really hard for me to take anything for granted. The day before I flew out, I saw a 13 year-old orphan, a good 6 months pregnant, crawling under the turnstile on the bus to ask for change. "There but for the grace of God...."

www.jesusfloresfotos.blogspot.com

KBCO Studio C

This weekend marked my official inauguration back into Colorado life. I got up at 5:30 am Saturday morning to sit in line to buy Volume 20 of the KBCO Studio C album. Since it is their 20th anniversary, it was a double CD. Score!

For those of you who are wondering why in the H-E- Double Hockeysticks I would not only get up early, but get up early and then sit outside in the Colorado cold, let me explain. KBCO is a local radio station out of Boulder. One of the few radio stations in the country that still has live DJ's that pick music rather than computerized playlists. Whenever good bands go through Denver, they can record an accoustic set in the KBCO studio, Studio C to be precise. Then once a year, they produce an album of the highlights of the last years bands. They sell the albums for $10 (usually, this year $15 for the double) with all of the proceeds going to the Boulder County AIDs Project. There is a limit to two copies per person, and the CDs generally sell out across the Front Range by early afternoon. This year, they were officially sold out at 1pm.

This was a yearly tradition in my pre-PC years. KBCO line buddy, Shawn, was gracious enough to send me his second copy each year I was away. Cassie, his wife, graciously watches the kids then meets us for breakfast afterwards. This whole "the kids are too young to sit out in the cold" excuse is good for I few more years I guess, but then everyone's in line. Anyway, despite the cold and early rising, it's a good time for a good cause.... oh and the CD is always great.

This may be real

I put a deposit down on a car. It's a good deal. A reliable car. It's cute. I like it. It's terrifying. Makes everything feel very, very real. I now have a phone and a car, two absolute necessities in Colorado. My resume is out. I should be working on grad school essays, but I am having a hard time doing figuring out what I want to do. I feel like my essays should include some sort of implied life direction. Not feeling much of it right now.

I'm not sure what it is. Things seem just a little too easy right now. Maybe it's still too soon for it to not feel like vacation. There is a job opening, doing almost exactly what I was doing before I left. I almost applied for it and then I couldn't. I'm not sure why, I need a job. (refer to above purchase). But, I think there is a visceral fear in me of sliding too easily back into what I left. I told a friend that yesterday, and he said that it's impossible. I've changed. Things here have changed. Not possible. Yet.....

Down time... I have room and board, and probably quite a while before my sponging credit expires. I guess I should use it. Just sit for a while. Hang out with my family, my friends. Just be home.

Victory Plate

So one of the first commercials I saw in the airport on the way home was selling the official Barrack Obama victory plate. Crafted of fine porcelain and gold trim, this fine work of art commemorates "the day the world changed forever." You too can own a piece of history. hehehehehe....

The other thing I saw that made me chuckle was the morning I had to drive to Denver to pick up my bag, we left Fort Collins at about 6 am. We stopped for gas, and I ran into a Starbucks for hotwater. There were 5 or 6 men sitting around a table, drinking coffee and talking about the news and weather. Not an uncommon site, unless you take into account that the men doing it were full fledged, necks of red farmers. Carharts, kercheifs, hats AND, so as not to confuse them with tourists "dressing up" for Colorado, handle-bar moustaches. The world's a changin'.

Corruption Theory

The only real difference between corruption in the US and corruption anywhere in the developing world, is this:

You are checking in for an international flight. You have an extra bag to check. The attendant tells you you cannot check your bag due to new baggage restrictions. How does this end?

Developing World Scenario: You hand the guy standing in front of you a ten-spot. He feeds his family (or possibly goes on a bender), you and your bag get on a plane and are on your way.

US Scenario: The guy in front of you repeats asinine baggage policy and insists there is nothing he can do, you send your bag cargo and pay fines nearing $200 which are streamlined to the airline's CEO so that he may continue to purchase foreign children to satisfy his perversions.

Baggage

I am back. Massive emotional breakdown was really a doozy. Was triggered by Continental Airlines not allowing me on the plane with my bags. Long, LONG story that is still going on; involves lots of tears, a little bit of swearing (in Spanish no less) and probably a fair amount of backed up emotional baggage. I have to say though, that when I landed in Houston and I glanced up at a television monitor and saw Barack Obama standing between two American flags talking to the people, I couldn't help but feel a little better.

I spent thanksgiving with my family. Such a different world than where I was last at. Colorado backwater (Please read with the most love and tenderness possible). It's full of really good people, but there is not lot of use for the rest of the world even though it keeps asserting itself at their front door. The interesting thing is, that as much as they maintain a denial about the rest of the world, the opposite is also true. I can't count how many conversations I have had where it has become clear that people from the rest of the country haven't any clue what this country is REALLY like anymore than the "sheltered country folk." It's a tough thing... I'm too worldly for white trash crowd and too trashy for worldly crowd.

What's a girl to do?

Having a tough time remembering to flush my toilet paper. I stood in the convenience store yesterday afternoon and resisted the urge to speak Spanish to the clerk. Seems kinda dorky, "Hola. Me muero por hablar Espanol. Perdon, si le ofendo o si le parezco muy rara, aunque soy de aqui, no soy de aqui, y me siento que no puedo relacionar tampoco... pero todo mundo espera que si....."

Lasts

I officially finished work on Wednesday. I said my goodbyes. I am REALLY bad at goodbyes. My general M.O. is to rip the bandaid off which, I think probably, comes off as pretty callous for those that I am saying goodbye to. Not generally a crier, if I think the waterworks are going to start I run like hell. I prefer to save it all up for one massive, emotional explosion at the least appropriate moment. In Central America, this has most often been an occurrence on public buses. Before I left for Peace Corps, I went out for my goodbye party with my co-workers, got drunk, and had a laughing fit that morphed into uncontrollable sobbing.... in the middle of bar, full of my co-workers. I was working as a counseler at the time and I remember one of my fellow counselors looked at me, sighed, shook her head and said, "So much emotion."

Anyway, I managed to get through my work despedida without falling apart. I think I am saving it all up for the bus. I must admit I feel more than my fare share of guilt going home. I know it's time. I have decided that my leaving El Salvador is like leaving an abusive marriage. I know it's what's best for me, but I feel guilty for breaking my committment and frankly, I'm still in love.

Guilt is a big part. It's really about acknowledging my privilege. But if there is anything that I have learned in the past three plus years, is that you are what you are. There is no hiding nor running from what you are, and everything that the accident of your birth gives you right to. But a the end of the day, when it gets to be too much, when if feels unbearable, I get to go home. I don't have to look far to see those that don't have that privilege. PRIVILEGE. I can't change it, can't give it up. I have discovered that trying to give it up, must be amazingly disrespectful for those that don't have it. It's complicated. Still figuring it out. I am hoping some serious time on the beach will bring some peace. If not, there's always the bar....

Going Home

After three years in Central America I have decided to head back to the US, aka Gringolandia. I kept a blog, the entire three years I have been down here. I decided to change blogs, partly to start over, partly to be honest again. My writing became very geared toward who I know was reading it (mother, employers, etc.). And, after having been out of the US for so long, and having something of a consciousness (politically, socially, culturally, etc.) I'm not sure my regular readership is ready for the lens to be turned on them. Or maybe I'm simply copping out....