Getting Laid - Being Laid Off. Often Similar.

Getting laid, screwed, plugged or F'd!
Sometimes sex can be inspirational. Or it can be bad, even sad and empty.

Being laid off is like sex. Good or bad, you can walk away feeling a little blank. Like, "Now what? Where do we go from here?"

I was laid off in Feb. 2009. I really liked my job and the people I worked with were mostly pretty great. Obviously, there are always things you'd like to change about your current work situation, but I was happy and felt somewhat fulfilled by what I was able to accomplish.

I worked for a homebuilder in Northern California, so my impending doom was not entirely unexpected, but it still hurt when they broke up with me.

There's a part of you that says, "NO! BUT I'M THE BEST! LOOK AT WHAT I'VE BEEN ABLE TO DO HERE!"

And there's the other part of you that wants to comfort your soon-to-be ex-employer,
"No, it's ok. It's a tough time for us. I understand."

All the while you're patting people on the back. "What the hell am I doing that for?!"

I think there are two types of people we can turn into when laid (off):
1. those who are ruined, dismayed and everyone is comforting them, expressing disdain, anger or sadness, "How will we go on without you?"

They are the victim of their own bad sex/relationship.
These seem like the type of people who would write hateful things on their Facebook wall about their ex.

2. Then there are those who display a feeling of ease, joy at their undiscovered future and "Just think of the possibilities." These people are excited about new opportunites.

"There are so many things to experience! I'm better off!"
This person would cut their hair or buy a new outfit. (or re-do their resume eight times in a month and be excited about it - "Damn, I'm impressive!")

Clearly I was the latter.

Don't misunderstand, I did cry a couple of times. I did this because at the time I might have felt screwed (bad lay), or I wondered what I could have done better to make my work (boyfriend) love me more, and realize my greatness (I'm a great employee/lay).

And I respected/loathed the craftiness of the layoff. Not that my company handled the layoffs poorly - they were great at laying people off. (Weird...)

Layoffs can be like the boyfriend who doesn't want to break up with you, but things get so bad that you just do it. The genius! Don't dump crazy, let crazy dump you.

Not like I quit, but I acquiesced to the knowledge that the layoff was coming and there was nothing I could do about it. Inevitable.

So I was laid off, and asked to stay and help 'transition' (that's when you show other people how to do your job, since no one really knows how) for a month and a half.

I was the best soon-to-be ex-girlfriend ever.

I made continuity binders, detailed instructions, folders, CDs, contact lists and informed everyone of my upcoming departure with grace. And then I had meetings with employees to display my great rationale and understanding of them attempting to move on without me.
I wanted to leave my bed made-up and pretty. ("Ignore the dried tears on the pillow. It's all for the best. I'll just get my things.")

And I wanted a good recommendation. Naturally. I'm not entirely altruistic.

The thought that propelled me through the gloom was, "There are so many more people who have been screwed worse."
- I was a renter.
- I didn't have any kids.
- I was a veteran (insurance available).
- My friends and family are supportive and would house us if needed. (Mom? Can we stay with you?)

So I forced myself to think happy thoughts.
(It's kind of like working out. You know, like when you want to get skinny post-breakup? You hate it, but you do it to pass the time and pain.)
- I have free time to play with my dog and man. In the daylight.
- I can get fit.
- I can plan my wedding in June (insert dull laugh).
- I can get back to reading.
- I can lay by the pool!
- It won't last forever. (For me, 7 months before I was offered a job I'm ok with. So-so sex. But that too won't last forever.)

So if you find yourself laid off, and don't want to wallow in your own misery, here are some tips:

- Make attempts at being your own positive reinforcement and don't rely on others to pick you up. It's exhausting for them and doesn't do you any good to be Pouting Polly.

- Take up a hobby. Not everything is expensive.
Artwork by Treasure Frey.

- Make job hunting and resume writing your new job. (I'll have another post on how to do that.) But make sure to take 2 days off and only 'work' 5-7 hours a day. Take breaks too! It's the job you've always wanted!

- Get your unemployment. You earned it.

Know this, it's temporary and you'll recover.
Hopefully, quicker than some of your bad sexual experiences. Think of all of the laughs these kinds of experiences can bring you in the future!

Drag queens are survivors

"You don't have to be gay, but it helps."
I recently watched "Pageant" on Netflix. Obviously I loved it. What's not to love?
Men clawing their fake nails to the top for a tiara.

No surgery and no hormones allowed; these gals are all natural as they shave, buff, powder, conceal, and transform themselves into beauties any Texas toddler should emulate.

I think I'm allowed to love Miss Gay America and not adore Miss America, Teen Queen or whatever baby beauty pageants exist. "Mamma, where are my flippers?"
I don't think it's a double standard either.

Though, I do find the Miss America pageant contenders gorgeous (in a clone-like way), I'm sure the majority of them were always pretty ladies.
How many times did they feel uncomfortable in their skin, or didn't have shiny hair and a naturally matte complexion? Hmmm?

Honestly, as a young woman (30!), I relate more to the drag queens primping, plucking, pulling, shaving and pushing their bodies into outrageous costumes to find their comfort zone. And not only are they comfortable, they're damn fabulous.

I guarantee I've had more body hair, facial hair and acne (as well as a gorgeous head of hair - it's an Armenian thing, look at my cousin) than any of the typical beauties. My hormones, from the ages of 11 to 26, raged through the plains (my body, which is kind of squarish and has stayed that way) and never allowed me to feel pretty.

That was until I found the theater...and high-beam stage lights, where heavy, garish acne-covering makeup was encouraged, and you could cover your pasty, dark-follicle legs with thick, tan panty hose. And no one could see you sweat (I was always sweating - just thinking about it makes me bead up).
This lacquered, powdered face and body were too far away from the eyes of the audience to place harsh judgment upon. And there I could be whomever I wanted, and I entertained! I felt BRILLIANT!
(Cousin, Sarah and I after the final performance of Guys & Dolls. Senior Year)

More than any struggling performer or really, anyone who struggles for their own perfection, I related to these glittery amazons. I was inspired by their courage to keep doing this and their tenacity to become better than their competition (BITCH!), and better than themselves the year prior.

(Me as Betty Boop for Halloween. Every year I dress up - it's sacred)

These drag queens, who were such a wide variety of characters and looks, do a better job of connecting with my rise to being fabulous (I think so!) than any standard or 'normal' beauty pageantry.

I'd rather turn into these beauty queens any day.

Character building moment had this evening

Odd that I just began my positive-thinking blog today and I lock myself out of the house. Not b/c I forgot my keys, no, something much more fascinating.

Even though it was drizzling outside, I wanted to walk my dog A. she's bummed that her daily playmate is not home, and B. needs play time. Besides, the park during inclement weather is ideal, b/c she can be off leash and I don't worry about attacking pedestrians. Her attacking them, not them attacking us.

To add to the joy, I got a bug in my butt that I might run to the park - Yay for me. Didn't want to keep the cell phone and house keys on me, b/c "Oh no! What if they fall out of my pocket."

So I REACHED up and placed the only set of house keys in Charleston (spousal unit didn't make a copy and give it away like I thought...) on the base of a Direct TV pole. The base held the disk (see photo). Keys rested safely out of sight.

Dorie and I walked, jogged and romped from 530p-630p. It was much fun, though my pants, socks, shoes and hair were soaked. But who cares, we're almost home and I'll take a hot shower!

At 630p, I reached my hand up to the base and SWISH! Knocked the keys down the hole in the pole (Bah BYE ALICE!) and they fell 2 ft. inside.

Really folks? Really.

Luckily neighbor lady was home. And I have a truly nice neighbor lady (I find out) - who wasn't weird at all. And p.s. I usually avoid neighbors b/c I'm a renter and people are usually too much for me to handle after 5p.

And a twist! Due to the fact, I use a cell phone and it's contact lists - I don't know anyone's phone number except my sig other who is in Vegas for work. Curse my lazy brain.

I reach him in Vegas on her phone, he calls his brother who lives 30 min away to come to my aid with tools, and who I find doesn't have a spare key. He never showed up by the way - I think he got distracted in his garage with his rescue options...

So neighbor lady bent and twisted a wire hanger straight-ish, I knelt in the wet rocks, and held a stool with my shoulder, while she stood and peered down the pole.

Many poor attempts and rain drops later, she heads back inside, brings me a rain jacket, hot tea, her phone number, her phone and a flashlight. She is getting ready to leave and go back to her other home in the country.

I wait and wait on my porch for rescuer, look at my dog, "Well Dorie, at least it's not snowing." And we laugh. I'm pretty sure my dog laughed.

At 7:30, I put the rain jacket on, grabbed my hanger that I've now bent to straightness, and I only work for 10 minutes when that lucky little hook grabbed the key ring.

SHIT YES!

I run to my neighbor, (who couldn't leave b/c she was worried about me) we embrace and exchange phone numbers and promises to rescue each other from future flames or natural disasters.

Note to self: make a frickin' key copy and remember someone else's phone number.
But - at least I laughed. Because really, it wasn't that bad.

My goal with this blog

So, since life encounters it's little challenges, I'm making this blog to remind myself (and hopefully others) about the things we like versus wallowing in self-loathing. And if you're going to hate - be funny about it. I mean, really.

Not all of us are lucky enough to be paid to do what we love - it's not like I wake up in the morning and eagerly say, "Yey, I'm going to get ready and head off to fun today!"
Most days require an internal pep talk in the mirror, at the front door, and collaboration with the coffee pot and good lighting. "Get me through the day, I beg you!"

Some mornings I've found myself praying for food poisoning or a bacteria infection.
Because wouldn't it be easier to just run back and forth to the toilet than have to deal with 9+ hours at your desk, in a meeting, or staring into the bitter, sullen faces of those you work with?

But there is a way to be positive, hopeful and happy damn it! I'm pursuing the ways. First step: Surround myself with people, things, thoughts and activities I like.

So I shall pursue the fun and the funny to get me (and whomever) through that which sucks. Because... it's not all bad.