18:51 - 30.07.07
Clarification
I've had a lot of interaction with people I know the past month or so who are registered on Facebook. I have been trying to quantify the difference between it and e-mail communication. Number four son helped clarify when he started listing all the reasons he doesn't like it. He likened it to high school where what mattered in terms of status in the community was how many friends one had, who they were and what cliques one belonged to. He has never had any patience with shallow behaviour, so to see it replicated on a website - not with everyone of course, but enough to make it an issue - means he is really turned off by a lot of the features. As more of the people I know sign up and I read the postings of their friends my greatest concern is the type of inappropriate comments that are made about themselves or their interactions with each other. I have only communicated with people I want to talk with by e-mail, because I don't want to post personal information on a communal bulletin board (The Wall). I suppose there is an argument that posting to a blog is not much different, but mine isn't searchable and I rarely name anyone so as to protect their identity. Sometimes when I go back a year or two to revisit an issue, it can take me a considerable amount of time to figure out who exactly I was referring to. My son said that his workplace has banned access to Facebook during working hours, because it is being abused so badly. Apparently some of his co-workers who are the worst violaters, are the ones complaining the loudest. Employers are not required to provide support or resources for personal use.
Returning to the issue of your electrons, dear diary, I should probably clarify some of my comments from yesterday about the behaviour of some of my family even though they don't know you exist. Balance is necessary. As you might have noticed I usually try to say positive things about them or say nothing at all because this blog is about my life - not theirs. It is an account of my perceptions of what is going on at any given time. What triggered the comments yesterday is the agressive attempts to insert themselves into my personal business. In F Scott Peck's book "People of the Lie" he stated that the most accurate way to decide if there is deception or evil occuring is when one finds themselves confused and unable to rationally account for what is happening. With four or five different people all telling very different and conflicting versions of the family's behaviour and reasons for same toward me, it means someone is not being truthful. Also, at least two people - my Dad and the person who commented on my flooring - are acting so far out of character that it is impossible to accept that nothing is going on out of the ordinary. Add in the confirmation that there have been meetings about the renovations/gutting where I wasn't informed or invited to participate and, to me, it becomes evident that the only reasonable explanation is that a power play is taking place among them. One of my other sisters has also been on the receiving end of this type of activity, so I don't believe it is my imagination.
I should also point out that I used the term "some" in describing the involvement of various family members, because not all are participating. The one couple, I think, are being used as the patsys to take the fall if something goes wrong in the actions of the others. The one where the flooring is an issue. My youngest heard that comment too and also spoke up about it's inappropriateness - that isn't just my imagination either. As you can tell, dear diary, the whole scenario is really bothering me, because I am feeling so vulnerable right now. What is the trigger for this place, this issue and this timing. When one can't see those things, it is impossible to decide how to respond. Political footballs - me in this instance - usually come out worse than anyone else at the end of the game. Been there, done that and bought the t-shirt. I'm not willing to have it done to me by my own family.
The other point of clarification I need to make - I was venting last night, as you know, and wasn't providing the context needed - is that there were also family members who did try to help me when the boys' Dad deserted us. My brother built a room in the basement for the boys to use. My Mom was always spending time with my sons and they worshipped the ground she walked on. Rightfully so. Of course that meant my Dad had to give up some of my Mom's attention, but he was gracious about that. In fact I think he really looked forward to canasta and cribbage nights. One sister gave me the curtains that my grandfather had had, even though she treasured them deeply. She had been given new ones and knew I had nothing but sheets for my window. It was very hard for her to do, but she came over and handed them to me anyway. Truthfully too, I preferred the benign neglect from the others, to the judgement and putdowns that came from some of the others anyway. Also, in fairness, each of my brother-in-laws went through a patch of very traumatic work issues. At those times each family circled the wagons the better to survive of course. I know the feeling and many of the times I wasn't available for social time with the family - something which gained censure - it was because a job with long hours or two jobs that required endless juggling to ensure both sets of responsibility were done properly left me exhausted. Any time left over was spent with my sons - who did without so much. When my Mom died time was also spent most weekends with my Dad. All the other siblings having partners and other obligations, you see. So I hope that seems a bit more fair comment to you dear diary. As I noted above, I don't like commenting on family because it isn't about them - unless some behaviour like the present actions seems to try and force it's way into my life.
Today I did something very different for me. I mentioned I had been asked to attend a job interview this week. It was scheduled for this morning. I wanted to update my image, so I looked again at the gift of gently used clothes from the friend I had lunch with at the beginning of the month. I picked out a two piece set - top and skirt - that had a pattern of red poppies on a deep green background. Full length skirt but with a slit up the middle to the knee. Topped it off with a red blazer. I haven't worn anything red since when my grandmother died just as I was finishing up high school. The reason being was that it was one of the last gifts.... Also, truthfully, I look as though I have severe jaundice when wearing most shades of red. The clothes I had today had a blue/red tint instead of the yellow or orange background. It made all the difference to how it made me look. I was surprised how differently people I was travelling on transit with reacted to that one simple change. More approaches for small talk for one thing. One of the people I worked with during the last election drove by as I was waiting at the community bus stop and it was as though she didn't see me at all. Not expecting me to be out of what, she perceives, as character - right? The ad I had responded to was for workers with federal government security clearance which I had to have for the Returning Officer position. There wasn't any further information, so I wasn't sure what was being sought. Turned out what was wanted was staff at an entry level to substitute for regular workers on holiday or leave. The pay per hour was way below that which the economist who provided the analysis to the one newspaper about what one had to earn in this city in order to survive given our cost of living. I can't afford to have two jobs right now. I won't have my health damaged as badly as it has been since that allergic reaction that involved damage to my heart in 2002 - occurred on my birthday, that did. The antibiotics I am taking now seem to be restoring the health and energy level that I haven't had since that time. Don't want to jeopardize the second chance I've been given, do I?
The interview itself went very well, because the interviewer was very skilled. She made me feel comfortable right away, but through her questions it became clear she had already done some enquiries about me. She said they really didn't have any assignments in the pay range I need to earn, but encouraged me to keep in contact from time to time as I found and then completed other assignments. When I can find such things I will do just that. I had worn slingbacks for the interview, that was quite a distance from my home, and which required a reasonable amount of walking to get there and back. As you can guess, the fact that I haven't walked in heels for a while meant I was hobbling by the time I got back in the community. I was deep in contemplation, wondering if I was going to be forced to take work that required me to pay to work. I was feeling pretty hopeless and a bit confused too. At that point one of my youngest son's friends Mom pulled up beside me in her new van to chat. Turns out she is job hunting too. She asked about the interview I had just had, because I offered to give her the name of the agency if she was interested. She stated emphatically that she needed a minimum wage of about what I had decided and wasn't willing to consider anything less either. See it isn't just me, dear diary. Both the neighbour and the economist are saying the same things. The shortage of willing workers is because the wages aren't adequate to meet the cost of living. That is the issue of the employer and yet they keep trying to dump the responsibility on everyone else. Landlords, lazy employees. Their stockholders' payouts and their own very high wages are coming at the expense of the workers who are producing that wealth for their companies. Right now there are five construction unions threatening to go on strike. They are one of the best waged groups on this city. They are saying they can't make ends meet. Think of the rest of the workers who are trying to make a go of it on half the tradesmens' wages.
I wanted to do an essay on hope, so as to buck up my spirits, but I think that will have to wait until I can focus better. Talk with you later, dear diary.
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