"The Unemployment Blues"

Who would ever expect to wish being older:

I’ve got a bad case of the unemployment blues.

I’m getting depressed after reading the news.

I thought a new job would be easy to find.

Just what was I thinking? I’m losing my mind.

I’m pounding the pavement. I’m working the net.

A new job eludes me. I haven’t found one as yet.

I wish I were older for then I would be

Eligible to receive Social Security.

It wouldn’t be much, but enough to survive.

I would simply get by though, unlikely to thrive.

At least it would relieve me of all of the stress.

Remove me from all of this job searching mess.

"I'm Melting"

                                                                
   
      Every time I think my face can’t fall down anymore…it falls down some more.  My once round, full, “Jennifer Lawrence-esque” cheeks are transforming themselves into jowls as rapidly as an express elevator headed down with no one manning the controls.  My face is beginning to look like soft ice cream on a summer afternoon, folds of soft flesh gently cascading downward, like melting ice cream draped over a sugar cone.  I take pictures of myself pretty regularly, looking for attractive shots that I can post on my blog or on FB.  Recently, while perusing them with my BFF, I opined that I feel as if I aged overnight, that all of a sudden, I am looking so, well, old.  Astonished, she asked me “just how young did you think you looked?”  Apparently not as young as I'd thought...Oh what a world...

Run Away

If I were a teenager I would run away.

I wouldn’t wait until tomorrow. I’d do it today.

I’d pack up my car with my dog and my books,

Turn my back on my life without a second look.

I would point my car west, and I’d never come back.

I would run and I‘d hide and I’d cover my tracks.

Problem is that no matter where I would be,

The one person I can’t run away from is me.

R & R: Retirement and Ringtones

     Does anyone know what a NORC is?  Well, I didn’t until last week when my Professor explained it.  A NORC is a “naturally occurring retirement community”.  Then she went on to say that the very apartment complex that I live in is a NORC.  (Someone needs to tell that to my noisy neighbors!)  Basically, there is a rapid turnover among the young tenants (not rapid enough for me) while the older tenants stay put.  So much so, in fact, that Senior Services has been brought into the complex, and they maintain an office here.  (Apparently they are not located in my section.)  I need to check this out.  Perhaps they can exert some pressure on the young party animals that are driving me crazy.

     We are now learning about senses and perception, focusing on hearing. We were introduced to Mosquito Ringtones.  I didn’t know what they were, nor did many of my classmates.  According to the website, most people over thirty are incapable of hearing the various high frequency tones.  Basically, Professor included this in the lesson to demonstrate the varying levels of hearing ability among the students. However, the ringtones are very appealing to young people, as most teachers and parents won’t be able to hear them.

      We tested the varying levels, which are broken down into age ranges of 18, 24, 30, 39,49,50,60, and everyone else.  The higher the age range, the louder the beeping.  The only tones I could hear were the 51-60 and everyone ranges.  The younger students in the class were obviously able to hear the other sounds quite well.  This whole concept is amazing to me.  So I asked one of my son’s girlfriends if she was familiar with Mosquito Ringtones.  Surprisingly, she wasn’t.  I promptly enlightened her. (She is no longer a student, and wouldn’t have used it in class even if she were). So I tested some of the ringtones on her.  She was, of course, able to hear many more levels than I could.  Additionally, the tones are alleged to be bothersome to dogs due to the high frequency.  Buddy, however, didn’t even stir.  I guess he’s as tone deaf as I am.

"Twenty Questions"

     We have now had our first quiz in Psych of Aging. (That kind of sounds like Rock of Ages, don’t you think?)  I suffered from my usual first quiz jitters, and self confidence was as elusive as a new moon hovering behind a clouded horizon. 

     Prior to the test, Professor was discussing the detriments of cheating, explaining some tactics she had witnessed in a couple of her students.  For instance, one student had written answers on the palm of his hand.  During the test, he attracted the Professor’s attention as he repeatedly flipped his hand over, absent- mindedly sending her signals as obvious as those of a Morse Lamp on midnight seas.  One of the female students wrote answers on her thigh, and kept hiking her skirt up to peak during the course of the test. (The boys seated around her flunked!) These tactics sounded vaguely familiar to me.  I had tried both once or twice-in grammar school. At that time I was too dumb to realize that the transcription probably took longer than actually studying would have.  Plus-had I studied, I would have learned something!  I found it amusing, and also appalling, that college students would resort to these tactics.  My theory now is, if you are going to cheat, why even bother attending?            

    The test consisted of twenty questions.  Did I bother to count?  Noooo….  Did I look at both sides of the two papers that were stapled together?  Noooo… I completed the test quickly, after which I made a quick trip to the powder room, as I had about fifteen minutes to myself before the subsequent start of class.  Upon my return, I couldn’t help but notice Professor perusing the tests, except she was grading more pages than I had completed.  I missed an entire page!  Horror stricken, I timidly explained my dilemma to Professor, and requested that she return my paper so I could complete it.  Thankfully, she complied, and I was able to complete the test.

     Technically, my Professor was not in any way compelled to return that paper to me, especially since I had physically removed myself from the classroom.  I can only imagine that my advancing age was to my benefit.  Let’s face it.  I am flirting with sixty.  There is absolutely no reason for me to cheat on an exam.  I am attending school so that I can learn something, for intellectual stimulation, and for the sense of accomplishment I have when I earn good grades.  Perhaps Professor sensed these motivations in me, and was therefore, trusting. 

     After class, I made a point of apologizing for the mix up, as I felt I owed her that, plus an additional thank you.  Lesson learned. My gratitude, earned.

“A Thorn in My Side”

     My neighbors are a royal pain in the buttocks, a thorn in my side, and one of the reasons why I want to land a job so badly.  I want, no, I need, to move! 

     I was perusing an apartment website recently, when I discovered a review about the apartment complex where I live.  Except the review wasn’t exactly about the complex, it was about the neighbors, or should I say, neighbor. Namely, yours truly!  The offensive, ill written commentary claimed that people complain about EVERYTHING, should butt out of peoples’ business, are like “whinning” little children, and blah, blah, blah!  For starters, I find it extremely difficult to take people seriously that don’t spell correctly or use proper grammar.  That being said, although the review was anonymous, I recognized the person who wrote it. She lives at the other end of the unit, and does not deal with the constant irritation that I do.  Additionally, she is a troublemaker, as well as being an offender.  Needless to say, I did not leave the review unanswered.  Here is an abridged version of my commentary:

      “There is a problem with a select number of the newer tenants. Frequent late night parties with excessive noise, infringing on the privacy of others, and compelling others to inhale their cigarette smoke and fumes from their charcoal grills is an ongoing problem. Additionally, dogs are off leash, and some tenants adorn the grounds with their dog's feces. People don't adhere to the rules established by the property manager, and they become indignant when someone (that would be me!) calls them on it.” 

    There are 32 apartments in our unit, yet there are only a few tenants who are inconsiderate. (Unfortunately, I am surrounded by them.)  I have had my dog swarmed by countless little dogs that are off leash.  Buddy has gotten fungal infections from said dogs because their owners failed to isolate them when they had fungus in their ears.  Additionally he has been peed on and nipped. Moreover, I am embarrassed to have guests over because of the buckets of poop that they are too lazy to take to the dumpster. They grace the front of the building like demented lawn ornaments. Oh, and did I mention the fireworks that they set off during the night?  No. Not firecrackers. Fireworks. 

     The situation has become intolerable, and I know I will not be able to endure another summer in this unit.  Last weekend they built a half an igloo in the courtyard, and proceeded to barbeque-in the snow.  Except the sun was setting by the time they got started, and the (charcoal) grill was relocated to right outside of the apartment.   Do I complain about this select few?  Yes I do.  Because trying to reason with them has proved to be an exercise in futility, I take my issues to management. I am entitled to peace and quiet, fresh air, and privacy.  Furthermore, I am willing to resort to “whinning” to get them.

                          The view from my window! The mini-igloo is on the left, barely discernible.

                                     Have they no pride? This is at the entrance to peoples' homes!

"Doubting Thomas"

     I recently went to a consignment shop with my BFF in search of a jacket to wear on job interviews.  I purchased an adorable, stylish jacket which is black with red pinstripes. It was a real bargain at $12.00.  Now, I have heard that it is very difficult, if not impossible, to match “blacks”.  Being the quintessential “doubting Thomas”, I didn’t believe that for a minute.  I arrive home with my “bargain”, and begin to coordinate some outfits so I’m ready to go if I get a call.  I have two black skirts, and neither of them matches the jacket.  So, I subsequently went to JCP and purchased a red skirt trimmed with black. My reasoning was that even if the blacks don’t match, it won’t be that noticeable. Well, they don’t, and it most certainly is noticeable.  The wheels in my brain are turning now, in desperation. Surely grey will work.  I add two different shades of grey slacks and a light grey skirt to my wardrobe.  (I’m not even going to say it!)  Next I bought cranberry red slacks.  The black and cranberry go great together, but…the reds don’t match!  Aah! I would have been better off had I purchased one…new…suit!  The only reason this shopping debacle hasn’t rendered me destitute, is that the stores I frequent are having the most amazing end of season sales, luckily for me!  I hope I find a job before the seasons change!  Oh, by the way, I also bought two new jackets…both are black and red. One of them matches something in my closet, I think…