So yeah, I think I'm figuring out things! 

I have a lot of things on the go, and they're keeping me busy. Or at least out of trouble. That's good. But it's part of being on track. I do feel like the "track" itself is not well-defined, as in with absolute goals and micromanaged footsteps, but I do feel like things are looking up and would like to attribute it to a change in attitude. 

I was wondering about why I'd want to define it for anyone in the first place because it doesn't really matter to anyone but myself, so what difference does it make if it confuses the hell out of people or keeps them on their toes or whatever. I know where I'm going. It's with my gut. And for all the so-called paper qualifications I'm lacking for anything of elevated job status, I don't need a paper to know that I'm following something true and real. I've done a lot worse than that.

I really can't say if school is in that track or not. I hope in some ways it is. But honestly, the idea of incurring all that debt scares the hell out of me, completely independent of whether or not the music education sector is really good or dwindling. At least trade school is another option. My love of all things auto-motive really is turning out to be a passion, and not just some way of being cool, or getting daddy's approval, or any weird shit. It just is what it is.

And in figuring things out, having had much occasion to think about what it is I want, what I used to dream of, what I imagined, and what I can do with my reality, and I remember that when I was a kid, I imagined living in some urban-mixed-with-old-world studio apartment with my pet Bengal tiger and white grand piano, edges painted in gold with a red rose airbrushed on top, near the music stand side of the lid.

And for some odd reason, I never reconciled that picture with what was going on in my own life or worked on making myself be okay with it. Everything that occurred in my life after graduation was a gradual disenchantment with life in general because all I knew is that things weren't going the way I had imagined them, even to say those things compounded each other in rapid-fire succession; although I didn't know exactly what that was (just a feeling) and then purposefully grew bitter and angsty to avoid disappointment. I had my reasons.

So what? Now? I just laugh. Not really at myself or wanting to put down my former kid self or anything. And certainly not at any of the really heavy parts that caused great pain to myself or others. But at the sheer ease with which I just overlooked it. I mean, it's not hard to fathom, seeing as how I was dealing with some pretty major things right off the hop out of high school which continued far into my adult life.

It's just that I missed one tiny little detail in having known that my studio apartment with my piano was one of those memories you just put away with growing up: there was a reason I imagined things that way at that age, but there was no reason for why I had not changed it, or evolved it, or even entertained the idea that I could have a new dream.

Others? Oh yeah, for s-u-r-e! All the time! Ask me for advice and I'd work hard around every facet of your brain trying to inspire you! But myself? Nah. Nope.

So, you ask me now what that is, I don't know. It's still tricky for me to say, at least career-wise, to have a dream. My last career dream kind of flew out the window when we moved up north, because I was not willing to compromise on my education by doing something else through whatever other online programs they had up there, and because we were so far away from any institution that the older I got, the more out of the question it became to do anything that would upset the girls' lives like... leaving to go finish school.

Not only that, but my family was growing and my priorities changed. That is to say: get your frickin' head out of the clouds, out of missed opportunities, any of the "couldas and shouldas" and be a mom.

And before that, before I even lived in Canada, never mind way up north, was being a mom. I was always a mom. Being a mom was and is THE most beloved, treasured of roles I've ever been blessed or been allowed to have, but it was also the first thing I ever knew in the outside, real world. There is a whole world of raising up children to be ready for the world that I believed and avowed to engage before all else. 

My parenting style has been one about standing up against the tide, of doing everything in my power and with God's help to NOT let the "sins of the father pass onto the son", to break the cycle of pain, and never ever being an autopilot mommy. (My parents were good parents, but they had their issues, and I didn't want those passing on through to me to my girls, and thusly whatever issues I had to pass on to them, either.) Giving them the tools and teaching them how to instill their own tools, too, for the hardass world I'd already seen enough of at 22, 25, and 29 was far more important than whatever I was going through. It didn't take a genius to know that their worlds were mine. I put them on like a mantle.

But I did kind of hide behind that. I was glad to. I still would. Except I'm starting to realize what a disservice it is to them. The whole part of figuring things out has this right in there, along with my other contemplations, because I can see the possibilities of good in this new equation. I really can't reconcile me not having my daughters with me right now as a good thing. In fact, it feels very wrong. But this time, I'm not reacting out of emotions. 

I'm trying to be a grown-up.

"...got-the-job, got-the-job, yippe-yay, I-got-the-job..."

If you know the tune to "Be Our Guest" from Disney's Beauty and the Beast, well then, you can replace the "..beef ragou, cheese souffle, pie and pudding en flambe.." with the title of this post and now you've got that little jiggy tune stuck in your head. Yes, yes you do. Now it's in your head because I put it there. Now you can have it banging around on repeat in your head, just like it is mine! Because the choir was running through their Disney piece this morning, and I've had it stuck in my head all morning just like you get to suffer now, too.

Anyway.

Yes, I got the job. Judy, who I presume is in charge of all things clerical at the dealership there called me this morning and offered me the job. It was so cute. Just the way and manner of her voice, the tone of the question. That was all.

I start tomorrow.

*eeeeee!

(Now you're wondering what the next words are on that verse, arencha?

"We'll prepare and serve with flair a culinary cabaret!..."

Nyeah, I had to look them up.

job

So I interviewed for a receptionist position with the Ford dealership here. What can I say, I would love to get a job like that. I don't know where it will lead me, or how in the world's half iota it brings me in the direction of music OR any trade (maybe automotive mechanics by a long shot,) but... really I care only secondarily about that momentarily. It's my first frickin' job in two years.

And it will work beautifully with my schedule as an accompanist at one of the local high schools I'm playing at here. Mornings at the high school, afternoons at the dealership. With a shot of luck, I could start putting away money, if for nothing else to start slamming back debts and the whole being behind on just about phucking near everything.

It would be lovely to start doing that, anyway, as I know that playing catch-up in this economy, yes, even Saskatchewanian economy (maybe it's just cost of living smacking us harder than anticipated,) will be a slow and possibly painful process. I am okay with slow. Slow is better than dead stop. Just like when you're in rush hour traffic? Ya know? Because every fractional turn of the tire is another inch under your wheels.

At any rate, the job sounds cool. I'd get to be the girl who you see at the desk, taking calls, writing down messages, operating fax machines and pumping data into the computer; but of course I would be soooooo smooth, doing it all with a flick of my wrist and a bubblegum smack-chomp, layers of mascara and hootchy mama shirts.

Or maybe just tackling the guy walking down the hall because he's some random criminal coming to steal my purse and turkey sandwich from the break room.

  

Okay, okay. Yeah. The hell. Rii-i-iight. It's still a lot better than this:

Which I used to do. Except with tacos.

Seriously, what's in this job for me is respect. Self-respect, respect of what I'd be trying to accomplish, respect from coworkers, ideally. It's a pitch fork of hay in the barn. It's the first step on a path that contains goals. It's getting to do something new. Meet new people. Meet more people. Get exposure to the automotive side of my interests. Office job. Bringing in some flippin' cheddar, yo.

And the interview went well. I don't feel like I nailed it, but I don't feel like I royally screwed it up, either. I got a real sense of what I would be doing, where it could go, and that I would not be left out to dry. I perceived a real sense of teamwork gets done around there, that I won't have time to be bored. I answered their questions honestly and to the best of my ability. What I did not do was just say what I thought was the right thing. A new thing in my books at least. The one lady asked me if the phone number on my resume was the one I could be reached at. I said yes. The two interviewers shook my hand. I handed them my references and they thanked me for coming in. I'll hear from them within the week or so. 

I truly hope so.