Switching Careers in a Recession? Yep, the weird Northern Chick has Lost her Ever-Lovin’ Mind.

originally posted August 4, 2009

So, I mentioned in my introductory post, that I was “searching for the right career.” Welcome to what I like to call, Finding Myself 101.

I’m one of those folks who woke up one day and found themselves in a career they really didn’t see coming. Sound like I’m an idiot? What does she mean she didn’t see it coming? I like to tell folks, sort of tongue-in-cheek, that I “fell” into my current career path. See, for someone who studied Justice / Pre-Law in college, and was at one time headed to Law School, working in the high-tech industry was the furthest thing from my mind. But, one thing led to another, and from about 2000 on, I’ve had a really interesting ride. I’ve learned a lot about business, the psychology of the office place, the way technology moves at lightning speed, and also about me. No, I’m not writing a self-help book, and I’m not going to tell you where to find my cheese, or what color my parachute is. I may tell you that you DO need a parachute as you jump out of the plane, but I’m not blogging to pretend to be wise about career choices.

Why not? Well, eight months ago, I parted ways with my last high-tech software company. Although I had found myself in the enviable position of being a Director of a department, I also found myself in the unenviable position of the clichéd “restructure.” As my boss, The VP told me, “You’re a victim of reorganization.” I guess there’s a first time for everything. Certainly the first time that’s ever happened to me. Talk about a check to the ego.

So, many buckets of water under the bridge later, and countless hours of soul-searching, and I’ve come to realize something. I don’t want to work in the high-tech industry any more. And how you ask, did I come to that realization? I went back to what motivated me in the very beginning. No, not to the primordial ooze, I’m not THAT old. I mean law. To help people. My goal was to become a defense attorney, and advocate for those who didn’t have their own voices. Children, the homeless, the impoverished. Ah, the idealism of youth. Anyway, I obviously never made it to law school, but maybe if I could find that long-ago catalyst; I’d find where the next adventure started?

Then it hit me, and not without help from some friends, that non-profit work was probably where I’d make a difference. I could use the skills I’ve obtained in the past 15 years, combine that with the fact that I’m usually volunteering to do something, and go fishing. Sure, the pay isn’t going to be close to what I've been used to, but what would it be like to get up close and personal with helping folks? Instead of sitting in front of a computer and worrying about the next big software bug, I could affect change. Some idealism? Check. Gainful employment? Check. Make a difference? Check. Job where you’re not living with your laptop and working 70 hour weeks? Hopefully check.

I’ve thrown a few hooks out; I’ll let you know what gets reeled in.

My Love Affair with Books, or "How to Feed my Habit."

I don't know about y'all (I'm learning to love this word), but I'm tickled by a free book. So, here's a tidbit from me to you: starting today, August 3rd, Oprah.com members can download the book, Let the Great World Spin by Colum McCann.

I fell in love with books, and I do mean Love with a capital "L," when I first learned to read. I learned young; even the she-really-meant-well teacher, who would force me read to other adults, as a sort of sideshow, didn't deter my budding fascination. I would devour anything printed -- whatever I could get my hands on.

This meant I was one of those precocious kids who hid under the covers with the flashlight (you're going to ruin your eyes!), and when out of my own material, would hunt down my Mother's trashy novels. Many heaving bosoms and wild untamed hearts later, I still love a good romance. But, if driven to tell you what my genre is, or what I like best? I couldn’t pin it down. Seriously. From you’ve got to be joking love stories, to the gut wrenching family dramas (We Were the Mulvaney’s), I’m hooked. That doesn’t mean there aren’t books I toss in disgust when finished. Not in the trash mind you (my God – it’s a book after all!), but the ones I throw on the coffee table, and say, “Well, that was a flippin’ disappointment!”

From my absolute all-time favorite, To Kill a Mockingbird, to my favorite fantasy series by Diana Gabaldon (Outlander Series), I love to read. I love the way a book smells, I love the escapism and I love the fact you can always go back to them. I’m sure Freud would have a field day with me, but until the time comes for me to get psychoanalyzed, I’ll be spending my therapy money at the used book store.

Note: For those who love books, and are in the Madison/Ridgeland/Jackson areas of Mississippi – check out this used bookstore “The Bookshelf.” I make a trip there every two weeks to trade in books and get my next fix. They’ve got good exchange rates, a great selection (even paranormal romance!) and a rare books section. Along with this, there’s a gal behind the counter who pretty much optimizes the southern hospitality claim.

Getting Ready to Head to the Farm - Score 1 for Mississippi.

It's Friday, and I'm getting ready to head down to the Farm. THE Farm? Nope, don't think commune or cults, it's where my father-in-law grew up. He doesn't live there full-time as he and my MIL are farther down in Southern Mississippi, but they spend half their week there. Every other weekend in the summer, we'll pack up on a Friday afternoon, and head down to spend the night with them. They leave on Saturday afternoon, and we'll head home on Sunday morning. Since it's only about an hour and a half drive, you get the "getting away" part without having to drive for hours.

Cue the Andy Griffith Show music . . . .

I love this place. There are acres and acres for my son to roam - no, not by himself, hold your calls to Social Services! There are several ponds, and he and his Daddy try their hand at catching the "big one." There are gorgeous lush plants that I walk around and drool over, and there's the gardens to check on. But, more importantly, we decompress. No computers, no schedules, no phones ringing -- just family.

The "score 1 for Mississippi" part comes in because we didn't do this back home on a regular basis (in Alaska or Washington). We didn't have access to a large family piece of land (in either state anyway), and we certainly didn't have Grandparents an hour and a half away. But what makes this so special? Our typical Friday night. We pull up the drive-way about dinner time (yes, I know our timing is impeccable). My MIL has made a great meal, baked something delicious, and after we've eaten and done the dishes (by hand!), we sit around a table in the kitchen, and . . . play games. Yep, you heard me -- we play games. Not video games, not arm-chair Deal or No Deal, or poker (we save that for our trips to visit my Parents in Montana). We play dominoes. And, to top it off, we've become quite the aficionados of the games of chickenfoot and Bendominos. We tend to gravitate towards the dominoes games, because the few times we did play the new electronic Monopoly, Grama and Grampa got kind of cut-throat, and my son had to sit between them. Think June and Ward going at it over debit cards.

But, seriously -- ten years ago if anyone had ever told me I'd be sitting in a farm house in rural Mississippi, around a kitchen table, that could sell for a nice price at a vintage store (got to love those old red and chrome tables with the vinyl chairs), playing dominoes with my child and in-laws? Well, I'd have frisked you for the drugs you were obviously on.

Score one 1 for Mississippi, and score 1 for me.

Dipping my toe in the muddy alligator infested water.

Okay, let's just get this out of the way -- I'm not a writer. Well, not a professional anyway. So bear with my sentence structure, misplacement of commas, and general literary disarray. I'm doing this for fun, and because I'm an avid insomniac. See, that implies that I choose to be an insomniac -- I like that better.

What will this blog be about? Me. Mississippi. How a chick who was raised in Alaska survives being transplanted in the Deep South. I'll probably mention my darling husband, (when I'm not trying to bury him in the backyard) and I'll be sure to drop in a note or two about my six-year old son. 'Cause I'm sure there just aren't enough adorable stories out there about how unique all our children are. Right?

So, in-between my searching for the right career, wondering if "y'all" is really a word, and just generally trying to be a good person, I'll shoot out a missive or two and see if someone is out there listening.