Synopsis and first scene... Enjoy!

Friends:

As you may know, some dear person is writing about my time in the backwoods of Florida during the Great Recession. Having recently received some advice from a published author who's climbing the Amazon charts as we speak, this dear person realized that she needs to share some of my story with potential readers to figure out what works and what doesn't. And so, without further ado, here is the summary.

I, Jane Q. Phoenix, bought a townhouse in Florida in 2007 that, over the course of the following 5 years, lost half of its value. I also had a *bit of trouble* making friends, working, making ends meet, and dating during that time. However, through it all, I had the support of my good friend Diva and a few others I met along the way. So, it's a book about friendship and dealing with whatever life throws at you... like Sex and the City, but without sex and without a city. I wonder if I should call it No Sex in the Country but then have to wonder why anyone would buy a book with a title that starts with No Sex. It is a quandary.

Without further ado, here is the first scene I will share with you. It's at a point when I am trying to meet people in my new adopted town, Winterville:

The flurry of moving to town and closing on my townhouse kept me busy, but as more things were unpacked, I realized how much time I was spending alone.

Diva had worked for a company that had an office in Winterville and vaguely knew of a few fun people there that I should meet, so she offered to introduce us on Facebook. I jumped at the chance, as I had chosen not to socialize with coworkers outside of work and had not had luck meeting people otherwise. Meetup.com events, which were few and far between, were usually cancelled or took place when I was busy working. Without anyone to introduce me to people in Winterville, I wasn’t sure how long it would be until I could find stuff to do in town.

This guy Jason knows everybody. He can introduce you around. I’ll message you both on Facebook, Diva wrote.

I answered: Thanks, honey, you are a pal. I don’t think it’s going to be easy to meet people around here. This is really helpful!

The next morning, I saw her email to Jason and me:

Hi Jane and Jason! Jason, Jane is new to town and doesn’t have any friends there yet. I wanted to introduce you to each other. Be sure to include her in Happy Hour!

-Diva (Lexi)

His reply to both of us was totally above-board and seemed fine:

Hi ladies. Welcome to town, Jane.

Then he sent me separate message:

Can you meet up at Bennigans? I’m going there after work for a drink.

I wrote back: OK, I get off work at 5 nearby. See you shortly after then.

I hoped this could be a person who would enable me to socialize locally, but I did worry; after all, Diva had never met him in person, and I didn’t know what to expect. Still, he seemed to be approachable in that already-taken-by-another-woman sort of way. He was separated from his wife and dating someone new; this was something I’d confirmed either with Diva or on Facebook. He also had a daughter.

After work, I drove across the main highway of town and parked at Bennigan’s. Upon entering the dark entryway, I saw the familiar brass handrails and the dark wooden steps up to the bar.  After being greeted by a pimply hostess, I looked around the restaurant.

Only a few customers were belly-up to the bar at 5:10 p.m. I looked for a tallish, brown-haired man that matched Jason’s profile picture and found one watching the door intently. He looked right through me, really.

“Jason?” I asked as I approached him. He looked at me, startled. There was one empty beer glass in front of him and a full glass beside it.

“Lexi?” he asked. “I mean, Jane?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I said. “Hey. It’s nice to meet you.” I sat down on the barstool next to him.

“Don’t you have long hair?” he asked, perplexed.

This was interesting: my only picture on Facebook featured me with Diva at a rip-roaring St. Patrick’s Day celebration in a bar in a faraway city.  I wore a basic outfit with my usual flat hair and slightly buzzed expression. Diva, however, was in a dramatic pose and sexy dress, showing off her curves and sporting a green feather boa. Diva’s hair was long in that picture; mine was not. I guess he didn’t recognize her, since her hair hadn’t been that long for a few years, and they knew each other by phone and email, never in person, through work.

“Ah, my hair changes all the time. I am a woman of many looks. But I think you thought I was Diva.”

He looked disappointed, but then shrugged and said, “Well, I never met her in person, so there you go.  So, you are Lexi’s friend. She left to go back to school, right?” he asked.

“Yes, she’s in the process now. I’m happy for her.”

“How did she get the name Diva?”

“Her name is Alexandra Bellini. Doesn’t that sound like an opera singer’s name? And besides, she has a flair for the dramatic. Diva’s her nickname from college.”

“That’s cool.  So, what brings you to this lovely burg?” he asked.

“A new job.  I’m a technical writer, and work for an engineering firm.  What do you do?”

“I work in finance.  Our company is based in Miami but has offices everywhere. That’s how I met your friend. Over the phone, at least.”

“Cool.  What do you go out and do around here? I’m trying to get my bearings.  I’ve seen a few things going on but wanted to ask you about them. What about the Improv? Have you ever checked it out?”

“I don’t know much about the Improv, but I do know that there are a lot of good restaurants around here. They could make for some good nights out,” he purred. His glance lingered on my boobs.

Oh, Jesus, I thought. Not this. First of all, trying to make eye contact with my boobs wasn’t going to earn him any points. Secondly, since I was single, I didn’t want to hear about any “outings” that would require a date. I didn’t have anyone to date, and I most definitely wasn’t looking to date a man with a girlfriend and an estranged wife.

“So Jane, what do you do for fun?” he added in an overly friendly tone.

Was he serious? Did people use that line anymore? I wondered how I should respond. I get naked and swing from the chandeliers? I enjoy pottery, hiking, and outdoorsy pursuits? I like sunshine, puppies, and long walks on the beach?

One would think with 3 women/ girls in his life, that he wouldn’t have time to try to add to the collection. Well, maybe that’s just what I’d think. I have to wear bangs to conceal the tattoo that reads GULLIBLE on my forehead.

“For now I leave town, Jason! I don’t know how to answer that question.” I crossed my arms in the attempt to camouflage my chest.

“OK, well, what do you like to cook?” He was either very sexist or grasping at straws to come up with a conversational topic.

But seriously, was I auditioning to be Woman #3, or perhaps Alice from The Brady Bunch? I didn’t sign up for this! I figured I’d cut to the chase.

“Food, Jason, I like to cook and eat food. What is up with these questions? You are acting like you’re flirting with me. Don’t you have a girlfriend? Aren’t you separated from your wife?”

Stop. Stammer time.

“Oh, oh, well,” he said, looking flustered, “my girlfriend and I are on the outs.  And my divorce will be happening soon.” He turned and took a long sip from his full beer glass.

“Really? That’s not what Diva told me last night.”

“Oh well, you know, I don’t like to tell people at work my business. It’s not professional,” he continued, staring at the bar in front of us now.

He looked glum.  It wasn’t clear what made him sad: woman problems most likely, or perhaps something on the job. Emptying the first glass of beer by 5:05 p.m. wasn’t a good sign.

“OK, well, I need to go. I have a meeting that starts in a few minutes. Thanks for the invitation to meet here.”

“You’re going out right now? I thought you didn’t know anybody in town.”

“Yep, it’s dinner time. I gotta go,” I responded. I didn’t want to come across as bitchy, but I also wanted to get away.

“All right, well... it was great talking with you, Jane,” he said, trying one more time to sound endearing. He extended his hand and I shook it. His hand was wet and sticky from beer.

“Thanks, Jason. Bye.”

“Take care of yourself,” he answered back.

What a confusing encounter, I thought. He was creepy one minute, sad the next. It was impossible to know what was going on with him, and it didn’t seem like it was my job to find out.

As for my appointment, I had a meeting with a miniature pizza, hot from the toaster oven, just a few minutes after I got home. I called Diva after dinner.

“So, Toots, what do you like to do for fun?” I asked her.

Introducing my story- over 57,000 words!!!!

Friends, over the past few months, I've had a chance to really concentrate on my writing for the first time in forever. Diva and I have talked extensively about how to get it all together and incorporate all of her witty asides, because she's read through various incarnations over the past few years and sprinkled in her spicy comments throughout.

Yes, I left my job and moved across the country to be with the man I love. There was no ticker-tape parade waiting for me when I got here, no job offers when the first uncomfortable feeling of, "What is my purpose anymore?" surfaced. Along the way, I've joined a lot of writer's groups and submitted work for critique week after week. I've done some freelance editing and looked for more work along that vein, along with freelance writing gigs. So far, loving to write has turned into an expensive hobby, one that I'll probably subsidize with some temp work soon. Even though I lack the structure that work has always provided, I've had time to work on the book I've wanted to write. It became like a part-time job, taking up my afternoons after my job posting opportunities have been exhausted.

I'm excited to say that right now, the story has over 57,000 words! And I am going to share snippets with you along the way. A few of these vignettes are ready to slip out of the vault and into the world.

Please feel free to share any observations with me about them via email or, if you see something on Facebook that you like, click the Share button so more people can read about my ridiculous life.

Sincerely yours,
Jane Q. Phoenix

Moody, anyone? If so, spill. I hope it isn't just me.

Wow. The last few days have been up and down. I'm not sure if it's tied in to the weather: cold, damp, dreary, and killing my instinct to exercise (or do anything but mope and nap).

I generally have to take a step back when I start to wonder what I'm doing with my life. Either I have no time to pursue what I like because I am working so much or I have no job and get to fixate on that, creativity be damned. The last few months have been chock-full of changes, and my career isn't moving ahead too quickly now, although I hope it will soon. I would like to be self-employed. We will see how that goes, as getting started is something that one improvises. (I am finding this out now.)

The past few years have flattened me like a steamroller. I happen to have a friend who acquired some hang-ups from working for an employer that essentially worked her too hard. I wasn't too affected by that particular employer (we worked for the same company) but then I went to work for a nonprofit and it was like, Zambonis, start your engines. I've never been asked to work so hard at a place that had no opportunity for advancement and no incentive to make more money. My reward for doing a good job was more work and zero flexibility from my employer at a time when I really could have used it.

Being overworked has had this affect on me, and perhaps my friend, of making me suspicious. I look at a new potential workplace and try to imagine how I could fit in to the culture, learn my position, and then wonder if I'd have to constantly assert myself to have a work-life balance.

I've never been one of those people who could rationalize working all of the time. I've always had a body that needed exercise and the need to socialize with friends and family. I think it's important to have boundaries. No one's going to wake me up in the middle of the night or keep me at work 3 hours late with a "writing emergency." Sorry, but such things don't exist, and don't try to tell me otherwise! I don't log in at night to do more work. That's when I eat, exercise, and relax. If that makes me unfit for the modern workplace, then perhaps I should work for myself.

I read somewhere in my horoscope that I'll never work as hard in my whole life as I worked in 2012, and I wouldn't be surprised if that turned out to be true. It's 2014 already and I don't think I could work that hard now. It was such a tough year.

Combining that with my current creative project means that the tears have started to flow. In order to work on my current project, a book about life in the recession in Florida, I have to go back to that state: overworked, with no hope of promotion or raise, tired all the time, dealing with health issues, and upside-down and underwater in a home that I couldn't get rid of yet.  Although I met some nice people there, most were busy with their own marriages or families and I spent a ton of time alone. I also met some people there who were available to hang out, but they tended to be oversolicitous married guys or really strange people. Of course, there was also the parade of hostile townies and the horny old men. I didn't have a choice. It was the long, dark night of the soul.

I suppose everyone goes through that at some point of life.  It seems most of my single friends have gone through it in their thirties; as for the ones who've stayed married and/or had children, I don't know if they are exempt from it or if this is a universal condition that they too will experience. I suppose keeping people around you can keep the long, dark night at bay in most cases, but probably not all the time.

Anyway, friends, even revisiting the bad old days is enough to get me boo-hooing. I hope the sun comes out soon and distracts me from this!

Love,

Jane

Does Listening to Music You Discovered in 1996 Transport You Back to the Age You Were in 1996?

Friends, I have re-discovered the Wallflowers.  With every second of the grungy/Austin-inspired/wall-of-noise tunes, I am transported back to myself in 1996, the broke but happy college student/graduate/traveler/creative person.

I read somewhere in a feng shui book that someone did an experiment at an old folks' home and piped in music from the old people's youth.  In response to this, perhaps, the old people's bodies started producing cells that were as potent as the ones they'd produced when they were young.

Sometimes I hope for that.  Sometimes, when I'm not as keen on what the future holds as I probably should be.

"And I know you believe that you and me don't belong here,
And the worst we could do is keep trying to pretend we care.
But I hear voices, and I see colors, and I wish I felt nothing...
Then it might be easy for me, like it is for you.

Like it is for you,
Like it is for you."

Man, I love that song.  I used to drive around in my 2-door black hatchback and crank that song!  I was such an emotional emoter back in 1996- that's right, the same kind of person who really gets on my nerves now.  Funny how the tables turn.

If I need to feel positive about the future, I probably shouldn't listen to all my old CDs, but since I lost all the ITunes I'd input into my computer, I am listening to all my CDs again to re-enter them into ITunes.  Between being broke from the Recession and just getting older, my CD consumption has slowed to a trickle in recent years. So, much of the music that reminds me of recent days is not included in my CD collection.

But hopefully when I get up from working at my computer and listening to the Wallflowers later on today, I'll have that flat stomach I had back in 1996.  One can only hope.

Yours truly,

Jane

I did the best I could. Honest.

Friends, I have the flu this week. I don't think I'm going to die from it, but it's certainly thrown a wrench into my plans.  I had to postpone fun outings, although I may be making progress on the job front.  However, any face-to-face meetings or fast-paced conversations will have to wait a few more days; I simply don't look or sound the part of a competent worker now.

It's also given me the gift of introspection.  Yesterday, I gave myself the job of pulling weeds (because I simply had to be outside and feel the breeze) and while I sat there, performing that repetitive task, my mind started to wander in that wonderful way it does. I thought back to different tasks I've been assigned and asked to do over the years, and once in a while I haven't knocked one out of the park.

(Astrological insight: my Capricorn ascendent is something that's followed me like an addiction throughout life, whether it was scoring high in the "Takes pride in work" category on a grade-school report card or fashioning my own checklists to ensure that work tasks were done thoroughly at prior jobs, I'm one of those people who pay attention to detail. Typos drive me up a wall! But once in a while, my own brain won't let me recognize my own.) 

I thought back to jobs I've held, places I've lived, the book I'm writing (which chronicles some very challenging conditions during this recession, which I still think is going on), my past creative projects, and everything I've tried where I've rated average or less.  The thought popped into my head:

I did the best I could. 

I came up with a few concepts, a few rhymes, and wrote them down on a Word file.  Then, apparently I neglected to save them, because when I opened the document today to review it, only the first 2 stanzas remained. The first 2 stanzas contained the words from my weed-pulling inspiration, so they were probably the best part of it anyway.

Ah well.  I told you I was sick and halfway checked out of my own brain.  I tried to write a whole poem or song, but all that remained after my absent-minded fumbling was the first part.  It's OK. I did the best I could.

Future Husband and I have discussed this concept a lot.  Every day that dawns brings new challenges and opportunities, and sometimes your personal best for one day is far better than your personal best the next day. It's like carrying around a tool belt; what you can get done is completely dependent on what tools you have with you.

Are you familiar with singing in harmony? This requires that some of the singers don't follow the main melody of the music.  Back when I sang and danced in musicals, guess who could never sing harmony no matter how well it was taught? Sorry, former directors.  I tried.  In fact, I did the best I could. After getting into costume and character, bounding out onstage to find my mark and start to dance, though, something had to give.  You will never see me perform at Carnegie Hall, but trust me.  For all those times, I did the best I could.

This carried over to me with different projects I've worked on, namely those that are inadequately communicated and difficult to decipher.  Twice now I've worked with lawyers who expected a great deal of mind-reading when handing me assignments.  One was appeased by being assigned to a new writer who also happened to be a law school graduate.  The other may have been appeased when I stopped working for her firm. The jury's out on the second one (ha ha).

Fast-forwarded to today, I now have 2/3 of a book manuscript done and I'm going to go out in search of an agent and all that stuff.  I am of two minds on this: will the mistakes of the past serve me well because they taught me things about the process, or will I just try new things and find new mistakes to make?

The concept of "I did the best I could" fits well into the story; in fact, whatever it turns into will be the epilogue, which is the thing you read at the end of the book that wraps up the themes contained within it. It also can literally be appreciated as something the author communicates to the audience after she's written a book.  Hey readers, this is my book. I hope you liked it. I did the best I could.

Back in the fictional setting of Winterville, where I was tortured for about 5 years, I did the best I could.  I was trapped in a bad real estate investment in an area of the country that, according to the Wall Street Journal, is still in recession and may be for years to come. I tried, and mostly failed, to make friends there, but I succeeded in meeting a lot of crazy people whom I wanted to hide from.  I tried to make enough money and couldn't bring myself to play the good-old-boy game or subvert my personality enough to pass myself off as passable to the people who judged me harshly. I tried to have roommates, and ended up dealing with theft and other trashy issues. I even tried to date in that wasteland, and came away from that feeling much like someone who drinks Drain-o and lives to tell about it.

I did the best I could.  It was miserable, though.  I wasn't the picture of positivity or health by the end of it, though.  I was preoccupied with escape.  Can you blame me? I did the best I could.  It was difficult.

So this brings us to the present.  There were some things I wanted to get done today that will have to wait.  But also, I'm sweating out a fever.  And, I did get some things done today.  I did the best I could.

All my best to you, today and ever day.

Yours truly,

Jane Q. Phoenix

What Does New Year's Mean to You?

Hi everyone! Jane here.  I just wanted to drop in and see how your 2014s are going so far.

I've personally had so much change in the past several months that I haven't made any resolutions.  Just keeping up with life is all that I can do.  However, I know that many of you are established in a line of work and/or consistently live at the same address and/or maybe even have a consistent relationship with someone in your lives, so I have to ask the question: What do you feel needs to change about life? And what are you happy with just the way it is?

Some of my single friends do battle with these questions.  I know the single life well myself, actually.  Years of experience with that. It seems like you have to walk the line between, "I like my life the way it is, thank you very much," and "Of course I'd like to welcome a new special someone in my life, provided that person is wonderful."  I just had someone tell me in the same conversation that 1) she was absolutely NOT going online to date (which I totally understand, but it makes me wonder how she will meet people which brings me to the next point) and 2) she is considering changing careers so that her path will cross with people who fit the bill of the types of people she would like to meet. So it seems that some (and I include myself in this number... Prince Charming had to literally sweep me off my feet to get me to change my life) are waiting for that big neon sign from the Universe to proceed, or doing a bit of passive looking for love.

There is the flip side to this of course, with the miserable married people and the angry people still in relationships with people they don't actually even like, and so forth.  Which ones will make a change in 2014? Who will seek counseling and other help? Who will get to the core of the issues that need to be seen, felt, and understood?

There are others who avoid dating and marriage at all costs, too.  I respect that but I don't understand it. (I hope I don't come across as pushy when I ask these people if they're dipping their toes in the dating pools...)

But aside from single/married/divorced status, there are a lot of things that could change.  Your health, your income, your stress level, how you make your living, where you live, how you live, what you drive (if you drive), whom you spend your time with, what you do, and so forth.

I've joined a few new groups in Meetup.com to see if I can expand my horizons.  My future husband has also introduced some interesting pastimes and possible new hobbies into my life.  I feel blessed and fortunate to have so many new things on my radar, but at the same time I'm keeping all those things that worked about my life before.  Just like the girl scout saying, Make new friends but keep the old; One is silver and the other's gold.  Such can be said for all the "stuff" of life.

Here's wishing you a 2014 full of all the "stuff" you like,

Yours truly,

Jane Q. Phoenix

Haunted by "That Person"

If you've walked on this earth for any amount of time, you probably have a person you think of as that person. This is the person you hope you don't see at the supermarket, or at the movies, or school.  A glimpse of someone who looks like that person might send you scrambling for the toilet paper aisle or purposefully digging through your purse, as if you just realized you have to find something there, not look around at the people around you because that person might try to engage.

Having relocated miles away from most people who are familiar to me, I don't have awkward run-ins at the store, or at a bar the night before Thanksgiving, like I used to.  I did write about one earlier this year (see post from May 4)- and actually there were a few that weekend, but I highly suspect that the other run-ins were with dopplegangers, not the actual people:
Sorry, All Your Turns Have Been Used Up...

You want to talk about awkward encounters? Yep, there are plenty to be had, with people like that person whom you don't want to see.

What brought this to mind today was someone in a store; she looked like my version of that person and for a second, I tensed up.  That person was very judgmental of me and happened to be about 8 years older than myself.  She didn't seem able to have a peer-to-peer relationship with me. Instead, she desperately wanted to mentor me, even though our work and our goals were different and (important point coming up here!) I didn't ask her to mentor me.  Imagine how that became awkward.  Mmm hmm. I introduced her to another friend of mine, younger than me by about 7 years, and that friend assessed that person by saying, "She likes to act like she's in charge, huh?" Talk about awkward!

The pinnacle of our awkward interactions took place when she informed me of the following:
1) I was wasting my life in my current situation (working, trying to save money, going on vacations, spending time with friends, enjoying hobbies, etc.)
2) What I needed was to have a baby
3) I needed to have a baby with my ex-boyfriend or possibly a sperm donor
4) And she swore she'd help with the baby! Once or twice a year she'd drop by to play with it!
5) She'd talked over her feelings about what I should do with my life with her therapist, and they decided she really couldn't hold back anymore.  She needed to speak her peace.

I offer this as Exhibit A for the awkward moments that ensue when you reach your late thirties without a husband or potential husband.  I would have started offering exhibits earlier, as there are many to choose from, but I just got inspired today, so here's the first one.

Friends, like every other person on earth, I've had to admit that certain opportunities haven't been open to me, and I've had to adjust my life.  My first goal was to be a Rockette, but I didn't grow to be 5 foot 6 inches.  Sure, I had a great high kick back in the day, but as a short person, it did me no good.

I suppose I could have gone after every girlfriend I had over 5 foot 6 inches to nag them about becoming Rockettes, (you should do this, I'd tell them, because I NEVER HAD THE CHANCE!) but this wasn't something any of them wanted.

Likewise, perhaps that person could have had a baby when she was late 30s/ early 40s with some transient person in her life. Perhaps she regrets not being a mother now that menopause is starting.  However, she neglected to realize that 1) adoption is possible at most ages; 2) I didn't want to have a baby with my ex-boyfriend; 3) it's not really fair to swoop in and tell other people how to live their lives.

So there you go, friends.  Awkward moments with people, brought to you by Jane Q. Phoenix.

On a different note, I hope you all have a safe and wonderful new year's celebration and a FABULOUS 2014!

Love,
Jane

http://lifeandpocketchange.blogspot.com/2013/05/sorry-all-your-turns-have-been-used-up.html