Mid Day Muse

As I sit on my little patio, trying to ignore the ear-spliting squeals of the neighbor's child  and the perspiration dripping down the small of my back, I close my eyes and rest my head imagining my life in another moment.

Suddenly I am emmersed in a totally different frame of mind ... The Big Easy. I am lounging on a wicker chair on a filigreed architectural balcony in the French Quarter, a gentle breeze sifts through the ferns keeping my body temperature cool and comfortable. I am sipping on a Mojito and listening to the excitable chatter of people on the street below me and the horns of street cars. The sound of live New Orleans jazz grooves in my cochlears, reminiscent of Louis Armstrong during the StoryVille era when the moonshiners and madams of the underworld plied their trade amongst the gambling saloons and bordellos in the red light district. Voodoo queens offered solace to the desperate by casting spells or giving potions.  Gentleman wore shirt-tails, Ascots, and Homburg hats and while ladies donned stiff, high collared  dresses with a tightly bound corset underneath, emebellished hats and gloves. There was a definitive pride in appearance.

My only concern today is pondering which of my party dresses I shall adorn at dinner: vintage or contemporary? How shall I style my locks: pinnafours or a classic crop? Which delicious meal should I partake in: Crawfish Etouffee or a simple Muffuletta?  Will we continue after dinner for frozen daquiries or call it an early night? So many questions without answers, I find myself needing an afternoon catnap to clear my cranium.

Do Not Resuscitate

After the glitter has faded, the rose has lost its bloom, the storm has become quiet, and the relationship expiration date has long since passed, I find myself alone again, sucked into a vortex of "what if's" and "shoulda, woulda, coulda". I think of myself as damaged goods and question my own ability to making love last.  Sleep becomes an illusive commodity and offers too much time to be alone with my thoughts.

My love life resembles a vigorous round of Whack-A-Mole. I knock down losers, cheaters, liars and bottom feeders in abundance, only to have each one resurface out of new holes. I decide that maybe a life of domestic independance, devoid of romance just might be easier. Perhaps accepting a daily welcome home by a canine concerto is better than the cold, rotten inertia of a never ending circle of failed relationships and constant dissapointment.
 

Passion Pondering

 

I sit on my tiny little patio this evening nursing a glass of cheap wine musing over the last few years of my professional history. There are some positions I liked more than others, but with every job, I found some semblance of enjoyment and put my best foot forward. My parents raised me to have a solid work ethic regardless of ones interest in the trade.

I once set up shop in a vast sunken work area lovingly referred to as “pod-topia” for the local government where I determined eligibility for medical benefits and helped parents find affordable housing and employment. I felt like I was making a real difference in my community. Here I began to form an idea of how I wanted to further my education and career. I was sadly disappointed when my time there was unexpectedly, and wrongfully, terminated.

Following this, I held titles on both coasts for a nationwide nonprofit that gave me an enormous amount of satisfaction. Even on the days that took every ounce out of me, I went home feeling as though I had improved the quality of living of the elderly. This lead to a short term at an organization working one on one with hospice patients giving them dignity in the face of death, honoring their final wishes and offering berevement resources to their families.  Again; a position that reinforced my desire to help others.

Since then I have bounced around at a variety of administrative jobs that offered no definitive career satisfaction, yet provided opportunities and friendships I would otherwise not benefitted from. One situation was at a company that made daily tasks quite challenging to all its employees. Here we feigned enthusiasm for our jobs, but formed bonds of friendship I bet my bottom dollar will last the rest of my life. I had another brief venture at a television station where I had the opportunity to meet a lot of local personalities and learn about a business I had never before considered remotely interesting. Many evenings were filled with movie premiers, cd release parties and hosting functions. For the time I was there my life was quite exciting.

Through all these experiences, the underlying commonality was my compassion for helping people in society, regardless of the area of expertise. I now find myself becoming interested in furthering my administrative repertoire in the health care arena. Although I have had quite a collection of random pursuits in the medical field I somehow have strayed from this, what I originally thought to be my calling. I will continue my quest in helping others; that is something that will never change.

My question is; can people have more than one career passion in life?