I think it's a testament to just how mundane my life has become that I never update my blog anymore. But then, it's kind of a Catch-22: when I do have a job and a social life, I have no time to spend working on this thing. But now that I have nothing BUT time, I have nothing to write about, so...yeah. I spend a lot of time these days playing computer games and watching TV. Truth be told, I'm not even getting much work done on my novel these days, for the same reason that I'm not working on my blog. When you get right down to it, my novel is little more than a slightly fictionalized autobiography...and when your life is stuck in neutral, what's there to write about?

No, these days I just sit at home and watch my financial situation get even more out-of-hand. In the last three days, I got busted for expired tags and no registration (that's TWO $237.50 tickets right there...honestly, I've been out of state so long, I didn't realize it'd lapsed), and I got a call from Bank of America notifying me that my account is over $500 overdrawn. Meanwhile, I'm down to my last $20 in cash. So, let's hope and pray that I either qualify for unemployment (we'll find out soon enough) or that I find a job very soon.

Welcome to my personal nightmare...

Ok, so it wasn't a summer cold. It was asthmatic bronchitis! But at least I got some fun cough medicine out of the deal...

Thankfully, now it has passed, for the most part. Now I need to find a job! Any suggestions?

Things that suck:

1) Being unemployed.

2) Summer colds.

That is all for now.

This will neither be the most profound or most coherent thing I've ever written. But this is what I'm dealing with right now, and you all know that writing is how I cope.

___

Considering all I've been through the last few weeks, it's highly appropriate that I ended up back on the South Carolina coast. I only wish the circumstances were happier this time around.

The obituary states it far better than I ever could:

___

I've been to way too many funerals lately. You know, when you're a kid, there are certain people around you that you just somehow expect to be immortal. These are the people who came before you and have never changed for as long as you've known them. They're the rocks, the foundation upon which you build all your expectations, your ambitions, and your worldview. They're just supposed to last forever. It's not until you reach the age when those 'rocks' start disappearing one by one that you finally begin to realize the impermanence of everything and recognize your own mortality for the first time. That's exactly where I am now, and this makes me extremely uncomfortable. I love coming home, but lately it seems that the only reason why I ever come home is to go attend another funeral. And if this is the only reason why I can make it home these days, then I kind of wish I never had to come home again.

Now, Uncle Jim and I weren't necessarily close by any measure, but he did still have a fairly major impact on my life. It's because of him that I'm a lifelong Carolina Gamecocks fan. When I was growing up, usually the only time I got to go see the Gamecocks play was when Uncle Jim had spare tickets. And while I didn't necessarily grow up poor, Uncle Jim was probably the richest man I knew. But despite the money and the incredible house down on Isle of Palms (that, for the record, I loved to visit,) I'll always remember him as a very kind and very approachable man. I guess a big reason for that was that he didn't come from money; he got his the old-fashioned way. There was no sense of entitlement or superiority there. He LIVED the American Dream. He was respected by everyone he knew and adored by his family. I guess in some ways I idolized him. Though I hadn't seen him much lately, I will miss him. Rest in peace, Uncle Jim. And thank you.

___

So here I am again. Granted, I didn't grow up on the coast, but I was certainly born right here in Charleston, SC. And for some reason, all major events in my life seem to either occur on the coast or result in me ending up back here.

The ostentatious excess of Myrtle Beach taught me early on to respect and treasure the NATURAL beauty of our state and our planet.

My political views were molded by Marcella Guerriero and the good people from Charleston Peace and ThinkingPeople.

I found my family in North Charleston.

I learned in Mt. Pleasant that your REAL family isn't always the one with whom you share a genetic heritage.

And let's not forget Hilton Head...I was only there for about three and a half years, but those were probably the three most important years of my life.

I got engaged, got cheated on, got stabbed in the back...and survived it all.

I learned the value of real friendship.

I lost some of those very same friends due to some very bad choices.

I learned that all decisions, no matter how seemingly insignificant, have consequences you'd never expect.

I loved...and lost.

I nearly lost myself.

I found myself again with the help of the good people at Hilton Head Island Seventh-Day Adventist Church.

I gained a whole new respect for the working class.

I learned to appreciate cultures and perspectives different from my own.

I grew up, moved on...and in retrospect, almost wish I hadn't.

___

And now I'm facing another major life decision. I'm standing at the crossroads, almost afraid to take the next step. Right now, I've got two firm job offers on the table already and have a third interview coming up. Most of you already know what the offers are, but I'll re-state them anyways....

First off, there's another House of Delegates campaign in Virginia that's offering me a position as a field organizer. Yes, it's only $1500 a month, but it comes with free housing and a chance of redemption in the state of Virginia. It wouldn't be any different than my last job, but it'd be for new bosses on a new campaign; in other words, a fresh start. The closest thing to a "reset" button that you're going to find in this lifetime.

On the other hand, there's the position I'll be interviewing for next week: an assistant director's position for a major grassroots organization in Washington, DC. This would be, for all intents and purposes, a major promotion from the kind of work I've been doing lately. It'd come with a lot more responsibility, but assuming I'm up to the task, it could lead to much bigger and better things as well. And it'd be right in the heart of the metaphorical beast: what political nerd doesn't end up in DC eventually?

Or, I could move south to Ft. Lauderdale. One of my best friends from high school has offered me a job as an administrative assistant for the company she works for. No, this isn't even close to political work, and it'd only pay $10 an hour. But at least I'd have a place to stay until I got things sorted out.

Now, this last offer intrigues me. In a lot of ways, it'd be a giant step BACKWARDS, but is that necessarily a bad thing? Yes, politics are what I know and what I excel at doing. But just because you're good at something doesn't necessarily mean you WANT to do it. In all honesty, I've spent so much time on the campaign trail the last few years that I'm beginning to get burnt out on it. I keep doing it, though, since I now have a four-page-long resume with nothing on it but campaign work. It's part of the weird dichotomy that is Harold. On one hand, I love going to new places, meeting new people, and taking on new challenges, and let's face it, the campaign trail is ideal for anyone like that. But, on the other hand, I don't want to do this FOREVER. I WOULD like to eventually settle down somewhere and not have to look for a new job every six months. A little stability is not necessarily a bad thing, and I've had NONE of that recently. And let's face it, I'd love the chance to move back to the beach. This time, I'd be coming in with ten years' more wisdom and experience and would be earning $3 an hour more than I was getting paid the last time...

And even if I decided that I just can't resist the siren call of the campaigner's lifestyle, then bailing out in the middle of the '09 cycle wouldn't necessarily be a career-killer. I wouldn't HAVE to stay in Ft. Lauderdale forever; I could always bide my time and jump into a race in the 2010 election cycle. The more I think about it, the more it feels like this is exactly what I ought to do. It would give me some breathing room; a chance to take a step back and re-evaluate my priorities. With everything else I'm dealing with right now, this might just be the mental-health vacation I need to take in order to keep myself sane.

I don't know. What do you think?

___

One thing I've always enjoyed doing when I'm on the beach is to wade out in to the ocean only to about an ankle-depth level and just stand there. Soon the waves start eroding the sand out from under my feet. After a while, I end up standing only on the sand collected under the arches of my feet. It's a very uncomfortable position to be in, but there's no danger in it. There's always more sand just below wherever my feet are currently positioned, and a short step just a couple of inches to the left or right of where I'm currently standing will bring my feet into instant contact with fresh new sand. All I have to do is move. I think that's a pretty good analogy for where I am in my life right now: in an uncomfortable position that a little motion would relieve.

But, sometimes, choice just isn't as much fun as it ought to be. Life interferes with my ability to be decisive.

As it turns out, getting fired was the best thing that could've possibly happened to me. I already have two firm job offers and another interview next Saturday. All three jobs are a step up from the crappy job I just left.

It's good to be in demand.

Hey, remember last week when I said I had decided to stay here until they MADE me leave?

Well...be careful what you wish for. I was officially terminated today.

Actually, in all honesty, it was kind of a mutual "fuck you." I had considered showing up at that meeting with my resignation letter in hand. But, as it turned out, that would've been unnecessary, since the only purpose of today's meeting was to have me sign my termination papers. I was sick of their gross incompetence, condescending attitudes, lack of support, and unrealistic expectations; they had grown weary of my independent streak and consistent lack of progress to goals. (I have a LOT I could say about that too, but whatever...it's all water under the bridge now.)

I SHOULD be upset and/or panicky right now, shouldn't I? I mean, I've got about $10 in cash left, half a pack of cigarettes, less than a gallon of gas, and a bank account that's overdrawn by $407. In other words, I'm flat broke, unemployed, with nowhere to go and no way to get there. (Yeah, taking this job worked out well for me, didn't it?) But...for some reason, the only feeling I'm experiencing right now is relief. No more call time, no more pointless conference calls, no more "progress to goals" reports, and NO MORE BOSS. Yes, things suck now, but I already feel as if a tremendous burden has been lifted...I can breathe again! The nightmare is over. Now I can go get a REAL job. I can go to work for someone who'll actually pay me what I'm owed, when I'm owed it, and won't mail it to an address two states away where I no longer live. Now I can go to work for an organization that I actually believe in and that's run by someone who actually has a clue as to what they're doing.

My boss, I'm afraid to say, is a post turtle. If you're not familiar with the term (it is kind of a country thing), I'll explain. You know he didn't get up there by himself, he doesn't belong there, he can't get anything done while he's up there, and you just want to help the poor dumb bastard get down. Hopefully, the Party will eventually realize this and replace him with someone who's actually qualified for the position; unfortunately, it won't happen in time to salvage my job.

Oh, well. I just feel sorry for whatever poor sucker gets stuck with this position next....

Ok, so I haven't left this job yet. We got the ideal outcome in the primary (from the perspective of my campaign, anyways.) We've got a fantastic Democratic ticket this year, which should make my job a little easier. Plus, I've made some great contacts up here, from both a professional and a personal perspective. Despite my professional differences with the way the state party is trying to run things, I've pretty much decided to stick it out until/unless they MAKE me leave.

Unfortunately, I caught something awful over this weekend sometime and ended up at the hospital yesterday. I had to pay them $250 to tell me I have a "viral syndrome" (which I'm convinced is doctor's code for "we have no idea what's wrong with you, so stay in bed and drink plenty of fluids.") I'm feeling considerably better now, but that may just be the anti-nausea medication talking. (They prescribed the same stuff that they give to chemotherapy patients...fun stuff!) Anyways, I'm WAY behind for the week, and somehow I doubt I'm going to be able catch up in the next three days. But we'll see...

Anyways, I ought to be working on my novel (aka the rediculous political soap opera I've been working on since last February) right now, and since I really have nothing else to report for now, I reckon I'll see what I can pound out on that one before the sleepy finally kicks in for the night. Take care, y'all!

So, I'm still employed. Barely.

Long story short, thanks to some kind of data-entry snafu, I have no way of proving I've actually done anything here for the last three weeks or so. Granted, I know what I've done, my campaign knows what I've done, the local party knows what I've done, and my candidate knows what I've done. All of them, by the way, are quite pleased with my job performance so far...

...but that's just not good enough for the state party, who are the ones who are currently signing my paychecks.

So my immediate supervisor made the long-ass road-trip from the state capital to my new home city today to give me an earful. So I did the only thing I knew I could do: I stacked the deck in my favor. I had my campaign manager, my field guy, the county party chairman, AND my candidate show up before my arrival to sing my praises loudly. This little impromptu bit of street theater was, in all likelihood, the ONLY thing that saved my ass this time around. But he made it amply clear that this is my LAST "wake-up call," as he put it.

So now I've got to start keeping a rediculous paper trail for all my activities. I'm all for accountability, don't get me wrong. And I'll adhere to his field plan as best as I can. But saving ALL of my old call sheets, separated by date? Maintaining a Google calendar to let him know exactly what I'm doing and when I'm doing it, all day, every day? Having to get direct approval from him before I can go to ANY community event?

I call bullshit.

It gets worse. We've got a canvass going out tomorrow in one of my northern counties. Since he's been riding my ass since I got here about the fact I haven't gone canvassing yet (never mind that I couldn't, seeing as I had no literature to distribute), I went ahead and reported the good news. Which was apparently the wrong thing to do, since I didn't directly recruit the volunteers myself. I thought the whole point of building professional relationships was to be able to tap into the volunteer networks that are already established here. There's no need to re-invent the wheel every election cycle. So who cares if it was the candidate's campaign who recruited the volunteers and not me? At least the work is getting done, right?

So seriously, what the hell.

I've been working campaigns since 1990. (Yeah, I know. I got off to a VERY early start.) I can't help but wonder, what exactly was HE doing in 1990? Somehow, I seriously doubt he was out canvassing neighbourhoods himself. It should be fairly obvious by now that I know what the hell I'm doing and don't need him looking over my shoulder constantly to make sure I'm doing it. If he wanted to do that, he should've hired me to work in the same office he does. But, whatever. I'm going to grin and bear it -- for now. Believe it or not, this is NOT the worst campaign I've ever worked on. So, if he insists on micro-managing (which he claims he doesn't want to do), I'll let him do his thing....

...at least until the primary is over with, 11 days from now. After that, we shall see. My resignation letter is already written and ready to send...you know, just in case.

Dear GiddyIguana:

She's too young for you.

I don't care how cute she is or how much you two have in common. Ten years is practically a generation gap when you're talking about a 21-year-old. I know they say age is nothing but a number, and that's true...to a point. But remember when you were 26 and were messing around with those 18-year-old roommates? How well did THAT turn out for you? Or how about back when you were 22 and were dating that 30-year-old hippie chick? We've been down this road before, and it never ends well. Seriously, what the hell were you thinking?

Besides, unless something unforeseen happens, you're moving back to South Carolina in November. It wouldn't be fair to her OR to you to get "involved." If you want to be friends, that's fine...just make damn sure that nothing more serious develops.

I'm disappointed in you for even considering it. Shame on you...you, of all people, should know better.

Yours most sincerely,

GiddyIguana

I'm so digging my new home city right now. It's like Asheville, NC without the pretense. It's the town Spartanburg COULD'VE been if the Unitarian Universalists were running the show. I know I told my favorite gubernatorial candidate that I'd come back to South Carolina to help his campaign in November, but honestly, I'm considering putting down roots here. Yes, I like it THAT much. Plus, since EVERY year is an election year in Virginia, it wouldn't hurt my career to stick around. At the very least, I may come back after the '10 midterms and re-enroll in college here...

In the meantime, though, I'm looking for an apartment or room to rent. There's a surprising number here that are well within my meager budget and are remarkably understanding about my unique situation here. Right now I'm staying at my candidate's house, but since this is also my office, I'd prefer to get out of her hair as soon as possible. I checked out one on Thursday that I really liked, and I'm checking out two more tomorrow. (Thank you, Craigslist.) I'm hoping to be moved in somewhere within a week or two. Wish me luck!

Well, I guess I oughta get back to work (I've still got to file my nightly report) and call it a night. The campaigner's job is never done. Take care, SGers!