Sherri Cornelius

I started calling the sewing factory “the place where dreams go to die.” My brother pointed out that in “Dinner for Schmucks” they say cabbage is the smell of dead dreams. Two days later, early morning, I smelled cabbage. No way, I said to myself and laughed. At lunch I smelled it again, and a feeling of rightness seeped into my being. Cabbage, dead dreams, fits this place to a tee. Apparently, one of the girls can’t get enough cabbage and heats it up in the microwave, sending the smell wafting over to my machine. I told her about the dead dreams line, and she laughed. We shared a moment. One of the few bright spots I’ve experienced there.

I guess I had forgotten just how much it sucks out in the job world. I was expecting reason and welcome and cooperation. I had forgotten how everybody gets up in your business while you’re just doing the best work you can, how there’s always someone judging you and strangely willing to tell you how you fall short.

BUT…

I had a job interview at the library. My interview was less nerve-wracking since the interviewer was my volunteer liaison at the library. I don’t know why, but she likes me a lot and is willing to go out of her way to help me. It’s good to have someone on your side.

The next step is waiting for my background check to complete. My advocate called me on Wednesday to make a provisional offer of employment, contingent on the OSBI report coming back clean--which, uh, yeah. No problems there. I had to suppress my joyous noises because I was in the snake den, i.e. the break area of the sewing factory, so I hope she understood how pumped I was. I think she did.

So the only thing I’m worried about is the part-time nature of the job. I’ll be making about as much per hour, but varying hours. It’ll be a challenge to fill in with a supplemental job if I need (or want) more money. That’s a worry that changes nothing in the way of the action I will take, which is to quit the soul-and-hand-crushing sewing job and cannonball right smack in the middle of a part-time question mark.

If everything works out I’ll be a shelver in less than a week’s time. Whenever I remember this tidbit my eyes well up and my body tingles. I belong there. You know how people say “you just know”? I knew from the beginning I didn’t belong at the sewing factory, and despite my natural optimism and every attempt to fake it till I make it, I haven’t had a single moment when I thought I might belong there. It literally smells like cabbage. However, I knew from the first time I set foot in this particular library that it was my place. When I go there I smile. I relax. So what’s the smell of vibrant, living dreams?

• I hate making breakfast. Why should the only chore I truly dislike be the first thing I have to do in the morning? When the youngest is about 8 I think I'll never cook/pour breakfast again. They can get their own rackin-frackin cereal, and I shall never eat breakfast again. I truly resent the breakfast thing.

• I hate my laptop. I try to keep a good attitude (at least I have a laptop, etc.) but it's so annoying with its myriad of problems. Here, let me list them:
  
  
  
  1. The battery is only good for about ten minutes, yet..
  
  
  2. ...the power jack is so loose that I must remain absolutely still in order to keep it plugged in, even when it's sitting on a table. Hard to do when you're typing. This is something I fixed before.
  
  
  3. The hinges are so loose the screen falls down at the slightest movement. Also something I've fixed, several times.
  
  
  4. The little eraser mouse thingy drifts, so I disabled it, however...
  
  
  5. ...the pad thingy is alternately completely unresponsive and extremely sensitive, so I end up selecting and clicking things I don't mean to.
  
  
  6. The damn thing is slow as hell.
  
  
  
  It's hard to concentrate on the  book when I'm obsessively checking to make sure everything is placed just so. And yes, I've checked settings and upgraded software and defragged and replaced parts, and I think it's just time to admit it's too old. It's an old damn laptop.


• My tummy hurts.


• Thinking about my dream last night. I was working for a rich family I don't know in real life. They had been hit by a tornado, but instead of tearing down the old, ruined house, they'd simply built a new one on the other side of the barn. They were all living happily in this new house, with all their new things, but occasionally sent the house manager over to the old house to retrieve things. This time it was a large, pink teddy bear.The two main things I felt during this dream were the self-centered nature of the family, and sadness and confusion when confronted by this old house, ruined and abandoned. I was sad, yet I knew it was best for this family to forget the old house. It had been useful and was no longer, and even in the dream I understood I should adopt this attitude as well.There was more, but I think this is a pretty clear answer to a question I posed to the Universe yesterday.


• I'm extremely grateful for my loyal friends. That's you.

Dreamed I was practicing casting a fishing pole in a pond and ended up catching 4 huge fish while friends encouraged me. After the 4th one, I looked around at the nice houses surrounding the pond and started to wonder if I was allowed to catch fish there. I wanted to throw them back, but I'd already caught them and the friends said we should just take them, nobody would care. It was really bothering me that I was stealing the fish from this private pond, until I saw that the pond was fed by a stream, and so the fish were likely not exclusive to the pond, and would be replenished easily.