Thing A Day, Butchering Lou Reed and Volunteering

I have been sending out resumes and searching for further employment but the current economic situation (Cornell has instituted a 'hiring freeze' and has gone as far as to remove the water coolers from Ryan's department in order to save money) has lifted some of the weight off my shoulders, because I can now, in all honesty claim:

It's not me! I'm still a viable human being even though I can't find a job!

So. I have decided that I am going to try and be more productive for productivity's sake and have registered for Thing A Day 2009. I have also sent an email to the Women's Opportunity Center ("a local non-profit organization dedicated to helping women and men overcome obstacles to gain employment.") offering my volunteering skills, helping teach people how to Microsoft Word, etc. (or, in my brother's terms: M$ Word: The Basil Fawlty of Operating Systems).

I'm losing interest in the dog walking at the SPCA because it's so strangely run. They seem to have an appearance of organisation but there are so many loose ends, like 3 different ways to make notes about each dog, 4 different places to go to find the information you need. I sort of feel totally unnecessary every time I go, but then they tell me otherwise.

I'd also like to help people and I'm not quite brave enough for a suicide hotline. Something that I think my grandmother instilled in all her daughters, is that it is important to be useful and help others. All her daughters, except one (she is no longer living), went into some kind of nursing and they all give generously with their time and/or money to help the community. I admire them all immensely. It's something I feel remiss in not doing more of, so as sappy as it may sound, I think that this sort of thing (volunteering my time and being productive) is important in order for me to become the kind of human being I want to be and to stave off my own personal demons.

It's these sorts of sentiments as well as my unabashed "Get Off My Lawn" kind of outrage at our downstairs neighbours last night for playing some sort of BUTCHERED version of Walk On The Wild Side make me realise that I'm showing my age. We have to shovel the sidewalk outside the property when it snows otherwise the city sends a bill. I wasn't going to shovel the driveway that only these offending neighbours get to use this morning out of spite. Then I felt that was petty. Then Ryan told me not to.