I wanted to be a big cat such as a lion or a tiger. Strong, fast, beautiful. But no … my spirit animal is a Bear. I figured there was a mistake so I retook the quiz and received the same conclusion. I am a Bear. “You are happiest when you are leading the charge.” (In real life, who follows bears?) I sighed and kept reading. “Whenever something needs to get done you always find yourself in charge, either through your own will or through others seeking you out.”

A sick feeling crept into my stomach. I am always in charge of almost everything in my life. From being a teacher to organizing social events, I do try to “lead with courage and integrity” and my “confidence and charisma cause people to gravitate” toward me. Here’s the problem: I don’t want to be a bear anymore.

There was no one particular thing that made me feel like stepping down from leading others in my life. A series of events occurred that caused me to shout, “No more. I am done. Screw being a bear!”

I no longer want to teach, a shame since one of the reasons I obtained my master’s degree was to be able to teach college. However, after a student committed plagiarism twice in the same term in my freshman writing class, I resigned. Even though I proved the plagiarism, the student only received a slap on the wrist; the offense is not going on her permanent student record. I cannot put up with the politics that come with both private and public education at every level.

I no longer want to allow new people in my life. Although most of my close (aka speed-dial) friends live far away and I am very lonely these days, I cannot risk getting to know strangers. Despite my outgoing personality, I keep most people at a distance. (We bears may seem sociable, but we are “the most solitary of all carnivores.”) For example, if you ask me how I am doing and I change the subject, then I am severely depressed and/or I don’t trust you enough to reveal my inner demons. After losing numerous friends after my sister Adrienne died, I concluded that people prefer my alter ego—happy, confident, friendly, funny Andrea—the Lucille Ball of every gathering. When a friend dumped me this past April after three years of what I thought was a wonderful relationship, I decided the third pig had it right: forget straw and sticks, I am building a wall of bricks around my heart.

I no longer want to plan events—not that I do this occupation professionally, but I organized my 20-year high school reunion from 2,000 miles away. The reunion consisted of five classes since my high school was so small. I spent 11 months of my life on this project, and I don’t regret a minute of it.

However, when a friend of 24 years flaked on her duties as both the co-chair and her class representative without ever calling or emailing me to explain why, the disappointment gnawed at me throughout the reunion weekend. Taking over her responsibilities less than two months prior to the reunion was overwhelming, but she didn’t leave me a choice. I resent her for adding to my increasing workload and for not bothering to explain her actions.

I no longer want to speak to seriously ill people. As president of my nonprofit Blue Faery, I often receive emails and phone calls from liver cancer patients seeking information. I listen to their stories and guide them as best I can. I used to love to help people in this capacity until I became emotionally attached to a patient who died this past July after her second battle with liver cancer. Even though she survived much longer than my sister did, this patient’s death brought back painful memories of Adrienne’s last days of fighting for her life. How can I offer hope when there is still no cure for liver cancer? How can I comfort individuals who will most likely die?

I no longer want to live in Los Angeles. If you read my blog, my dislike of LA is well known. I have lived here 20 years, and I must leave this toxic environment. I have only stayed because my husband, who works in the entertainment industry, did not think he could find employment anywhere else … until he received a job offer in Detroit! So now he is there and I am here, and we are apart from each other. I considered moving to one of the “Most miserable cities in America” but we would end up back here anyway after his job ends.

After seeing me cry off and on for several hours last month, my wise owl friend said, “You give so much to everyone else that there’s nothing left for you.” Other people have said the same thing to me in different ways, but I didn’t hear it until my beautiful owl spoke the simple truth.

Now my least favorite word in the English language—no—is becoming my new mantra: “No, I cannot teach needy students, make new friends, plan any events, or hear sad stories.” Unfortunately, I am stuck in Los Angeles for the time being; however, I have an idea. Most bears hibernate, and the period of time depends on where they live. Considering I live in a warmer climate, I think I can get away with three months or so. Hopefully longer.

The quiz warns that, “A prideful bear is a lonely bear” and I am proud when my efforts at any endeavor garner favorable results. However, I would argue that I stepping back from responsibility requires a certain amount of concession of pride. After all, while I am in hibernation, I cannot predict what will happen, but I’m sure the world will get on just fine without me.

AWW — XoXo

P.S. After I wrote this blog, I discovered that my job assigned me five students to tutor this fall when I was only supposed to receive three. YIKES! My hibernation in this respect will be temporarily delayed.

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS …

5. The return of common courtesy, good manners, and etiquette
As an experiment, I googled “common courtesy”; it garnered 512,000 hits. Then I tried “Britney Spears” for comparison—63.2 million hits. Those numbers accurately depict today’s society. I can remember a time when what Emily Post said mattered; now I’m sure most people under the age of 30 don’t even know who she is. I recall my mother telling me that a woman was allowed to check her makeup in public (i.e., open her compact and tap on some powder), but applying makeup in public was a no-no. When I was a child, I got in trouble for calling the “young” grownups next door by their first names even though they told me to. My mother made me march over to their house and apologize for my bad manners. Most children today, however, don’t know how to behave properly in public let alone the definition of the word etiquette.
Yesterday, I discovered that rudeness is not limited to younger generations. I was at our local liquor store buying a lottery ticket. A man, easily 30 years my senior, appeared to be in line ahead of me. Not wanting to cut, I moved back to allow him his spot. He snarled, “I’m not in that line. I’m in this line,” as he pointed to an area where there was no line. Grumpy bastard. So much for trying to be courteous! I used to dislike it when my students called me “Ma’am” because it made me feel old; now I am just grateful that someone taught them some manners.

4. For politicians to stop being politicians
I believe our forefathers would be disgusted by our two-party, partisan political system; it is an utter disaster. At what point did politicians forget that they worked for the people who elected them? They spent taxpayers’ dollars—our money—as if we had an endless supply. Oh wait … we do … as long as China keeps lending it to us. (Guess greenbacks grow on trees over there.) I love the movie Bulworth starring Warren Beatty because he plays a politician who decides to start telling the raw truth about both political parties. He raps …
“I’m a Senator.
I gotta raise $10,000 a day every day I’m in Washington.
I ain’t getting it in South Central.
I’m gettin’ it in Beverly Hills.
So I’m votin’ from them in the Senate the way they want me too …
and-and-and I’m sending them my bills.”

Of course, Bulworth is assassinated because no one likes a politician who tells the people the way things really are. Once upon a time, I entertained the idea of running for Burbank City Council, but then I realized I am the female Bulworth. I couldn’t lie to the people who placed their trust in me to make their community a better place. Here’s my truth:
“You want better schools and you want higher scores,
Well guess what parents, you need to get involved more.
Our Burbank teachers can only do so much—
Stop spoiling your kids, pay attention, get in touch.
They don’t need cell phones or tons of clothes,
School isn’t childcare as you should know—
Help our teachers, your children, and yourselves, too
Stop blaming the schools for the mistakes that you do!”

3. An empty email inbox.
Make that four empty inboxes since I currently use and check four email accounts daily. (That’s down from six so I have made some progress.) I still have three other “active” accounts: USC, AOL, and Gmail; they are forwarded, ignored, and used for research purposes respectively. In order to reduce the amount of email that I receive, I finally unsubscribed to daily emails such as Word-a-Day, weekly emails such as Early to Rise, and monthly emails from all retailers. Some people don’t understand why I haven’t signed up for Twitter or established a LinkedIn account yet. There’s an easy explanation—I cannot handle another thing to do or to check every day.
I remember when I didn’t even own a computer. I recall having only one email account for years. When did life become so electronically busy? Sometimes, I just want to become an ostrich, stick my head in the sand, and disappear from the planet for a while. I definitely see a day when I will withdraw from society because I can’t imagine spending my twilight years with my eyes glued to the glow of my laptop in an effort to keep up with my online identity. Forget the fact that hours on the computer is the one of the major causes of my migraines (hence the reading glasses—oh joy); I need the touch, smell, sound, and sight of real people. But I digress. For now, less email will do.

2. A president who doesn’t suffer from ADD and a desperate need to please everyone. (Or for Barack Obama to stop trying to be a hero who believes he must simultaneously solve all of the world’s problems.)
Recent studies have shown that people who are heavy multi-taskers, like our president, cannot give items their full attention; therefore, their brains suffer as a result. Communication professor Clifford I. Nass stated, “They’re suckers for irrelevancy. Everything distracts them.” One could argue that if their mental function is impaired then their job performance suffers as well. According to recent polls from a variety of sources, President Obama’s approval rating has slipped to 47 – 49 percent. Considering he entered office less than a year ago with a 68 percent job approval (only one president out of the last eight—Eisenhower—had numbers that high), the drop is significant.

So here is my unsolicited, non-partisan advice, Mr. President. Try focusing on one thing at a time. You cannot fix everything all at once, and anyone who expects you to spent too much time listening to your campaign speeches last year. I have nothing against “Hope” and “Change” but you are one man, and your first name isn’t Super. You must learn to prioritize like the rest of us. Now if you consulted me, my top three concerns are the economy, the war, and the healthcare debacle. Americans need jobs and we need to know that our troops and our country are safe before you convince us to go into another trillion dollars in debt. I may not agree with all of your decisions (okay, most of your decisions), but one thing is certain—the results of your “multi-tasking” politics are showing. The Tea Party movement is increasing in numbers, Sarah Palin already sold a million copies of her book, and Fox News is not only finishing this year as the top-rated cable news network (no surprise since it has enjoyed this rank for the past eight years), but it is also experiencing its best ratings ever in the network’s 13-year history. F-O-C-U-S = Focus, Mr. President.

And the #1 thing I want for Christmas is …
the perfect job!
If you can make this one happen Santa, I promise to tell everyone that you are real—including my younger brother. I told him the “truth” about you when he was five years old, and it made him cry. It turned out okay; our mother made me go back and lie to him. I consider that moment one of my first as well as one of my finest acting performances. Anyway, here’s the criterion for my perfect job:

Wouldn’t it be awesome if we could all list everything we wanted in a perfect job and on Christmas morning there would be an offer in our stocking? I recently found a position that meets most of the above requirements but since it is in academia, I probably won’t hear anything for months. I do have to thank A.B. for allowing me to use him as a reference. As Santa knows, personal relationships are everything.

AWW — XoXo

P.S. I apologize for not posting a blog for so long. My normal goal is one post per week. I’ve been ill with pneumonia ever since I participated in Thrill the World on October 24. Being sick for this long has kicked my ass!

I don’t have time for another job without giving up something, but I am always looking for the Next Best Thing (NBT). Some people might assume my odd behavior is just an overreaction after six months of unemployment, but no, unfortunately, I have always acted this way. I used to read the Sunday classified ads every week, now I read Craig’s List every day. I used to cut out and tape the classified ads (often the size of my thumb) on sheets of paper in my legal pad, now I print out the Craig’s List ads and store them in my folder. In many ways, the Internet has made me even more of a job junkie because I have alerts on Monster, CareerBuilder, Mediabistro, and countless academic websites. However, I value this technology because I have gotten four out of my five last jobs through job alerts on the Web.

I’ll admit part of my search for the NBT is about money. I’m scared—I barely make enough to pay my bills, and soon my student loans will kick in, making my financial obligations more substantial. The only time I stopped looking for a job was when I was making more money than I needed, but unfortunately, I was terribly unhappy and left that position after only six months. Being numb for two hours every night when I returned home from work wasn’t worth not worrying about the bills.

Anyway, this NBT behavior can be traced back to my mother who was never satisfied in any job she ever had even though she made a decent living as an RN in Birmingham, Alabama. My mother always thought the hospital across town would have nicer doctors, friendlier nurses, more flexible hours, etc. As she job-hopped, we moved a lot—four times in five years. Ironically, the only time my mother had a “normal” job (i.e., not the graveyard shift) as a supervisor at a prestigious nursing home, she was bored. She hated working the same hours as everyone else. She complained that her salary was too low, she had to shop when the stores were busy, and she didn’t like driving in traffic. Never mind that she was keeping the same schedule as her children, mother quit in search of the Next Best Thing.

I pressed the “Submit” button on the Disney application, but I didn’t bother to write the cover letter because my time is too valuable. I don’t really want nor need the job. I allowed fear to cloud my judgment. As long as I have food, shelter, and clothing and I can pay the necessary bills (e.g., utilities, phone), I will be fine. As for my other debt, I’ll figure it out; I always do.

I need to stop looking for the Next Best Thing; I’ve already found it.

AWW — XoXo