This weekend went by so quickly it was unbelieveable, but that seems to be the norm as you get older. I work all week long all the while planning the weekend in my head. Most times, it doesn't work out how I planned and it's never as long as I think it will be. But this one was nice since I didn't work at all and had two and a half days off. I slept in until 8:30 Saturday morning (I got up and let the dogs out at 6:30, but that doesn't really count if you get to go back to bed). I went to bed early on Sunday night just to make sure I got some extra sleep in to start the week right, and I actually felt well-rested and refreshed this morning. Thanks, Lunesta!
This weekend won't be quite so nice, since I work Friday night and have to rake leaves Sunday morning. :( But I'll have part of Saturday, I guess. This three jobs thing is for the dogs, let me tell you. A few more raises, and I think I'll be okay to quit at least one of the three. Damn nursing- you wait an entire year for a 3% raise of your measly salary while all around you people in the finance world make double digit bonuses. Doesn't seem quite right, does it?
I need to go make some more candles now....my workday never ends!
11.10.2008
10.29.2008
Bad economy- time to start a business!!
When I woke up this morning, I was really tired. Not looking forward to work, feeling a little under the weather (another damn cold), and just wanting it to be the weekend again even though technically speaking I don't really get one (since I'll be working). I think a lot about the economy and the importance of the upcoming election since I have now been working two jobs for the past year+, and have recently started a business with a good friend. I just don't think it should have to be this way. I went to college and did well. I won't waste time whining about this, but things need to change in a big way. I know myself, and I know I can keep doing this. But what about single mothers out there? What about the elderly? Many people I know have lost tens of thousands of dollars in the stock market in the past year alone. It's already ugly, and I feel like we haven't even seen the full extent of the ugliness thus far. Lots of small businesses are closing up under the increased costs of doing business and decreased consumer spending. My friend Andrea's parents have owned a hot sauce store ever since I've known her, and I think they are seriously considering closing due to these problems.
So what do I do? I start a business. I and my business partner spent the evening tonight (as we have nearly every night for the past 3 months) pouring candles and wondering when, if ever, we'll actually turn a profit. Maybe never. This may turn out to be the most expensive hobby of all time (and I used to scuba dive!!). We started this little business simply because we love good candles and scents and because there is something to be said of learning age-old crafts. Word of mouth has been huge, and we already have trouble stocking enough product to fill orders. I am not complaining because that's awesome...we just have a lot to learn about small business. Since both of us are in health care, neither of us has a business degree, which would have come in handy right about now. Even in the short time we've done this, we've seen prices for our raw materials increase significantly. We spend probably close to 25% of our material costs on shipping. And even though the price of soybeans is MUCH lower than it was 6 months ago, the price of soy wax keeps increasing (criminal if you ask me). What gives? If prices continue to increase, we'll be forced to raise prices, and then people will stop buying and we'll be done before we've even really begun. Unfortunately (or fortunately), I am kind of an optimist in that I always think things will work out somehow. We'll see, I guess.
My dogs are snoozing on the floor beside me, which reminds me I really need to hit the hay.
So what do I do? I start a business. I and my business partner spent the evening tonight (as we have nearly every night for the past 3 months) pouring candles and wondering when, if ever, we'll actually turn a profit. Maybe never. This may turn out to be the most expensive hobby of all time (and I used to scuba dive!!). We started this little business simply because we love good candles and scents and because there is something to be said of learning age-old crafts. Word of mouth has been huge, and we already have trouble stocking enough product to fill orders. I am not complaining because that's awesome...we just have a lot to learn about small business. Since both of us are in health care, neither of us has a business degree, which would have come in handy right about now. Even in the short time we've done this, we've seen prices for our raw materials increase significantly. We spend probably close to 25% of our material costs on shipping. And even though the price of soybeans is MUCH lower than it was 6 months ago, the price of soy wax keeps increasing (criminal if you ask me). What gives? If prices continue to increase, we'll be forced to raise prices, and then people will stop buying and we'll be done before we've even really begun. Unfortunately (or fortunately), I am kind of an optimist in that I always think things will work out somehow. We'll see, I guess.
My dogs are snoozing on the floor beside me, which reminds me I really need to hit the hay.
10.26.2008
Crossing over
Well, it's only been a couple years since my last post, so I thought it was about time to start again. In a lot of ways, not much has changed since the last post. I still live in the same place, still work ar the same place, and nothing earth shattering has happened.
I've gotten older, that's all. The other day I was in the transition period between wakefulness and sleep, and I had a vision of a much, much older me. I was alone in a very bare white hospital room, and I was dying. In my "dream" I was aware that this was the end for me. It terrified me so much that I panicked myself awake- my heart was pounding, I was sweating, and my throat was very dry. I was horrified because I knew that I am going to die someday. At some point, I will breath my last and the world will continue as it was. It seems silly, because we all know this about ourselves of course, but never have I gotten such a lucid vision of what it may be like for me. It was extremely unsettling. I have to say that it's still bothering me today.
I heard a Walt Whitman poem the other day that I can't forget. I'm not a great poetry lover, I don't claim to even read it. But this one is exactly what my thoughts are about death and life after me. It's sad and beautiful at the same time. This is just an excerpt, I have linked the full poem for those interested to the title of this post.
Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt;
Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd;
Just as you are refresh’d by the gladness of the river and the bright flow, I was refresh’d;
Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current, I stood, yet was hurried;
Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt;
Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd;
Just as you are refresh’d by the gladness of the river and the bright flow, I was refresh’d;
Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current, I stood, yet was hurried;
Anyway, it's very strange to live in this house and know that someday, someone else will live here after I'm gone. Maybe they'll wonder what I used to do. Maybe my bleeding heart will bloom for them in the spring, and they'll mow it over never knowing that I planted it with the thought that a house like this needs old-fashioned plants in the yard. They won't know that I bought it at Pappy's Market, a little mom and pop shop in Bunker Hill that is a favorite place of mine. They won't know that the German Shepherd I fostered for while almost killed it, but after he was gone the plant sort of got its second wind. They won't know that I had a little studio in the basement where I made my candles. They probably will never find the secret wall safe in the basement hidden under the coat of Dry-lock paint. I should have put a letter to them explaining all of this, maybe giving them a sense of who I was, and how much I loved this house. Maybe someday I'll open it and leave a copy of that Whitman poem along with my letter. He says it better than I ever could.
I've gotten older, that's all. The other day I was in the transition period between wakefulness and sleep, and I had a vision of a much, much older me. I was alone in a very bare white hospital room, and I was dying. In my "dream" I was aware that this was the end for me. It terrified me so much that I panicked myself awake- my heart was pounding, I was sweating, and my throat was very dry. I was horrified because I knew that I am going to die someday. At some point, I will breath my last and the world will continue as it was. It seems silly, because we all know this about ourselves of course, but never have I gotten such a lucid vision of what it may be like for me. It was extremely unsettling. I have to say that it's still bothering me today.
I heard a Walt Whitman poem the other day that I can't forget. I'm not a great poetry lover, I don't claim to even read it. But this one is exactly what my thoughts are about death and life after me. It's sad and beautiful at the same time. This is just an excerpt, I have linked the full poem for those interested to the title of this post.
Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt;
Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd;
Just as you are refresh’d by the gladness of the river and the bright flow, I was refresh’d;
Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current, I stood, yet was hurried;
Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt;
Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd;
Just as you are refresh’d by the gladness of the river and the bright flow, I was refresh’d;
Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current, I stood, yet was hurried;
Anyway, it's very strange to live in this house and know that someday, someone else will live here after I'm gone. Maybe they'll wonder what I used to do. Maybe my bleeding heart will bloom for them in the spring, and they'll mow it over never knowing that I planted it with the thought that a house like this needs old-fashioned plants in the yard. They won't know that I bought it at Pappy's Market, a little mom and pop shop in Bunker Hill that is a favorite place of mine. They won't know that the German Shepherd I fostered for while almost killed it, but after he was gone the plant sort of got its second wind. They won't know that I had a little studio in the basement where I made my candles. They probably will never find the secret wall safe in the basement hidden under the coat of Dry-lock paint. I should have put a letter to them explaining all of this, maybe giving them a sense of who I was, and how much I loved this house. Maybe someday I'll open it and leave a copy of that Whitman poem along with my letter. He says it better than I ever could.
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