Monday, August 16, 2010

Umbrella's and Lysol


Waiting. Anticipation. That calm before the storm. Uncertainty at best. Is it good news? Bad? Are you waiting out the inevitable change for the better, the worse?

I have been gainfully unemployed since the end of April, (as long as we are not counting the 4 week temp stint where I was entirely miserable, but I digress). For all intensive purposes, the end of April saw the end of my job. A job I loved.

Since then, I have worked with varying staffing agencies, online job sites, and numerous word of mouth referrals to try to find work. At this point ANY work.

I have interviewed for a couple, and was found over-qualified for one. Other offers I had to turn down due to distance or wage. Some offer insultingly low wages. Insulting in the way that they start at half of what I was making prior.

Not for nothing, but I can't financially regress myself 15 years to make half of what I need to make in order to support myself as well as my son. Ain't gonna happen.

So currently I sit, (literally) in yet another office awaiting my 3rd interview for a position. Hoping that the 3rd time is the charm on this one.

Is it my dream job? Well of course not. Getting paid to write these little nuggets would of course be living the dream. Becoming a world-reknowned author of sorts would make my life fantastic, but I of course am a realist.

The job pays well, is close to home. No more commuting on gridlocked highways into Boston to get the paycheck I need to function.

The people seem nice, it's a franchise of a big National company, and I would be Office Manager. I would get to go out on the road maybe 1 day a week to break up the monotony of day to day office droning. I would get to start up a Newsletter to send out to clients. Seems perfect.

Moreover I just can't wait to once again join the land of the Paycheck People. Soley relying on unemployment sucks, quite frankly. It's far less than I made when working, and honestly I have become far too laxidaisical.

Sure, at the beginning of the summer it was great. I got to spend time with Dylan and do things. Beach, amusement parks and various outings. Summer things. But as the days went on, and the funds dipped lower, so did my energy level.

I feel so useless when I don't work. Like I am not setting a good example for anything. I procrastinate even the simplest task, for no real reason. I need to snap out of it. Re-regiment myself back into a normal routine.

As much as I sometimes crave spontaneity, I also thrive on stability and structure, in a weird and unconventional way.

Those iconic images of getting up, going to work, coming home, cleaning house, dinner's ready Dear, watching TV and going to bed together type of blissfully mundane existences blended with the occasional night on the town. Sounds idyllic.

But it all starts with a need for income. A basic stability. A focus. A strong desire to better my situation, for myself, for my son.

I have seemingly reclused myself as of late. Sheltering myself from most of my friends, aside from the occasional obligatory outings, I have cast myself away. Tried to lay on the outskirts of my own life, like an onlooker really.

Trying to gain perspective. To view myself perhaps as others may have. Or even view others around me who knows. Either way I have come to a few comclusions and figured out certain things needed changing.

First and foremost, I need to make myself happy. I need to be employed and feeling like a useful contributer to society. I need to take care of myself, and my son. Everything else is able to fall into place after that. So I'm told.

And it's a process. It's a long road they say, the road to happiness. But I hope to be on it. I don't expect things to be perfect 100% all of the time, nothing ever is. I just want it to all be ok.

My centricity is the focus on my future, on moving things forward the way I know they should be. Knocking down the barriers that may have stonewalled me from getting there in the first place. Getting out of my own way.

I want to know in my heart that when that proverbial shit eventually hits the fan again someday, that I have a steady team waiting by my side unwaivering, holding umbrella's and yeilding Lysol.

Next time, I plan to be ready.

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