The unemployed life

I have now been unemployed for just over two weeks. It's been interesting, to say the least; being unemployed without a really good reason (school, holidays, in the midst of moving) is new to me. But, it's turned out to be a great time of rest and renewal and other "r" words.

I'll admit that the first week was really difficult - apparently having a job really helps to give purpose to your life. Who knew? But then I got used to sleeping in, reading, watching movies, and even practicing.

Then I started job searching and dreaming up options for the summer. I've landed on the decision to keep things temporary for now, so I've been applying at restaurants and grocery stores. Besides, after a job that body-slammed me out of my comfort zone like my last one, I'm looking forward to something that I'll fit into more easily while still being challenged (in the area of people skills, which - surprise - is not my strong point).

As for the summer, I'm warming up more and more to the idea of having lots of options, which is an idea that used to be terrifying in its ambiguity and huge-ness. There's really no telling what summer will bring.

What have I been doing with my time off? Well, working on 25 Before 25, for one. One item on the list is to apply to the U of L masters program, which I have done, and I will be auditioning on Saturday, which is in THREE DAYS. Also recipes and reading, and bike rides now that I have a bike here.

My bike arrived with my mom and brother who visited for a weekend, which was really great! I have a freezer of meals now, and some new books, and some perky daffodils. Family is the best.

Also Tumblr now takes up a lot of my life as a place for putting a lot of pictures and a little writing, despite the fact that I once told another friend that Tumblr was "so 2009." So, I'm eating my words, but feeling a little more artistic and inspired than before. It's amazing what photos of flowers and Europe and flowers in Europe can do for the soul.

One of these is an example of what I've been posting to Tumblr, and one is in honour of the first day of spring. Actually it could be that both are both. Either way, happy equinox!

A writerly gesture

In an English class I took, my professor (one of the really good ones) talked about writerly gestures (a term used in Alice Munro's short story "Friend of My Youth" - credit where credit is due). There are writerly gestures and readerly gestures.

For a while I wanted to be a writer. The mechanics of writing come easily to me; not so the creativity required to produce really great pieces. And so, whenever I am struck by inspiration (be it through experience, observation, or otherwise) I usually try to put it down somewhere. This usually ends up being a journal or a quick Word document. 

Then came the blog. I could put down my messy metaphors, clumsy characters, and awkward alliterations, all in the same place, and people could actually read them.

I like the thought of people reading what I write because I sometimes put a lot of effort into writing. And sometimes I'm very proud of what I've written. Sometimes I think I'm downright hilarious and I want people to know. 

But sometimes I don't know how to tell people things to their faces, and those things get written here. And sometimes those people figure out that I've written about them here because the connections are only thinly veiled. This has happened more often than I care to admit, and with more people than I care to list. My love for drama and being dramatic continues to get me in trouble.

Not knowing exactly how to finish this, I'll end with a few lines paraphrased from a story I read ages ago but can't seem to find again:

"Of course you didn't mean to hurt anyone," the old man said kindly. "It just happens that way very often. You see, it's quite impossible to feel strongly in any direction without pestering anyone." 

"Then perhaps I shall just stop speaking to everyone," the boy answered stubbornly.

"Ah, but to keep silent would be far worse."

Steep until saturated

There are moments when I feel like I'll lose my mind if I don't say all of the million things jostling around in this brain of mine. But, "if you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all," and I've mulled over most of these things enough times to know that saying them would be helpful to me but hurtful to others, or at least to the situations we all find ourselves in. And so I stop up the openings and seal them tight just hoping they'll subdue themselves but instead they seep round the edges and run down the sides making a bigger mess of things than they might have in the first place.

Ingredients: Three parts real feeling, one part coffee, one part love for the dramatic

Reluctant nomad

I've realized that my life up till this point has been a nomadic one, but I shudder at the thought of labeling myself a nomad.

I have so many friends who see life as an adventure. They dream of traveling and their photo albums show them atop mountains, strapped to parachutes, and sitting in European cafes (never all at once, although that would be a pretty great goal). They never back down from opportunities and they're ready to move on to the next thing at a moment's notice. I love the idea of travel and adventure but when it comes to dreaming, I lack the adventurous spirit these friends have. Their brighten at the thought of adding some great experience to the story - I find myself bristling.

New opportunities come with new challenges. Traveling means packing weeks of life into a suitcase. New experiences create new stories, of both victories and battle scars.

While I balk at the thought of new experiences, my life has been full of them. I have traveled, relocated, and taken new jobs many times since starting high school. In the last year alone I lived in five different homes, and had as many jobs. I consider myself a homebody but constantly find myself uprooted and transplanted.

Of course, rarely have I counted more scars than victories after the dust has settled.

I am a reluctant nomad, but resolve now to move ahead with the spirit of adventure and a little less reluctance.

Mountain for inspiration

Moving on, moving up

Today was my last day of work at the photography studio.

Oh don't worry, this isn't a sad thing. It's a moving on, moving up thing. I am looking forward to trying something new. (With that said, I'm on the job hunt again, so keep me in mind!) I feel oddly excited about moving on. It could be that the excitement is masking terror. I have worries, but I have God. Well, God has me.

I thought of feeling other things. I thought of feeling sad, and I felt sad saying goodbye to my coworkers who have become my friends, my desk that has been my eight-hours-a-day home, my job that has been a comfortable routine.

I thought of feeling sentimental, and I felt sentimental as I reminisced about my interview, my first day, the first time I was challenged, the first time I was reamed out by some disgruntled woman on the phone.

I thought of feeling nervous, and I felt nervous while mentally adding up the numbers and calculating how many weeks it would be before money would become uncomfortably tight.

But all I really felt was glad. I felt glad that I made friends with my coworkers, glad that I was blessed with a job for this time, glad that I have pleasant memories, glad that I have grown as a professional and as a person, glad that after many financially worry-free years I have learned and will continue to learn about money management, glad that my life was enriched by another experience.

What next? It's wide open. It's a big world.

(On an unrelated note, yesterday was Chris's 31st anniversary as a professional photographer. We got him this cake, and took our first staff group photo. Coincidentally, the last staff group photo.)