Quitting the Gym, At Last, the Unemployed Girl Gets Realistic

Today, I'm heading to the gym to end my membership, which is something I have been dreading since unemployment. I think I looked at my gym membership as a sign of some stability in my life, some level of security, some level of accomplishment, combined with a love for elliptical and the unease of losing the corporate rate that somehow never disappeared. Maybe I looked at the gym as an office, some place I could go to every day, a place I belonged? I'm over it now. A sympathetic but practical voice says, "It's okay, it's time, you'll live." On to bigger and better things. I've rekindled old passions that I abandoned when I moved to DC, when I was too overworked and young and exhausted and ambitious to do anything else. Yoga, rock climbing, dance. Okay, so I'm not exactly going to be saving money. But maybe the money alone isn't exactly the point. Maybe what's more important is what it gives back, and though the gym gave me a good dose of dopamine and the promise of a good bod, it didn't give me a life outside of my job/jobless identity. You know how I was saying that people don't have much of an identity in DC other than their work? Yoga may not be the answer to everything either, but I know it's a solid part of who I am, and knowing that, and giving it it's fair share of attention seems worth a shot at bringing me closer to figuring out what I want professionally and who I am as a whole, if that makes sense. This is my once chance to rebalanced my life before I really get into the heat of it, so I'm kind of pissed that it took so long to get here. I also wished I had picked up hobbies that were free. More cutting of the nonessentials, as I get closer to figuring out what the nonessentials are.

Oh Hell - Another Identity Crisis

From the lack, and random assortment, of postings you've seen on this blog in the last month or so, you may have figured out that I'm currently in the middle of what some people call an "identity crisis." An identity crisis is a moment in ones life when one is uncertain about his- or her-SELF due to a change in aims or role in society. As a mostly-broke professional who must practically flaunt herself daily to find ways of making money while still trying to hold on to some level of integrity and "artistic" expression... who is young, inexperienced in her new career, alone most days, cute (just to throw that in there) and locked in a sunless basement apartment... a change of aims is so common that a regular identity crisis is practically fucking guaranteed.

Am I jobless or not? Am I a selfless journalist or an ego centric? Am I a writer or a filmmaker? Should I go back to programming or stick with production? Is my favorite movie Chinatown or Wings of Desire?

I've heard that certain individuals who function well in a state of chaos will... um... seek trouble. But when I think of life in that unhappy job, I can't believe leaving it was more destructive than staying, or that change is a bad, or that learning to be myself and comfortable with it isn't necessary, just because it can really suck to feel so confused and to be poor. It's just temporary, after-all. But long-term temporary, no doubt.

The Mysterious 98 Bus

Did anyone know this fucking bus existed??

I was hauling ass to one of those new wine bars to pop up in the city to meet a friend for a much needed after "work" drink, when I decided that there was no way in hell I was going to make it without some kind of motor vehicle assistance. Seeing as I had only $40 dollars to withdraw from my account, a cab was totally out of the question. It was raining, I was wearing dam cute shoes, my hair would be ruined in a matter of minutes, so my only option was to run over to U street and see if I could catch one of those buses I think heads straight out all the way to, like, North Capital.

When I get to the bus stop, I realize I'm a dime short for the new fair hike! I can either walk away defeated, the way I usually do when I don't want to ask people for money or beg to get on the bus, or I could beg to get on the bus for a dime short. The rain is wet. I decide to beg.

Then suddenly a small bus without any header, any bus number, and without the typical full-and-sweaty bus look of the typical U Street kind pulls up and lets me in. Something is odd, I think. I ask the driver if he heads across U Street. Yes, he says. For 25 cents. I'm thinking, I'm already ten cents short, and now there's some 25 cent surcharge? No... 25 cents is the fare, he says. That's all.

After some investigation, I learn this is the 98 bus, the Adams Morgan-U Street link, which has been running since at least last spring and covers the span of Adams Morgan from the Woodly Park station through U Street to 9th Street NW. FOR A QUARTER. So basically, I could hit all the good spots to get my drink on without a cab for A QUARTER. And I got a transfer.

Which is good, because it turns out that I was at the OTHER wine bar, not the one where my friend sat waiting for 30 minutes while I sat and got drunk waiting for her. Good thing I could hop on the link and head in the other direction.

A Week In Review: Think Cheap and Sustainable

I hate to admit it.... but money's running PRET-ty thin, and in one direction: right out my senseless little fingers as if I had oodles of it coming from a generous, seductive little money fairy. This week was time to get serious on expenditures... and make a real budget and reschedule my day so that all my pricey little habits could be avoided. But then I bought a new pair of shoes and pants on Tuesday (they were on sale, I needed them).

I pledged to try again starting right then, and went straight to Dupont Circle to sit for free with the homeless people and ruminate on my potential future.

I thought, "Think cheap... free even." By god--I bet I could do the stuff I like to do for less or no money but I've been too lazy and too proud and too picky. I could have done this when I had a job. Happy hour specials, for instance... I should drink the happy hour wine instead of good, flavorful, full-bodied wine... if I must. I could also make my coffee at home though it's never the same, eat my lunch at home though I can't cook, watch movies at home on my smallish HD TV without Dolby digital surround sound... and NEVER LEAVE MY HOUSE.

I had a little time to think about things... life, the economy, the planet.

ON SUNNY WEATHER IN THE MIDDLE OF WINTER:
Wednesday: The warm wind blew through my just-washed hair, I was outdoors and happy and guilty and had the willies... because our planet is about to melt from the effects of global warming. I thought: Why can’t we all just buy TP made from post-consumer (recycled) material and use clear, reusable WATER BOTTLES and get the planet back on track? I vowed to do both, felt good about doing my part to save MILLIONS of gallons of oil and nearly half a MILLION trees, and was intent to spread the good word. The Washingtonian suggests clear Nalgene bottles (I like Klean Kanteen) and a purse made from bottle caps.

ON COFFEE:
Why is it so damn expensive? Not only did Starbucks go up, like, 11 cents last October… now milk is more expensive per gallon than oil. How am I expected to have my two delicious cappuccinos a day in this kind of economy? I consider switching to maté exclusively and decide I will sleep on it for a couple of months. In the meantime, I’ll go to a coffee cupping this morning.

ON MOVIES:
I love movies nearly as much as Fandango loves me and those services charges... but I have to pay my cell phone before it's disconnected. So I need to find some free screenings. Saw Star Wars last night, for the umpteenth time. Two free movies on my list for this weekend: The fab Audry Hepbern in Charade @ the National Postal Museum; and The Gates--a documentary about those oh-so-quirky NY artists who did that crazy instillation thing in Central Park that one time a couple years ago and can explain it to us after the screening.

ON THE RECESSION AND THE HOUSING BUBBLE:
Boy, I sure hope this doesn't happen or things will really get tough....

With that in mind, a few no-cost events this weekend:

• Vagabond Opera
• Dead rock-star costume night
• Brit new-wave films
• Freaky French dance party
  

The Dilema: Do I get a manicure?

I really need a manicure.

Budgeting my every cent, glamor is being forced into the back seat of an already cheap ride. My nails look like broken glass, my cuticles are shredded and my hands feel like sand paper. If you only knew the things I've had to do lately, good lord, you would be horrified. Mortified. A woman's nails can tell a lot about her goings-on and mine say I've been slummin'.

A few of you out there, I dare say MEN, may incredulously gasp at my little admittance here. After all, how can a girl without a job can be so concerned with something as trivial as a manicure? When it comes to things like money spent on female beauty - even from your girl with a steady - you'd rather not know how much is spent to put the package together, am I right?

But there are a few things to understand, if you'll allow me to say so. First of all, you love it. You love how pretty a girl looks when everything is neat and tidy and primped. You feel she is not only beautiful but organized and successful. It's nice for you, admit it. But it's not really about you. It's about how it makes us feel. Conviction can be painted on with Shanghai Nights nail polish and matching Channel lipstick. A thrilling nerve can come from taming the unruly hair day by crafting and sculpting every follicle, like an artist with malleable clay, into exactly what we want. Charging into the dark recesses of life... applying for a new job or pitching an idea... you'd be amazed what a supreme manicure can do to even the battlefield. It's more a way of adapting to one's surroundings, like a gecko who must hide from his predator, than an indulgence in many cases, actually, okay? Well, so long as you have the dough.

Moving on to the pressing matter is: what to do now that I don't have the dough. In this state, my argument above wanes into an almost ridiculous perspective, considering the exchange rate for beauty is about a week's worth of lunch. I accepted this tumultuous path of joblessness to develop my freakin' craft and by reminding myself that I am goddamn tough enough to totally handle the lapse of a steady paycheck. These little things I adore - manicures, shoes, lip gloss - are easy to give up. They don't matter.

Do they?

I encounter the philosophical question everyone considers but can't accept or admit. Can money can make me happy?

It can be argued that, although money in itself does not make a person happy, it's what a person uses and sometimes what a person needs to get to their places of HAPPINESS. I no doubt need money to get to my places of happiness: traveling, filming, writing... wearing Wang and Choo.

The existentialist says that money doesn't exist any more than a manicure exists, but that we have made it what it is, and what it's worth. Is the worth of a manicure really what I have made it out to be? The experience of traveling can be worth the "money"... but colored nails?

In other words, my manicure dreams are bullshit.

My attachment is metaphysical, an association, nothing more than a chemical endorphin sent to my puny, needy brain. I can get over it at any point if I chose to and accept it because I can live without the brief, one-week pleasure it provides.

And so I will. For a while, anyways....

Because I don't mean to say that beautification doesn't have it's place in my world. Unless I become a Buddhist monk and brilliantly chose to live entirely outside of society, then the vice of creating an outside shell to help me move through this crazy world is valid. I think so, anyway. Not everyone believes this, of course, but it's who I am, it's in my bones. I have to accept my fate.

Another fate has moved higher up the list for now, that's all.

Money Day

Today is my self declared Money Day. Money Day is the day Jobless looks into any money she may have hanging out there, unclaimed, as well as any money that could be had by her rightfully. A sell on Ebay? Get rid of some extra blood? The options will likely be creative and unexpected, but no doubt limited.

Also to come: Q&A Session #2 - Josh Brolin: The Dish on the Coens....