The IDEAL Day

310 days into my jobless experience, and I have finally developed and executed, on my own, the perfect day. Not an average day or a miserable, useless day... but a glorious, simple, focused, exciting, ideal day. What is ideal, you ask?

One where I:

• Accomplish significant things
• Take advantage of the day
• Get money (income, yeah!)
• Finish my To-Do list
• Eat good food
• Spend a significant time outside
  
• Learn something new
  
• Do something generous
  
• Have an afternoon siesta
• Do yoga

Whether it takes 10 months to get into the groove of working "freelance," at home, on my own schedule with my own plans... or I've just been pre-occupied/retarded/lazy... I do not know.

All I can say is: There does come a time when all the pieces of the puzzle fit together, the clouds part and the path ahead is clear, brain waves dance, buddhas sing, mountains move and snowballs finally start rolling.

It's because I like to plan. Planning is good. Planning is fun. I plan for weeks, months, years, even, depending on the circumstance, but long enough to say "I'm going to do this" and try it on, see if it fits. For instance, I began planning to move to D.C. a year an a half before I got here. I've been planning to apply to grad school since last April. I've been planning to plant flowers all week.

Today, plans - BIG plans - were executed. Step one. I then had coffee and read three newspapers, outside, in the amazing morning air. Step two. Momma got paid! Step three. I did EVERY errand on my list, including mailing my dad a father's day card... I've never mailed a card to anyone in my family, they're reserved for the special occasions when I'm in town... but things are changing! Step four. I ate a lobster roll - that magical food! - a red velvet cupcake, and sushi, all in one day. Step five. I was out the door by 10 (after working since 7) and spent most of the day running errands and eating, outside, on my bike, in a skirt (with shorts underneath, for safety). Steps two and six. I then learned how to control the mosquito empire that invaded my entry way (lemon juice), buried a dead bird, and kicked ass in yoga. Steps seven, eight and ten. Okay... I missed out on the siesta - Step nine - because siesta time went to a last minute trip to Kinkos (Step one) - but I was so close, and the day was so good, let's just say it happened.

All this, and "getting a job" wasn't even on the list. No word back still, but today, I did do what I said I would do, all my chips in, and now I know it's meant to be or not, and I'm ready for it.

Perfect, no?

Ideas As They Occur

Bad Idea: Riding my bike to Georgetown wearing jeans during a heat advisory.
Good Idea: Stopping at Dolcezza for chocolate amargo, avocado and lemon gelato. Mmmm!

Bad Idea: Watching Sex and the City, the movie.
Good Idea: Watching Sex and the City, the movie.... and bringing the new David Sedaris book to occupy the surplus 45-minutes.

Shorts:
I wish I could wear shorts. I don't like to wear shorts and I really don't know why (it probably has something to do with my hips, my skinny ankles, cargo short flashbacks, feeling like a boy when I wear shorts and sneakers, etc.). And I can't wear a skirt on a bike, at least not without a lot of paranoia and top-drawer underwear, but the jeans are just killing me. I have one pair of shorts, but they're short-shorts, which I bought to wear over tights two years ago when that look was "in fashion." Capris are fine, but in what fabric? And linen/thin cotton slacks could result in embarrassing sweaty-seat. I've given up walking for biking, even if it means exerting a little extra energy, so I can get back to air conditioning before I melt or die. I'm not made for swamp weather, I'm afraid. I just hadn't expected to revisit my short phobia because of it.

Jobs:
Speaking of sweating, I'm still waiting to hear back about that job. Luckily, I'm plotting a tenth-frame strike-out, all my chips in, final sprint to the finish kind of comeback. I just hope it works and I don't make a fool of myself. What's the worst that could happen, right?

Interview Tips: Selling Yourself

I had a JOB interview today, out of nowhere, and I guess I could blame the last-minute nature of the meeting as to why I'm sure I came off as a dork, but that would be typical and stupid. You'd think that after 8 months in constant "job seeking" mode that I would be an interviewer's dream, ready with oodles of bright and thoughtful answers to typical interview questions and gems on how to "wow" potential employers tucked up my conservative, pressed sleeve. Actually, I didn't do badly - I have the experience and the job is a perfect fit. And then I was asked to list my strengths. Christ! Listen, I have strengths, I have loads of strengths, really good strengths even, and I know this is typical interview crap. But for some bizarre reason, my splendid ego loves to book it at the first glimmer of any abrupt disclosure. How can we not compare interviews to the experience of meeting those people at bars who ask all the personal questions he or she has no business asking after knowing you for only 5 minutes--age, occupation, birthplace, net worth--so it can be decided whether to shoo you away or give you the big break you were looking for? What's wrong with getting to know each other, hanging out a bit, going for a walk or two and maybe watching a movie to see if you have similar tastes?

I've never been able to sell myself. My mom could barely get me to smile when I was in the state pageant at age 6; I avoid giving personal highlights to anyone I haven't known at least 2 to 5 years. I feel like a floozy when I sell myself, which is not a terrible stretch of reasoning, people. Truthfully, I don't know if interviews, as they are, even work, and I've been on the giving end several times. Which is probably why the expression "It's not what you know, but who you know" exists... first impressions don't seem to be enough these days. But more importantly, there's this to consider: If I get the gig, it would last 27 weeks. 27 weeks! That's, like, a real job! Which is not a bad promise in light of the most special bout of cabin fever I've been nursing over the last couple of weeks. But I'll worry about that later. I'm off to the west coast in a couple hours to see my family and eat well and watch Lost. Nice. I also have a meme to pass on....

Working Makes Me Fat

I’m sitting at my kitchen table in my bathrobe and slippers, hunched over my laptop with increasingly bad posture, my enlarging ass sinking further into a crappy and uncomfortable wicker chair that I hate. I’ve been working for the last two weeks, which a throbbing temporal vein and bad case of tendinitis can attest. What the hell was I thinking? - I think. I had it made. I was happy. I worked hard… to maintain the bod at the gym, to flex my intellect with klassical novels (Count of Monte Cristo), to entertain my soul with blog sites, and to eat cream pastries at cafes as I strategized my “next steps.” Somehow one of those next steps worked out and now my achy back hates my guts. I can no longer deny an undeniable truth: working hurts and makes me fat. Seriously…while working 15-hour days out of town last week, I ate McDonalds twice. Twice! In two days! I haven’t eaten McDonalds since before that kid got his head stuck in the Hamburglar playground equipment. I haven’t eaten partially hydrogenated oils for at least a couple of years, and now all those free-radical-clearing drinks I’ve been chugging lately have gone to shit. I knew my qi (chee) was pathetic when I had a job but I though that was from years of negative-energy build up, I thought I beat all that, I never thought two weeks on two pots of coffee a day would bring me back here. A thought: Is this a message? Yeah, well, I’ve learned my lesson! Except…um, it is nice to have money. But if I’m a beached whale on painkillers at the end of two more weeks, I’m reevaluating this whole making-a-living thing.

A Manifesto for the Happily Unemployed

It appears I'm still just an unemployed newbie, a pup at little more than four months weening on little income and loads of insecurity. According to this article in the WCP, seasoned jobless professionals really do exist out there! It's hilarious, and disturbing?, but does ring a certain truth to the wacky, ironic logic that is joblessness. Namely, life is too short to go on putting 10-hours a day into a job that you hate, that hates you back, and leads to the deterioration of your mind, body and soul. It is possible to live on very little. And doing what you really want, and snatching the time to do it by any means possible, may be more a contribution to society than running the corporate rat wheel so you can buy another flat screen TV. I don't plan to never work again (I've got a paying gig right now, as a matter of fact) but remaining without office, boss, or business-casual flare doesn't seem quite half-baked these days. It might just pay off in the end.

Library, Meet Jobless

I got my very first DC library card yesterday. i wanted to get out of a weird funk from a very complicated week of ups and downs... you know, when you don't know which direction to go next. so i went to library. I showed my Nexflix envelop to prove my address and picked out the "adventure" style library card, though I saw too late that I could have chosen a green frog "hop into your local library" design. i asked a lot of stupid questions... "how do I find a book, some sort of decimal system?" and "does this mean I can reserve books online?" I imagined the librarian pegging me for a youngster from the digital age who's never entered a library, and wondered if we're only ten years away from this being a reality. I picked out a book I've wanted to read but haven't since I don't have a pay check to split with Kramers, as I used to. an acrid blend of sweat, body odor and something coveted deeply for years by the carpets filled all porous space including my new coat. a small price to pay for free literature.

I got a job this week, or a "gig" to be more appropriate, for march. I've been asked a lot by friends what this means for Jobless Girl in DC. I reply hastily that absolutely nothing has changed, this isn't a real job, I have to get projects to stay jobless, yada yada, don't you get it? obviously, it's complicated. A jobless manifesto should clarify everything... yes, yes... it's time.

Unfinished Business

Maybe it's the three coffee's I had today talking, but I feel like total crap, like I can't get anything done lately. Exhibit A above: The table I was stripping last week until it rained for 40 days. I'm guessing my foul mood has something to do with going into work today, combined with the paradox of a fast approaching state of being broke. When it takes at least two weeks for the work your doing to equate to cash, or of course months or NEVER as with many of my projects, today can seem like a total beast. If I were feeling at all like being positive, I guess I would say I just have to wait out the couple of weeks until I'll be sitting pretty again with a little wad in my pocket and the adventurous twinkle back in my eye. Yeah, well... it sure as hell better be that way.