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As scribbled in mini notebooks. - November 2005 I've been laid off for 2 weeks and have nothing to show for it. I've done a little running, I've worked 11-15 hours a week for the pool, and I've sat shivering in my apartment. Jobs applied for: two-&-a-half. (Pool co-worker Nick said, "The other club I work for is looking for assistant coaches." I said, "Now?" and he said, "No...Spring.") For the purposes of the state, I am arbitrarily counting that go-nowhere conversational snippet as half a contact.
Trying to get a new job right now is like trying to find a new fiancé 2 weeks after the one you wanted just up and left you. I'd never known how bad it would feel, how much it would hurt, and how rejected and foolish I would feel. Well, at least I'm not spinning my wheels anymore. I couldn't have stayed there forever. Guh. So far today I've: * awakened For God's sake.
Have applied to be a copywriter at a major company, and a window trimmer at a large department store. (I've wanted to do the latter ever since I was a little girl). There are amusing differences between the 2 resumes submitted. I am a good little tailor. Applied Saturday. It's Wednesday, and I've not heard anything. Maybe I am not a good little tailor. Of course, the competition for both positions is probably on the ridiculous side. Man, last night wasn't pretty. I was websurfing and drinking brandy and I visited my old work site. There was new content written in a style immistakeably like mine. I was just crushed. I'm not sure what I expected--that future content be badly or dully written, for example--but I was just undone by it. Terrible. Alex actually administered sympathy properly, for once. He wrapped his arms around me, bent his head against me and said nothing.
Thanksgiving was surprisingly nice. A friend of Dad's cooked a million courses for just 6 people, and everyone was sent home with copious leftovers. I have an entire freezer bag of mashed potatoes and entire Dutch apple pie that we didn't get around to eating. I am going to be a roly-poly fish-head. Opened the pool ungodly early this morning--as I did on Thanksgiving--for a bunch of ungrateful yuppies and boomers. Nicely, I'm acting as a building supervisor rather than a guard, since they're a team and have a coach on deck. Not so nicely--they like to push the boundaries of when they have to leave the building, as if 1) it's not a rental, which it is, & 2) as if they've asked permission to stay late, which they don't. Some of them do thank me for coming in on a holiday, realizing that if not for me they'd be swimming laps in their bathtubs, but they don't realize that the busses don't run at 4am, and I walk three miles to get there. I like the exercise, and I really like being paid time-&-a-half, but it's dark as fuck out there. I don't run to these early mornings anymore, after the time I jogged to work and a car slowed down in a menacingly speculative way. There are houses around, but still. I walk now. I save my energy for a sprint. Can't be winded if I'm out on the streets in the early a.m. One of these crazed early-bird swimmers did bring me homemade Thanksgiving cookies; six immense oatmeal-chocolate-chip, with a little thank-you note. It's the nicest thing to happen to me today. Of course, it's not even 10am. I need to give the day a chance.
When I got in the door I cried for a collection of reasons. Tried to go back to sleep, but I'd already had 7 1/2 hours of sleep earlier, and couldn't. I lay on my back with tears in my ears for 45 minutes, then conceded that this was too pitiful even for me, got up and had some coffee. My health insurance runs out in a few days. Have sent email to former employers asking about how to start the C0BRA insurance extension. I felt better having done something--anything--on my own behalf. Taking action is good for my mood.
So...taking action, and drinking coffee make me happy. Must remember it.
Action + coffee...that's the way of it.
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