faded, dusty jumpsuit.

Well?


I am tired of silence.
I am losing my mind with this lack of change. 
And I am sick of looking at job websites. 


The internet makes my eyes hurt, and the lack of prospects cause an even bigger pain at the direct center of my head, just about the place where I imagine my brain used to be, before it ever so slowly (and dramatically) over the last hour and a half disentigrated into dust, fell out through my ears and nose and eyes, and left my body forever. 


Oh yeah. That's the mental, (despite my newly brainless quality), state that I am currently in. Hopelessness and disappointment are one hell of a chummy pair these days. 


Still, things seem bleak if we focus only on the bleakness, on the lack of color, of choice, of opportunity. No, there's nothing (today) that I find interesting, nothing I feel compelled to try or inclined to want, as I scroll and scan and read and sigh. And, if there was anything in the world more frustrating (and confusing) as an online job description, I haven't found it yet, and I hope I never do. Seriously. Somebody should just hire ME to write clear, concise, un-flowerly and direct descriptions of what their positions require and expect. Ninety-nine percent of these sites have baffled me to the point of giving up: the dangerously long run-on sentences, the nonsensical drama of what they will and will not allow, all in a whirlwind of misused punctuation. More often than not they have me closing the window in a huff and stress-eating, as I rewrite the muddy paragraph in my head, using short, concise points, all evenly spaced and numbered, with the best of intentions. Hear that, universe? I'm putting myself out there!


Still, the job market knows what it's doing. They've developed quite a few clever (or, as I prefer, sneaky) ways of dissuading peoples' applications before the process has even taken off. To start, discombobulated explanations of what they desire in a fitting candidate (as well as the exaggerated years of experience they'd like you to have under your belt) is where they start in order to weed out the amount of resumes they will suddenly find themselves buried under. Who can blame them, I suppose? STILL, if you'd like to be one of the many that makes it through to the other side, the point is to not be discouraged by what the page demands. Most employers know they're reaching too high, and assume that if you feel less than qualified, you will just go on your way, to the next page, the next site, and finish up in time for your 1 o'clock shift. Sigh freaking sigh, everyone.


The world we live in isn't exactly designed to welcome you with open arms. They want you to fight back a little, to force your way in, to get past the obstacles and get through the hoops. And even after all that, you still might not be invited. And once you're in? Even then? They'll make you fight to keep what you feel you've already rightfully earned. Dog-eat-dog is no joke, and no understatement. Not that I don't have the fight in me (trust me, I always have a fist clenched and a comeback prepared), but I'm lately starting to wonder what I really want, versus what I've been trying to be. Essentially, it's pretty tough to win the battle when you aren't exactly sure what you're fighting for. And don't be confused, it is not a lack a motivation, or even a lack of direction. Rather, it might be an inclination for a different way altogether. Though writing is an undeniable part of my life, a thing through which I function, it's my dominant arm, hand, brain-side, quality, force of life, perhaps I need to take a step or two backwards in order to see the best way I can use this talent, this urge, this way to be. If I can pretty clearly imagine where I don't belong, it's probably time I figured out where I do. 


Easier said than done, as most things are. I mean, this world will find a way to convince you that you can't do the things that mean the most to you, that you will never be certain things, that without health benefits (important, but not the most important) you are doomed. This is a strict system that insists you either get on board or be left behind. I'm just looking for the loopholes, the ones that encourage my left-brain, the ones that understand why we need that creative diversion more than a bigger office or a three-day weekend. I want to feel free, in the real sense. In the big sense. I can live life in an adult way, I can grow up without growing old, and I want to be here in order to protect the best sense of myself, the parts of me that I can't give up or compromise. In terms of earning an income while living by these standards, well. I don't know. There has to be a way, and I aim to find it. I don't know what this is going to require of me, something altogether different or more of the same. More patience, probably, which I will every so often have to remind myself to keep. Probably another stab at holding on to hope, possibly the realization that not every dismissal is personal, if any at all are. I may have to coach myself to keep trying, which is no real detour from the road on which I'm already traveling.


And, on the days when it feels the least and most possible, to believe for the very best, despite the odds, despite what I've already been shocked or saddened to learn, in the face of the distractions or discouragements I might face [again]. Time to zip up and get moving. Next stop, someday soon, liberation. 

professional vs. pushing forward?

Sometimes it helps to know who you're actually mad at.


I get that we all occasionally, depending on the situation or day or time of, ahem, year, sort of feel entitled to a general sense of being short-handed, or put off, or pissed off. There are plenty of people in the world to feel disappointed by, multiple situations that all root with some person's poor decision (where can I get a t-shirt or a sandwich board that says "ME ME ME"?) and because of this we feel 100% alright with the fact that we own a little rage, a little anger, a little don't-mess-with-me-don't-ask-me step to our swag. 


To take one large leap backwards for just a moment, we tend to have a very skewed sense of the order of things, of what a good life permits us or, rather, bows down before and presents to us. We have in mind that certain things make for success, or happiness, and that anything different (note, not less) is disappointing or not as enjoyable or not up to our standards. While that can certainly hold some undeniable truth, there is also something to be said for wishing ourselves well on our current avenue, rather than damning it every step of the way. It is most likely not how we imagined our lives to carry on, because it never really is, and it is most likely going to bring us to yet another unexpected course of action, another undesignated landmark, hopefully something out of the usual job-promotion-married-kids-die syntax. And hopefully something that has the capability to surprise us, to make us think, to dazzle us, if we dare, or to make us realize that perhaps there's something more for us than our limited minds can allow.


So what then about the bad days? About the days where everything feels so outrageously biased, the times when we assume others are undeserving, that we are better at one thing or another, that this world reeks of privilege, that we've been waiting longer, that our payout should be bigger, better, grander, now.


I don't know. For example, I suppose: am I mad at Snooki for being a New York Times best-selling author? (That, my friends, is the truth.) Maybe. A little, I guess. More bewildered than anything else, really. But I get it. Half of the time, art has been overtaken by industry, by business. SO, if a book topically based on venereal disease and clubbing is going to sell, it's going to sell. (Okay, okay, I'm through.) Still, we'd be better off not blaming other people for what we're not doing, for the things we want that they have. It's not their fault, as much as it isn't ours. If we're putting forth an honest effort, and if it works out for someone else sooner, we're going to have to live with that, challenge in hand, and know that we can hold out just a little bit longer. Still, you have to have days where your patience let's go. It's being kind to your own sanity, if nothing else. At the same time, despite those moments, if everything becomes a derivative of what is and isn't fair, we're going to find ourselves sorely disappointed with, well, almost everything. Hopefully with those few-and-far between moments of outrage, of feeling personally slighted by society or the industry or (heeellllo) the economy, we have an equal if not greater moment of clarity that provides the reminder, hey, we're all more or less going through the same thing. We can't compare ourselves to overnight successes, we can't hate our brothers and sisters for what they've accomplished, and we certainly can't be mad at ourselves when we've been trying our best all along. 


With all of these things in mind, who is to say when we're going to make it big, or make it at all, when we're going to pull through a difficult time, or when we are going to stand up and notice that, despite what we would change, we have a pretty good life as it is; we have some irreplaceables, we have some new knowledge, some experience, some love that nothing in the world we make us retrace or give up. We can't see it all at once, and most days we can't see it at all from this valley where we stand, but it's there, it's our beacon in the darkness.  

Overall, I still can't make sense of what I'm supposed to be doing with the things I enjoy or the parts of me I would like to call my talents. I don't know if they're mine alone, if they belong in my life in a bigger way, or if the time it takes for that recognition will wear me down, if I'm built to weather bigger storms than this, if there is something better for me in a new place entirely (perhaps with a nod back to Where in the world?), if my bags packed to their fullest can fit everything I carry with me, inside and out. So this means ... what? If nothing else, I suppose, that we should, sincerely as we can, be proud of the people who are making the most of this pretty dire situation we find ourselves in. If we can, applaud them, congratulate them, and wish them the best. If we can manage it, we might as well wish ourselves good possibilities, too. We might do our best to keep at it, to keep applying, announcing our arrivals, creating, crafting and, ahem, writing. It's who we are, whether or not someone reads it, analyzes it, critiques it, displays it, or puts it on the printed page. We are who we are, and the world, in one way or another, and in one time or another, will follow. 

future-girl.

As far as revelations go, I'm often waiting on the edge of my latest, obvious or revisted. The ones that are utterly new are ones I'm usually the least prepared for, and what I've fully wrapped my head around lately has been altogether surprising, shake-my-head worthy, confusing, or, if you will, befuddling. 

I spend a lot of brain time sweating over the future. Which is ironic, seeing as I am not quite the plan-for-later type. Things happen, and I flow with them. Usually. Which is why this entire process requires a little bit of force against my will, a little bit of fighting my natural instincts, which has had its own rewards, even while twisting my arm ever so slightly, during which I can wince and keep trudging along. 

Strangely, though, is this: When I'm not worked up over tomorrow, it makes me nervous. I tend to wonder if it means one of several things, or worse, a little bit of all of them: 1. Am I losing focus? Or, 2. Am I becoming complacent? Or, 3. Will I just walk in the same circle forever? Orrr 4. WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING WITH MYSELF? 


And, 

Suddenly, panic mode is back. As soon as I let her through some open door, a window where she found a crack, one inch at a time, without a second to realize what's going on, I'm losing my breath trying to keep up, running behind her, fighting to get a grip on what she's doing and where she's going. But it's already too late. Panic always wins the race. 


It's almost humorous (later, or from the outside) how quickly an everyday existence can escalate into any number of fear-induced questions (or worse, statements) about what's going to happen to us: Where will we be a year from now, five years from now, ten, twenty, fifty? Things will never change. Are we stuck in the same place forever? How can we force the world to work with us? How can we move on in such an uncooperative, hostile economy? How are the environments in which we find ourselves helping or hurting who we are? Is there something I'm meant for? There's nothing I'm meant for. I will never figure out where I belong. There is too much wrapped up in what we do, in where we work. If life is meant to be celebrated and enjoyed, why would I waste so much of it in a place that makes me unhappy? Does responsibility trump true contentment? Why do I only seem to think I need what the world is telling me I need? I will never be financially stable. I will always be working for something I don't stand for. I will never, I can't, and I won't. 


If any of this sounds familiar, then you are in fact me, or wonderful you, facing a similar conundrum, all founded in a lot of negative thinking, fretting, and inevitable future stress wrinkles. 


As far as oxymorons go, this one is a doozy. On one hand, if we're not supposed to waste our lives away with worry, then let's not do it. Worry, that is. Let's be a little more carefree, a little less upset over all of it, and as much as we're able to allow, let it be. On the far other end of the spectrum, however, change requires action. A difference in surroundings, accomplishments, and attitude means we have to stand up and actually do something. If we settle in and let the world continue, have we done just that: settle? If we, instead, run around in states of frenzy trying to repair all that we deem broken, every part of us reaching in all directions simultaneously, are we really doing our best to enjoy what we have? Do we spend more time freaking out than anything else? Are we missing the point by exercising our commitment to change?   


I don't know. I really don't, and that's the truth. Perhaps if there were a way (and I assume there must be), to balance these two endeavors. Can we (wait for it) savor the blessings we already have (which are there, if you stop to consider, obvious or not), while attempting to get a foothold on our futures, all without giving up our sanity? 


It's a thought. A nice one, at that. I'm usually (too usually) a victim of paralyzing fear, of Panic, of being sucker-punched directly in the gut by the universe, by what tomorrow brings. Maybe it brings the same thing as yesterday, or as today. Or maybe it sets me up for something new, something I never saw coming. Maybe I will see what I've been hoping to see for all this time, coming up over the hill to meet me. Maybe I will be surprised. It's not in my sights yet, not even close. The best any of us can do, is stand ready, hand to our brow, waiting firm with our eyes on the horizon. We might wait for a long time. It might feel like forever, who knows. We might suspect that the world is merely fucking with us, that we're all the butt of some joke we are just beginning to understand, the unfunny sort of comedy, the paradoxical kinds that twists our stomachs and makes us scratch our heads.


Still, if we're supposed to live life, and not dread it, and we're supposed to make good, rather than assume there is none, then I think we've found the purpose to the point. There is an ideal setting for all of this, I feel. And I am hardly in it, as I feel most people are not. This boat we all seem to be in must be the size of a freight ocean liner, times ten billion. IN THE MEANTIME, however, as long as we keep our minds in tact, let's remember what we have, that not all people have all things at once (even the ones you think do, don't), and carry on. Let tomorrow be tomorrow; for now, we have today. 

having an ear for it.

Try as we might, we're not very good at listening.

       "...what?"

Exactly, in terms of what we feel on the speaking end of things, as well as the equal frustration we might find in wanting to pay attention, but lacking the will, or even sometimes the ability, to do so. 

Most of the time, when someone is talking to us, even about something explicitly important, something vital or moving or hilarious, more than listening to the details of this person's story, we are busy planning our response, a follow-up to their anecdote a "Yeah, but what about THIS..." counter.

Really, we do. Next time someone is talking to you, see if you do it. See if you can catch yourself wanting to talk back more than than you want to hear what they're saying. Watch and see if your eyes wander, your mind travels ahead of the moment you're in, see if you're distracted by something in front of you, behind their head, self-contained problems, anything at all.

It's fine. It doesn't make us bad people or anything. It just means we're interested in being heard, and that we find our experiences important or interesting. There's nothing inherently wrong with that, really. Things have happened to you, you've had revelations like no other, and that's the truth. But if that's your reality, your very present world, then just think what other people might have to offer in terms of experience or wisdom or recantation. Or, forget lessons learned: how about just something to make you laugh, something you never thought of before, someone's example that can make you bowl over, think deeper, or try harder? Hey, if I ever had the opportunity to believe anything was possible, now would be the exact moment of decision. 

As difficult as it can be to listen up, to cup our hands around our ears, try to breathe quieter and wait, it's become more apparent how this particular downfall can stem into a bigger problem, or personality trait, which are sometimes the same thing. Therefore, confession: I have lately (or perhaps always) found it almost unnatural to ask for help from others. Not because I assume no one else has anything to offer me in terms of assistance, not because I think there's weakness in needing guidance, and not even necessarily because I have a stubborn streak like that of a, well in all senses of the word, ass. I think (or hope) this behavior of mine comes more from a basic and natural need to figure it out myself. It's one of those blessing/curse conundrums that I've always taken to, one that would cause my mom to yell at me numerous times throughout my explorative childhood. Finding me in the midst of a physical disaster, an explosion in the microwave, or a dress with a re-sewn hem (by yours truly) that immediately merited the garment unwearable, I would hear those words, something like: "If you don't know how, JUST ASK."

Sheesh.


Even though that tended to engrain even further that I WOULD do it all on my own (trust me, I still tried), Susan's advice, however frustratingly given, isn't so far from the truth. Why not just ask? If we're not sure of our next step, why not admit that to someone who might know better, someone who's worn our very tired shoes, someone who knows these miles that are stretching out before us. 


I think sometimes we're afraid of hearing what we've already heard before, or worse, what we've already tried before. Almost anyone can give you basic advice, and really, what's so bad about that? I know it gets repetitive, or frustrating, it's hard to nod along or seem enthusiastic about what you feel you already know. 


But, what don't you know? What is hidden in their experience that is new to you, what can you take away from a conversation or a reconnection that brings you hope, new methods, new avenues of risk-taking or, in some cases, attack? I was recently told by someone much younger than me, though the gap in age and life experience certainly doesn't prove him wrong: "The world isn't going to just hand you what you want. You have to go out and take it." This teeny and heartfelt piece of wisdom doesn't lie; if you want the truth, demand it and accept nothing less. If you want to know how, look into it, read up, ask around. 


You'd be surprised to know how many people are going through your situation, similarly, identically, struggling in the exact ways you are, searching for comparable answers, struggling through the same dilemmas. Don't let that be your discouragement, don't make it a way to be aware of your competition or your enemies. Rather, these people are your allies. They want good for you as much as you want it for yourself and as much as they want it for themselves. It's funny how knowledge of a person's troubles makes them more human to us, more bearable, it brings us to a purer sense of compassion. Hopefully if we can stand the idea of asking for advice (trust me, it gets easier and more humbling every time), perhaps we will likewise develop a better listening ear, for whatever circumstance that may bring. I'd like to silence my mind, every once in awhile, I'd like to test my limits a little and stop multi-tasking all the time. Imagine that, if you can. Sheer crazy-talk at this point, but something worth considering. 


It's important to face that we need each other. And that certain people know things that we don't. I know, it's positively unbelievable. But if we can wrap our minds around that fact, we can surely find a way to comprehend and make use of the ideas and encouragement we're given. That way, in, on a twisted fated someday, we might be the ones who have the advice to give, the shared experiences to delve into, the stories to spread. You never can tell. 




Sidenote: A recent submission to Warby Parker for the job opening of "copywriter extraordinaire" has put me into a current good-vibe-mode about the potential to work for and represent a company and a cause I can truly support. Updates sure to follow.