I am currently (and still) unemployed. If my memory serves me right (it barely does), this is the longest I’ve been without a job. I try (at least for the first 2 months) to justify this lack of employment because I feel that I deserve a huge break because I slaved in a job I absolutely hated with no vacation, sick leaves or pretend-to-be-sick leaves for 2 years straight, and for my track record, that is, incredible.

I don’t mean to sound like I’m the world’s worst employee, ever. I’m probably world’s working for the money because the economy is not doing too great for me to actually try at a career I actually want employee. The whole idea of moving back here was for me to gamble my way into show business. Not as an actress, but anything to being a writer or someone who works with the writer was something I was going for. Turns out, those type of jobs are not available on jobstreet.com.

At this point, I’d be willing to work on my screenplay on the side if it means getting the salary I want plus medical insurance. It seems like the longer I wait(ed) for something to happen for me, the more it compromised the dream I made for myself before buying a ticket back.

It sounds depressing when I type it on a blog but being an adult means being realistic about a lot of things. So many things transpired since I came back and most of the things that did happen are things I didn’t realize would happen/something I was trying to avoid to happen but nevertheless I was kind of happy that it did happen. A lot of people in my life feel that it was a bad choice, or that it will crash and burn like it did before, I mean they didn’t have to say it, I can feel it in their non presence, but I am bravely standing by my decision.

I forget the point i was trying to make coming in to this blog post. I guess to sum things up, I feel currently bad about me being unemployed, I am looking for a job, and I feel farther from my friends when ironically, we now live in the same country again. There is a certain level of misery running in my veins, maybe it’s because I’m on my period or maybe because it’s exactly what I need to feel right now to get things moving in my life again.

Will fill you in with the progress or lack thereof in my life.


One comment

  1. I work a few jobs right now…mom of two, massage therapist in a physical therapy clinic 20+ hours a week, wife, grown-up, sister, friend. I elected to begin writing my blog in 2013 after having two babies, one after another, and trying to re-establish myself as an autonomous entity, and an artist, not just a mom and wife who put everyone else before myself (because, spoiler alert, that’s what moms pretty much have to do to make sure their newborns don’t die on their watch…and tragically, sometimes despite one’s best efforts, that horror still happens). My husband plays in two bands, skates ramps and bowls, and seemed to be able to enjoy being an autonomous human besides being a dad. So, I began fleshing out the fun texts I would exchange with my buddy while watching The Walking Dead tv series, traded services with a technically savvy friend, and set up a WordPress account. Two years later, when “blog season” arrives in my life, I am shackled to the laptop, making it happen best I can every week. Exhaustion, marital discord, self-doubt, naysaying mom-in-law who doesn’t like my off-color language, people who dismiss what I do because I write about a television show. I ask myself, many times in the throes of pain and fatigue, dispirit: “Why? Why do I do this?” And the answer is always: I do it because I choose to do it. I do it because I can’t NOT do it. When I don’t write, I get a little crazy. I actually get a lot crazy. It’s not pretty. So I write. It’s a thankless endeavor at times, but it is it’s own reward. I hear your voice, see you have been posting. Keep doing it, and I will, too. Deal?


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