What do I want to do with my life?

I've been unemployed before and it's never fun. This time feels different though, mainly because I was working in a job I was good at, liked well enough, and was making enough money to survive on. I didn't voluntarily leave. This time is different too because being desperately broke isn't as much of a concern since I'm married now, so we have the husband's income, and I'm also able to collect unemployment. We're going to have to cut back on some things, but we're going to get through it.

It's been a month since my last day of work and I'm starting to feel it. The lack of motivation or desire to get off the couch (the 5pm sunsets aren't helping), and just a weird sense of uselessness. I'm looking for jobs but at this point I don't even know what kind of job I want.

What is my purpose? What am I good at? What do I enjoy doing? Where do I see myself in five years? I feel like I don't have answers to any of these questions.

I've worked with kids, adults, and teenagers. I've done office work and teaching work. Mostly in struggling nonprofits. I've been pretty good at every job I've had. I have this ridiculous degree that I've barely used and will be paying for it until I die (those loans aren't going away). What do I do with this?

a poem

Inspired my week three of my unemployment.

Untitled (by Carolanne Mitchell)

I have become one with the couch.
Cushions, stained and worn, bend to my form-
hold me like a child.
Feet recline and I'm lost in the soft blue glow
of the TV.
A lazy cat presses against my side-
Sister.
Netflix: Always there in my time of need.

Outside orange leaves bounce off  blue sky
squirrels scurry in the backyard preparing for the cold
rustling leaves.
Birds sing to remind me, beckoning me.

But the couch grips me tighter,
the cat stretches her paws,
And Netflix asks if I'm still watching.
I am.

I'm not a classroom teacher

A lot of times when people find out I have a master's in education they assume I want to be a teacher. Usually by "teacher" they mean a traditional classroom teacher. Someone who stands in front of a class of 25+ students (that's being conservative these days) and teaches them what they need to know. I am not a classroom teacher and I don't want to be one, and that's okay.

I wouldn't be a good classroom teacher. It's important to know what you're good at, but it's also important to know what you're not good at. I know a lot of amazing and talented classroom teachers and I will never be part of their ranks. When I see the dedication and passion they bring to their classrooms I'm always somewhat awe-struck, because I know I could never do that.

So why did I bother burying myself in student loan debt to get an education degree if I don't want to be a classroom teacher? Maybe it was just because five years ago I desperately needed a change and a challenge and it seemed like a good opportunity. Even in graduate school I knew I didn't want to be a classroom teacher like a lot of my classmates. I was interested in after-school programs and community-based education. I was, and still am, interested in educating from outside the system,

Also I need some downtime during my days to gather my thoughts. And I need to be able to take bathroom breaks. I don't like taking my work home with me. I know that's sort of an expectation nowadays, especially for teachers, but it's just not for me.

I was laid off from my job recently and some well-meaning friends have suggested I apply for vacancies in the Philadelphia school district. Others have asked me why I don't apply to schools in the suburbs. There are a few reasons, but here are two: 1) I have a Reading Specialist certification and there just aren't a lot of jobs for Reading Specialists. 2) I'm not a classroom teacher.

Teachers are highly trained professionals who aren't paid what they're worth and need to put in a tremendous number of hours to support their students. They often take the blame for failing schools and failed policies. I admire the teachers in my life for their ability to clear through all the bureaucracy and do what's best for their students. But it's too much pressure for me.

I know what I'm good at and it's not being a classroom teacher. It's okay to know what you don't want to do.

Educated and Unemployed

I'm embarking on my 30's unemployed. Not because of anything I did, but because of politician (those assholes). I've never been laid off before- it feels very grown-up. I'm trying to stay positive, and to be honest I needed a break. Maybe this is the forceful push I needed to really start looking for something bigger and better. Maybe now I'll start actually cleaning my home and making meals instead of planting myself on the couch after work and not moving until it's time to make myself go to bed.

This is day two of my unemployment adventure and I need to go clean my room.

2012 month-by-month

This is where I reflect on the past year month-by-month, because I have time to do that right now. Let me just start by saying that this was a hard year for me. It started with my diploma from Penn arriving in the mail, confirming that I did in fact do that and I now have a masters degree in education. Time to get a damn job, right? Only that proved to be insanely difficult and something I struggled with through out the year. I never had enough money, there were plenty of times I couldn't afford food. I'm not really sure how I made it to this point, to be honest. But yeah, here's the play-by-play:

January 
This is great. No more grad school. No more articles to read or papers to write. I guess I should look for a job now, but at least I have all this extra student loan money to live off for the next couple months.

February
I'm already over writing cover letters and going to job interviews. When will this end?


March
Not any time soon, clearly. I guess I'll take this job at the most horrible after school program in the world. 5 hours a week at $10/hr is totally worth my time. 

April
This is the dumbest after school program in the world. A third interview is a good sign, right? At least the weather is starting to get nice. Oh, and according to my calculations I'm going to be completely out of money in a month. 

May
My calculations were correct, I'm out of money. Those $50 paychecks weren't really helping much anyway, but that job is over now. Because it makes sense to end an after school program a month before school ends. Guess I'll start temping. 

June- August
 (I have no idea how I survived these months.) I went home in June for my dad's birthday and realized I could never move back there, no matter how desperate I got. Temping at the convention center isn't so bad, I guess. But damn, it's hot out. Thank god my friend gave me an air conditioner. Thank god my friends bought me food and lent me money to pay my rent. Seriously... how did I make it through the summer? At the end of August I finally secured a steady job and ended the month with one last temp gig working for the Republican party.

September
I started my new job and quickly realized that they were paying me an offensively low wage, but that I was in no position to dispute it. When I got the call about the job I was so desperate I was seriously considering moving home with my mom. 

October
My birthday happened and I felt loved. I still didn't have enough money.

November
I had a 60 day review at work and got the sense that my boss likes me (but still wished she would pay me like it). I got dumped. I got over it. I went home for Thanksgiving and it was nice.

December

I told myself I was going to seriously look for a second part time job. I didn't. I talked to my boss about remote possibilities of promotions far far in the future. I got sweet cards and gifts from families at work. I got to see most of my extended family for Christmas. It was nice. I celebrated the New Year in Philly with wonderful people who have become some of my best friends. 

making sense of the senseless

I've been working with kids for a long time. As a childcare professional I've gone through a lot of safety trainings and every time I hope to never have to use them. I think I'll be rereading my notes this weekend. I'm sensitive in ways that may not be obvious right away. I tear up at CPR training sometimes because I can't help but imagine scenarios where a knowledge of CPR might prove useful. When sitting through a safety training I imagine what it might feel like in an actual emergency. I'm thinking about the steps: shelter-in-place is announced, lock the doors, move away from the windows, huddle all 40 kids inside the kitchen and wait for the all clear. But that could never happen at my program. I'm sure the teachers at Sandy Hook Elementary thought it could never happen at their school, until it did. And I can't help but try to imagine myself in their shoes as they remembered their safety training. Active shooter on campus. Never mind how much those words should never have to be spoken at an elementary school. But they acted fast and bravely and kept their students safe, and I can't imagine what they must be feeling now knowing that they survived and other didn't.

Everyone is trying to make sense of it and figure out who to blame. Guns or mental illness or some combination of factors. How to prevent this from ever happening again. It doesn't make sense, though. Senseless acts of violence are like that. 

I was reading about this shooting before work today, just a few minutes before I went out to meet my kids after school. I was reading about it and holding back tears as I listened to my coworkers talk about Youtube videos. It was in the back of my mind all day. I was thinking about this and the senseless act of violence that happened in my neighborhood Wednesday night when two teenage boys shot a man over an argument about sports. Senseless. Violence. 

I was thinking about it when I saw a group of sixth graders throwing clumps of dirt at a group of fourth graders playing soccer, and when one of those clumps of dirt hit a boy in the face and he started walking toward me crying, and when I almost lost my cool and raised my voice at the sixth graders that this shit has got to stop. Kids throwing dirt at each other is not the worst thing they could be doing, for sure. But the attitude that it's no big deal is what bothers me. They'll say they're just playing, but somebody inevitably gets hurt and my job is to keep them safe while they're in my care.

The news about the shooting in Connecticut had not reached my elementary schools kids by this afternoon and we were asked not to bring it up so their parents could address it with them first, but I'm sure it will be a topic of conversation on Monday. I hope it will be an opportunity to talk about the point I've been trying to get through to them all year, which is simply don't hurt each other. 

new leg: frustrations

Things finally came through and I picked up my knew leg Friday. Everything is new on this thing: brand new socket that fits a lot tighter (better) than the old one, cute new foot that's not too big or too wide and a new knee.

Here's a picture of the foot, which is basically the only part of this leg I'm excited about:

If you've ever been shoe shopping with me before, which you probably haven't, you'd know why I'm so happy about this foot. My left foot is a narrow size 6.5 and for the past 15 years that I've had to contend with a rubber right foot that has varied from a very wide size 7 to a very wide 6 (apparently they don't make half sizes in fake feet), none of which has ever wanted to fit nicely or easily into a woman's shoe. I've broken a sweat trying to pry on dress shoes before. But this new foot is as close to perfect as I could imagine. It's like a lady's foot. I don't know if all those other feet were made for men, or if they just had a generic gender neutral prosthetic foot up until now. But, here it is, a just right foot. No more sweating over shoes.

The socket fits a lot tighter than my old one, but that's because that's how it's supposed to fit and my old one is now slightly too big because I lost a little weight since I got this set up four years ago. It happens. 

I was at my leg place for about three hours Friday because I forgot how horrible the whole process can be. Everything was built and assembled, so we just needed to get the height and alignment correct... which it isn't. I'm not sure if my old leg was just really short and I got used to being short on the right side or if the new one is slightly too long. But the smallest length disparity feels real weird. Right now it feels real weird.

I downgraded from a C-leg to an Ossur Mauch knee (click those links to learn more about fancy prosthetic technology from the respective manufacturers). Ossur is the same company that makes those cool blade legs for running (worn by Olympian Oscar Pistorius) and the Mauch is supposed to be a pretty high end knee that allows the wearer to do cool things (like climb Mt. Kilimanjaro  apparently-- if you watch the video on their website you'll hear how that guy did that with this knee). Really, all I want to do is walk to the grocery story and withstand attack hugs from kids at work. 

When I tried the new knee at the office I was noticing it wasn't quite bending and felt really stiff, they made some adjustments but it didn't really get better. They sent me home with both legs so I could get used to the new one gradually. I still owe them my loaner C-leg back, but after wearing the Mauch around for a little while today I don't think I want to give up my old knee. I'm not sure if I'm doing something wrong or the knee is just set up all wrong, but it's only bending about 50% of the time I'm walking and I haven't been able to figure it out. The first step feels fine, the knee swings, it's cool... but I walked all the way to the bank today like a pirate and it was not fun. I just want to walk normal, or as close to normal as I can get. It did not look or feel normal walking around with the new leg today and it was insanely frustrating. Now that I have health insurance I might be able to get on a plan that will cover a new C-leg, but I don't know which plan that is or how many times they'll let me change plans (since my coverage hasn't even officially started yet). There are things I could potentially do with the Mauch that I probably couldn't do with the C-leg (like run, if I suddenly decided to start doing that), but I just got so comfortable with the C-leg and it's so good for just normal walking around things. 

So now I don't know what I'm going to do, and of course next week is a short week with Thanksgiving, so I don't know if I'll be able to get in for adjustments. I do plan on calling the leg guy Monday to let him know what's going on. But seriously, leg stuff is so frustrating.

my week with the republicans (part 1)

Last Friday I got a call from the temp agency I've been working for about a week long assignment. She informed me that it would involved phone banking for the Republican party (and she said "Republican party" like it was a dirty word). She said she understood if I didn't want to take the assignment and I had a quick internal debate. I was so conflicted I told her I'd have to call her back. Because the truth was, I really needed the money from this assignment, but did I really want to work for the Republican party? Eventually I decided that I'd really like to pay my rent this month and, if anything, I might get some good stories out of it.

I showed up at the Romney campaign office Monday morning at 9am and checked in with the woman from the temp agency. There were four tables set up around a shabby front office, each with four phones. I found a seat at a table with three middle-aged black women, because those are my favorite kind of temp workers. I haven't been inside any campaign offices before, but this one was pretty sad. It looked like they just rented out whatever space they could find and slapped a few stickers on the wall. Looking around the room it was clear that we were all temp workers, and I took some pleasure in the fact that they couldn't round up enough volunteers and had to contract out to a temp agency. There's some irony in the idea of a bunch of marginally employed Philadelphians making calls for the Republican party, most, if not all of, of whom are likely Obama voters.

The best/worst part was the script we were given to guide the phone calls we would be making. For some reason we were targeting woman voters, but as you'll see in the image below there wasn't anything that really addressed the concerns of women in the script (you'll also see that I used mine primarily for doodling).

fiction (untitled and in progress)

Claire licks her lips. Not seductively, but because they were dry and she forgot her lip balm when she switched bags that morning. She has about seven lip balms scattered around her apartment and in different bags, but somehow she forgot to transfer one into her big tote bag before she ventured outside today. It’s mid-Autumn and the humid summer air is finally receding. She likes the cooler, crisper air that comes with Autumn, but she couldn’t stop licking her dry lips. She looks down and notices her ankles are also dry, and digging in her bag for lotion she realized she forgot that too.

She is sitting on a park bench in the middle of the city. The other half of the bench was occupied by an old woman when she first sat down, but the woman got up and walked away with a friendly smile after a few minutes. Claire will only sit next to old women at this park. She is wary of the older men and nervous around the attractive younger men. Old women are usually a safe bet; she feels comfortable smiling at an old woman.

reasons why I'd be totally content to work part time right now

I'm currently being considered for two different part time position in my field. I am totally happy with this. If I could miraculously get both of these jobs my life would be awesome. Job 1 is at an after school program a few blocks from my apartment. For a part time after school job they've made me go through a whole lot of steps and I'm hoping my continued interest will act in my favor. And they'd be crazy not to hire me. After school programs are my thing. I've written papers about it. Job 2 is a part time library position at a Catholic school. It would only be two days a week but with a schedule flexible enough that I could still do the after school job. I love the idea of working in a school library. I love books and I love seeing kids get excited about books and I would like to share my excitement about books with kids. I saw the library and it was a little sad, but I'm confident that I could make it awesome. Hopefully I convinced the principal that I am serious and enthusiastic about this part time opportunity.

Part of me feels like I should be more ambitious and try harder to secure full time, grown-up employments. But, then again, 7+ of unemployment has kind of crushed my spirit and part time jobs might be all I can handle right now. These two part time jobs in particular would be good on my resume and I feel like I could learn and grow as a professional educator.

Here are a few more reasons why I'd be content with part time employment:
- I'd be able to make ends meet, if not overlap. I've gotten so used to being so broke any steady income would be wonderful. I've done the math and these jobs would allow me to pay my rent and my bills and probably have some cash left over for food. Anything consistent would be better than the constant state of broke-ness I've been experiencing currently.
- Free time! If I'm only working 20-30 hours a week I'll still have loads of free time for comedy things and friend things and fun things. And I won't have to rely on the kindness of my friends to buy me drinks when we go out. And coming up with septa fare to get around won't be a constant struggle.
- I could ease into the whole "career" thing. I may be highly educated, but I am not very experienced in terms of work things. It might be nice to be able to ease into it with less pressure than I'd get from a full time teaching position.
- I am so damn tired of applying for job, writing cover letters, and going to interviews only to be rejected again and again. I can only handle so much rejection.

Seriously guys. I am so sad and so broke right now. I need these jobs. Waiting a week or so to hear about them is awful. So if you see me in the next week and I seem off, that is why.

people i interact with at open mics

I've been trying to go to more open mics lately because I have a lot of free time right now and I should be taking better advantage of it. Going out more has made me noticed there are generally three kinds of people I interact with at open mics (or don't). I'm going to break it down in a list because lists are fun and easy to do. And these are generalizations and probably vague descriptions and if you're a comedian friend I encourage you to try and figure out what category you're in (or don't).

1. People I'd like to talk to, but don't
These are mostly people who have been doing this comedy thing a lot longer than I have and are more "legitimate." I only want to talk to them if they're people I find funny though. Sometimes I'll say hello to these people or even a few more words than hello... sometimes these people will even say "good set" to me and I'll wonder if they mean it or if they're just being nice to a lowly noob open mic comic such as myself. I'm wracked with insecurity. It just want to be liked! But I get nervous talking to most people and I'm easily intimidated.

2. People I truly enjoy talking to
These are people with whom I've had real actual conversations in real life (and probably on facebook too). People I like. People I feel comfortable talking to outside comedy shows and open mics. People with whom I have stuff in common beside doing comedy things sometimes. People with whom I can talk about actual life stuff if I want to. Or not. (There's actually a lot of gray area between these three categories now that I think about it.) There are more people I kind of am comfortable talking to than people I truly enjoy talking to. (Why did I start out ending with a preposition and then try to not to that and then just go right back to it? Am I trying to prove to you that I went to college? I minored in Linguistics so I could totally draw a grammar tree showing that it's permissible to end a sentence with a preposition if you want to.)

3. People I really don't want to talk to
These are usually new open mikers and they are usually drunk and nervous. It's not that I don't want to impart my limited wisdom ("Whatever, man, just have fun with it. And stop drinking.") Sometimes these are just regular drunk people and sometimes they are hitting on me (I think?) or just getting in the way of me talking to people in category two. I don't really enjoy talking to drunk people. Unless I'm drunk, in which case I'll talk to everyone. But I try not to be drunk at open mics.


This list is probably over-simplified and incomplete.

first time

I hosted my first open mic last night and it was really fun! My good friend Bradley Beck was kind enough to let me host the open mic portion of the comedy show he hosts with the lovely Becca Trabin (who wasn't there last night because she was in NYC because she's too good for us, apparently [just kidding, Becca, ilu!]). I'm going to start a new sentence because that was a weird parenthetical tangent. The show is called Accidents Will Happen and you can click on those words to go to the facebook page.

Anyway. So last night was super fun and hosting the mic was also a good time, if a little nerve-wracking. I took about four minutes at the beginning  to warm up and crowd (which was great and big, until they all left around midnight) and I felt like I had a good set. I tried some new stuff and finally think I've worked out this joke I've been developing for a couple weeks to something that will actually make people laugh rather than just feel bad for me. Most of the open mic comics were great and it was a lot of people I didn't know already, so that was kind of cool. The most stressful thing was the handshake that did or didn't happen between myself and the comics, eventually I just gave up on trying to shake anyone's hand, but sometimes it happened. Then I tried switching it up to high-fives, which are more my speed anyway, but that didn't really work out. Regardless of my awkward stage presence, I think everyone enjoyed themselves (I hope).

I also took pictures, which is another thing I like to do. I'll probably add some to this post when they're ready.

Here's a link to some photos from the first half of the show!

shredder

A couple years ago my dad bought me a paper shredder for Christmas. This seemed like an odd gift for a father to give to his 24-year-old daughter, but I've used it. Credit card offers I get in the mail go straight into the shredder. When I stumble across and electric bill from 2010 it goes in the shredder. Before I moved to Philadelphia I did some serious shredding. I have a weird tendency to hold onto things. A few years back I bought an accordion folder to try and organize my important documents. I organized it for health insurance stuff, income, taxes, student loans, etc. Lately though I've just been piling stuff up on my kitchen table and various other surfaces in my apartment. Here's what my kitchen table looked like a little earlier today:

And here it is, relatively tidy, after I looked at the above picture again and thought, "What the hell is all this paper doing here?!"

Most of it went in the trash (or the shredder). A few things went into the accordion folder, which I swear I'm going to organize someday soon. 

The problem is, I tend to be kind of sentimental. I still have the first "Certificate of Awesomeness" I received from my good friend Doc Thunder's karaoke night. I feel bad throwing away cards from family members (especially my grandparents-- it just feels heartless). I still have drawings and notes from former campers and students (some of these are from YEARS ago, but I just can't let go). I still have notebooks from college undergrad classes, and I have SO many notebooks and handouts and whathaveyous from grad school. This isn't normal. Am I a hoarder? Am I just too lazy to go through this crap and clean house? (Probably the latter.) Do other people just store this kind of crap at their parents' house, who eventually toss it all out for them?

Every once in a while I'll get a burst of energy and tidy up a small area of my living space, but usually within a month it's back to the same old mess. One of these days I promise, I promise YOU dear reader, that I am going to clean up and get organized and donate the mountains of clothes and books that I don't even remember owning and then feed all my old bills and pay stubs from 2004 to that damn shredder. (Seriously, I found a pay stub from 2004 when I was looking for medical documents a few weeks ago... why???)

Afterthoughts:

It's interesting (or at least I find it interesting) that in work situations and I extremely organized. Nothing bothers me more than a messy work station. If I'm working at a desk that desk better be neat and organized. The first thing I did when I got my job in human resources was organized that space (which was formerly occupied by a lovely but not-so-neat coworker). I moved around files so they made sense, I shredded the crap out of years-old resumes and job applications, and things ran smoothly. Is it because I was being paid to be organized in this situation? Do I care more about other people's shit than my own shit?

what the hell DO I want? (dating edition)

I've been single for a little over a year now. A big part of the reason I chose to end my six year relationship was that I felt I had lost touch with just who the hell I am. In the past year I feel like I have effectively figured that out. Now, after a year on my own, I feel like I'm ready for something. Something. But what exactly?

Dating after a long term relationship is weird and confusing and I still haven't figured it out. My love life over the past year has consisted of: drunk hook-ups, one night stands, and a couple trysts that have lasted more than one night (literally, like three). Oh, a whole lot of awkward/terrible OKCupid dates (which are the worst). I've had more than one guy I've been interested in say to me that he is just not looking for a relationship right now. To which I replied, "Cool, thanks for not wasting anymore of my time." Not that I'm desperately looking for a relationship or anything.

I'm actually more confident in my worth as a human being and more aware of what I have to offer to the world more now that I've ever been before. So that's not my problem. I strongly feel that if someone rejects me it's more likely their loss. I have a joke that basically asks whether certain things I do mean that I'm happier now or just desperately lonely. I think maybe both are true.

The only thing I'm missing in my life right now is gainful employment (and a man, I guess). I have amazing friends and I love where I live. I know (roughly) what I want in a job. So, what the hell do I want in terms of relationships and dating?


Basically: It would be nice to have someone I could call my boyfriend, but all I really want is someone to hang out with/ make out with on a somewhat regular basis. Someone who's nice to me, pays attention, returns phone calls and texts, makes me laugh, and tattoos are also nice. Fairly simple. Preferably this person would be someone I know/meet in real life and not a weird Internet person (I'm probably going to disable my OKC account again soon, it's been nothing but disappointments there). 


Seriously, why is it so hard to find a guy who wants to make out with me more than once?

little kids just wanna know stuff

I was visiting a summer camp/after school program today (where I will hopefully be working soon) and I got to talk to a lot of little kids about my leg. Usually when I'm working with a new group of kids I'll wear long pants to avoid the distraction, but it was hot today so I went with a skirt. I expected and welcomed their questions. Six-year-olds are the only people who can asked me "What happened to your leg?" and get a friendly response.

Kids tend to want to know the same sorts of things. When I worked at summer camp years ago (holy crap, that was 10 years ago!) I actually made a list of Frequently Asked Questions for that reason. They tend to ask the following:

• What happened? (depending on the age of the asker I give various vague answers that aren't completely true "The muscles in my leg were sick." "Why?" "I don't know, they just were." Or, "I was in an accident...")
• Did it hurt?
• Can you feel this? (poke poke poke)
• Is your foot real? (Umm... no.)
• Will it grow back?
• How do you sleep/shower/swim? 

And the generally want to know how it works and I get to give them a science lesson about robots based on my limited understanding of how my leg actually works. I had one great conversation today that went as follows (These kids were staring and whispering to each other until one of them finally work up the courage to ask me):

Kid: What happened to your leg?

Me: A long time ago I was in an accident and I hurt my leg really bad, so the doctors had to give me a new one.

Kid: That's crazy!

Me: Yeah, I guess it's kinda crazy.

Kid: I like your shoes. 

There was also the little boy who just kept asking "Why?" after every response I gave (he really wanted to know stuff, I guess) and the little girl who kept trying to lift my skirt up to see the rest of my fake leg. It was refreshing when I walked into the classroom with the older kids and all I got was "Oooo, I like her hair!" from a girl. 

And it was all cuter than the drunk guy in a suit near Rittenhouse Square Thursday night who asked, with all the confusion of a child (a drunk child?), "Why are you walking like that?" (He didn't get any response).

this is getting old, guys

So I'm approaching the 6 month mark since I finished grad school and I still don't have a goddamn job and it's, it's just getting OLD. At first it was kind of nice having all this free time with no papers to write and nowhere to be during the day, and in those early months I still had savings! I was able to pay my rent and buy food and even buy other things too! It was magic. I was applying for jobs everyday and trying to be proactive and getting interviews (no jobs though). I thought about being even more proactive and applying for food stamps and things like that earlier, before I ran out of money, but I convinced myself that I would get a job soon. Well, that didn't happen!

What's on my scattered mind right now:

• Applying for jobs is so much more depressing after 6 months of rejection. I feel like I'm not qualified for anything and putting any effort into a cover letter is a waste of time because nonewantstohiremeanyway. I know this way of thinking is wrong, but how much rejection can a person take?

• My apartment is kind of a disaster and I don't want to deal with it. Piles of things. Everywhere. I was looking for a specific piece of paper the other day and had to sift through piles of receipts, junk mail, random hand out and programs from different events... why do I feel the need to hold onto this stuff? I need to start getting rid of shit in preparation for when I inevitably have to move into a cheaper place because no one will give me a fucking job.

• I went to the welfare office today to apply for food stamps and medical assistance because I need these things. I was the only white person there, which wasn't too surprising because it's West Philly. I have no way of knowing if I was the only masters degree person there, but the likelihood of that made me feel a weird mix if privilege and failure. If me and my fancy degree and my fairly comfortable upbringing can't get a decent job we're all fucked.

• Disability is oddly defined in this society. When you're applying for assistance from the state or county you have to be so disabled that you can't ever work... but then there's this whole other office whose sole purpose is to get people with disabilities working. I am currently dealing with both. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? Am I to be some invalid who doesn't work and lays at home with my helper monkey watching Maury? Or am I to seek your help holding down some office job until I die?

(Obviously it's not that simple. And I'm not doing a good job here at simplifying it in a funny way, so let's get serious. I can work and I want to work, however, there are some jobs I can't really do or that I would be really bad at on account of my leg. I can't lift things (like boxes or small children) safely, I'm slow as fuck on stairs so if those are around forget it, bending can be awkward, standing for long periods of time hurts me. Luckily I'm pretty fucking smart so anything that doesn't require physical labor is cool with me (seriously, smart lady right here, why isn't anyone hiring me?). So I need to convince them that I can or can't work? I'm confused, seriously.
     Realistically, though, my prosthesis is what allows me to work. Without it I'm kind of useless. It's hard to navigate most terrain on crutches. My two ideal work environments right now would be an office or a classroom and even in those relatively low-impact environments (relatively) crutches don't work. So, I need my leg fixed because the prospect of not having a functioning prosthesis is terrifying to me. It would be like losing my leg all over again )

• Comedy. Am I doing this right? How long am I going to do this? Why am I doing this? Sometimes part of me is like "I should get more serious about this and go out more open mics and actually talk to people and work on my material," and another part of me is like "Really? Don't you have to like apply for jobs or something?"

   
Where am I even going with this?

I don't know, but I'm definitely not proofreading it.

help me stay in philly

When I finished school back in December I did some math and determined that I had enough money in saving from my student loans to get me through about May if I didn't find a job in the meantime. My estimations turned out to be pretty accurate. It's now almost June and I am now almost screwed. I'm still applying for jobs without much luck and I'm running out of money. I'm applying for assistance, but that stuff doesn't work fast. When I was filling out one of the applications today there was a question about education and one of the choices was "no formal education" and I had some feelings as I checked off "masters degree." My education puts me in a more privileged position than a lot of folks. As does my whiteness. I don't think I was poor growing up, our basic needs were always met, but I am not able to rely on my parents for help right now. Both of them have offered to let me move back home for a little while while I get it together, but I really don't want to do that. What is there for me in Central Mass besides free rent? All my friends are here in Philly. Professionally, I want to work here in Philly and do something good for this city (if only someone would hire me already-- I would do SO MUCH good, I swear).

So now I'm reaching out to my friends and any Internet strangers who might be reading this. You can donate to help me survive here a little longer as I continue my valiant job search by clicking on this link. The goal amount of $3000 is based on the total cost to repair my prosthesis. See, I don't have insurance right now and it takes a while to get on medical assistance so I'm walking around with this loaner knee for as long as they'll let me. But if they need this knee back before I get some form of insurance I'll be back to a broken knee that's barely functional and I will be in a position where working will be a problem because of my disability. If enough people donate to help me pay my rent and I am able to find a job in the next few weeks I'll have some money to put toward fixing my knee. I can contribute much more to society and my community with a working prosthesis. So if you have a little extra money and you're feeling generous, donate to a good cause (ME). 

Maurice Sendak, writing, and guilt

Maurice Sendak died today and I've been spending a lot of time reading about his life and work and feeling inspired by the things he's said about writing, art, and children. This quote stood out for me, especially, as I'm setting out to write this story about how I grew up:

“Grown-ups desperately need to feel safe, and then they project onto the kids. But what none of us seem to realize is how smart kids are. They don’t like what we write for them, what we dish up for them, because it’s vapid, so they’ll go for the hard words, they’ll go for the hard concepts, they’ll go for the stuff where they can learn something, not didactic things, but passionate things.” (link)

I think this is a really important as an an educator, or a write, or any person who interacts with children on a regular basis to understand and appreciate "how smart kids are." I've never met a kid who didn't have a story. From the kid who's been in the foster care system since a young age who were finally adopted by an amazing lesbian couple, or the boy who moved around from relative to relative and writes about how much he misses his dad who's been in and out of prison to the genius 3rd-now-4th-grader who articulately told me about how she admired her mom for taking care of elders where she works then coming home to take care of her and her sister. Children don't need to be sheltered, they need to be respected and listened to. I know there are some things in my personal story, things I did at 12 or 13, that might make some adults uncomfortable, but it's nothing most 12 or 13-year-olds have experienced or at least have an awareness of. 

I recently had a conversation with my sister about that time period when I tried to kill myself, the hospitals, and how our relationship changed in the aftermath of it all. I was surprised to learn about the guilt she felt, still, for not having done more. I had never really heard her perspective. I understood the fear and confusion she felt, she was 10 at the time and didn't really understand what was happening. But she felt guilty for not doing more, not calling 911. I was aware of my own guilt, and of my mother's guilt, but I had never thought about my sister's guilt. My guilt has to do with putting my family, my little sister, through such a traumatic experience. 

And what would have happened if she had called 911? My leg might have been saved. But would I have had to learn the hard lessons that have made me the person I now am if that had happened? Honestly, I think I'm better off without it-- the leg, that is. I don't think it's worth spending a lot of time thinking about how things would be different if it all played out differently, because things happened and now we're here and we're all stronger for it.

the difference a year makes

I'm still trying to decide if I want to type a blog post about this crazy year of change that has just happened as I type this. So I might as well just keep typing, right?

One year ago I ended a pretty toxic relationship in the midst of an identity crisis and embarked on a journey to figure out just who the hell I am. And all in all I'd say it's been a pretty cool journey. Even if my life isn't exactly where I want it to be right now I've met a ton of really awesome people over the past year and feel more valued by other than I have before. And I'm getting there. So how about a list?

Things that are new in the past year:
- I have a master's degree! Last Spring was a time of great personal change, yet I managed to finish out the semester well and power through it and finish my degree. So that was pretty awesome.
- I live by myself for the first time basically ever and it's pretty awesome.
- I've made a lot of really amazing, supportive, super cool friends in the past year and I feel loved and valued by a whole bunch of people.
- I'm brave enough to do karaoke sober!
- I started doing comedy as a thing and it's been pretty cool. I think I'm kind of good at it.
- I feel confident and more secure in myself as a person. I'm someone worth knowing and I have a lot to offer and I won't be taken for granted, dammit!

I think I've decided through this experience that if something isn't working sometimes it is best to just cut it out and figure out a better way to do things. It's important to put yourself first every once in a while, etc., etc..

this is going to be intense

I decided that if I tell important people in my life that I want to write this book maybe I'll be forced to do it. I have the time right now and I feel like it's a story worth telling. Important people being key characters in the book, like my sister and my best friend at the time.

I had a really good day today. I felt good about things, even if I didn't fully trust my happiness to last. That's what happens when you get continuously let down. But my personal life seems good right now. Promising. And I had a really good job interview for a job I really want. I felt hopeful. I sat in the park all day and saw friends. Then I got home and looked at my bank account and realized that after I pay my rent this week I'm going to be broke and that I'm not making nearly enough money to sustain anything right now. I got depressed and had a small meltdown. Then my sister called me.

My sister is one of the only people who I can talk to on the phone for more than 10 minutes. We ended up talking for an hour. I mentioned this book I want to write about growing up and welcomed any insight, which she provided. I had never really thought about the events in questions from her perspective. That may be selfish of me. Guilt was a theme. We all feel guilty for different reasons. No one is at fault, though... really.

After talking to my sister I emailed the two girls I was with on that day (see this blog post for details) and within moments my phone rang. It was one of those girls. She was my best friend at the time, that was 14 years ago. I haven't heard her voice in a long time. She was almost manic. The major themes of the conversation were that I am an awesome person and an inspiration and that we've both been through a lot of shit and we are good, strong, well-intentioned people doing the best we can with what we've got. It was good to hear those things from her. We need to keep in better touch.

All I'm trying to say here is that between those two very intense conversations and actually starting to write I'm realizing this writing process is going to be really fucking intense and emotionally exhausting.