More Excuses

Honestly, I haven’t been anywhere. Maybe it’s because I’m no longer an angsty twenty-something, and am all about being able to hold a job and support my family, which means I’m no longer writing about boys and irritating co-workers, two of the most highly overused topics in the online journalling world, and incidentally, two things that I can still go on and on about… Maybe it’s because I’m not a sellout, and refuse to sit around and write product endorsements, which might make sense if I had actual readers… And maybe it’s just because my interests have shifted. I spend most of non work, non family time knitting. Gone are the days when you could knit in front of the computer because the internets were so slow that you could get an entire round on a sock done while waiting for web pages to load.

(I wrote that all a month ago and the darn entry has been sitting in the drafts folder, unfinished.  So now I suppose my reason is just that as usual, I’m just bad with the follow-through.)

A month and still no update.

So it’s another quickie catch-up…

We went camping with Clever Canines, our dog club.  Our non-dog friends think it’s strange, but we love Tracie and Joe and all that they’ve done for our family.  Camping with other people who believe in pack mentality is so much more comfortable.  Now if only we could find the AP group of of the alpha dog world…

We went to Edmonton.  Pictures here.

We Jim tore up the deck in our backyard.

We Jim built a patio.

My parents booked a trip to come visit us!  But those plans fell through and they didn’t make it here.  Hopefully this means I get to visit home sooner than expected.  (We were planning for next summer, but maybe this Christmas instead.)

I’m twittering now.  But I’m not so sure I get it.  This morning I twittered the fact that it took six minutes to get from 37th to Blackfoot via Glenmore.  Which is miraculous, but really – why would anyone care?  Ryan Ozawa twitters stuff like that and it’s useful to people because he has twitter groupies.  But I have a small small circle of friends who keep an eye on my twittering.  And sometimes I’m not even sure I want them reading.

I am addicted to facebook but not ready to join the 12 step program.

So a friend of mine is blogging now.  (Is it pretentious that I STILL hate that term?)  She’s not doing it on a domain that advertises her real name.  I don’t know that I told her that I did this for years under a made up name, with a domain name that had no identifying factors other than my registration information, which totally gave me up, but let’s face it:  google my name and you don’t get a listing of all the domains that are registered to me.  So really that’s not much of a giveaway.

Anyhow, I’m jealous that she can write more than I can because she’s not doing this out in the open.  I’m wearing a tshirt that says jaimebourne.com, and she’s got the invisible ink version.  If you shine it in the light just so, you can figure it out…

Dr. Scott recently went underground.  It’s possible that I will follow suit soon.

P.S.  I got a mac.  There’s no lightrooom for linux and holy crap was I missing out.  Is aperture worth a look?

Funny work incident that won’t get me fired:  One of the things I do is finalize documents before they go out to clients.  Sometimes these docs go through peer reviews so that everyone is happy with what they say.  Normally it’s all very cordial – people just change words and fix things up and no one takes any of this personally.  Last week I got a doc back from someone that had the “wtf?” written on it.  I don’t think the original author has any idea.

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I Need a Job Already

I don’t enjoy job interviews. Does anyone? In the past I have found myself spazzy and nearly completely unable to think. Of course, I haven’t had to go through many interviews in my life. I’ve worked several jobs, and I suppose each of those came with an interview, but for the most part, when you interview for a retail job, the interviewer just wants to make sure you can speak in complete sentences while maintaining an appropriate amount of eye contact. And then they hire you on the spot.

In fact, I don’t think I’ve been to many interviews in which I didn’t get the job. When I was 15 or so I applied to work at the House of Music in Ala Moana. Is that still there? The manager at the time called me in for an interview (my first one, ever,) and proceeded to give me the impression that he liked me. Then he tried to tell me that my availability *might* not be something they could work with. But he never did say, “sorry, we are unable to hire you at this time.” He kind of gave me the runaround. Anyhow, after that I pretty much got every job I interviewed for.

I think I’ve sent out at least thirty resumes and cover letters. You know what sucks? They tell you over and over again in school to double, triple, quadrupal check your resume and cover letter, ensuring that there are NO TYPOS. It sucks when you send something off to a potential employer, applying for a job that you’re totally interested in – the kind with wonderful pay, super hours, and even a company gym – and after sending it, you realize that you sent off that stupid cover letter with a typo. Yes, this happened to me more than once. Of course I shouldn’t be admitting it here, where a future employer could see how careless and unfocused I am…

I’m getting the hang of it now. The problem was that most job applications are submitted online. Times sure have changed. So, if you’re submitting these things online, chances are you aren’t even printing off hard copies of these letters and resumes. You’re just reading and correcting them off the screen. I’ve learned that printing them off for the corrections is totally worth both the paper AND printer ink.

So of those thirty or so resumes, I’ve been called in for four interviews. Two of those jobs I lost to “more qualified” applicants. One was a “Placement Company” which I did work with for about a month, and one was an interview that I went to today. When you look at those numbers, 30 resumes, 4 interviews, 2 outright rejections, it’s a little discouraging. Jim reminds me that I’ve probably never been in this kind of economy. I’m also not willing to work for minimum wage anymore. Incidentally I did not get spazzy today, as the interviewer was very good and able to put me completely at ease. (There’s a second one tomorrow, so I’m thinking today went well.)

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When I Grow Up

So I’m not allowed to work or go to school while I’m waiting out this immigration thing. Which isn’t always so bad. I get to stay up late, sleep in, and almost never have to put on respectable clothing. I can drink coffee all morning and not worry about having to find a bathroom later in the day. I can sit in front of the computer all day, writing nanonovels and dreaming of employment. Dreaming of school, too. But I can’t actually do that.

On the other hand, though, I miss having money. I miss being able to walk into a store and not feel guilty about buying some new knitting needles. I miss having stuff to think about, people who need me. Sure people need me, but there isn’t always that constant hum of stuff going on in the back of my head. No amount of self-directed projects is going to restart the humming.

I’ve always had a fear of the future. I’ve always been afraid to commit to a career. Everything I’ve done has been “temporary” or “just until I figure out what I want to do.” I’ve spent a whole lot of time feeling sorry for myself, telling myself that one day I will go back to school. I’ve even gone back to school a little bit, and failed pretty miserably. In case you guys are wondering, the month after breaking up with someone is not the time to return to school, no matter how much of a good idea it seems at the time. The distraction of school doesn’t keep you from being sad.

I was going to be a whole bunch of things at some point in my life. Nail tech, hairstylist, dentist, which my cousin urged me not to do because I would get AIDS. (This was a long long time ago.) Attorney, and then judge, professional actor/singer/jlo. Damn that jlo for stealing my thunder. Math teacher, computer somethingorother, CPA, Hawaiian studies activist/teacher/Hawaiian issues attorney, psychologist, journalist, novelist, English professor, letter carrier, photographer.

Obviously none of those stuck.

But in less than a month I will be 29. I can remember when my mother was 29. I need to figure this shit out. I need to decide, I need to take charge and deal with it. There was a time when people would pressure me to talk about it. Not everyone can understand the thing where I don’t know what I want to do. The thing where I don’t want to talk about what I want to do. The thing where I’m deathly afraid of picking the wrong thing, of finding myself twenty years from now, unhappy in my career choice. I don’t know how I became this person. The kids I went to school with are settling comfortbly into their jobs. They are commiting to something and making it work, having babies, supporting families. They don’t seem to be threatened by the prospects of a bad choice.

I am still afraid.

Lately I’ve been thinking about my future again. In that obsessive way that I tend to do, where I don’t think about anything else, and read every single thing I can about a given subject. Well, this month it’s nursing. Nursing! I’m really excited about this, but you never know with me. Sometimes I get excited about stuff and then three months from now I have a new thing to be excited about.

It’s a big deal that I’m telling you people.

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