Friday, January 30, 2009


So I haven't posted in awhile. I lost my job months ago and I've been hiding my head in the sand, feeling too guilty about not working to allow myself to experience any pleasure.

Not a shocker I know, given the state of the economy. And somehow I am sailing by on that excuse. At parties or meeting new people when that inevitable question arises: "So what do you do?" it's not so terrible anymore when I tell them I'm unemployed. More often than not I get a sympathetic nod as if to say "Chin up, we're all gonna pull through this" or "Welcome to the club". The next question then quickly passes onto health care or the worsening economy and my woes are forgotten. What I don't say is that I was actually fired. Yes. My evil, amazon woman of a boss decided to make me her target and try as I might I could not meet her standards. Not only did she just dislike me but at my 3 month review she called me "self-righteous, immature, and irresponsible" and told me I "had a lot of growing up to do". I retorted that she was unprofessional and lacked good managerial skills. I suppose I can understand the "self-righteous" accusation. A month later I was let go. Anyway, it's been months and I've been peeling off various layers of emotions regarding the whole situation. It's uncannily like ending a relationship. I outline as follows:

Stage 1: Hate. Vivid images of my stilettos impaling my ex-boss through the head danced through my dreams.
Stage 2: self-pity. "Why does shit always happen to me?"
Stage 3: self-doubt and blame. "Maybe if I had just worked 80 hours instead of 75...."
Stage 4: Hate. I strongly considered kidnapping her dogs.
Stage 5: Pathetic mental collapse. "I can't apply at McDonald's, I don't have the experience, no one would want me now!"
Stage 6: Acceptance. This is finally my chance to move to Paris and sell love spells in the streets! I don't need a steady paycheck! I'm a unique, free-spirited woman! Damn the haters! Who wants to start a commune with me?

I'm hoping that the whole experience, if nothing else, has given me some time to reflect. I am re-discovering myself. I had fooled myself into believing that I like wearing pant suits and carrying corporate credit cards because I'm good at being a pulled together professional who eats sushi and gets massages once a month. What I really want is to be elbow deep in acrylic paint and sequins or teaching people expressive dance and I want to be able to cry or laugh whenever I want and not be worried if my mascara is going to smudge because my next client is coming in. No, right now I have no idea how I'm going to pay the bills expensive is it to live in a commune?

I know we spend a lot of time defining people by their profession in this country but with a rapidly increasing unemployment rate and rising job related stress levels, I feel like along with everything else, it's time for a change. When are we really going to judge people not on the padding of their 401ks and the honors on their resumes but on the content of their character? I may be self-righteous. I may be immature or irresponsible. And at 25 I certainly hope I have a lot of growing up to do. But I am not my job.


*I am still an advocate of sushi and massages.