Stages of Unemployment

Stage 1: Joy
I have nothing to do! All day, every day! I can go shopping, exploring, to the museums, to the movies...the list goes on! I can stare at my feet all day if I want to! Why? Because I am F-R-E-E FREE. Released from the confines of answering to The Man, I do/think/wear whatever I want! Take that, Banana Republic business casual! Enjoy the back of my closet along with the rest of the shit I don't like. FREEDOM! Oh, the possibilities of spare time! Praised be the person who came up with this concept!

Stage 2: Muted Joy
Good news - I got to do all of the things I wanted to do! Bad news - it took me two days. Boredom is batting his pretty eyes at me, as I spend more time sleeping and less time celebrating the fact that I no longer need to use words like "meeting" and "memo." Still, the novelty of beginning my day at 12 noon has yet to wear off. For the first time in almost a decade, I am well-rested! I am also discovering another perk of being unemployed - grocery shopping during the day, while everyone else is working, means no lines for me! I can now buy my food in peace, right alongside the rest of the price-conscious jobless folk.

Stage 3: A Visit From the Concerned Fairy
The initial thrill accompanying no longer having to wear nice clothes every day has morphed into wearing the same ratty jeans and t-shirt four days in a row. I have been sleeping upwards of 14 hours a day, for lack of anything to better to do. I am not unhappy, but perhaps not as chipper as before. A notice from the bank indicates that all of those fun and games (see: Joy) come at a price, and that this carefree time may not be able to continue forever. "Real-life" issues like health insurance and bills start to enter my stream of thought on a regular basis. This is ok, because I am starting to become irritable. Luckily, this irritability has motivated me to apply to a few jobs. Given my stunning employment history, terrific education, and winning personality, I expect to have a job in no time at all! In the mean time, I will continue to take advantage of my schedule-less life and shiny television.

Stage 4: The Beginning of the End, Part 1 (Present state of being)
My job search has yielded no results, fostering a growing sense of rejection, along with its good friend frustration. Apparently, no one wants to hire me. I choose to blame my crap employment history, lousy education, and grouchy disposition. Wearing the same jeans and t-shirt has devolved into wearing the same pajamas day after day, as leaving the house no longer has the same appeal. The highlight of my day arrives at 3 p.m, when "Dr. Phil" airs. There is simple pleasure to be found in watching fat people from the Midwest complain about their kids/spouse/in-laws/pets/neighbors/local Wal-Mart/etc. I feel smart and accomplished when I watch. I am also starting to think that Dr. Phil is more of a miracle-worker than people give him credit for. By the end of the hour, I am lulled to sleep by their nasal voices and white skin. After napping for two hours (give or take two hours), I wake up in time for "Wheel of Fortune," where I watch another group of fat Midwesterners wave their arms and try to remember the alphabet ("I'd like to buy a vowel...F!"). Actual accomplishments have been replaced with "I got out of bed before the sun set" and "I pooped today." I may or may not be getting pressure sores on my ass.

A job cannot come soon enough, even if I have to dust off those sweater sets and skirts.

I know, I know. I haven't blogged in forever. Sorry! But, I do have reasons, so there's that. I moved to Queens yesterday, which was a production and a half, but it's all over and done with. I hate moving. I am planning on living in this apartment until I die, because that is how much I hate moving. The new place is nice and pretty clean, which is a huge plus. The only downside is that none of the windows have blinds or anything, which has made indulging in my favorite hobbies (naked strutting, naked yoga, naked writing, etc) a little awkward. I have got to get blinds soon. It's been two days and I am already feeling repressed. I like to think that this move to Queens signifies a new period in my life. Like, in my biography, it will be the title of a new chapter called "The Queens Years". I like that. I am sorry this post is so fucking boring. I am in the Apple store and I would write more if my legs weren't starting to hurt and I didn't have to poop. Later gators.