ncesc.com: The Happy Place.

Ah, unemployment.  

I could go on here in an unending rant of the frustrations of being unemployed, the lack of jobs there are out there right now, and the joys of a very limited income.  But I won't. 

You're welcome.

The lives of those of us who are unemployed are both on hold and delightfully freed.  It's as if we're in college again, but without the protective cover of classes to go to.  We learn what we teach ourselves.  When you have no job, you have the option to sit around in your pj's of self-loathing, watching reruns of What Not To Wear and dwelling on the slowly creeping onslaught of disgust that comes with inertia, or...you could actually choose to do something productive with all this free time you suddenly have and therefore feel at tad bit better about yourself at the end of the day.  

After dabbling in both, I've decided for today that the only way to live on unemployment and not go insane (and gain a half-ton of weight besides) is...well...the second one.  Don't get me wrong. I still have my days of relapse in the self-loathing pj's (they fit perfectly and hardly ever need to be washed, after all), but when it comes down to it, I'd much rather leave the confines of the couch (or my bed, or the recliner, or the middle of the den floor) and find something to do.  

Today, at the encouragement of my loving boyfriend, I've decided to blog again, as blogging is the apparent first baby step on the road to getting-over-myself and writing, despite any fears I have and the difficulty to peel off any remaining garments of the self-loathing variety.  After all, I've always loved to write, blogging used to be a lot of fun (and still is, as I'm reminded once every six months to a year when I update), and I now have an amazing Macbook on which to do it.  This computer is incredibly lightweight, sleek, intuitive, and the keys make a pleasant clack-clacking sound when I type with a certain amount of force.  It was love at first sight in the Mac Store.  

Also, I've done an incredible amount of reading since since January, when I became one of the 8.something % of people now seated in the unemployment dunking-booth ("Welcome back from Christmas break! You don't have a job any more.").  I've read everything from Gillian McKeith (veggie-happy, British granola/vitamin-evangelist who thinks we're all on a fast road to dietary hell in a deep-fried handbasket) to Stephen King's musings on the writing life.  Now, I've never been a horror fan and as a result, I've never read anything by Stephen King before.  But when I was browsing the Writing/Publishing section of Barnes and Noble a couple weeks ago, his book entitled On Writing caught my interest.  I read over the first few pages and consequently purchased it for the bargain price of....I don't remember, but less than ten bucks.  Not to make anybody roll their eyes, but hey... this guy can write!  After a narration of his childhood years and the events and interests therein that led him to write, he continues on to tell how he became the prolific writer that he is today.  I mean, dude's written dozens and dozens of books and I was fascinated with his process of taking an idea that piqued his interest and rolling with it until it developed into a novel. He made it sound as if the books spontaneously created themselves and their characters in his mind as he typed along, marionette-like, on his Powerbook.  I was encouraged by his belief that books and stories tend to write themselves; that all you have to do is present yourself as a tool by which a story can be written.  You start with a character, scene, question, etc. and from there, you just go where it takes you, writing as the thoughts come to your head.  

Well...it was more encouraging until I realized that this is pretty much my approach to blogging and we've all seen how that can turn out.

(Insert reader's uplifting comments and "pshaws" of disagreement here.)

So...to cut the rambling to a minimum, I'm side-lining the nerves and trying things the Stephen King way.  And you, dear reader, may have to suffer the consequences as I post bits and pieces of any resulting stories on here.  Hey, I may even read a Stephen King novel!  After all, I borrowed Craig's copy of The Shining like ten years ago and have yet to make it past page three.  This may or may not bode well for Stephen King's and my relationship and the writing it influences.

Sigh.

Unemployment, in the end, gives you a lot of time to take a good, hard look at yourself and what it is exactly that makes you tick.  When you step out of the working-to-live-to-work cycle, your daily reality shifts a bit, leaving you feeling disoriented and in desperate need of your sea legs.  The direction in which you so stalwartly marched every morning at 7am isn't where you left it anymore and so (to be apologetically metaphorical here) you may have to stop and ask for directions.  That's where your family and friends come in.  These are the people who hang around you for no apparent monetary or inspirational or reputational (exercising creative license there) gain and without any amount of threatening or stalking involved.  It's these people who will let you sit around in your pj's for only so long before they laugh, lift you up under your armpits, and shove you in the direction of the shower.  They don't expect apology or explanation, they're just there because they want to be and they want you to want to be too.  To all of you who are my particular people, I love you and am very, very thankful for you.  Keep laughing and shoving.  I'm sure I'll need it.

Hey!  What Not To Wear is about to come on...