Things I think about while not looking for employment

I know, I'm getting lazy with my writing--in terms of quantity, frequency, and quality. I guess I can fix the quantity and frequency part, but not when I've rediscovered crepe paper streamers and Jack has been out of town and I want to make sure his room is properly decorated in hot pink and yellow streamers when he gets back. But, it's hard to want to fix my quality of writing--especially as it just devolves into a series of lists of various topics. I can't help it--lists are such an efficient way to write! I blame it on my youthful lapse into obsession with the works of Nick Hornsby and the novel, High Fidelity, in particular, for wanting to create top ten list for every minutiae of your life. Besides, I'm hoping that writing bad posts that rely heavily on lists could be my "thing", my "voice" for this blog. Why yes, I like to skim from the bottom of the pond of mediocre work ethic.

And so, without further ado, here is my newest list of things I've been thinking about while not halfheartedly searching  for employment in a tiny and stagnant job market.

-"Is the kettle whistling? I swear I hear it's whistling." And so, with near lack of regular human interaction, I believe my brain is starting to lose it. This morning, as I boiled water in the kettle for a cup of coffee I always wonder why I need to drink, I could have sworn I heard it whistling--despite the fact that I had just put a kettle of cold water on the stove not two minutes before. I checked on it twice more before I decided that it really wasn't whistling and I should just go and look at things on the Internet.

-Speaking of things on the Internet, I spend a fair amount of time (while not searching for employment or watching mind rotting television) perusing gossip and celebrity fashion blogs and I find myself wondering how long it would take and how famous I would have to get to step out looking like Lea Michele at some Elle party. I'm not a fashion-y person, but I'd like to think that I put myself together enough to be presentable and I'd like to think that Lea Michele is, perhaps, the same way. But how does someone get talked into wearing something so sheer, so much like underwear, out in public? Would fame affect the way someone approaches fashion? Sometimes I like to buy things just because they're weird enough that I find myself liking it. But could I, someone who is mostly rational most of the time, be convinced to wear a sheer, belted caftan over a bra and panty ensemble?

-I am seriously considering launching into my Plan B Employment Plan if someone doesn't doesn't offer me a job soon. Plan B being that I open an Etsy store that sells awesome posters that I've screen printed by hand. (Oh, I haven't told you? I have it in my head that screen printing shall be my new hobby. Suck it, sewing and knitting.) But the most important thing to consider before starting out on this new venture is WHAT THE HELL AM I GOING TO CALL MY COMPANY? Nevermind that I should first look into some sort of start up capital to sustain myself through the initial building phase. Or how much I could conceivably do by myself that would make it a viable effort. No, I need a snazzy name for my newest pipe dream. And so, if my friends have any suggestions, I would be happy to take them (you will not be compensated, however).

Hey! I'm turning old.

I love Exploding Dog.

It was my birthday! For the first time, in a long time, I celebrated by myself. The first birthday I had to spend mostly by myself was my freshman year of college--I had just moved into the dorms and started school and I didn't want to be THAT person that loudly celebrates their birthday. I did, however, register to vote. I also got my foot cut up by a door because some poop head wasn't paying attention and swung the door into/onto my foot and opened a gash that left me bleeding and hobbling to a convenience store to buy band aids. Although I was partially at fault for choosing to wear flip flops to class but, to be fair, it was college, I was toying with the new sense of freedom unencumbered by high school dress code guidelines--I was living on the edge. And that was my 18th birthday.

I did like my birthday this year, because I actually managed to keep myself fairly busy--unlike any other day in the life of an unemployed. I made rice krispies treats (with sprinkles in them for a bit of panache) and chocolate chip cookies for my neighbors for driving me around when I had last minute errands and Jack was off at work with the car. Then I sat down and watched my DVR'd episode of Gilmore Girls--and it was one of my more favorite episodes (Season 6, Episode 9: The Prodigal Daughter Returns). I also made a quick dinner for one of the officer wives, who had just given birth a few days before, as part of a meal plan the other spouses had set up. After I dropped off the dinner, one the way back home, I picked up a tiny ice cream cake for myself. Finally, I settled in for a night of Dancing with the Stars with chicken strips and fries for dinner.

The day felt good and I enjoyed doing the little things for my neighbors and the officer wives. It might be the wisdom of years lived creeping up on me, but I do like the idea of making my birthday a day of service--or just doing something for someone else because damn, it fucking feels good. I've now realized (or at least I am old enough to admit this to myself) that I enjoy volunteer work and doing things for others, not because it helps to foster a sense of community, to bring people together, or that it is consistent with the idea that helping each other out is just what a civilized society does because we all live in the same community, but because I get a serious high off of people saying, "Thank you for what you do. You're so awesome." Seriously. It's better than crack and just as addicting.

"Live" Blogging: My Eventual Descent into Misery as I Attempt to Make Something

Look at the mess I can make!

Today, I was planning on blathering about things I want in my dream home (or at the very least, things I will no longer tolerate in the next place I rent) but, buoyed by a fairly healthy breakfast (oatmeal and bananas, side of turkey bacon, and a cup of coffee), I decided to start on a new sewing project. After deciding what to make, I decided to take pictures to document my "creative process" and perhaps if it turns out nice, I'll share it with the three people that read this blog. But then the coffee finally kicked in and I decided to blog my descent into a hot mess instead. Initially, I was thinking about doing a "live" blog, but then I got realistic about my weekend warrior tendencies. There was no real way I could have finished in a day and be happy about the end product--and I would have gone hungry because it would leave no time to make dinner and eat. So, this will become a diary of sorts that I hope to remember to update as I work on making a knitting needle roll.

Also, that is what I am making: a knitting needle roll. Hopefully it will make starting knitting projects a touch easier if all my needles have a proper home instead of a plastic bag. God, my knitting needles are hobos. Anyways, onto the action!


Wednesday, 1:26pm: Tragedy strikes early.

In case you were wondering what happens if you iron fabric onto your fabric cutting mat, well it warps. And the advertised "self healing board" doesn't necessarily apply to heat. I definitely yelled out loud and then cursed. Oh, there was cursing. Luckily, I had only inadvertently ironed on one edge of the cutting board so flipped it around and continued cutting out the pieces needed for this project.

Why yes, it's nearly two in the afternoon and I am still in my pajamas. (F)unemployment!

Wednesday, 4:11pm: Measure twice, cut once.


I'd like to think that it was the coffee was wearing off, but really I was being careless and not quite paying attention when I accidentally cut a strip of fabric about an inch too short. Well, normally I'd just re-cut fabric, this time in the correct size, but I was trying very hard to stick with the fabric scraps I have accrued and hoarded from various other projects and I didn't have enough of that particular color to re-cut. When that happens, the instruction pages end up looking like this, as I fudge the all the proportions and make my own edits:

Math skillz, don't let me down!

On the upside, after spending a half-hour trying to figure out how it would all work out, I finish cutting out almost all the fabric pieces I would need. I also decided to label all my fabric, which I've never done before, but it turned out to be a good idea. I'm glad that I managed to confuse myself for a bit while labeling the pieces rather than confusing myself as I sewed the pieces together only to realize I did it wrong and then cursing to myself as I rip out all the seams.

I say I'm almost done cutting out almost all the pieces because halfway through putting the fabric together to see what would look nice with each other, I realize that I hate my fabric scraps (which is probably why they were fabric scraps to begin with) and I'll need to make a point of stopping at a fabric store for some sparkly trim and a ribbon that will tie the roll together.

That's it for this week or, really, that's all I'm motivated to do for today. Now is the time for watching Gilmore Girls on my DVR and enjoying a beer.

Lazy Wednesday Blogging

If I could spend all day just riding the ferries, it would be awesome.

I am congratulating myself for following my self-imposed mandate to blog every Wednesday for the last month by writing bits of random thoughts, because I am too lazy to organize them all.

So, where are you from?
I feel, as of late, it's become a bit difficult to give people a straightforward answer to this question. Technically, I am from Seattle, because that's where I last lived before moving to Anacortes. But I didn't really grow up in Seattle, I've only lived there since college (and for three of those years, only during the school, I'd peace out before summer officially began). I'd like to think that I'm a California girl at heart, but I think I relate better to the Pacific Northwest now. And don't even get me started on the people who ask me where I'm from only to follow up with, "No, really, where are you froooommmmm?" With the barest hint that perhaps I truly hail from a place a bit more Oriental than Seattle or Los Angeles.

Alternatives in case this whole finding a job does not pan out:
All this time not working has given me ample opportunity to consider my alternatives if I never am able to find a job when we move to North Carolina. Chief among the current alternatives I am thinking about is to learn how to print screen t-shirts and posters. Then I can create some witty one-liners, print them onto t-shirts, and peddle them to all the Marines and their families in the area. Right now, I'm thinking something along the lines of "Semper Fly for a White Guy"...of course not all Marines are white, so I'm going to have to think of more ethnically diverse options. Or, I can print something like "Marine Wife", but in a hipster-esque print for all the trendsters in the service so that they may rock the t-shirt ironically. Perhaps I should give this more thought.

One more thing on public transit:
I neglected to mention this a few weeks ago on my thing about public transit, but one thing Skagit Transit does have on Metro is that the drivers are quite personable. Perhaps it's the low rider volume or maybe it's just that Skagit is better at customer service, but for the first time in years (or ever for that matter) I know what my bus drivers' names are. We have pleasant conversations on the way to wherever it is I am going for the day and I ask them about their weekend plans. I know that Sam the bus driver does not care for mussels. It's a weird experience, because I am so used to just turning up the iPod and zoning out until I get to my stop. Now, I hardly pull out my iPod, even though I still keep it on me, and the conversations definitely make for a more enjoyable ride.

What to do with the rest of my life?

Today my boss made an offer to the candidate who will replace me as Executive Assistant. I suppose now would be too late to say that I don't want to leave.

I haven't thought much about what I want to do next, other than my desperate need to find another job. But, lately, as my end date is creeping closer and closer, I've been wondering what would happen if I don't find a job right away--or, god forbid, if I never find another job. The economy is still in the shitter and I'm not sure I could convince someone to hire me for a little more than a year before I'd have to move again.

I could always volunteer and do community work, but that is my comfort zone. This time could be my chance to do something completely different! I can learn how to decorate cakes! Make furniture! Craft all day long! Learn CPR!

A part of me loves this idea. I like the concept of making stuff up as you go along, flying by the seat of your pants, and just taking this time off to learn something new that is completely different from what I have spent the last couple of years doing. Then again, I also have student loans to pay off and I can't depend on just my savings account and Jack forever. So...I don't know.

Maybe I should just start buying lottery scratch tickets and hope for the best.

The power of love

I bought some strawberries the other day and just as I was about to cut up this little sucker, I noticed that it was in a shape of a heart! It was cute so I grabbed my trusty ol' point-and-shoot to get a picture of it before I cut it up and ate it for lunch.

Generally, I'm not too much of a lovey-dovey person and I particularly dislike trite expressions of "love" usually represented by cute little hearts and Valentine's Day, but I like it when I find heart-shaped things in among my day-to-day life. Like when I drink enough, and I squint real hard, the city lights blur and sometimes they become hearts. That stuff (along with some social drinking) I like, but put a pink heart on teddy bear? I think I might barf from smug love.

So, lest people think I'm a sarcastic curmudgeon incapable of affection, here's my perennially amended list of ten things I love. And for the purposes of this list (and to keep it fairly manageable), things are defined as mostly inanimate objects and ideas, but many contain living things such as fluffy animals.

• Saturday morning brunch with my friends
• A cold can of Dr. Pepper
• French press coffee
• Flowers
• Seattle on a sunny day
• Puppies
• French fries
• Growlers of Mac and Jacks beer
• Letterpress stationary 
• The color yellow