Princess Of Prose

My friends Candice and Drew have a pretty great blog. If you are into film or weird pictures of burritos, check this out:

http://theelroberto.blogspot.com/

So, since I have a lot of time on my hands and no money, I have a few choices regarding how to spend my time most days. These usually are:

1. Sit around my house and watch daytime television. So far I have developed a minor addiction to the Tyra Banks Show, Dr. Phil, and Oprah. I am considering, however, adding a soap opera to my line up.

2. Continue to search every employment Web site for jobs and apply to 3,494,893,029 of them each day. I have applied to so many jobs, I have lost count. Sometimes, just for fun, I apply to jobs that I am really unqualified for. Today I responded to this one:

We are looking for a native from Hungary that proofreads a Website and makes sure that there are no mistakes in the Hungarian language.

If this fits your profile please contact me with the email above. This is an easy and fun job that you can do from home and make money.

Hmmm….I wonder if they will call back.

3. Go to the beach with my dog. Calliope, my Border Collie / Lab mix, LOVES water. She LOVES it. When we go to the beach, she is immediately happy. She bounds for the water and jumps in, splashing and howling like it is the best thing she has ever done. What is interesting about it that her reaction never varies. Even if we were there the day before, she is just as excited about it. Even if the water is freezing, she doesn’t care. Even if there are no other dogs at the beach that day, she still runs around like crazy, whipping around a new-found strand of kelp in her mouth.

So, needless to say, I think #3 is my best option most days. But, I find myself wondering why I can’t be more like my dog. What is stopping me from thoroughly enjoying my existence each day? Why can’t I be excited about the little joys in life like going to the beach? The heaviness of being an adult human pretty much sucks.

I know it is a little early for New Year’s resolutions, but I think I already have mine figured out for this year:

Live life like a dog who loves the beach.

I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job. I still don’t have a job.

And I hate it.

I have discovered something interesting about being unemployed. The simplest obligations seem like the end of the world. It is harder than ever to go to appointments or talk to people on the phone. It feels like torture to drag myself to the grocery store. I can’t seem to motivate myself to get out of my pajamas in the morning. It is really weird. Even writing this blog seems like a huge pain in the ass.

So, I guess working inspires some kind of productivity in other parts of my life. Either that or I am just terribly depressed about unemployment and poverty. Interesting.

You know what the worst thing about being unemployed is? Having to rely on other people for things. I HATE doing that. It makes me feel like such a bum, such a slacker. But at this point, I really have no other choice. I have been looking for work for about three weeks and I haven’t had any hits yet—SO discouraging. Don’t they know I am the Princess of Prose? They are missing out.  : )

I went to Big Bear this weekend with some friends. Not exactly the most frugal thing to do, but I really felt like a weekend away would do me some good. It did, but now I have a bunch more debt on my credit card and not much to show for it. I guess it is back to the drawing board now.

So, here’s another plea–if anyone has some writing/editing work up for grabs, let me know. I am also a really great employee if you know of any positions opening up. I’m not such a princess at work. Promise.

When I quit my job, I was hoping it would lift a little of my daily depression. And it did…for a minute. Now I think it is coming back. I have about a thousand resumes out right now and I haven’t heard a peep from anyone. Well, that’s not true. I heard from Joe, my old boss from my last serving job. He can’t even offer me a position right now. Of all the opportunities for me to be pushed out of my job, why did it have to happen right at the beginning of the most significant economic downturn since the great depression?  So fucking fabulous.

In other news, I now know all the names of the cats in my apartment complex. I get to sit in my house all day listening to people call them in from outside. I love my life.

So, I am officially, miserably, hopelessly unemployed.

It happened a couple weeks ago. I resigned from my position as a writer and editor in a dull, dreary, life-sucking, cubicle-infested office. I wish I could say I quit because I am that brave person you know who strikes out on their own into the unpredictable freelancing world. It is actually quite the contrary. I was essentially forced to resign my position because someone on my team had a personal problem with me and a co-worker—and the bitch decided to go to HR.

Without going into the details of the CONFIDENTIAL investigation (what a joke), it became impossible to stay plopped in my ergonomic office chair, tap tap tapping my life away on my computer keyboard . On top of the hate I already had for my daily office existence, now I was being forced to listen to my arch nemesis prattle on about her meaningless routines, all the while secretly hoping someone would stab my eyeballs out with an ice pick so I wouldn’t have to go to work the next day. Eventually, the investigation unearthed some incriminating emails that they would have fired me over. You know the type, I’m sure—morbid haiku written in yesterday’s team meeting, my amazon.com order for books on assisted suicide, a run-down of the atrocious behavior of the cubicle barbie in the women’s restroom. So, I quit.

Anyway, now that I am unemployed, I have time to write this lovely blog. Hopefully, I can also market myself a bit. Maybe not so much after this posting, though. I have a Master of Arts in Rhetoric and Writing Studies, with an emphasis in Technical and Professional writing. I have extensive editing experience in several types of media—you name it, I can edit it.

I am looking for freelance work right now. If you need something written, edited, proofread, or otherwise examined, let me know. Maybe you can help me stay out of the office and away from ice picks.