November whatever

Nothing is happening, and as we should all know, if one cannot say anything nice, it's best not to say anything at all.

I would like my life to resume now, please. My adult life, with money. Money money money.

November Six

Yesterday was my little brother's 23rd birthday. Happy birthday, mah brutha. (Erm, he's that tall, orange drink of water on the right...)

The dream-company has another opening. You'd better believe I jumped on that posting and sent my resume and cover letter, with salary requirements, directly to "careers [at]."

Lastly, for our American readers who are eligible and registered, make it a priority to vote in tomorrow's midterm elections, about which I've been warning those of you who call me on the phone via my voice mail greeting for the last two years. If you are not registered, please do so for next time. If you can vote and you choose not to, don't you dare gripe about the government.

That is all.

November One

This year's Halloween saw me NOT dressing up in any of the following rejected costume concepts (in no particular order):

1. Sexy Anne Frank. This was just...wrong, somehow.

2. Posing self perfectly still at the bottom of my building's stairs with blood and bruises and a broken high heeled shoe as "the woman who took a bad fall down the stairs of her apartment building." Even though this has the added benefit of being part of the scaaaaary Halloween decorations of our two-flat, it was rejected immediately by my sig. o. as well as the panel of nutrition students against whom I tested it as OVER THE LINE.

3. Valerie Solanis. This was a very strong contender, but I didn't wish to be seen as jumping on the renewed Andy Warhol bandwagon on this, its latest swing through the zeitgeist, no matter how much I myself--unrelated to the current rise in his mass cultural stock but fueled by the recent PBS documentary that is part of the rise--am really re/discovering Andy Warhol just now.

4. Nora Pumpkinhands. A pumpkin blight this year (as well as inherent size restrictions of pumpkins themselves) made finding ten similarly sized, small pumpkins to fit on my fingers very difficult. Also, this idea was dumb and would prevent the hoisting of Cold Ones at various collegiate parties to which I had initially planned on, ehm, inviting myself.

5. Columbia. Because I never did finish sequining, by hand, that entire damned jacket.

6. Maude Lebowski. Curse my failure to hit up "Wigs and Plus" on Milwaukee in Chicago before we moved!

It was an uneventful Halloween. I hope to find candy on clearance sometime today or tomorrow.

+ + +

Monday and Tuesday saw me heading to the southern exurb of Canton to work for a local produce organization/distributor, packing apples to send out to their big money donors. The pitch: money, lunch provided, and practically all the apples I could cart off. I took a half bushel each day; the check is on its way to me, via mail; and I got out of the house for a few days. A nice bit of toil for some very nice people.

The best part of all? Doing good work and knocking people back on their asses with my effectiveness. That's a great sadness for me, in this extended unemployment: that my ability to totally wow an employer is sitting stagnant. I haven't even had a real, official, for-an-open-position job interview so I haven't been able to really shine on the job market. It's hard to get through the door, even if I know I'd really stack up well against other applicants once I got through.

I registered with a temp agency late last week. Given the two-day job this week and some more freelancing for my former position, I haven't been in a position to call up and ask what they have for me on a given morning. Tomorrow, I'll call. This is my first temping experience. I don't really know what to expect, but perhaps I'll be working.

+ + +

Last week I sold some camping equipment for $40, thereby doubling my liquid assets. I didn't pay any bills in October--rent, credit card bills from grocery store trips, power bill, cell phone bill--and I can't pay any in November. I am entering forbearance on both my student loans. I am borrowing money from my parents to pay for my prescriptions last month, this month, next month. As I predicted, not working by November first has indeed put my ass in a veritable sling, financially.

+ + +

I'm profoundly unhappy right now, for all the reasons I've already addressed. My thought that this move would be a good (if not a not bad) career choice is being tested. The longer I can't find work in my field, the less time I'll have at a resume-building job before I leave Boston (at roughly the speed of sound...listen, if you will, for my sonic boom) in mid to late 2009. The less rich a resume I'm able to wrangle out of this whole experience (which is not yet a true fiasco, despite the growing feeling that I'm in some sort of hard luck urban comedy; did I mention that last week I got hit by a car whilst biking the two miles home from the grocery store in the next town over? Well, I did, by a white SUV that dinged off my right pannier as someone in the car screamed and then, then, the Bastard. Drove. Off.), the less strong of a candidate I'll be for my next job search.

I've put in only for jobs I feel qualified for--that my skills fit at least in part--because I don't feel like approaching a company for every offering is a good strategy. For more than one of these positions, I've felt I am a very compelling candidate, with skills and experience that make me worth calling back. For none have I been contacted for more information, interview, or references. Nothing nothing nothing, even when I contact friends of friends and associates of coworkers. Nothing.

Chin up and all that bullshit.

That is all.