I Started Doing the Weirdest Thing! (Thanks Obama)

 Thanks, Obama!

When we were in Sisters, at a Bi Mart (not gay, not straight), the cashier asked if my sweatshirt slogan was being ironic or if I was genuinely thanking Obama. I said both; and gave too long of an explanation that included describing this video.

 

Now, uh, this was something I thought of as a title whilst still composing the last tediously time consuming and long time coming post, and so I scribbled a note so I would not forget. But I lost the note and have completely forgotten. OH YEAH See, THIS is why free writing is so great. I jogged my reluctantly reticent memory glands by simply, well you know. Writing. Or typing rather. Same thing. Same diff.

ANYway, what I was going to say was that The weird thing I started doing was,

 [some indeterminate number of days later]
OKAY. I am unofficially interrupting this blogcast to discontinue that train of thought and get back to basics. How do I get a job that I actually enjoy, keeps me fed, and maybe even housed, and is in a field that works in my favor of moving toward my interest in creative arts? I am not going to answer that right now. It's still the big question, but for me at least, the answer is a slow, sometimes malodorous, procrastinatory, meandering process.

SO. What I want to talk about is the latest probationary, initially unpaid, part-time position I recently accepted. You know how people talk about focusing your intention on your goals, letting go and allowing 'the Universe' to guide you? Bullshit you say? Well, there's a saying that hard work and determination bring about 'good luck'; I guess it's all related. But if you want something and you do everything in your power to get it, or accomplish it, and you don't succeed, it is more of a let down than if you didn't really try. That's why a lot of professional procrastinators are also perfectionists. If they don't do something at all then they can't fail at it. Anyway, I'm just slow. I believe I became very dysfunctional and emotionally disabled after my father died, and I am about ten years behind in life.

When I was originally attending art college (at age 21 a freshman), I remember envying the young woman who worked in the school office. I thought how great it would be to be in that educational environment without the responsibilities of grades and assignments and deadlines for projects; just showing up everyday to help the students and keep things running smoothly. So when I saw an ad for an office assistant at a kids' art school I was like, oh boy oh boy, I gotta try and do that! So I tried. I responded with a short response e-mail, then to be more personal and stand out a little more I found out where the school was and walked over there (my bike was in the shop and it was about an hour walk each way, so I got to exercise too!) and left a resume (freshly typed and printed) on the door, as no one was there. Then we went out of town for a Weird Al Yankovic concert, and I totally forgot I had even applied. That's hard core letting go. Just kidding. But I did really totally forget about it.

So when I got an email saying "I tried calling you to come in and meet, can you call me?" I was like, who? What? Wait a minute ... where was my phone anyway? ... and I emailed back and we set a time and she asked me to bring a cover letter with me, which I thought was strange because it's usually something you send when you are first introducing yourself, and I felt like I had already done that in my original response email, but I said what the heck, I can whip up a cover letter. No big deal. And it turned out she really was more interested in having a writing sample than in my extended credentials, because one of the tasks will be to craft letters based on general information and compose something coherent from a synopsis. As in, write a response to so and so and say this and that, but do it with proper grammar while competently communicating all the facts with a friendly flair. I am fairly confident in my writing skills, although I know I do tend to go on much longer than necessary. Which is why utilising Twitter is really good practice for brevity and creating succinct, concise thoughts in written form. That, as well as doing some online typing tutorials, will be some of my self assigned homework preparation.

Now comes the kicker. I decided that I really wanted this job. I wanted it so much that I said I would work for free for a month to see if she liked my work, and if I really liked the job (and was even any good at it). She was impressed my this, which wasn't my intention, but cool, and agreed to these terms. Now let's say I show up and work and despite being good at the job, either something doesn't click, and we don't get along as well as it seemed we do, or else someone way better in every way pops up and they take over. Even in that case, I will have another notch of  experience on my proverbial belt, and a lot of exercise from bike commuting a few times a week. So! We shall see!

On a related note, although I did really love parts of teaching Y.R., I was very grateful when I saw on the calendar that the training/teacher's meeting had come and gone and I didn't have to go to it. I was a little surprised that I heard nothing from them after politely declining to continue, but when I think about it, if I had such a big problem with their office coordinator's attitude towards me, then she probably felt the same way, and was only inviting me to continue because they were desperate for bodies. It was most likely a more mutual separation than I imagined. Not everyone gets along well.

To finish up, I'll go back to the beginning and say that a few weeks ago I started doing the weirdest thing. I guess all of the stand up comedy and the podcast interviews with great comedians I have been immersing myself in for entertainment has been slowly absorbing and sinking into my skin because I got inspired to start writing semi-autobiographical jokes (but not jokes ... because I don't know how to write jokes). And it's turned into a good portion of a notebook filled with semi tragic stories from my childhood and how they affected me. But the weird thing is that memories that used to bum me out are now starting to appear humourus. And that's a really weird, and very good, thing.

P.S. To anyone besides myself reading this someday, you may notice I lean towards British spellings. This may annoy you. It's not so much intentional as habitual. I prefer not to change for whatever audience might arrive. It's not like my composition or spelling or grammar is always perfect in every other way, so I'll just be myself, which is weird ...  and slightly Anglophiliac.