This past week has been intense. As much as I would like to say that I handled it all with poise, grace, and a smile on my face the entire time, I do not think I could do so with honesty. It has however evoked some powerful themes, infused me with some lessons, and exposed my vulnerabilities in a way that I would never have willfully devised nor schemed up for myself.
I made the decision recently that I was going to move to the same city in which my boyfriend lives, as well as begin to attend a trade school in this same area. All the plans and dreams, wishes and lollygags were fine and dandy in my head; however, searching for a job proved to be a more daunting and treacherous task than I had counted on.
I’ve always had ease with job searching, finding jobs in under two hours, meeting with people who plop W-2’s and photocopy my license and social security card before I can say, “Whose Your Uncle?” (Not that I would ask them that in a job interview, just giving you a comparison with the lightning speed of these things transpiring). So that was me bragging just now and, this is me confessing that I’ve had had over 26 jobs, and most of them were not anything to be proud of, nor something that I stuck with. Enter the “Raleigh Project” –Operation find a job, find an apartment and move my things easily and effortlessly to move forward towards my dreams. Is it just me, or are dreams harder and harder to catch? What happened to the good old vision board that made everything happen overnight? Or the dream catcher I put at the foot of my bed to conjure up the fairy godmothers to shower me with blessings? I was having a VERY hard time finding a job, and a VERY hard time being so far away and getting apartment people to believe me when I said I really existed and am not just a ghost calling them up to look through the places. So, I decided I had to take some action. I threw some belongings in a car, and sped off to Raleigh where I planned to get a job, do a lot of walking and meditating, and of course be some perfect cook/cleaning/ singing/ inspiring machine for Jason and his roommate.
Day One. Emily gets in a car accident and rear ends someone. On her way to a job interview, which actually was one of these jobs that was not going anywhere. Emily learns valuable lessons on this day like for example: Always file a police report. Don’t sleep and drive. Stay present. Don’t cry in front of mechanics….they automatically think you’re crazy (which, in this case, is not far from the truth).
Day Two. Emily gets a job. I was not actually sure if they were going to hire me or not after the first interview, but viola! I am in like Flynn. I even got invited to the company Christmas party, on Sunday where I learned my next valuable lesson.
Day Three. Emily works at new said job, from 6pm until midnight. She also rides the bus, teaching her never to ride the city buses again, walks no less than 7 loops around the entire city, and crashes into a deep sleep upon arriving to her bed.
Day Four. Emily buys a car. I was bound and determined to get my car fixed, but the natural unwinding of events have me reeling in another direction. The direction of a 98′ Honda Civic, which is when I learned another valuable lesson: Know where the title to your car is. And don’t keep it in your glovebox.
Day Five. Emily attends company Christmas party, boldly and strangely stepping into a land where everyone else knows each other, is getting really drunk really fast, and I learn the most valuable lesson here. This place is cool, but am I cool enough to hang in there like the hot wasabi I am? We shall see.
For the most part, I’m no worse for the wear, but I have a few extra wrinkles, a nasty headache, I’m completely broke down to the last 11 bucks, and am now indebted to be Jason’s personal servant for life. I’m somehow REALLY lucky in all of this. I am not where I want to be, where I thought I would be. But I’m not dead, and I am really grateful to those helping me in every way right now. I have never liked to be reliant on others to help me and carry me through, and it seems for about two years now I’ve been playing these cards I’m dealing myself. I’m waiting on things to “click”, to make sense, for the dark, painful rain cloud that’s sort of smothering me, to lift. Since it’s not lifting on it’s own, I’ve got to work on my pushups so I can throw it off of my MYSELF. How long does it take to get a life in shape? I suppose life is not as “instant results” as Muscle Milk and whey protein…Thank you common sense for yet another awakening. It’s a lot more reliable than the survival skills I don’t possess.
”It’s always possible to wake someone up from sleep, but no amount of noise will wake someone who is pretending to be asleep.” –Jonathan Safran Foer