New beginnings - sort of
Monday, November 12, 2001
James started a new job today.
Now before you get all excited, it's a pretty crappy job. It's entry level (have I mentioned he has seven years of experience and was once editor of a daily newspaper?) and it pays the same as unemployment. Our financial status does not change whatsoever and he's giving up the employment benefits that could last until April which would pay the same amount for doing nothing.
Worst of all, it is a huge blow to his ego. Just a year ago we moved up here for a position that put stars in his eyes. Now he's been unemployed for the past four months with only a handful of interviews (and no offers) to show for it. Worst of all, a position he interviewed for a couple weeks ago that was supposed to make a decision last week hasn't called. He really wanted that job.
But what can you do when they interview 20 other candidates? What can you do when your resume is one of 180 received.
Times are tough. But he's sick of that phrase. It's not comforting. It doesn't provide any relief. And, most of all, it doesn't pay the bills. Especially the rent bill. The VERY LARGE rent bill.
So, he applied for this community editor position of a suburban weekly even though he knew he was overqualified. And then he went to the interview even though he knew he wouldn't take it. And when they called to hire him (which they should because he is OVERQUALIFIED and one hell of a writer), he is pretty sure he's going to turn it down.
Only he doesn't.
He accepts.
And he even shows up on the first day. He pencils the school board meetings in his schedule and makes plans for the holidays. Now he works.
Who's going to make me dinner?
We talked about this. We really did. I told him he didn't have to take it. I didn't mind. We're fine (for now) living off the state. Minnesota owes us, if you ask me.
But he's getting cabin-fever. He misses writing. And he needs something. Anything.
Besides, the prospect of being a reporter thrills him again -- even if it involves SUV-infested suburbs complete with Soccer Moms and cinemas with stadium seating. Meetings. Drama. Controversy. Even that can be found in the form of a Chamber of Commerce's minutes. Or the agenda for the County Board.
So, he started today. And he's teaching his classes at the gym. And while he looked defeated when he returned to the flat this evening with his bag slumped on his shoulder and a pressed-shirt that had been hiding in his closet for months once again on his back, he also looked slightly relieved.
It may not pay, but it passes the time. And keeps him active. And keeps him writing. And the money doesn't really matter.
No. It doesn't. So I'll have to pass on the Chanel foundation. I really didn't need it anyway.
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This weekend was one of the good, lazy variety. And weekends like those make me wonder why I keep us so damn busy all the time. Why must I constantly be in search of activities and plans and dinners and such? The sad thing is that this was the last plan-less weekend until after Christmas.
I kid you not.
How do I do that?
So we indulged and enjoyed. On Saturday, we got up around 8am and walked the six blocks to the local bagel shop. Once home, James fixed veggie sausage, egg & cheese bagel sandwiches and we sat around, drank coffee and read. Him: the paper, me: Harry Potter. After my food digested a bit, I set out for my 9-mile run. He went out cycling. Later that evening (after showering, of course) we ended up at Barnes & Noble where I picked up my book club selection for the month. In the cafe, we drank Soy Lattes and read some more.
That night, we cooked a Mexican casserole. Drank wine and watched movies. It was heaven.
(And Johnny Dep is a hottie! Yessirree!)
Sunday was just as good. Only I didn't exercise or get dressed all day. (Even Better). I stayed at home, played on the computer while James read more newspapers, taught a couple Spinning classes and finished up the night doing a trial run for our Veggie Thanksgiving entree.
It was one of those weekends where nothing significant happened, yet everything mattered. I lit candles. Sat on my couch. Pet my dog. Hugged my husband.
It was the perfect weekend. And I need to remember that when I'm jumping from event to event filling my schedule so full that I never get a chance to crack a book. Or drink a latte.
We all know what weekends are for. Sometimes I just need a reminder.
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I discovered this journal today while reading over the Finalist selections for the Diarist awards. She's really a terrific writer and the sum cause of my nonproductivity today.
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