Oh Jesus, has it gotten that bad?
on tumblr comeback #98:
i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again: funemployment is a hell of a drug.
of course, i don’t have exact reasons why this is a sign of the coming employment-ocalypse, but it definitely lines up in my mind and for sure isn’t dissuading me from that assumption.
on the other hand, i’ve found somewhat steady employment and unsteady sleep patterns to be a function for awfulness. the slump of the last few months has been a study in disaster, which came to a head when my old boss filed a claim with the california unemployment agency, saying that i was attempting to commit fraud because i was working while trying to claim benefits, even though i decided against pursuing benefits further than the first stage. constantly being broke and directionless, out of shape and dealing with unreliability on all ends beat the hell out of me.
i started and stopped writing. i looked for serious jobs (read: awful, soul-destroying, mom approved) for a lot longer than i thought i ever could. i tried writing some more. i was in a band that played one great show then disappeared. i tried writing music of my own, for the first time since i was 14. i slept way more than i should. i fought with everyone. i broke down more than a few times and let my “brian wilson (paranoid smiley smile, not espys era) beard” grow, then followed the advice of a radiolab podcast on symmetry and changed the part in my hair in order to change my luck (or whatever it suggested). months came and left and i’m still not sure how it went so fast. i scared myself on more than a few occasions.
taking time for myself is one thing, but finding direction that doesn’t end in disappointment is another. easier said than done, right? i can’t fucking believe just how fast the last 8 months have gone. i slept through spring and summer, locked in a battle with my bed to see who could lie still longer EVEN THOUGH I LOVE SPRING AND SUMMER. every year i make plans to go outside and enjoy myself and end up missing out more often than not, but this year was particularly pathetic. you know those comic strips where the old guy goes outside to collect the morning paper in a bathrobe, haggard with coffee in hand, only to retreat back when spotted by the neighbors? I WAS THAT GUY, MINUS THE ROBE AND THE COFFEE, GOING TO MY CAR PARKED ON THE STREET IN MY BOXER SHORTS AND A T-SHIRT TO RETRIEVE WHATEVER I LEFT IN THERE THE DAY BEFORE BECAUSE I WAS TOO OUT OF IT TO REMEMBER TO GET IT THEN AND TOO LAZY TO GO BACK OUT WHEN I REMEMBERED IT LATER THAT SAME PREVIOUS DAY. that “going out to my car and hoping no one notices” business amounts to nearly the whole of the “direction” i took this summer.
i don’t know where that leaves me, exactly. i went out and bought a nice shirt and some new pants at h&m the other day. judging by how full the racks were, the fall collection had come in and i remarked that even though i don’t care for fall clothes, i always seem to find myself only buying fall clothes. of course, that stemmed from buying “new school clothes” but that ritual ended years ago, in an unceremonious fashion. after that, i continued to buy fall clothes almost exclusively. am i subconsciously preparing myself for a new beginning that no longer exists?
is fall really as awful as i had always thought? when i was little i didn’t like fall weather. after i started school, i hated “new beginnings” and everything that came with them. when i started cooking professionally, i was bored by “fall flavors”, apples and pears, braising and soups. all of those things being said, my ever-new fall wardrobe covered the change in weather (which is almost non-existent in los angeles anyways), i improved almost every year in school and i excelled with the limited number of things and ways you could cook in the fall, where spring and summer stumped me with their legion of possibilities and extreme amount of prep/cook time.
this whole time, i could have been fooling myself into cautiousness, but i’m not that smart either. what is it exactly that i’m looking for? my body calls out for a level of comfort and a level of uncompromising style that i’d only find with “pajama jeans,” but at least i can find comfort in the fact that i know better than that. i guess that’s all i can really ask for these days.
