Gainfully Something

Hey everyone…. Yeah, I disappeared for a while. Went to Los Angeles, filmed some Jeopardy!, came back. You know, my usual end-of-August brush with fame.

But now it’s the first day of Mr. Something’s second year of business school. He is so fancy. And first days of school make me think about wanting to be in school really badly. I’m awesome at school. I love taking notes, reading journal articles, highlighting important things, even writing papers isn’t the worst thing in the world. If I could be a permanent student, I’d do it.

So I’ve made a definite decision that will go into effect next year. I’m going to go back to school to be a paralegal. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and since no jobs have come along yet, I need to have a Plan C. (Plan B was graduate school, and that didn’t really amount to anything.) I think I’d be pretty fantastic at paralegaling, or whatever the verb would be, and there are plenty of jobs to be had (one thing America does not have is a shortage of lawyers and litigious citizens). We might be moving in the spring/early summer to A Mystery Location, based on what jobs Mr. Something is offered, so I’ll find a program wherever we’ll be and go from there.

It’s never too late to start doing something good for yourself, you know? I’ve tried to get into a few different fields, none of which really suited me to a T, but this paralegal thing feels good.

CATEGORY: Units of Time

For $200: The 90s alternative rock band Barenaked Ladies sang that it had been this long since “you looked at me.”

What is one week?

Okay, that was sort of dumb, but shut up, because a week from RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND I am going to be on the soundstage at the Sony studios in the process of filming Jeopardy!. Uhhhhhh. *explodes*

It’s probably obvious, but I’ve been more distracted than usual lately because of this whole… being on national, syndicated television… thing. Hahahahahaha. That’s a little terrifying, isn’t it?

I honestly thought that this Jeopardy! thing was a cruel joke for a week or so. Someone was just pulling my leg, right? They set up an incredibly elaborate, incredibly mean joke just to make me feel like crap, because I would never be smart enough to get on actual Jeopardy!. Right? Um, I need to stop being incredibly mean to myself this very instant. I called Sony yesterday to give them the names of my guests (Mr. Something and my parents–who just happen to live in Southern California), and, lo and behold, it’s all true. Paranoia, be gone!

So next Tuesday, Mr. Something and I will fly to LA for a Television Adventure, and something slightly good will probably come out of it. OPTIMISM! And nerves. But mostly, OPTIMISM.

My life is sort of exploding in a fairly pleasant way right now. I’m terrified of things that are happening, but it’s an okay kind of terrified. (Yes, that makes sense.)

OH, but you know the most exciting thing?? Mr. Something asked me to be his official Domestic Partner! That means we had to go to the bank and get paperwork notarized and everything. Notarizing makes things seem more… grown-up.

What does this mean? Well, it means that Mr. Something and I really like each other, to put it mildly. It also means that I am going to be on Mr. Something’s health and dental insurance. HEALTH AND DENTAL INSURANCE. Like… full-blown insurance. Meaning, very soon (as soon as all the paperwork is done), I can call the doctor, make an appointment, keep that appointment, and get actual medical care. This is amazing.

It still hasn’t sunk in yet, like Jeopardy!, but this is going to change my life, my health, and my perspective on things. I’m so grateful to our state for providing these domestic partnerships, and I’m lucky and overjoyed to have a partner like Mr. Something in my life.

HOORAY FOR SOMETHING GOOD HAPPENING!!

I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I was first diagnosed when I was 18, but I’ve experienced the symptoms since I was a child. The main symptom of GAD is “the almost constant presence of worry of tension, even when there is little or no cause.” (Learn more here.)

I’m never not worried. When one problem has been resolved, another thought springs to mind. Paid all the bills this month? You’ll have to pay them next month. Figured out the playlist for this week’s show? I don’t know what to make for dinner. Found a cute skirt at the thrift store to match that tank top you like? Something, somewhere is not right. It doesn’t really even matter what I’m worrying about, because I worry about EVERYTHING. It is the most obnoxious thing in the world, and it’s my entire life. For the past year, it’s been getting worse, since my incredibly limited income is not stable. I feel slightly useless for being unemployed, and slightly cheated by my master’s program. I have a lot of things that could be worried over.

I don’t have insurance, so I’ve been off medication for a few years now. I was doing alright without meds for a while, and now I think they could be beneficial again. Worry sneaks up on you. Since it’s such a part of my mindset, I don’t even notice when I’m doing it. Lately, I feel like I do nothing but worry.

If you tell me not to worry… that’s the last thing I want to hear. Oh, okay. Just stop. Just like that. Done! I’m fixed. Sorry, everyone. That’s not how it works: Generalized Anxiety Disorder is a chemical imbalance in my brain that does not allow me to relax ever, and it makes functioning like a normal human being really hard sometimes.

There is a huge stigma about mental illness in this country, and I’m (of course) worried about backlash from this. People who know me well know that I have anxiety problems, so that’s not news to you. But to everyone else: this is real. It’s not something I’m making up. I try to relax. I take bubble baths. I read books. I eat chocolate and drink wine. Always, always, always there is a nagging feeling and tension in my whole body, which makes my other medical problem, scoliosis, even worse.

My anxiety is exacerbated by confusion and lack of information. I get pretty paranoid pretty quickly. If I get an email that says, “I need to talk to you ,” I will assume the sender hates me and wants to talk to me so they can tell me how much I suck at life. I will continue panicking until I actually find out what the topic of discussion is going to be. For my sake, and the sake of everyone with GAD, please stop being cryptic in emails, world. It is the absolute worst.

Something that makes my anxiety better is knowledge. Let’s use an example. When I was in 4th grade, I became incredibly worried about shark attacks, for reasons unknown. I went to the library and started doing research on sharks, shark attacks, and how one can avoid shark encounters. I became an expert. I read all about Eugenie Clark, the “Shark Lady,” an ichthyologist who was a pioneer for women in science. My anxieties and fears turned themselves into interesting things to research. I’m still terrified of sharks, but I know when not to go into the water, and I know the signs of sharks in the area. If you know enough about something, you have the information you need to combat it. That’s why I still do my own weird research on various diseases, wild animal attacks, plane crashes, serial killers, and executions in the United States. Yes, I am strange. Yes, doing research gives me a calm that nothing else can.

So here’s what you can do for me, friends. Give me a topic to research. It will entertain me, distract me, and calm my worried brain. Learning new things is my therapy.

I have some skills. (Aw, yeah.) I’m good at research–that’s mostly what my master’s program taught me. I can type pretty quickly. I love spreadsheets and I’m pretty good at organizing with them. I have a handful of awesome recipes that I’ve mastered. I can sew. I can get by in Spanish and I’m learning German right now. I’m a fast reader. I retain knowledge like a safe. I make amazing coffee.

Basically, those skills add up to “cutest secretary ever who will bring baked goods to work at least once a week,” which I’m totally fine with for now. The problem is… I haven’t had any bites in a while. I’ve applied for a dozen secretary/assistant jobs in the past few weeks and I’ve heard nothing back.

My skills (and experience) don’t seem to match up with anyone’s rubric. I wonder if I need more education or training in one area or another, but I can’t really afford that. (My German class cost $85 and I used birthday money to pay for it.)

What skills do people need to get hired these days? I would even settle for an interview and no offer–my hope for anything more is at a minimum.

I live next to a dollar store. It’s pretty sweet. Sometimes I walk over there and buy myself some cheap nail polish as a treat. Big spender! Then I take some time and do my nails and it makes me feel nice about myself.

Apparently, having my nails look nice and not looking like a hobo, generally, is a bad thing. I keep seeing these eCards (you know the ones I mean) that say things like, “Oh, so you’re unemployed and you have your nails done? Glad my taxes are paying for that.” It’s not like I’m going to a salon and getting a manicure; I’m sitting at my kitchen table with a bargain paper towel soaked in cheap nail polish remover, scrubbing at my dollar store nail polish.

Taking the time to do my nails or do my hair or put on clothes that aren’t sweatpants is not an indicator of misspent money or taxpayer resources. That’s an indicator that I haven’t given up on myself yet. I don’t want to turn into someone who wallows in their own misery and filth; keeping up my appearance is part of that. And if you think that my personal style choices are political, and therefore something you get to have an opinion about, you are wrong (and a jerk).

Eyes on your own work, kids.

This article from New York magazine is fascinating. I’m not at the point of several people they mention in the article (a man with a gigantic leg tumor; a woman who walked on a broken ankle for years), but I will be there soon if I don’t get health coverage somehow.

Or not.

Take a look at this lovely article from Forbes. Yeah, I have a master’s in Library and Information Studies, and one of the top business magazines in the world just called it the “the worst degree for jobs.” Splendid. On the other hand, I feel a little validated. Maybe this is why I haven’t found a job yet; maybe it isn’t that I’m a terrible person or that I smell or something. (Sometimes both of those things are true.)

Either way, what a great article to start the week.

HAPPY MONDAY, ME!!

I’m tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally, other ways that I can’t think of right now because of the tiredness. My unemployment has been very cyclical: for a few weeks, I’m totally fine, feeling positive, keeping my chin up, you know, all those terms I despise. Then for a few weeks, I’m really depressed and emotionally crappy.

I’m pretty sure everyone who is unemployed goes through a personality crisis. You completely reevaluate yourself, because something *has* to be wrong with you; that’s the only reason you don’t have a job, right? Ugh. I’ve been examining my personality, and I don’t really like what I’m finding. I’m kind of a jerk. I have anger issues, I expect too much from everyone, and I demand perfection from myself in an unreasonable way. I get frustrated because I feel like I’m not articulate anymore, and that makes me angry and then I get sad. I’m SO fun right now.

The biggest thing for me is that it’s really difficult for me to change my actions in the heat of the moment. I make a concerted effort to focus on making changes in my actions, and then I get mad. And… then everything becomes a blur and I have no control over my big mouth. Then I make more promises to change, which is all fine and good until I get mad again.

So basically I want to punch myself in the face.

I’m not usually very self-reflective, so this kind of hurts. I want to think that I’m awesome! But a lot of the time I am terrible and mean and should be given a time-out. I know that this is a fundamental part of my personality, too: I actually made one of my best friends cry at my fifth birthday party, and I did not care. At the same time, I hate when people are mad at me. COMPLICATED, I AM.

Self-reflection should lead to self-improvement, which is my next big project during this phase in my life. Operation Awesome, engage!

I’m honestly sitting here trying to work out the logistics for a free dental clinic at the end of this month. I need to be there at 5:30am, but Mr. Something needs to use his car to get to his internship, and my car is broken, so I might have to take a bus so I can go get free dental care at a sports arena.

That makes me sad.

I hope I can get seen at this clinic; I’m developing some lovely cavities on my front teeth that are making me self-conscious about smiling. Plus, one of my incisors is mostly just bonding, since I broke it when I was in 8th grade, and I don’t want to have to get that redone. A few more months, though, and I can say goodbye to my nice smile and relatively okay-looking teeth. I brush, I floss, but it helps to actually go to the dentist. The last time I went was five years ago, when I worked at a coffee shop and had dental insurance. No cavities then, but times have changed.

The news of this dental clinic made me tear up with happiness this morning, even though I feel a little pathetic about the situation. Could this really mean that I get my cavities fixed? For free? I am overjoyed to sit in that plastic-covered chair and say, “Ahh,” despite my lifelong fear of dentists. I’m at the desperation point where I welcome the things I once feared.

Bring it, dental health care professionals. I have some interesting teeth for you to drill.

UPDATE: My friend offered to carpool with me. :) Sometimes things work out, I guess.