Tales from the Shoebox.

I found out yesterday that I won’t have a job next term. Right now, I’m an instructor in an after-school program in a few local middle schools, teaching kids to knit and cook. It’s a sweet gig, I love my job, the kids are enthusiastic, if I had more hours it would be perfect. The kids wanted to know if we could do screen printing t-shirts next term, so I said I’d ask my boss & while I was at it, I’d ask if I’d even be back because I hadn’t heard anything. Turns out no, I won’t be. There’s no space for me because one of the sites was closed and the people who worked there needed to be put elsewhere. So as of tomorrow I’m unemployed. And while it sucks (because, again, I liked the job), it’s not so much the loss of work that has me flustered, it’s the lack of communication from an otherwise communicative boss. I understand the reason I’m getting cut, I just would have liked to know before now, and not because I asked, you know? So now the job search REALLY has to amp up.

Which brings me to my next point: job searching. I was talking with a friend yesterday, he’s starting his own business, and I remarked how that’s such a leap of faith, how people dream of doing stuff like that and don’t because it’s too big a leap and he said that no, it doesn’t feel like that, it feels like the next natural step, there’s solid ground under him, it’s just what he’s supposed to be doing. And it occurred to me that I have no clue what I’m supposed to be doing right now. Not just this moment, but in general. I know that I want to be able to use my degree, I want to work at a magazine or publishing company, I want to do something with writing or editing, and that’s what I’m applying for, but does that feel right? I’m not sure. And that paralyzes me momentarily. And then I realize that I can’t afford, financially or otherwise, to be paralyzed. I have to move, I have to move forward, I have to get over this bullshit “I’m too afraid” thing because it’s not just me I’m looking out for now, it’s Boogermonkey too. So I’ve set a goal: apply for one job every single day, even on the weekends. No excuses, not even Booger being sick like he is now. Starting tomorrow morning, I will make my rounds through www.mediabistro.com, www.journalismjobs.com, www.publishersmarketplace.com, and get myself out there. I will stop being afraid, I will start moving that big toe. I have NO CLUE how soon I’ll get work, but I Will.Get.Hired. I have to. This is not “I want to,” this is “I have to.”

In “starting my own business” news, I got a HUGE order from a lady who found the site (www.gonzopants.com) through the Yarn Harlot (www.yarnharlot.ca), and man I wish I could knit faster. I mean, I’m told I’m fast (approx. 20-30 sts/min, yes I’ve timed myself, shut up), but wow I can’t wait to work on her stuff. I finished the gloves for Sara D. (http://kewidoll.livejournal.com), but I can’t find one of them! I’ve searched all over the apartment and my car and I’m about to go nuts, and I’m going to have to tear the house apart tomorrow to find the damned thing. I wanted to take pictures of them today, but gah! Lost! TEMPORARILY! My coworker’s UO (www.uoregon.edu) hat was about 80% done today until I realized that the intarsia emblem was SHITE so I tore it out and got 3 rows past where I was in about 45 minutes, but I still have about 2″ and the decreases, plus duplicate stitching the emblem on and the pon-pom he asked for…so maybe 75% done, and I’d like to get it to him by 3 p.m. tomorrow. Addie (www.placesiveneverbeen.com) says there’s a boutique in her neighborhood that would likely carry my stuff, but I need to get orders out first; I think I’m going to take a break from orders for a while after this plate is cleared, get the stuff for the boutique done, and see where things are at that point.

No more fear. No more paralysis. Jump. Maybe there’s ground underneath me after all. Maybe there’s not, but I’ll never know until I let go, right?

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” she said. “I know,” he replied. “I’m not going anywhere, at least nowhere permanent.” “Alright,” he said. “Maybe we’ll meet up in New York,” he said, smiling at the thought. “We’d better,” she whispered as he walked away, fighting tears she didn’t think she had the right to cry. Why must it always rain when they walk away?