Unemployed Rat

My life during unemployment is not how I would expect it to be. For one, I never EVER thought I would be a gym rat. I like exercising naturally, outside or dancing or chasing the dog down the street, not like a mouse on wheel. But I go almost every night. Twice a week for a all-in-one class (I still can't believe I keep going back), once a week for yoga, and 2 days a week for the cardio movie room. I'm obsessed and I'm healthier than I've ever been.
I'm reading more but that was expected with newly acquired free time. What wasn't expected is my addiction to social media. I guess it's about time if I expect to go into public relations. I'm just not used to being so...social. It's weird. I'm even in charge of HP's new Sunday school class Twitter and FB group. Check me out with the social responsibilities. I'm actually pretty proud of this new development.

I'm planning to talk to Matt's sister-in-law on Superbowl Sunday, maybe she can advise me on a job at her company. Mom wants me to visit for the week of valentines, so I'm actually hoping I don't get any call backs or interviews until I'm back. But then again...I need a job.

Back to productivity.
Happy Friday!

Day 3

I thought about doing an entire post on how I am breaking up with my body. On how we fight until we're exhausted and disagree over our prescriptions, or what we should do with that burrito we just consumed. As I was rambling on about my insides shaking I realized I was going about this the wrong way, because I can't actually divorce my body. But I can poison it.
And that is how I ended up spending my morning driving around ritzy neighborhoods with a coke icee and a cigarette.


Happy Friday!

Faking It

So I've always wanted to have this physical journal that I document my life in. But not just the normal boring, bad penmanship kind. I want the spiffy, doodle filled, random notes kind. I've tried this many a times, but my lack of complete art skills takes some of the fun out of it. I mean, I am a creature of perceived perfection (in my head), my journal should match.


Given my lack of a job, I now have the time to do all of this and more. Didn't you notice I already added my first read book of 2012 to the list? ON THE FOURTH. Time is nice. Anyways, my dear mother gave me a new journal for Christmas and I'm going to keep doodling, stickering, listing, and writing--despite the ugliness that occurs. Maybe I'll get better? Heh.

This is my idea of spiffy journaling.



But this is what came out for yesterday. I'll give you one guess as to what that red rain drop stands for...

Less pretty, more diary

Back from a night out with Matthew. We went through Starry Nights, which was not very impressive, and then to the house in Bartlett that goes all out with lights and synchronized music, which was awesome and ten times cooler than the lights we paid 20 bucks for. But we supported Shelby Farms so that's what I will write in the balance book. Maybe they'll finally clean out those nasty ponds the dogs always try to swim in.

We also watched our first movie in the house (no roommate) with popcorn. Sad this just now took place, but relaxing nights are kind of a rarity when the roommates are either chatting merrily from their bedroom (Bryan), or listening through the walls for signs of sinfulness (surprisingly, not my mother).
We watched A Christmas Carol with Jim Carrey--computer animated and one hundred percent scary for any kid under ten. But probably the truest adaptation of the story by Charles Dickens. I need to read that soon.

Anyways, no luck on the job front. I find myself unmotivated to really work at it. I guess I'm waiting for more of a sign, an open door, a push...We'll see how that works out.
Today's plans--tag along with Matt to pet sitting, go to the gym, and....that's all I have at the moment.

Happy day before Christmas Eve,
Manda

Brain Fart

Fuzzy, foggy, and stupid. That's how I feel most of my days. I graduated 5 days ago. I've sent out maybe 10 resumes. I've watched the entire first season of Desperate Housewives (don't judge me) and I'm thinking about absolutely nothing and occasionally Christmas presents.
At first, I thought my brain had just entered into that proverbial fried state. With so many final projects and PR strategy scenarios it's easy to need a break from thinking.

That was an excuse, I've concluded.
I am now fully responsible for turning my mind into mush.
So once again, I am back to write a list.

• Finish The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides
• Practice Excel formulas
• Create a satisfactory cover letter
• Finish One Thousand Gifts
• Read the Bible daily
• Blog about things I've learned in order to increase retention
• Write.Something.Worthwhile.
  

It is finished

Well I have done it. 25 copies of my newest story, "the way it was" sit upon my desk stapled and ready to pass out tomorrow morning. It's certainly been an interesting journey.
For those of you who don't know me or my past, I have struggled with what is called PMDD, or pre-menstrual dysphoric disorder.
Essentially, it enhances regular menstrual symptoms-- the moodiness, the depression, the anxiety--all of it. In simplified guy terms, it makes me 'bat shit insane.'
But let me tell you, PMDD has nothing on the mood swings and thought shifts I went through today.

Oh, this is going to be awesome. delete this. add this. I'm brilliant. I can show so much in half the pages it takes my classmates. Bam, watch this genius work. They are going to be so shocked at what the quiet girl in the corner can do.
*Takes break.
UGH. this is horrible. There's no originality in this. It's 5 pages of crap. I could have written this when I was 9. College has taught me nothing. I have nothing interesting to say. I suck. I am talentless and unemployed.
*Runs to Kroger for cookie dough.
I'll just add to the dialogue. This is better. I'll add to this character and change this and describe this. Much better. I CAN write! Oh, very clever. This is good. Maybe I'll get this published.
*Prints before hatred ensues.

I'll probably hate it tomorrow, but at least it's over with. Is this normal? Maybe I need to write with sedatives.

***
Stay tuned for a mini-tutorial (usually what not to do) on distressing an old wooden secretary desk AND the lazy alternative to Halloween costumes.

The Block

Once again I have failed in my strive for complete organization (perfection). I have a story due in 1 week, and have not started. I have no characters, no plot line, no setting, not even an IDEA. Nothing.

In my defense I have started 3 different short stories for this class. I started one in the summer and decided it was too young-adult-I-hate-my-parents. I started another one soon after that, but couldn't decide where it was going. I mean how many ways can an adult stalking a child story end? The third story I got a full paragraph into before dragging it to my desktop trash can. So that one may not count.

Here's my problem: EVERYTHING IS CLICHE.
I can think up characters and settings, but conflicts...I'm tired of reading about love, divorce, death, drugs, blackmail, stalking, obsessions, stereotypes, life epiphanies, cold feet, abuse of all forms, adultery, running away, etc.
I think I'm just tired of humanity's drama.

This doesn't bode well for the writing of short stories. I can't write something evolved around complete contentedness.
So my objective for today was to take something realistic and make it different...somehow.
And thus, writer's block was formed.

According to Lisbeth Cheever-Gessaman, a writer at Suite 101, writer's block is caused by fear--and worrying about it only makes it worse. You can't think your way out of it.
That was my first mistake. I gave myself a migraine trying to think of profound story ideas. I also learned a few other things that should be avoided:

• Don't bring your crazed puppy on the walk around your block. You can't think if you're constantly checking for edible hazards (rocks).
• While it seemingly works for the brooding artists in the movies, drinking and cigarettes don't bring inspiration; they just give your breath a bar smell.
  
• Staring at the blank document on the screen---daunting, not helpful.
  

For a list of what you SHOULD do, read Gessaman's article
Ten Ways to Cure Writer's Block