Some Substantial Discouragement

Today is the 23 month mark from the day I graduated. In the last few weeks I've been fighting the dark pit of job despair, I need more intellectual stimulation and the distance between graduating and today grows ever larger.

The stats are frightening in their own special way, with October bring something like 800,000 new jobs I'm still not in one of those, and with something like 50% of people under 25 living at home I'm about to hit the two year mark for that too. Yes, I have a Care Bears comforter on my bed because I refuse to buy a twin sized bedspread for fear of jinxing myself and never moving out.

I have this weak hope that I'll escape, when I compulsively buy things, they're kitchen things. I have a nearly full kitchen, all matching and well thought out, in bags and boxes in the corner of my bedroom. I am asking for china and a bookshelf for Christmas, even though, if we're being completely honest, I have no use for either.

So my options are looking bleak, but, but! I'll enroll in community college for the spring semester if there is anything worth taking, and I'll apply for grad school. I lack both the fundage and the time for it but it's potentially the one thing that can pull me out of the funk.

It also looks like I'll have to take on a second job. I can't afford to work one job, even if it is sort of full time. Case and point: last month my car broke down and now I have $40 in checking and half my savings. Half is a lot to watch disappear knowing that the real problems your car is having are going to cost you much more than the half you have remaining.

I guess it's just a matter of time before driving on a prayer becomes purchasing a car I can't afford to make payments on, but at least if that's the case I'll have a new car!

Considering again: The Peace Corps.

Falling Flat: Another Boomerang Setback

For my birthday my mom took me to a concert. Her new thing is to not drive and when she asked me to drive I just didn't want to but she cannot handle being lost and lost is a pretty common theme when getting to the specific concert venue. So lost we got and that is where the trouble began.

We're sitting in a long line of traffic and my dash starts lighting up. Started with my check engine light, its on more than off these days anyhow so that didn't worry me, my battery light came one with my brake light, always bad news but even worse when things are beeping and switching on and off, it was only topped with an Anti-Lock Brake System light came on. We did make it to the parking lot. But my car never left.

So now that I have some money in savings I'm going to have to blow it all on repairs and a massive towing bill. Any success I have in regards to getting out seems to be rendered null in the blink of an eye.

My fingers are crossed for good news but if you have a newish car you want to give to me I'll take it!

The Lazy Boomerang

Yesterday, I was at work and one of the regular clients came in and was chatting, they do this sometimes, and he brought up some current news topics. So he sidles on to the Occupy Wall Street protests and that is where the encounter goes south.

I should have learned by now that I am of a different world view than most of the people that I work with, live near, and am forced to interact with in a fake-smiley work way, and at this point I should have learned that the fake smiling gets me farther with people than opening my mouth and expressing an opinion. All that said, I am human and apparently like the abuse that comes with being a young adult that can't afford to live on their own.

So he blabs about the protesters being lazy, no-goods, and says, and this is a real quote, not something like a quote that I'm putting in quotation marks, "This is America, there are plenty of jobs, they can have any job they want." Ok, Herman Cain, whatever you say.

I stupidly said, "we (referring to my fellow teller and myself) only work three days a week," as in the company that we work for, that I actually like, doesn't have the money to employ full-timers, so I'm happy to have my sad hours instead of nothing, while I try to figure out what to do with the BA I earned in three and a half years. Though, I only said the stupid part, so when he called me lazy and said I should get a second job, I probably deserved it, right?

I don't think so.

But we're all entitled to our opinions and Fox News in a legitimate news source so I guess I should be happy he isn't completely ignorant.

For the record, I am many things but I am not lazy. I quit my second job because I was actually spending more money to get to it than I was making. I hated it, I hated myself while being there, I hated how I was treated by customers, I hated how I was treated by fellow employees and I hated how it looked on my resume. So I quit, I am picking up gigs that I wouldn't have been able to do otherwise, I am picking up hours that I wouldn't have been able to pick up otherwise. I am still looking for a job that is both satisfying, interesting and pays enough (because I can't hold out for decently or even reasonably). And I've been called pretty twice in a week by people who had never seen me outside of my former work place. As in, "You're so pretty, that place must of been aweful! Look at you're smile!"

So I don't regret backing down to one part-time job. But walk a mile in my shoes.

Also the man is a small business owner. I don't have much money. He has the same amount as me in all of his accounts combined. He makes daily deposits that are twice the size of my savings account, so somehow I win.

That was mean. But I'm not lazy.

The Moral Dilemma: The Boomerang Considers Politics and Jobs

Don't be frightened this is not a political rant, it is the investigation of how I can bend my belief system to make money.

There is a job opening, I am qualified for it, it is fairly local, it is with an association that I am ideologically opposed to. So do I apply and more or less double my salary and get better benefits, or do I stick with my soul suckingly (really this is an adverb that doesn't exist and isn't needed, because what adverb is needed? but I'm letting it lie)boring job where I kind of like my co-workers and get to read books and news for good portions of the days?

My friends are not ideologically opposed to this association, well most of them, I have one who would probably disown me and stay in her happy London flat if I did work for them, the rest would high five me for embracing their one insanely out-of-our-mutual-political-ideology  passions.

This friend who would disown me, she has a point. Why compromise? I will not change their minds, they are too many, instead I should rise up and fight against them (with a peaceful discourse and some powerful elections, woot! for signs in your yard!) But what if I apply for this job, make this money, infiltrate the system, use subliminal messaging and win them to my side of this ideological debate.

What do you think?

Other Blog

If you haven't read my other blog, which is even less purpose driven than this one, please do so at.

Maybe It's Time For a Boomerang Reread

Martin Page wrote a brilliant book, The Discreet Pleasures of Rejection, that I need to reread, and I'm not a rereader. Rejection seems to be running rampant these days, can't get a job, can't get a date (to the point that I'm beginning to question my gay-dar) can't get the job I quit to stop calling (that is the opposite of rejection, though it is the rejection of my free thought) and I need a reminder to how awesome rejection is.

Boomerangs and Dirty Business: The Challenge of Networking

I hate networking. I hate it because it's a filthy game of soullessness and greed. Now that said I'm working on the whole idea of networking, because, if I throw up a pretend statistic that is close to right, 90% of the people I know who have gotten jobs in their fields after graduating had done so because they know someone or their parents know someone.

I know people, they're just not the right people apparently, so I am on LinkedIn, I'm emailing the heck out of people asking for advice, I'm studying the bossman's technique (he listed networking as an "interest" for a class he is taking, he is a pro at it if one can be), and I'm reading and researching.  I can do these things. Maybe.

So far the bossman's technique has gotten me a client who may or may not have asked me to visit his son out of state with him, so I'm not great at it yet but I'll keep working. My mom's boss is willing to put in a good word for me in the places where she can, which helps. I'm on HR's mind when new jobs come up, I have them thinking of me, inventing ways to make it work. And I'm meeting people. The one person who emailed me back with advice said business cards were a biggie, so now that's on the table as an idea.

I've discovered a new in today. One that is sort of "six degrees of Kevin Bacon" but isn't that how this game is supposed to be played? If I knew people who could help me, wouldn't I already be out of this situation?

Here's to networking, then taking a shower.

Gossip: You Throw It Out and It Comes Right Back to You

I think I've made it clear how I feel about working retail, especailly my current retail job. My Independence Day blow up (which I turn a pretty shade of purple when talking about, I wonder what a psychologist would say about  mixed sense pride and shame?) is still haunting me. And I know, the situation is one of those that will take a bit to get to disappear, but the people that keep coming to me telling me its still being talked about aren't even people I work with. The people talking about the whole thing aren't the supposed unsophisticated-youngins' working their first job, traumatized by the horrors of working for a company who knows that you are utterly replaceable.

No the gossipers are the middle aged ladies with real jobs and children my age. Children, who, if put in my position on that day, would have angry mothers breathing hell fire. But since I am somehow less human then their flunky children I deserve much worse than I got, which was nothing. My boss sighed and asked me not to quit, apologized for something she had nothing to do with and accepted my apology for not handling it better. Since then with few exceptions work has been rather peaceful, the talking behind people's backs still runs rampant but I suppose that's just the nature of the beast.

Now, because the incident was with a lower manager and the gossiper is her equal I'm stuck. I either suffer through the my already painful job with the added bit of whispering and backstabbing or I quit. So, I'm going to quit.

And if I'm being honest, I'm not good at quitting. I've quit twice in my life, once after the managers decided that I was lying about being sick because I didn't sound sick (I'm polite enough not to take the phone to the bathroom with me) and the second time was my July 4th incident of this year (and that didn't stick).

I need you to hold me accountable. Keep me from going back to the lack of respect and the lack of pay. Today, the curmudgeons win. But I'm looking bigger picture here.

Living in the "Right" Place: A Boomerang's Tale

At my bank job I am allowed an hour of silly internet time a day. I rarely use that hour because 1.Though we are a slow branch there is only so much of People.com one can handle and 2. I have access to internet news free and clear. I spend a bit of time on the culture pages, read some of the more tasteful news blogs, check out the Guardian online (the sheer enormity of the site can keep me going for days) but out of habit, and perhaps ease of spelling, I always start my day on CNN.com. Yesterday, I made the mistake of ending it there.

I have to clarify this upfront my outrage and hurt have nothing to do with CNN, they were just creating a top ten type list and it so happened to pique my interest, I don't hold CNN responsible for my heartbreak.

I'm clicking through links and more links and end up here. The article is a wonderful place to read and dream, and there are pictures to aid me in this endeavor. I really wanted to know where the jobs are, and where I need to be to find these jobs. I clicked next after the first slide and nearly cried. Number two: Loudoun County.

I live there. I live here! I have for the majority of my twenty-three years. Most of my jobs have been in Loudoun County. All of my jobs in Loudoun County have been menial (with the exception of my internship at Weider History Group, that was intellectually stimulating, it was fun, it was professional) mindless jobs. I've worked at the outlet mall in Leesburg for nearly seven years. I've worked in labs and banks and doctor's offices for little pay and usually no benefits.

Before you get too agitated about the above point you need to know that for the last, well, no less than five years, Loudoun County has been either the first or second richest county per capita. So, yes, I'm jaded about making $8.51 an hour helping women who claim an income of $250000 a year only to be declined for a credit card that starts with a $250 limit.

Back to the living in the second best place to find a job. Verizon, Aol, and some other large tech companies are headquartered here. Verizon is having union troubles right now. Makes me wary of even considering working there, though I'm not qualified for anything. Aol is only anything anymore because it acquired Huffington Post recently and with that they acquired higher standards when it comes to experience.

Loudoun County is still a bit wild around the edges, my neighbors have cows. I just got bumped from a farm sitting gig while the farmers, a nurse and a federal law enforcement agent, are on vacation, they're Virginia Tech-student of a son is leasing himself to other farmers to make a bit of cash before heading back to school. Twenty miles east is where creepy suburbia begins, and not all Starbucks and WholeFoods, just white people, houses and expensive cars to go with credit debt and teeny-bopper clothes on the forty-somethings. Suburbia is a new invention, my parents moved to Loudoun County so that my father could help draft the plans for that evil.

So I'm in the right place. I have been applying to jobs and beseeching people to help me. So what if I lived in Loudoun County when people ate the chickens from their backyards. So what if my childhood friends were very successful in 4-H. I have the education. I have some of the experience. And the places I've lived while not living in Loudoun County have been dreams come true. London, New York, Harrisonburg. Dreams lived, and I can't find a job in my hometown.

The Boomerang Drives

Two of the girls I work with, colleagues from the same job, totaled their cars with past week. And being a supposed mediocre driver I didn't pass judgement, mostly I told them I was glad they were alive. Then I heard the stories.

Girl one was driving in the rain and hydroplaned, scary, everything would have been fine except the spot where her car stopped was a hunk of cement that tried to rip her entire undercarriage to shreds. With school about to start and her hours being a bit low at both of her jobs, a wedding to plan and the like she cut her losses and settled for an older but nice used car to replace it and went on her merry way.

Girl two hit a tree, because she was driving too fast around a bend, misjudging the whole speed/curve thing because she was inebriated. She passed all of the sobriety tests but she blew a .1, above the legal limit in Virginia since, well, a while. How she didn't get a DUI, I don't know. But the bragging about this fact is kind of sickening. Is it cruel that I hope that when she goes to court for her reckless charges she gets it good?

Then today while stopped at a stoplight I noticed I a police car behind me, what really caught my eye was that the police officer was using his computer. If texting is illegal shouldn't Googling be as well?

It is said that drowsy driving and distracted driving are as dangerous as drunk driving so my real question is why did, when the light turned green, the officer keep his eyes glued to his screen, especially when the station was a mere half mile past the light? Could it have been that urgent? Was he running my plates for kicks and giggles? Maybe. But what if the roles were reversed?

I've been pulled over for driving too slow, I was changing a CD and trying not to get caught out after curfew, it was indeed two in the morning. I was questioned about drinking and eyed suspiciously before being sent on my way with a warning, he pulled me over outside of then town limits. That was embarrassing enough to keep me worried about actually drinking and driving, not driving drunk, having a drink and a few hours later driving home...what if I speed, what if?

Texting is freighting no-no, one that I'm guilty of.  Distracted and dangerous, a friend nearly scared me straight while driving down Interstate-81. Swerving, swearing and speed nearly did the trick. But I'm not stupid, I know that despite my ability to blind text, I could indeed kill myself or others. I'm slowly being cured by the habit, that police officer on the computer sure did help that cause.

Lest we forget, cars are death traps. We get complaisant, comfortable driving our 1000 miles a week. Keep me alive a kicking. Don't drink and drive and I won't. Don't text and drive and I won't. 

The Communicating Boomerang

Enough is enough. If I send you an email, directed at you, in response to your email, and with questions that are not rhetorical in nature you have to send me an email in return, potential employers included.

On that note, I shouldn't be saying that, I do have this blog linked from some conspicuous places.

Communication is one of those things that job ads are always noting that the ideal candidate should be an excellent communicator. And I, at least I hope, am a decent communicator but then again shouting into the abyss isn't communicating. So, I think as I type that last sentence, is this communicating? And my hope is that it would be. My hope is that it is.

The stats show that nearly daily someone looks at this thing everyday. And I am working on when to keep my mouth shut when it's appropriate. I'm working on telling people what I need. And asking questions has, for the most part, been a strong point.

I've been told, and I'd like to believe, I'm an ok writer. I'll never tell you I am the best, I read a friends blog today, it was like being in creative writing again, he sparkled brighter than I could.

I have room for improvement but it hurts, it actually feels like a personal dig, when the communication goes out, no matter how feeble, and there is no response, none.

For all the boomerangs out there, it is indignant enough to live at home with very little independence financially, please just write us back.

Job Sympathy for the Boomerang

In an interesting turn of events, the last few days have been filled with questions and condolences regarding a promotion I recently lost an outside hire (I was unqualified, I was considered based on personality and speed). I knew long before I was officially turned down that the woman I would have been assisting was looking elsewhere for that experience I didn't have, so when I got the call saying they had hired someone else (I know, first reject call in a long, well, ever) I wasn't terribly disappointed.

My boss, reassured me it was for the best, though I think he's being selfish about the whole thing. He needs me to edit the papers he has to write for the class he is taking, even he knows I'm in the wrong profession. And in quick passing the HR person in charge of the whole debacle expressed her deep sympathy over the whole thing. Like it was somehow her fault. It couldn't be.

I'm not sure how I feel about this now. I wanted the job for the money. I wanted it for the hours and the prospect of getting out of retail. But it's not a path I'd like to take, it's not me. I'm not numbers. I'm words. But the mounting number of rejections and the looming two year anniversary of my college graduation have me reeling. I'm digging myself deeper into the black hole that is a black mood and am having more and more trouble seeing the light.

The Boomerang's Dilemma

I have discovered a problem with my situation, the underemployed, living at home situation. It is keeping me from getting a job. In one sentence: I live with my mother because I can't find a job and I can't find a job because I live with my mother.

Now tell me what to do about this?

The Simple Things Make a Boomerang Happy

Let's have a chat about rejection. Today, I was rejected. And yet, you think, the title of this post is suggestive of something positive, why? 

Well, dear readers, first thing this morning HR called me, asked me about my vacation, had a laugh and then she explained that the promotion I had applied for went to an outside candidate. Bummer right? Yes, the money would have been nice, the hours would have been nice, the whole thing would have been nice. But my follow up email after my interview was met with doubt, for lack of experience.

What made me happy about the phone call was the sheer fact that someone picked up the phone and said "hey, thanks for trying but we went with that other guy." How hard was it? Probably not very. Yet, it is the third response saying as much that I have received in the last two years. The first one came in an email the day before my second interview for the position, the second came in the form of a formal letter and the third was today's phone call.

So please other rejecters, take note, Boomerangs and our fellows can handle it, so stop our wondering and just tell us. Thank you.

The Boomerang and the Family Vacation

As a boomerang I am faced with the daily challenge of being an adult and being treated like a child, it doesn't help that the walls of my bedroom are painted with clouds and my single bed is covered with Care Bears. Between both my jobs and their particular dramas, my household chores, my mother lecturing me as if I were fifteen and a week at the beach with my family  I am ready for a vacation.

I'm not complaining about the family vacation, we had a ton of fun, took a stand-up paddle boarding lesson, sat on the beach, ate out at some delicious places, there is nothing to complain about. The problem is coming home. As an adult I should be able to spend a week with my family and then go back to my life and enjoy they time we had together.

Instead, the drive back is a smattering of abuses and agitation. The unpacking is more discontent and then dinner is a fight. This is normal, this was one of my mother's biggest complaints against my father, even long before they divorced. It has to do with roles and expectations. And in some ways it has to do with my mother.

I love my mother but she had indeed forgotten that I am an adult. Friday when we left the beach, forced off by the blazing heat, she started in on setting a tight schedule for packing. She was upset that my vacation bed wasn't made and she spent some time admiring her handy work from the beginning of the week when she rearranged most of the furniture.

She is an A personality. Unfortunately, I am the person in the family who missed that gene. I let it go, I let it go, I let it go, but after vacation I need the space to not make my bed and not fold my clothes and leave my shoes in the middle of the floor to be tripped over, not because that's how I like it but because that's how I function.  I need to function a bit outside of the family.

How do Italian men live with their parents so long?

Abandoned by Facebook Friends

There is a car commercial out there where a girl sits behind a computer confessing she is worried about her parents' social lives, they only have 19 facebook friends while she has more than 600 "friends." The parents in the commercial are off biking with friends and having a great time. The commercial is a disgusting, though potentially true, depiction of the generation gap. I laughed at it, believing that I am above it, sort of.

Then, today, I went to post something on the wall of a friend only to discover that we are no longer friends. This is the second time in a week that I have realized that I have been unfriended. The first one didn't hurt so much, it was a former classmate that I was never particularly close to, but today, that hurt.

It hurt not because I have one less facebook friend but because facebook was the medium of communication with this particular friend who has a habit of being challenged by life and disappearing into the unknown for periods of time. And, please don't tell him this, I look up to him, I need him because I am also not sure what is going on.

Granted our struggles are worlds apart, and I tend to find out about his though strange sourced, but he is/was a a buddy though it all. Usually he was just a laugh. And a laugh is pretty important at this point in my life.

So here's to missing my facebook friend. A tear shed.

Hunting with a Boomerang

I am serious about my job hunt again. It's neither new or exciting and yet I set aside hours to do it every week. The thrill is gone. I dread the entire process, which makes me much less likely to find a job. And people keep mentioning that they know people who have had success in finding work, which, despite their enthusiasm, is considerably more discouraging than someone telling me "it'll happen" while frowning and shaking their head.

I don't think people's commentary on my situation is supposed to be discouraging, I think they intend it to be exactly the opposite, and for that, thanks you guys. But please stop telling me that all six of your son's girlfriends graduated this spring with jobs in hand, good for them, honestly, but it makes me feel like a failure.  My friends who have jobs they all seem to get it, only once has someone been silly enough to tell me that she has a 9 to 5 and can't just go and do anymore. As she's saying this I'm forced to smile and tell her how tough it is to be an adult, while inwardly screaming about working irregular hours, up to 60 a week, with half the pay check and none of the respect that she gets.

But then again, people don't know how to react. And while I try to be thankful they care, I spend many days seeing red and many others green with envy. So with my renewed job hunt vigor I'm also trying to figure out how to pay for classes so that my resume doesn't come across as having done nothing for the past year.

My biggest and brightest idea: teaching people to job hunt the boomerang way.

All joking aside, I'm going to start editing academic papers if at all possible; it's a tiny bit of income, with a tiny bit of practice and a little entrepreneurial spirit.

Operation Ada Jane

Set some long term goals today. Proud of them. Proud of myself.

I think I'll start using full sentences from this point forward.

The whole thing kind of stems from my youngest sister's status as a rising high school senior, which isn't a big deal to my life plan except that when she graduates high school my mother will sell the house and move to wherever seems super relevant at the time. So unless I've found a real job, I'll be out of luck and out of time.

So with my dear mother's help we've devised Operation Ada Jane. It is a plan that it's name sake perfected at the age of 17. She worked it hook line and sinker. I shall too.

Unfortunately, I'm working with smarter targets, driven targets. Unfortunately, said targets have been on to my varying versions of Operation Ada Jane for years. Maybe that will make it harder, maybe easier. And I'd ask your opinion but Operation Ada Jane has to be a secret or it will never work. And it has too, Operation Ada Jane is a comfortable future, not dazzling but cozy and sweet, which at this point is more than enough for me. 

If Operation Ada Jane is a successful I'll be set.

Wish me luck!

Leave it to a Boomerang to Swing Back

Mood wise. I'm pretty positive I'm not going back to the job unless big things change.

But today is a good day. I got checked out by the tiny African man at the Jiffy Lube, always feels good, my oil is changed, I went on a date, I went to Target and showed restraint, I ordered a tall coffee instead of a grande. These are all good things!

Today was a good day.

Last week was a string of fiascoes that, more or less, were just a cosmic kick in the pants. So what if my check engine light and ABS light came on at the same time. So what if I was pulled over fifteen minutes after the lights in my dash came on because I was without tail lights. So what if I couldn't find my driver's license when he asked for it (always check between the seat and the console, because chances are when you dumped your purse out to find your keys that is exactly where it landed). So what if the straw finally broke the camel's back at the second job I need but hated.

I fixed the fuse to my taillights myself. I found my driver's license. I didn't get ticketed. I'm happier out of that second job.

This is all motivation to move forward, move toward something new. I can start hitting the gym like I used too. I can start applying to jobs like I used too. I can go out on nights that I used to work on. I am better now.

I just need a fortune cookie to spell everything out for me.

Boomerangs Make Snap Decisions Well

Or not. And if I'm being honest with you I probably shouldn't be posting anything about this, for fear of it hurting future chances of employment. Or not.

It has at this point, I feel, been established that I have two part-time jobs. Now I have one. Today is the Fourth of July and seeing as I am an apple pie-loving, baseball-watching, farmer-tanned, red-blooded American, who woke up with two jobs, I went to work. As I'm driving on back roads to avoid all the parade routes and pedestrians who are having fun and not being safe near moving vehicles I pick up my beeping phone. My job had called.

Apparently I was late. The girl who had given me my schedule last week had messed up and I was supposed to be at work at 12:15 PM not 2:15 PM. I call work back and explain the mistake, tell them I'm on my way, I'll be there in 20 minutes. The response back was an unpleasant "We'll discuss it when you get here." So my mood, already low, is soured. I am one of the people who 97% of the time is punctual and the other 3% is with 15 minutes and I felt bad for being an hour late but am a good worker bee and would make up the hour I missed at the beginning of my shift by staying late.

At some point someone blabbed over the headset that all the breaks were done. I pointed out that despite being late, even if I didn't make up any of the time I had missed at the beginning of my shift that I worked a long enough shift to require a break. No one responded and I didn't get a break.

But more unhappy things are going down, the manager took the day off but all the lower management is in the store most of whom are acting as if they own us. I hear from one of my co-workers (the newest sales lead at that) that after I called in there was a little chat about me lying. Which is funny because I'm a horrible liar so I stick to telling the truth like nobody should and that is one of the reasons there are a few people who do not like me at the store I work(ed) in. Some funny things went down with my numbers from yesterday, petty stuff. But petty stuff is becoming a problem so I made comment to the Co-Manager (fancy name for crazy assistant manager who calls you at all hours of the night drunk) about the changing of numbers and accusations of lying and she assured me that they would have chats.

And I can only imagine what chats were had.

So I'm folding tables, because people shopping on holidays are absolute pigs, and up storm to me eyes blood shot and voice in that strange raised whisper (didn't stay low for long either) and then:

Her: "Just so you're not made at me I gave you that card* under your number!"
Me (and I'm seething that this is happening so my left eye is rolling around in my head) "Good. Because it's mine."
Her (yelling)"Blah, Blah, Blah, It's mine. Blah, Blah, Blah, I didn't change the numbers."
Me: "So after last night K******* came in and changed the numbers?"
Her: "I don't know who changed the fucking numbers, I don't give a flying fuck about the cards (out right lie) something something fucking something blah blah blah. Next time you can fucking walk out."
At this point I've stopped being calm and started handling things badly. I've thrown a sweater in this woman's face (zing!), taken off my holiday apron which held my walkie-talkie and chucked on to a not so near by table and stormed out.

Embarrassingly I had to go back to get my purse. I slammed my locker, but didn't talk to anyone. And now I have one job.

Future employers who may read this don't hold this against me, just know that I will not take it. Fair is fair, professional is professional and I am not a liar.

Also, walking out was the best thing I've done in a long while.





*Credit Cards are the main thing that goes in our performance review, the problem is there are a few people who take credit for cards when other people "sell" them. The day before this happened I had "sold" a card to a customer who had said she wasn't interested initially (thus my card as it has been discussed many many many times). The lady who would confront me later believed that I had given it to her, so when she found out I hadn't she flipped out on the only other manager working, who is not the manager. This morning I came in and found the official numbers changed. I don't care about the cards so much as I care about the sneakiness and lying.

The Boomerang Needs to Write to an Advice Column

As a boomerang I often get picked as the house sitter. No biggie, easy cash most of the time and a bit of time alone never hurt.

What hurts is the Christmas cookies that I made, with love because I didn't have the money for gifts, untouched in the pantry. It appears that every one I wrapped and boxed is still there, the only thing missing is the peanut brittle but I packaged that separately.

So my question to the world is, what do I do?

I know that most advice columnists would suggest I ignore the slight. Not my problem, I offered the gift freely and after I gave the gift I have no say on how it is used. And that's true but we're talking some perishable goods here and they're just so obviously there.

So I let it slide. I have to. But it kind of hurts. The bags of store-bought cookies all sit empty next to the homemade cookie box. And that hurts more.

The Boomerang Used to Be a Cinephile

The problem with movies and with films, and yes, I do see a distinction, is that they tend to speak to the times. Politically and socially relevant film speak the most to people, they move the most people and we the people pay to see them.

I love cinema almost as much as I love literature. They are both escapes but lately the movies are hitting me a little hard. I got drunk watching Casino Jack, though admittedly that was both a mistake and a bizarre occurrence in and of itself. I don't remember the movie being funny, just Kevin Spacey wearing trucker hats which is tragic rather than funny.

Bridesmaids made me sob with self-loathing. I mean I laughed. I laughed hard. I laughed so hard I cried but I also cried because the movie hit way to close to home. I thought for a moment that that movie would be the short break from my life and yet poof it's laid out in my lap for me to hold.

Now, sitting at home, I am watching The Company Men it is nauseating. Don't get me wrong, it's brilliant, it's beautiful, it rings so wonderfully true. And though I am not a middle-aged and up ex-exec I'm still gagging over the cruelty. It's too real, to close to home.

I can't stay awake through less serious movies. I can't sit though mindlessness. I'm on edge. I'm restless. I have no escape without books now. So I cling to them. I'm reading like I've never read before. I'm reading as if I were breathing the words. And the words sustain me.

Things aren't as bleak as they could be. But today while in an interview I looked a VP in the eye and confessed to here that I didn't want numbers I wanted words and I was swallowing my pride to take the ideas of numbers and make it a career. I am ecstatic about the opportunity and I am crying as I give up a dream.  

A Boomerang Tilted in the Correct Direction is a Smile

Some good things have come my way in the last week or so, which is nice because I was beginning to despair again, but the universe has tilted in my favor and gumption has paid off. After a few nerve wracking days of HR trying to get a hold of me, she finally showed up "to say hi" today. I know I haven't done anything wrong, but with the last few months of drama fueled HR visits and despicable old lady behavior I was worried accusations were flying again.

But my worry was undue, much to my relief. HR pulled me into the conference room for a chat and suggested I apply for a job, a higher paying, full-time, more important job. HR thought of me when making the job posting and personally invited me to apply (that is redundant, I know, but I'm still waiting for it to sink in).

I filled out my application and giggled a little bit, half of the application is reminders that you have to be in your position for at least six months before you are allowed to apply for other positions within the company. I have not been with the company for six months, let alone in my position. Though not all rules apply all the time, I'm still super stoked that I'm breaking one that is laid out quite seriously in several places.

This opportunity has me feeling a very good at the moment, though I'm sure I've said as much already. It's acknowledgement that despite what that commentator on CNN says my college education wasn't a waste of time or money or paper (though thats removing the context of the article). It's vindication for my hard work and drive. This year and a half of unmentionable disgust is beginning to clean itself up. I am having a good day, I am having a good week, I am having a good month.

To the fortune cooking being 12 next Mondays late but correct nonetheless.

Boomerangs Can Hope Too!

It's summer, if you hadn't noticed yet. The heat is amazing. The prospect of a vacation, doubly so. And as summer buds I'm working on becoming less down about this whole boomerang situation, it is hard though, a year and a half later, the other boomerangs are all flocking back to school to get higher and higher degrees and I'm trying to pay my minimal rent from my two jobs wondering where I went wrong.

But I didn't, so that thought is banished and hope springs anew. This week has been full of a tiny bit of social promise and a social life is half the battle with this boomerang thing, that and it's kind of like networking which, if I'm being honest, I'm not entirely sure I have a grip on. I'm running screaming from my second job this week, I'm tired and this week I have three (yes, three!) events.

Two are wedding related, one actually being a wedding, and the third is a concert, and I do love concerts. And in the whirlwind of my new found summer social life I got a call, just an old roomy throwing out the idea that we perhaps make a move in the fall. And though it is just throwing it into the universe it is an excellent idea, one that gives me renewed hope and panic, but in a good way.

When I went to college the one thing I learned about myself that kind of surprised me is that I love change, I love moving and discovering new places. I've spent the majority of my current 23 years in the same town that I am writing from at this very moment. And there are tons of awesome people here and even a few nice things but nothing has changed enough to keep this place alive for me.

So renewed hope don't let me down this time. Get me out of here and back into the real world if only for a little while.

The Boomerang and Exasperation

I am over this whole "it's a bad economy" thing. I understand that it took a bit for everything to turn around but enough is enough. Last year I started off strong with an internship and had a few interviews before I broke and took a job that I needed but isn't relevant to what I want to do with the rest of my life, professionally that is. I have had two interviews so far this year and alas have started applying for internships again.

I'm on the brink again, working 12 or more days a week and somehow not making any money. I need a vacation and it doesn't look like I'll get one until July, I know it's only a few weeks off but I'm ready. I want to enjoy the humidity that everyone keeps complaining about, I have yet to have a day to spend outside, heck I haven't even opened my sunscreen yet this year!

Now that summer is here I look forward to losing my mind and becoming super-duper broke because I want back into the realm of words. Help me!

The Boomerang and Competition

Congratulations to all of my friends who graduated over the last few weeks. And an even bigger congratulations to the few who have managed to line up employment, to the rest of you welcome to the back swing and do not apply to the same jobs as me.

Ok, friends, here's the story. I've been interviewing again. I'm not feeling super confident about any of my last few but I would like to note that I have had two editorial-related interviews since February that is only one less than the entirety of last year. But even with the pick up in frequency I am worried about the new influx of graduates who want jobs.

I have to be optimistic though, that the new grads are optimistic in their abilities and they'll be looking for higher positions where as at this point I'm ready to settle, in a way. That sounds cynical. But this job search has sucked up nearly two years of my life and is chipping away at me a little bit. My friends are certain that they have accomplished more than me and have better plans and I wouldn't doubt it. But I'm worried that at this stage in the game I'll be that person who resents anyone's success. I don't want to be that person.

I have, in the past, used competition to create a nice place for myself but what this competition has done to me is make me good at my current jobs. And I've frightened myself.

So new competition watch out. I'm on to you and I will win, eventually.

The Dating Boomerang

Living with one's mother and working two jobs isn't really great for the social life and all. So how does a boomerang date?

It's an experiment I've actually decided to try.

A few months ago my mother decided to try her hand at online dating. She so enjoyed the attention that she suggested I try it. I used her match.com profile to see who happened to be trying the online thing in my area. I found tons of "eligible" bachelors in my age group, a bit of research showed that all of the folks on the internet are one of two things: Creepers and Gingers*.

It didn't take long for my mom to tire of her experience and offered up the end of her subscription to me. I took a look again. Still creepers and gingers, only this time I saw a familiar face. It was the brother of a guy I hung out with in high school and later dated briefly in college, newly divorced and looking. That sealed it. The internet is not for me.

My friends offered to set me up with someone, I agreed, but said blind date has yet to occur. I've been promised to meet this fellow no later than my fiends' wedding. And I look forward to meeting him and all but I am slowly ageing every day.

I go to the gym as a means of meeting people. I also do it for health and fitness reasons, which in someways makes the meeting people thing harder.

Everyone has suggestions. Everyone has solutions to the dating thing. And now I'm interested in a guy. And thats normal and all but everyone has suggestions ideas of how to make this work, not that it isn't working itself out. This guy and I, sort of. It's tricky but then again people my age don't really date well so tricky is ok. My favorite advice, other than I need to get over myself, was from my younger sister. She said, "Don't be too serious. You're still young." It is ironic advice. But good advice nonetheless.

Trial one (?) of this experiment is a go.

*Sorry Ginger friends, not a fan. I have enough sunburn in my life as it is.

Technology is Beginning to Frighten Me

I recently read Gary Sheytgart's Super Sad True Love Story and it sickened me, not the book itself, it was brilliant but the future that is portrayed in the book was frightening.Then yesterday I was reading the Wall Street Journal while work was slow and this article caught my interest.

It's awesome in the real sense what technology is doing. And as I worry about what information my technology is spewing into the world about me (though I am behind the times, my phone cannot reach the internet) I use it. Everyday I check the statistics of my blogs, this one and my cheekier one Invisible Pen and Ink, see who is reading what I write. Though I don't know exactly who without them leaving a comment, I know how many people read it, I know what country they read it from and I know what browser they used as well as what operating system they use.

I don't really know how this benefits me. This knowledge means very little in my hands, but, and it is one of those things that isn't likely to happen but, if I were marketing something, anything, I'd have a way to sift through my demographic.

But I'm not marketing anything. I'm just throwing my point of view out there and maybe not in the best fashion but it's something. So the technology works for me, and it takes over the world at the same time. Do we wait until the Super Sad True Love Story type apocalypse or stop before we get too close?

I'm considering becoming a hermit. It's either that or I buy and iPhone.

A Boomerang: The Diversity Seminar

My mother is a nurse. As a nurse my mother is expected to take so many credits per year to keep her education up to date and her certifications in order (I also have to update my certs every once in a while, I have four, count them four, in pants fit). Last night she came home after having a lunch seminar and explained that people are "so oblivious."

The seminar was a discussion of diversity, the area I live in is still quite homogeneous despite the huge growth it has seen in the last twenty or so years. The nurses and administrators discussed that on top of the language barriers that they deal with there are also education gaps and cultural differences. There was a discussion on the correlation between health and wealth (it's an obvious one, more money means better health insofar as better healthcare). People apparently couldn't understand why people who live below the poverty line or $15000/year have children, eat less healthy foods and have worse health issues than the majority of the people who, as it is the second richest county per capita this year with a median income of $112000/year, live above the poverty line.

But people aren't seeing past the Latino families that fit that picture and there are quite a few, but they see them as a blight something to put up with because if we didn't how would the grass get cut and the bathrooms get clean? But the reality is (with that stupid stereotype aside) the poor people in this area aren't just Latino. I live well below the poverty line and with the help of my mother I am not homeless or into illegal activity to get by. I am also white. Blond and blue eyed, white. I have health insurance. But this week I had to choose, an x-ray with a doctors visit with a co-pay of $50 or my student loans. My credit score suffers this month because of an accident. But my finger is not broken, rather it has a nasty bone bruise and I was right when last week I decided that broken or not I didn't have the money to take care of it.

When this was brought up during the seminar, and yes, my mom during a discussion said "I have a boomerang," before explaining my wiggle into diversity, some of the long time employees of the hospital were confused as to how a white girl could get into such a predicament, why didn't my mother help me out more?

Diversity isn't necessarily a racial/ethnic thing. Here, though understanding cultural differences couldn't help, socioeconomic diversity is the bigger issue. I am considered upper-middle class. I live well below the poverty line. My mother shares the same class distinction and makes a smidge more than half of the county median income. So why is our class so different than our income status? Maybe it's because hard work wins nice things or maybe it's because lucky us we live in a place where people don't see class as clearly as they do in other places. And it should be surprising that people who are well educated and work hard can't get ahead but it shouldn't be that surprising if you watch or read the news.

I am an example of what diversity training is for.

The Impossibility of a Budget

It is no secret that I work two jobs and still have trouble making ends meet. This fact is the major reason behind my living at home. So last payday when both my checks landed in my account at the same time (not a common occurrence) I decided to create a budget. I laid it all out and included everything including potential spikes in gas prices.

Tomorrow I am going to the hand surgeon, I didn't budget for breaking my finger, and I didn't budget for it to be getting worse instead of better as time continues. I have two specialist appointments this month and am wondering how I'm going to afford them.

I've given up tons to try to get ahead. I found a new hair dresser, which doesn't sound like much but as I am not in a particularly sound place in my life hair cuts cause an extreme anxiety. I changed and it worked out, but the twenty dollars I saved there isn't even enough to cover half of my co-pay before x-rays and follow ups.

I have a green elephant on my dresser, this elephant could help me with my financial woes. It doesn't hold a ton of money because it is a specific savings fund, the elephant is for a new computer and the hope of a deposit for a school or an apartment. I add to it whenever I have the chance but it doesn't grow very quickly. I eye it every few weeks and consider how helpful it could be. But I won't break into it unless it is an emergency.

How do I budget for the unexpected when most days I worry paying my rent and phone bill? How do I save for the future, and I'm not really talking about the distant future, without causing my bills to go unpaid today?

Chocolate and Depression

I recently read an article about chocolate consumption and depression. The article was based on a study that noted a correlation between depression and chocolate consumption. Now maybe I'm better versed in chocolate than the average person, or maybe my exposure to scientific studies helps me in this case but I was struck dumb that this was news worthy.

We have been programed to reach for sweets when we're feeling blue and, especially with dark chocolate, there are some "happy" chemicals that make this potentially unhealthy habit worth it. The article didn't even broach that part of the argument, rather it focused on an anecdote about a particular woman who felt guilt over the amount of chocolate she had consumed. Citing that she would feel immediate relief but later regret the thousands of calories she had consumed.  It seemed as if there was an attempt to fault chocolate for her depression.

In all honesty I kind of laughed at the attempt. Semantics are a beautiful thing and a chocolate controversy would be a nice way to gain attention for a health web site but toying with people's emotions by using big words isn't fair. Chocolate does not cause depression, and though the article didn't say that was the case it strongly suggested it.

What the study found is that there is an awful lot of people who report being depressed and eating chocolate. That's not any big surprise chocolate, like exercise, releases endorphins and endophins make you feel good. Also chocolate is (mostly) cheaper than antidepressants so for those people who don't need a medical intervention why not have a chocolate bar, just don't over do it an end up like the subject of the anecdote feeling worse than when you started.

The Story of a Sad Shoe Shopper

I am a huge fan of shoes. I like ones in inappropriate colors best of all. With summer fast approaching I thought I'd try my feet at some TOMS. Keds are more traditional but the TOMS business plan (I supposed you'd call it that) just makes so much more sense to me.

After a search of the most bizarre patterns and colors I was ready to purchase. I read the quick description as I went to the drop down box to pick my very large shoe size. I was stopped by a single word. A word that most people wouldn't even consider. Wouldn't notice. A word that is inconsequential to something like 99% of the population. And all it said was that the arch support that TOMS lovers adore is made of latex. Latex. I, unfortunately, am not a member of the 99%. I am the allergic other. 

My heart sank at that clump of letter. I want shoes that will give other people shoes. But because of some strange twist in biology I have to choose from the traditional set of summer shoes. Today the world seems less fair. 

Thank you TOMS customer service. I'm glad you were so willing to answer my questions before I bought a pair of life threatening shoes. I will continue to proclaim their awesomeness to all! And may get a pair for my sisters on their birthdays.

Congrats!

I should congratulate those of my friends who have managed jobs away from home. Kudos to your anti-boomeranging.

DeLillo in a Day

My junior year of college, my second to last semester, the one I used to finish all my degree requirements, I took a class on the works of Don DeLillo.

I had read and enjoyed him before the class (and seemed much more engaging than a class on Blake or Shakespeare). I loved how each sentence is a mouthful of words being presented perfectly, spitting the ABCs out in perfect order while eating alphabet soup. My own yearning for word perfection laid out in front of me as a guideline. I have a goal in DeLillo.

As I am devouring books at the moment I hit the library  with my three-year-old nephew  on my day off to save some money. He isn't as I sort through titles so on this particular trip I grab Wuthering Heights, Saturday (which I got home and discovered I owned), and a few books by DeLillo. I picked up Point Omega during the day but never finished the first page. So Thursday at work I started over. And Thursday at work I finished it.

Fin. Done. Cover to cover. In one work day while working. And though I've read the book and enjoyed it more than most of the books I've read lately I don't think I understood it. I mean I did. And the words!

But in spite of my loving the words and kind of understanding the book I wouldn't, couldn't, write a review about it let alone an essay for fear of looking foolish.

This fear stems from the class I think. From only seeing some of what was being discussed, feeling intellectually dwarfed by hippies, thrift store junkies and film club presidents not to mention the Dude.

And other than the Dude, who was our esteemed professor, I'm not sure they were any more able to grasp the "stuff" in DeLillo than I was, am. But my hair was too neat and my eyes too clear to have the confidence to call B.S. on all of them.

So I try DeLillo again. I'll search the text, the words, my hear for orange juice and if nothing else breathe those words. Dwarf or not I allow myself the words. DeLillo's words are the closest thing to Synesthesia I have ever experienced. They taste good.

Patience Please

I've been writing by hand lately so I have a notebook full of things that need sorted out and posting. Check back Thursday (if it's not up by then I'm being lazy) for new and exciting posts!

Nature: Second Only to Human Desire to Master it or Why Bears Don't Make Good Pets

So I got a text message today. It's not a first but it was interesting. It asked if I had gotten the news, I replied that I hadn't because if I had I wouldn't have been utterly bewildered at what news it could be. Then I got a response to my reply, and I feel a bit bad about my reaction here guys, the text said "Max passed away, he was killed by a bear." In my head I'm like: who is this Max?? And after running though a list of people Max is not I realize a second before asking my sister, who seems upset, who he is it smacks me in the face (too soon?) Max is-was one of my father's cats. He was a 25 pound orange cat with paws the size of my palm and fur so long and soft.

And he's dead. Killed by a bear. This isn't surprising though, my dad lives in the mountains with black bears. He has, for as long as he's lived there, thought of them of giant wild pets, feeding them (illegal) and getting unreasonably close to them (stupid). Recently my dad decided that his four kitties were outside eligible, all of them were raised indoors (stupid) and two of them are declawed (inhumane). Mind you outside cats get fed outside. Bears have been counting on food from my dad's front porch for a few years now-- are you getting where this is going?

So now my dad has a permit to kill the bear and my sisters all we're going to make a rug out of you m***er-f***er (is there a hyphen in that?). So the bear will get it and all will rejoice.

Am I the only one seeing the injustice here? Animal cruelty perhaps? What I'm saying is that killing a wild animal for competing for its food (natural) seems rather unreasonable. Also putting cat food on the front porch might be good for the cats but in a place where you can't store trash outside or food wrappers in your car why would you leave food where the bears could compete for it? Why would you put inside cats outside? Why would you put pets where they could become prey for coyotes (they eat cats too) and bears (though he wasn't prey from what I understand, he was an obstetrical)?

So my friends, I'm thinking that given the amount of criticism I receive for ragging on the family I will not go too far with my judgement of my father. I will only say that occasionally one gets what is coming to him. And if there is a God then he will make a special case of reincarnation to the swell fella I call Dad.

Sleep Deprived and Accident Prone

I shouldn't whine about working, as I continuously chant my mantra "Happy to have a job." But the news says things are turning around and all I'm seeing is more of the same thing. Also, working all the time has made me a bit short and craven of routine (I just wanted Monday to be like Monday, is that so hard to do?). My seven day a week schedule has me so messed up by 8:30 PM I'm staring waiting for the clock to strike an appropriate sleep hour.

Even with seven or so hours of sleep a night I've become accident prone. We have the ankle/screw injury obtained at work, yesterday a mysterious crescent shaped laceration appeared on my palm (today it is purple and really sore), and then this morning in the shower I discovered a long bloody gash down the back of my right arm. It had scabbed so it wasn't terribly fresh, but with the exception of the short time it took me to get into my pjs yesterday I had been in long sleeves for 24 plus hours.

I fear my car is next or I'll lose an eye. I've turned into a weepy mess any time I'm alone but I'm agitated when people are around. Every night I sit on the couch and turn on the tele thinking it's Thursday. No lie, Monday I even asked my younger sister why the normal Thursday programming wasn't on.

I now know why there are people who drink heavily everyday. I can't, my jeans are a large enough size as is, but the idea of continuing on like this is disheartening, the future is bleak. Basically I fear I've dug myself into a hole of resignation and will live there working two part-time jobs, living with my mother and lamenting both of these things for the rest of my life.

Some days this fear is motivation, some it is just the opposite but I need a change, if only to keep my mystery injuries at bay.

Flying Flags

Today as I drove to the most beloved Target for socks, which I didn't end up buying, I passed the outlet mall where two of the four sets of flags were at half-staff. This puzzled me for a few reasons: 1. not all four sets were lowered and 2. all the other flags I passed throughout my day were fully raised.

I could think of a few reasons for the flags to be lowered, Japan and Frank Buckles being the most obvious, but with none of the government flags down I was left to worry about the safety of the outlet mall.

Alright, alright you caught me, I wasn't worried about the outlet mall, I know that until the day I find a "real" job that mall will be just fine. But it is a reoccurring pattern and it is cause for alarm. I'm not heavy into traditions but I have some respect, and coming from a generation that is lost with and without them I feel that traditions need to be kept in place so that we can be anchored in something (reading Super Sad True Love Story may be influencing me a bit at this point). The lack of understanding, or caring, that the outlet mall has is, for lack of a better adjective, sad. Lazily raising the flag is piteous, management letting it fly, disgusting.

And before you suggest I do something about it, I have been considering how to go about this. The problem with the outlet mall is that it as an entity is evil. I am only exaggerating a little, the reality is mall management doesn't respect the people who work for them or the stores that keep them in jobs. The security guys do more chatting, smoking, spitting and eating than securing. The maintenance guys do their jobs more or less and fairly well at that, so why do they keep messing up the flags?

Tell me mall management, why?

My Voice

In every writing class, lit class or general English class I have taken since eighth grade there has been one message that has sprung up: As a writer you must find your voice.

Having read an infinite number of written works I can tell that it is more of a challenge for some people than it is for others. Those two-best-sellers-a-year novelists have voices so strong that their voice alone can carry an entire 700 page book. Some of the writers for the free, local newspaper struggle weekly, I can tell without having ever encountered these people in a writing capacity.

I have a voice. It's a bit of a unique thing, it can be very strong, boisterous and arrogant at times, and flat and weak at others. The potential problem with my voice is, and this is being written spur of the cuff, that like me my voice is sarcastic to hide any flaws, it is uncomfortable in more serious settings. My voice can fake it but, and from now on my voice has become its own entity, it knows that at any second the jig is up.

Just last night I was helping a friend create her wedding website, she asked me to make it lighter, and seeing as that is where I am most comfortable, I obliged. It is very funny and everything I wrote received her seal of approval but she was already putting down the comments about this type of laughable, lightness being frowned upon. I didn't waiver in my attempts at hilarity (which is by no means to say I am a comedy writer) but I do kind of worry that the things I say will make her look silly. One of our mutual friends read the site after I took hold of it and immediately knew that I had contributed to the site.

I am glad for the recognition of my voice. I am glad for the opportunity to lend my voice to a friend. But I'm afraid that my voice is going to close the lid of the little box I have created with it.

And it is that fear that has kept me from writing poetry for the last year. Tomorrow, because I am very tired tonight, I will sit down and write the way I used to do. I will literally put pen to paper and have at it until I am drained. I will keep this up whenever I have the time so that my voice grows. It has to be less scared among the adults. It has to stand in the sun without fear of being burned, even though some burning is inevitable.

Boomerang Explained

As a child among all the bats and balls my brother, sisters and I had a pink plastic boomerang. As I was never adept at throwing it it held little more power than a frisbee and though I remember having it it definitely was not one of toys that I mourned when my mother gave it away long after my siblings and I had out grown it.

It wasn't even within my grasp when I threw that hunk of plastic that one day I would become the very thing that frustrated me. I am now a boomerang. I returned home over a year ago after being flung into the world. My brother and I have both landed home displaced and dissatisfied several times but he manages to get flung back out for short bits where as my temporary stay at home has me more a one-winged bird, flightless and hopping, than a boomerang. I have suffered a few setbacks, financially, emotionally and in some ways socially in the last year as I've been poised to be flung into the world but at home I sit.

I joke about it with my mother, telling her as she goes on dates to make sure to mention me quickly and often for it is always good for potential suiters to know what kind of weapons she has waiting at home. All joking aside she's ready for me to leave and I am too. It was 14 months ago when I unpacked my things into my youngest sister's room, unaltered from when she had left it for my bigger and more maturely decorated bedroom. My stay was supposed to be temporary. The room I live in still lacks any sense of me, because I am a guest in my own home, one who has overstayed her welcome but a guest nonetheless.

I had a few exciting moments in the beginning, I did a short internship and kind of fell in love with magazines. Not long after it ended I had an interview that looked promising, I was asked back for a second interview and the day before that interview took place I received an email explaining that I was no longer in the running for the job, they had hired internally. I was down trodden but given the economic clime and the other person's time invested I chalked up to experience and continued applying to two to five jobs a day. I had a few more interviews all without call backs of any nature, not even "Thanks but no thanks" emails. And as my one year home mark came into view I became very discouraged by the whole thing.

Though I have not given up completely I have changed gears, school is looking more and more interesting though it is still financially impossible. I have taken a second job to help cope with my finances and after only a month the clouds are beginning to break and I can feel the rays of hope warming the air around me. All sappy metaphors aside as much as I'm enjoying my new job it still stings of failure.

My plan is to suck it up a bit longer and put myself out there a little bit more.

Here's to hoping it works.