What DO you do all day?

Somebody asked me last week: What do you do all day?

Fortunately, I was able to say "well, I don't watch tv." But that's a negative answer. The positive answer is, um, I do lots of stuff. I read and send a lot of email. (The phone rings rarely.) I read the equivalent of a couple of pages of newsprint from on-line news sources. I read about three books a week. And not just murder mysteries or literary fiction: what I know about the Iraq war, well, nobody has ever asked, but I know a lot. Also, forensic medicine. And space exploration. Right now I'm reading a biography of Napoleon--I had no idea! And The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, a literary fiction book du jour.

What about writing?

huh?

What about your writing?

Oh! That writing! No, I've been unemployed for 14 months, have no spouse or kids to take care of, never do housework (yes, like Bette Davis, my "place is a dump!"), don't like shopping and haven't traveled--but I haven't had time to write. No, not even half an hour a day, which I could easily carve out of all that on-line reading. A half-hour a day, which as the writing experts remind us, could result in a half-page a day, and a short novel in a year.

My friends are so nice. They ask how things are--all the time. Am I getting job interviews? Do I have any good leads? Am I all right financially? (yes, yes, and yes) Am I okay emotionally? Want to go to lunch? (yes, and definitely!) And they all tell me how great it is that now I have time to pursue my long-time dream. To be a writer.

What? Oh! Yes, that dream.

I don't want to.

Why not?

As the president said this past week: everyone's a Simon Cowell. Meaning, whatever you do, everyone's a critic. And their models for critiquing are not nice. And I hate criticism. I don't want to put my precious thoughts out there and--bam!--see them shot down.

One friend had a good suggestion: just write for an audience of one. (I think they meant write for me.) What a great idea! And I'll start small, with this blog.

Although, to be truthful, the reason this is getting posted is because I haven't brought anything to read to my writer's group for about two years. And I won't get kicked out, because it's a pretty small group, and we need all the participants we can get. And I can't just not go--because they know where I live.

I have to write something.

Someday when I'm rich and famous, I'll be able to give them credit: thank you for nagging me since the 20th century! Otherwise, this (novel, blog, screed) would never have been written. And there's a lot to write. A lot has happened in the past year. A lot needs to be put into this blog. I need to get feedback: Do these ideas make sense? Can they be transferred to a larger piece?

Just a half hour a day--then I can get back to my books, my on-line foraging, my other career plans. (I'd also like to be a lounge singer. I picture myself in a sparkly full-length dress, leaning against a piano, exchanging repartee with my accompanist. My role models are Rosemary Clooney and Miss Piggy. See! There's nothing wrong with my imagination!)

Just a half hour a day--I am a writer. It's time to start acting like one.

Crash!

My adrenaline rush wore off.

Friday I had to power up to get through that last afternoon in the office. Saturday I cleaned house. Sunday I went to church. Oddly, the latest topic at church is "Why do you come to church?"

"Well--why not?"

Turns out, that's not the expected answer. Singing, worship, meeting friends, that's all included. "Meeting God" is the expected answer, but it's an odd concept for me--how do you "meet" someone who is always with you? This Sunday, Richard Mouw, the president of Fuller Seminary was our guest speaker, and I always look forward to hearing him. He quoted G.K. Chesterton, so I was not disappointed.

Then some friends wanted to go out to lunch and see "National Treasure 2". What a hoot. Doesn't make a lick of sense. But we had a lot of fun. Unfortunately we were at the Paseo Pasadena, which I usually avoid--they make you pay for parking! There's nothing even _approaching_ the spirit of the 99-cent store! By which I mean: the shopping is expensive. Anyhow, on January 20, we got caught up in Doo-Dah Parade traffic, which only lengthened our stay in the Paseo by, oh, about 30 minutes.

But of course after the adrenaline rush is the crash.

Monday morning I woke up at 9:00 a.m. Which, in the p.m., was about the time I had fallen asleep the night before. And my head hurt. If I had not had to attend a condo board meeting, I probably would have just stayed in bed all day. But I would not want to miss the discussion on how my porch screen has been incorrectly installed--I've been so distracted, I didn't even notice. And then there was a lengthy digression about the big dogs in the neighborhood and the stuff they leave behind when they roam our lawn at night.

Coffee, that's how I get through a post-adrenaline crash day. Coffee, coffee, and a little chocolate.

Today I had to get cleaned up and dressed to go to the dentist for my teeth-whitening. hmmmm, could this paragraph and the previous paragraph be related? !!!

Tomorrow I will have to go to the grocery store to do my banking (a sentence which would have made no sense 20 years ago). Thankfully, there are a lot of things I _need_ to do, so I cannot fall into the temptation of crawling back into bed, or, in extreme cases, _under_ the bed.

Coffee, and the comforting thought that I only have to do one day at a time.

Quietus

I woke up this morning an unemployed person, for the first time since--well, since a long, long time. Fortunately it's Saturday, so I can ease into unemployment slowly.

First: coffee.

That was easy. Next, fire up the laptop. And there in my email is the word for today:

Word of the Day for Saturday, January 19, 2008
quietus \kwy-EE-tuhs\, noun:
1. Final discharge or acquittance, as from debt or obligation.
2. Removal from activity; rest; death.
3. Something that serves to suppress or quiet.

My situation, in a word.

I have discharged my obligation. Yesterday I cleaned off my desk, answered my final emails, and put a forwarding message on my office phone. The Powers That Be decided they could do without me; now they must do without me.

I am removed from activity. There will be a little rest, and mourning for the death of the job where I learned how to organize information and understand scientific research. I made a lot of friends. I was given food from all over the world: Arab hummus, Turkish coffee, Vietnamese chewy candy, Australian wine, Chinese fish, Hawaiian spam sushi. There were horrible days of conflict and wonderful days of accomplishment. I will miss it all.

I will be quiet for a bit, listening outwardly for job leads and inwardly for heart leads. Where will I go? What do I want?

People react to the unemployed differently. Some ask if I want to retire. Well--sure! But I can't live on air, which is all I will have in a couple of months. Some suggest a career change. Maybe novelist or stand-up comic. Those take a lot of energy. Let me think about that some more.

In the meantime, there is plenty of coffee in the fridge, mere steps from my laptop. There's a blog to keep up. Every day USC HR automatic email sends me job leads to peruse and apply for.

Today: quietus. Tomorrow: adventure.

Mine Is Here

My laptop is here. How blessed are you, reader, that now I can write a mini-essay every day in a public forum? woo-hoo

Against the odds, I actually got my computer set up _by myself_ while only creating a plastic mess, not an electronic one. Now I'm a champion for labeling for dummies. For ex, why didn't the modem come with a label: "THIS IS YOUR MODEM!" The CDs came with warning labels: "Don't throw this away!" I am nothing if not compliant, especially when an electronic device speaks to me. Or any ancillary devices. Or anything with a label, really.

Also, I think I may have signed up for 3 or 4 ISPs. If I understand that acronym correctly. This wouldn't be a problem, except I think I gave them some "personal information". oh dear

Now I can send and receive email, watch YouTube and Jib Jab, and play mahjongg. Oh, and write for my blog. I don't know how the world lives in such a perpetual state of excitement. I can only imagine how I will.

Tomorrow, I may learn how to use my personal CD player. Or figure out how to use the windshield wiper controls on my new car. If nothing exciting happens, I can always make an unasked-for moral pronouncement on some bizarrity afflicting the world. Among the thousands of possibilities, how could I ever decide which deserves my discerning attention _right now_?

Fortunately there are 365 days in a year to fill up with blogs . No wait--this year, 366!

woo hoo