After a several-month hiatus, the Highly Selective Book Club With Only Two Members TM is back with a new book. (You’d better read the book, Jae. Work and school are no excuse to bail on me. I’ll kick you out, don’t think I won’t.) I’m excited. I have missed the book club. The Alchemist has been made into a movie, due for release later this year. I’m looking forward to comparing the two.
I worked on my “real job” resume a couple nights ago, so today I spent some time putting up a more comprehensive writing resume under My Writing. I keep all the paperwork on my writing sales, as well as year-to-year logs of submissions, but I never really took the time to compile it all into one document. It’s still not finished, but it’s a start.
Another one of those insomniac nights. Joy.
I haven’t had much to say about Ronald Reagan’s death because during the time he was in office, I was too young to care about politics. I wasn’t old enough to vote until ‘85, so I missed out on being one of the few who didn’t vote for him in his landslide victory against Mondale in ‘84. Now that I am old enough to care about politics, I don’t agree with his. I also believe Alzheimer’s was beginning to take it’s toll while he was still in office and I wonder if that truth will come out now. As for Nancy Reagan, I respect her for being so fiercely protective and loyal to Ronnie, but she always creeped me out. I’ll take Hillary any day, thanks.
Regardless of Reagan’s politics, his health issues and his strange wife, he made his mark in this world and that’s something. I won’t debate whether it was for better or worse, because I think maybe there’s a little of both mixed in. Judging by the turnout at his funeral today, he was not just a powerful two-term president with an aircraft carrier and a economics phrase named for him, he was also well-loved.
Anyone remember the Prince song, “Ronnie Talk to Russia?” Totally inappropriate for a funeral, but I keep hearing it in my head.
I’m having a serious run of insomnia this week. This is the fourth night in a row where I find myself completely and utterly exhausted, but unable to sleep. I’ve been tired since 4 o’clock this afternoon, but here it is ten hours later and I can’t sleep. My body wants to crash, but my mind is all over the place and won’t let me rest. Thankfully, I’m off for a few days so I can’t complain too much. I remember times when I’ve had to be at work at 8 or 9 in the morning every day and I would have insomnia several nights in a row. Now that’s tough on the body.
There was a hell of a storm tonight. I went out after it passed to take care of Jae and Shannon’s kitties while they’re gone. On the way there and back, I kept doing that sleepy driver thing where you drift toward the shoulder. A little scary with so many puddles on the road, but I made it home and the kitties are fed. I should go to bed, but I know it’ll be an hour or more before I fall asleep.
On top of the insomnia, I’ve been having nightmares. Last night’s theme was violent death and the inability to see clearly (things appeared fuzzy, someone’s glasses were a catalyst for violence). I’m sure my subconscious is trying to tell me something… or maybe I just want to hit someone and buy new glasses. Heh.
As sort of a post-script to last night’s comments about writing full-time, I am intrigued by and also jealous of this guy. He received donations equivalent to one year’s salary ($22,000) from visitors to his web site, so now he plans to quit his job and draw comic strips full-time for his loyal fans. He seems to be pretty talented, too. That’s amazing. For half that much, I’d quit my job and write full-time. Feel free to contact me for my address if you’d like to make a donation. (If only it were that easy, right?)
I’ve been polishing my resum鮠 Not that I’ll be using it anytime soon, but I can dream. Interestingly enough, despite a variety of jobs (ten or eleven at last count) and a college education, I’m not really qualified to do all that much. At least not anything that pays well. Correction, I’m not willing to do the jobs that would pay well (and by “well” I mean a living wage that would allow me to be self-supporting without having to subsist on Ramen). I do not wish to be a an administrative assistant, a teacher or a retail manager. I do not want to work in a cubicle, be required to wear pantyhose or spend my days shuffling papers someone else put on my desk. I do not want to sacrifice my soul to put a roof over my head. Is that too much to ask?
The sad, ironic thing is, I’m bright enough to do the jobs that pay well. Accountant, easily. Banker, definitely. Mid-level manager of a major corporation, with my eyes closed. Marketing and sales, please don’t insult my intelligence. Attorney, sure. Psychologist, I’d be getting paid for a talent I already use. I don’t have the math skills to be an engineer or the stomach to be a doctor, but there are plenty of well-paying jobs that I could do if I wanted to (would that I had pursued those areas in college rather than the ubiquitous English degree that has served me so very well-- insert maniacal laughter here--).
The key, of course, is the phrase “if I wanted to.” I have never subscribed to the notion of money equaling happiness. I cannot fathom doing a job that I didn’t at the very least like. Work time is too big a part of life not to enjoy it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done what I had to do to pay the bills and sometimes that has involved juggling different jobs I didn’t love. My survival instinct is greater than my need for job satisfaction. Still, I’ve never had a job that I hated. I’ve grown to dislike some of the jobs I’ve had, but every job started out as something exciting, new and challenging.
Back when I got my palm read in DC, I laughed when the fortune teller said I would be the head of a large company. It is so far removed from anything I would ever want to do, she lost all credibility in my eyes (not that she had a lot in the first place, given her tacky fur coat). Truth is, I could be in charge of a company if it was something that interested me. But the idea in general doesn’t appeal to me and no amount of money in the world could make that kind of job fulfilling.
I don’t have to be self-supporting and money is not a huge issue right now, but it’s a big enough issue to prevent me from returning to writing full-time with no idea whether I’ll be able to make fifty or five hundred dollars a month (let’s just say I’d be buying Ramen instead of roast beef, if my last stint at writing full-time is any indication). So, the resum頩s getting a little update in the hopes that when the time comes (bets are now being taken on when that time will be) I can make “worthless degree in English” sound like something desirable. Here’s hoping the next job will be interesting enough to sustain my spirit-- if not my lifestyle-- until I feel like I can commit myself to writing with no other source of income.
I don’t pretend to understand all the insidious levels of corruption on the internet, but I’m truly mind-boggled by the spammers who post “penis enlargement” and “cheap diet pills” links as comments to my posts. This isn’t a highly trafficked web site, so surely it’s a waste of time sabotaging my comments section with spam. Besides, anyone who is over the age of ten or has been on the internet for more than a week knows better than to click on a link promising a bigger penis or a smaller waistline, right??
Just in case, I do take the time to delete the stupid little links.
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Life. Love. Writing. Editing. Sex. Books. Romance. Movies. Friendship. Photography. Teaching. Coffee. (Lots of coffee.) Travel. Feminism. Academia. Insomnia. Memories. Experiences. Rants. Raves. Reviews. Babies. Pregnancy. Motherhood. Insanity. Musings of an insomniac writer. Want to know more?
