Okay, for real. Time to step up to the plate.
I began the application process for this gig at Groupon, just for kicks. They are looking for full-time staff writers to write those quirky three-paragraph blurbs about what kind of deal you’re getting and what the company giving the deal is all about. I started working on a required sample piece for a fake sea kayaking deal — a lot harder than I thought it would be. Groupon is a bit particular about their house writing style. And they’re even more particular about the “humor” and tone in the writing. All I had down was:
“Would you rather live in a pineapple under the sea? Or paddle in a kayak on top of the sea? Good, me too.”
But then I felt foolish. I’d rather live in a pineapple under the sea. And Groupon doesn’t like references to pop culture. Nor do they like writers using first person.
I’m nixing the Groupon job idea for now because I applied for something else. Crossing fingers!!!
What I really need to do is start back up on my thesis. Taking a hiatus from thesis work and jumping back in cold turkey feels like a big, burly man screaming at you in Russian. You’re kinda paralyzed because you’re afraid and you want to know what’s going on, but you also want to run away.
So, Stan’s been training at the hospital this week for orientation, and that means I’m left to my own devices. I think I’m starting to feel guilty for being at home. I’ve attemped to be productive over the past two days. I felt like I needed to be able to say “I did this and this and that” when Stan came home. Why is that? Do stay-at-home-wives/moms feel like that? I cleaned, did two loads of laundry, stared at my thesis, and did some more job searching. And then I watched Kick Ass on Netflix, plucked my eyebrows, gave myself a facial, and organized my closet. Heh heh. What? Once, I attempted to walk to the grocery store, but took 5 steps out our front door, looked up at the sky and decided it was going to rain soon. So, I turned my butt back around and texted the hubband to pick up some beef and chicken. (Sidenote: I watched “Food, Inc.” and regret it so bad. Barf!) I think women have this desire to feel useful and needed. I think I have a desire to feel useful and needed.
Everyday has been getting better, though. I feel more comfortable walking around this city and even getting lost in it, on occasion. It’s definitely different than living in the ‘burbs of the South. I walked around our neighborhood yesterday. We’re not in the city, but close enough to it. Logan Square is a little more residential with the two-story brickstone and graystone apartment-lined streets, apartment and condo buildings, coffee joints galore, little shops everywhere, and a bajillion of restaurants to choose from. We’re close to Wicker Park, which is super artsy. Everything feels artsy here. I feel very uncool. I want five more tattoodles.
Oh, I just noticed this hahah:
That stick with the white puffy thing on top is Stan’s beloved ear curette picker-thingy. In my blue Babu pencil holder. This is what happens when you’re married and live together, I guess.
Anyway, like any city, there is a lot of need here. Another reason why I desperately want to find a job. Get out and meet people. Explore. It’s difficult to find my response to the need I see and the cups that jingle for spare change. Kinda shameful to admit. It doesn’t feel right getting off the elevator, walking through the paint and a/c-smelling hallway, and sitting at home with the curtains drawn. I’m not sure I could find any way of excusing the way I live as a believer. Jesus, set me apart from this world. Still thinking about that one.
8:45am. Time to start the day.