"The lights In the harbor
Don't shine for me
I'm like a lost ship adrift on the sea
Sea of heartbreak
Lost love and loneliness...
...Come to my rescue
Come here to me
Take me and keep me
Away from the sea."
The Surge is gone again... Spain this time. So there is no one to regulate.. no one to monitor my pity party. No one for whom I must cheer up already.. or at least pretend to be full of cheer. Sometimes that's all it takes. Someone to pretend for.. and before you know it, you actually feel cheery.
No one to pretend for. Except you all. And you are at my mercy.. I control the information flow. I could make up a life and continue to post hilarious anecdotes from said life and you all wouldn't know the difference. Hmmm.... Maybe tomorrow I'll be posting about my book deal for one MILLLLLIOONNN dollars (said in Dr. Evil tones with pinky placed slyly near pursed lips).
Yeah, I know... silver lining and all that. I've sent out resumes.. I know the drill. It's just.. I don't know. The difference between being "let go" and being fired is really negligible, isn't it? Either way, they don't like you enough to keep you around. You are expendable.. right? So. I'm a bit numb. Not so numb I don't feel the weight of paying my bills smothering me like a stifling summer heat. The bills, they make me sweat more than a New York August. Great ball bearings of sweat that race down my back when my financial situation sucker punches me in the front. Dammit.. More Food Network! More wine! I can still feel!
I have not been unemployed since age 15.. There was this one time, when I was 21, when I worked for my much older, married boyfriend (shut up.. he was in the middle of a divorce). He paid me way more than he should have, kept urging me to get my real estate license.. A real estate license.. Jesus. So I could aspire to hand out glossy business cards with my glamour photo leering stiffly across the front.. "Monica wants to be your realtor!"
I'd jauntily sport a stiff tumbleweed of hair and wear ill fitting business suits from TJ Maxx in colors like pink! Mauve! Lavendar! I'd get my nails done (french manicure!) every month and my aging skin, tanned to burnt toast, would be the shade of my favorite pair of brown suede pumps from the shoe barn. I'd buy knock-off Gucci purses. I'd say words like FANTABULOUS! and carry my business cards everywhere, smilingly pressing them into the palms of those who thoughtlessly toss them into the trash seconds after my departure. I would drive a Toyota Corrolla (affordable! dependable! yet suburbanly stylish!)
Eventually, I quit working for older married boyfriend...cold turkey... no employment lined up. I figured "The Fear" of not having an income would force me to hustle for a gig in journalism, my real dream. It did. I did. And landed my first job at ABC in Salt Lake City. I feel now a bit like I did then. Scared. Hopeful. Prepared to lie my ass off to get a job. You have a college degree? Yup! (no!) You familiar with computer program X? Yup! (no!)... I'm a hustler baby...
Now... if only I could stop drinking all this wine.