It’s a Great, Big, Mad World Out There

I’ve been a little glum lately due to my inability to find work in my field. Sure, I could get a retail job, or make coffee, or sell dildos (I totally have an in at the Pleasure Chest), but after moving to Chicago to attend one of the most highly rated (and most expensive) art schools in the country, I’m having a really hard time accepting the fact that I might have to sling bagels for a while before I get that kick-ass gig with Wired. At first, I looked all over Chicago, because I thought I didn’t want to leave. I wasn’t ready to leave. Then I realized, “Wait – how did I get here in the first place?” I took a leap. I picked up and moved. And I could do it again. I could go anywhere.

Long story short, I applied to teach English in a Nepalese monastery. No idea if I’m going to get the gig, and if I do, my mom may flip out and hobble me (like Kathy Bates did to James Caan in ‘Misery’) just to keep me on this continent. Seriously, she might actually do that. When I told her I was moving one state over, she almost shat her small intestine.

But I won’t worry about that right now. Because I can do anything. I can go to Kathmandu and live here:

See, Mom? It’s just like home. And you were worried.

I’ve still got some connections at good ol’ IES in Dublin, Ireland. And I’m pretty damn sure they still want for teachers in Central and South America. There are startups from Portland, Maine to Portland, Oregon, non-profits that will need grant writers and tech companies that will want someone to write copy for their online marketing presence.

And, if I’m still jobless by the end of next month, I’ll bite the bullet, move home, and get a temp job. Yep, I’ll flip burgers or serve drinks in my hometown. Where I went to high school. It’ll be brutal, but, meanwhile, I’ll continue to extend my job-seeking tentacles across the globe. Across the GLOBE! Bwahaha! I’ll be like Cobra Commander, but with a CV and letters of recommendation.

I may keep the get-up, though. That’s color’s called Power Blue for a reason.

I will not consider myself a failure because I’m not writing for Harper’s right out of the gate. I refuse. No matter what my former junior high school English teacher says. She’s just bitter that none of us ever laughed at her stupid jokes. We did, however, laugh at her hairstyle.

She looked exactly like this. I wish I were exaggerating.

Believe in your dreams, kids. Even if they somehow involve Doc Hammer and multiple rubber hoses of varying lengths. To paraphrase Jake the Dog: “Trying and failing is the first step toward becoming sort of good at something.”

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