Throwing Up and the Hawai'i State Legislature
I wore my "attitude" shirt to the gym today. There's no author of the quote, so I've no idea who to attribute it to, but it makes me feel sassy nonetheless.
"I do not intend to tiptoe through life only to arrive safely at death."
I recall a point in time when I felt this far more wholeheartedly than I do now, than I have in recent years. The quote suggests a certain sense of inherent confidence, and a fantastic faith in one's own point of view. I'm not entirely certain where I lost that--there is a reason an old high school friend dubbed me "Madame Monkey Wrench"--but I still wear this shirt when I hope to feel a burst of sauciness.
And I certainly need that today. And tomorrow and all the way to Monday if I keep on marching down the craggy course I set for myself this weekend. You see, my ego demands that I find a better job. Of course I would like to earn an income that will fully support me, that will allow me to have health insurance, save for a car, and eventually get an apartment of my own, but I'm too honest to ignore the fact that it is really my ego, which can no longer stand the ignominy of working at a mall kiosk. I often chide myself for feeling this way since it's good work, and it's honest work, and with the economy looking the way it is, well, it is work. But I'd be lying if I said it doesn't embarass me.
So I've been looking for a "real" job since I've finally set my mind in permenancy mode. The fact of the matter is, however, that I look horrific and underexperienced on paper. I do not have a stable job history and there are very few positions in the areas that I would consider worthy for which I have the necessary work background. This is not to say that I think myself underqualified. I'm fond of pointing out that if someone would just give me a job I would prove that I can do it.
That's not really the truth though. The state legislature in Hawai'i hires temporary workers for the legislative session and it recently occured to me that perhaps I ought to apply. It's government work. It's legislative work. And there are positions called "Researcher," which I figure I'm more than capable of doing since it's one of the few things that I have consistently done since my undergraduate days. But as I contemplated "RESUME" and "COVER LETTER," the tension in my tummy began to build, and the more I thought about the process, the closer I was to tears and the more I gave off the impression that I suffer from some kind of palsey. I looked down the list of available temporary positions and asked the Roommate if I could apply to more than one. I was looking at "Receptionist" and "Messenger."
I have no idea why I react this way. What happened to not tiptoeing through life? Somewhere along the way I lost my nerve and I wonder if it's simply because I've been coddled too much--too much reinforcement with no empirical evidence. And yet, I crave kind words and encouragement, as though I am so throughly parched that no amount of water will ever be enough. At some point I suppose I have to simply to do what I told the Roommate there was nothing left for: throw up and get on with it.
Afterall, you don't always need to believe something fully to spring into action. Sometimes you just have to keep on keeping on.
~snowdragonne