My Mumbling Thoughts

I sent my CV to one of those places where they dissect it for a couple of days and then send you the results back for FREE! within two to three business days. I didn't really think that I would agree with anything they said, and I told myself that they tell everyone the same things so that you would inevitably buy the deluxe package where a professional writer re-writes your entire CV, plus a cover letter, you get to have direct contact with the writer and a guaranteed job within the following three weeks, all for the low and convenient price of $69.95 a month. I thought they were all a big hoax until I did actually receive my results and it was a two page breakdown of everything that was wrong with my CV.

I know you're not meant to take things personally when searching for a job, but I've now applied for over 30 different positions and the phone has yet to ring. I don't believe in all of that "poor economy" bullshit and think know that I deserve to have a job. I am a good worker goddammit, and I want a fucking job!

Of course it's that kind of thinking that has probably kept me down and unemployed, which is why Miranda's words struck a chord with me while punching me in the chest.

She begins her summary of my CV nice enough and even apologizes ahead of time for being blunt and harsh. She doesn't seem to believe in wasting any time and wants to make sure that I'm up and employed sooner rather than later. Then she just cuts right to the chase and it feels like she has taken dirty axe and swung it directly at my knees.

She tells me that I am a very qualified worker, however, I'm not memorable. If she were a recruiter looking over my resumé it simply says "cooked meat" rather than "sizzling grilled steak". My presentation is sloppy and not what she would expect from an experienced administrative assistant at my level and the thing that stings me the most is when she says I'm only a "doer" not an "achiever".

Thank you, Miranda, for making me feel smaller than I already am.

Needless to say I felt pretty bad afterwards. Is this how I've been representing myself all these years? With a cluttered CV that's just cooked meat? Do I not sizzle? Am I really not memorable? Am I only someone's bitch who doesn't want to strive to be anything more?

I decided to eat the rest of the rainbow sorbet in our freezer and go to bed, because I figured that's what underachievers do.

Yesterday I forced myself awake 6a.m. even though for once I wasn't woken up by my charming neighbors, who for some unknown reason feel it's necessary to keep the engine running for at least 30 minutes on their truck that is probably equal in size or larger than a hippopotamus every single morning. Even though I wanted to roll back over and sleep until ten, I got up, got changed into my "appropriate" walk/run wear (which is basically just pajamas that can be worn outside without instantly being recognized as pajamas) and went outside for my second walk/run exercise regime. I know it's only the second time that I've actually managed to go for my little walk/run, but already I feel like it's doing some good. It's not about me hating my body (okay, I hate my thighs), or even being healthier. It's just about me needing to get out of the house for a little bit, even if it's at the ass crack of dawn.

After my power walk, I took a shower, got ready and headed over to Target. I only had a few things I wanted to pick up and needed to get Miranda's stupid words out of my head. Who was she to tell me that I'm simply a doer. I achieve things when I really want to. I got myself to London for university, didn't I? And....I've done some other things after that as well.

I decided to buy a diary since the one my uni gave me ended at the beginning of July. I never did understand why anyone would hand out a diary that stops halfway through the year, but in any case I needed a new one. I don't know what it is, but keeping a diary on hand just makes me feel a lot calmer about all things in life, even if I don't really have that much to pencil in. I also bought my first bottle of SPF 30 sunscreen since I'm now obsessed with not getting skin cancer at any cost. I've decided I need to go to the dermatologist as soon as I get insurance because I want to have every single mole examined on my body, just in case it does turn out to be some kind of cancer. And I finally bought Heather McElhatton's book, Jennifer Johnson is sick of being single, which I've been eyeing ever since Lizzie was here and we perused the book aisle on one of our many Target trips.

Since I've gotten back home, I've been reading so much more than I ever did at uni. I guess I was too busy with going out and distracted by pointless drama to ever take the time to read an entire book, but there ya go. Now that I have all this free time, occasionally I close my laptop and pick up a book which is always a good feeling. I feel smarter whenever I do. Currently I have four on the go, because I tend to flip flop depending on what mood I'm in. I have one by Kazuo Ishiguro called Never Let Me Go about cloning people just for their organs in England. It's a really good book, but because I started reading it while I was at uni, I've yet to finish it and have to be in the mood for something "deep". I'm also reading an essay by Eric G. Wilson called Against Happiness: In praise of melancholy. I generally love reading essays (I don't know when that love developed), but the beginning of this one is hard for me to get into, so I only read it when I'm up for a challenge. And the other one is by David Ebershoff called, The 19th Wife wherein a sister wife shoots her polygamist husband and her son that she dumped on the side of the road in the middle of the night when he was only 13 years old now has to try and prove her innocence.

All very good reads, but it has been a while since a book as really clawed into me and forced me to read it cover to cover. That is until yesterday when I got a hold of Jennifer Johnson is sick of being single. I mean let's face it, I'm a girly girl who likes to read girly things. But I'm a dark and twisty girl, a la Meredith Grey, and I like my girly girl books to have a bit of a dark and twisty end.

[*** BREAK NOW BECAUSE I'M ABOUT TO SPOIL THE ENTIRE NOVEL IF YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO READ A GIRLY GIRL BOOK WITH A DARK AND TWISTY END ***]

First of all, Heather McElhatton wrote my life. I'm not even playing, the main character, Jen, is me. I've thought her exact thoughts and have been in the exact same positions. I mean, hell, she even STUDIED CREATIVE WRITING IN COLLEGE. She says it, right there in the book:

"Mrs. Biggles slinks in between my legs, purring. She knows I was going to be a real writer, but there were a lot of things I was going to do and then didn't. I'm lucky to have my job, because I didn't go to school for anything marketable. I studied creative writing because I wanted to travel the world and write deep, poignant novels that illuminated small but significant parts of the human condition that had heretofore not been uncovered or expressed so eloquently or with such graceful power."

I mean HELLO. THAT IS ME IS IT NOT? I have said those words I don't even know how many times! I've said those words to myself in my head, right here on this very blog, to my friends and family who care to listen. I'VE SAID THOSE EXACT WORDS.

Not only that, the book goes. It just grabs you and goes. You are literally shooting from one day to the next and it doesn't really stop. There aren't any chapters to slow you down, but rather three different sections that are roughly 90 pages each. Each day you follow Jen through her standard days at her job and the new relationship with her new boss and all of these new things keep happening to her. I mean, and all of these things had to happen to the author at some point in her life, because the details she gives, THE BRILLIANT DETAILS are so....detailed. Someone couldn't have just made it up. One of my favorite parts is when she's having a particularly bad day and she once again rips the words straight out of my brain and puts them in her book. Case in point:

"The next day at work Brad has still not responded to my e-mail and I'm in a ferocious mood. I accidentally knock someone's coat off the hanger when I'm hanging my parka up in the employee closet and I don't even pick it up. Instead I stare coldly at it on the floor and think, that's right, life's a bitch. You get knocked down and nobody picks you up, you just lie there in the dark, damp and alone."

ME! ME! ME! MY THOUGHTS!

But then, THEN you finally get to the end of the book. And you know what? JEN DOESN'T REALLY GET HER HAPPY ENDING. I mean, she kind of does, but it turns out her happy ending is more like a happy nightmare, and the man she was supposed to end up with (lovable Ted that makes her laugh) goes to her wedding where she married Brad, the rich Mama's boy who cheats on her with a stripper.

I WAS GOING TO WRITE THIS BOOK. Well, not this book exactly, but a similar version! My main heroine wasn't going to end up with any guy whatsoever, but I was going to leave it open-ended with a bit of hope that maybe something could happen in the future.

This is now straying and going way off what my intended point was.

[*** TO ALL THOSE WHO SKIPPED THE SPOILERS, YOU MAY NOW RETURN. I'M DONE RUINING THE BOOK FOR EVERYONE ***]

My point is, this is what I needed. I needed that reminder of why I love writing. Her book, Heather McElhatton's book, reminded me this is why I went to university in the first place to pursue creative writing. The words, the sentences, the structure, the flow, the quirkiness, the wit, the humor, all of it. That's why I wanted to write. University knocked a lot of love and passion out of me while I was there, but I picked up a few pointers over the three years, and can take that small amount of education for a big price and apply it to my love and passion for writing.

I want to write Heather McElhatton a letter to say thanks for writing this book, thanks for reminding me why I wanted to write stories too. Maybe we could get a brew together one day and I could dog-sit her pug for her.

But first I'm going to take this newfound writing energy and put it into my CV. Why pay another writer to re-write something that's about me? I'm just as good as they are and best of all, I know everything there is to know about me, so I'm already one step ahead of them all. I am a sizzling steak, thank you very much, and I won't have anyone tell me otherwise.