Jobs.

Over this past weekend,  I was given the opportunity to write as a contributor for this awesome website.  So I thought to myself "well I guess now I am somewhat of a professional writer.  I mean, I am getting paid to write, right?  That is professional  Hooray for me!"  And then of course I realized that I still have my day job. I am not a professional writer- I don't do it for a living!  Boo!  And then I figured I could certainly still call myself a writer.  In fact, there are a whole host of "careers" that people claim without any kind of verification at all!  I thought I would share some of them here.


Writer: Obviously I fall tidily into this category.  I mean, I "write for" this BS blog- I generously probably have 5 "readers" of my "work" (excuse the heavy-handedness with the quotes) but...well I write things.  I am a writer.  Well, a blogger, but that's just semantics. Technically, anyone who can use a keyboard, and some who can't (I am looking in your direction, Steven Hawking) can call themselves a writer.  Hell, it's not like Blogspot gave me an entrance exam before granting me this little corner of the internet.  Even you could become a writer!  Or...well "writer".

Actor: Anyone who ever waited tables works with an actor.  They could have never attended an audition let alone been cast in anything, but they consider themselves an "actor".  Waiting tables, making coffee, washing dishes--that's just their day job.  When the sun goes down and the apron comes off, then, and only then, do they become their true self.  Like a vampire.  Or a werewolf.

Singer/Musician: I am totally guilty of this one, too.  I had a brief stint singing at a bar in Montana, and was pretty sure I was a rock star after that.  Literally tens of people would turn out to hear me sing.  In my defense, though, it was a town of 550 people. If 15 people showed up, it was the statistical equivalent of a 60,000 person concert in Chicago.  That's just math.  Anyway, anyone who can carry a tune at drunken Tuesday night karaoke fancies themselves a singer, and the popularity of American Idol, The Voice, America's Got Talent, and Who Wants To Triple-Barrel Curl Their Hair And Wear Sparkly Jeans have not helped the situation.  The "musician" title I am willing to give a little leeway to.  If you can legitimately play guitar or piano or drums (unless it is only bongos.  In which case, get back to the drum circle, hippie) I will give you the musician title.  Why do I allow this title and not the others?  Well one reason is you need to have actually studied something to be able to play the piano, and the other is that this is my damn blog and I make the rules.

Artist: I am going to be honest here.  I am not a huge art fan.  I mean I am in as much as anyone appreciates art.  Just as often as not I have a hard time getting on board with Modern Art.  I have seen people draw/paint/sculpt things that I genuinely enjoy and appreciate, and things that I don't enjoy because I know they are making a point about the frivolity of man or something- that I get.  But when I was in New York I went to the MoMA and saw a giant 8' by 8' canvas and the top half was black and the bottom half was white and I thought "....no I do not get this at all".  So my point is, anyone can spill some paint on a canvas and throw a frame on it and say "this represents how I feel about my mother.  That will be $50,000."


So there it is.  4 jobs that anyone can claim to have.  Now go to the bar and try to impress some chicks!

Broke.

I currently work for a major newspaper in Chicago.  On the surface, this is an ideal place for me to be "kicking off my career".  That being said, I am just about the lowest man on the totem pole (which I know is a misleading idiom because of Stuff You Should Know) and field phone calls from crazies across our great nation.  I also make $12/hr.  That means I make roughly $25K per year.  This is not very much money.  Like, at all.  So I am trying to tough it out and move up within the company, but because of my insatiable hunger for 2 meals a day every single day (I know, what a greedy brat I am), I keep my eyes peeled for other opportunities. Recently, a friend said she might be able to get me a jr underwriter gig at a bank that could pay as much as $40K.  That is like Scrooge McDuck swimming in his vault of gold coins money, friends.  I would probably gold-plate my Ikea stools with that kind of dough.
So anyway, I told a trusted family member about this, and her reaction was "NO you don't want to be a banker!  You want to work in publishing, stay where you're at!  Don't get hung up on dollar signs".
This got me pondering exactly how broke I am, and what I would do to not be as broke.
I would like to provide some real life broke stories/anecdotes:
-3 weeks ago, I went to the market to buy butter and had to check my bank account as to not overdraw.
-My boyfriend needed a loaner phone because his phone crapped out on him.  It was a $54 deposit.  He had $51.
-Before I was able to purchase the $86 unlimited rides on the CTA, I did the pay-as-you-go plan.  I would always have my earbuds in and sloppily tap my card when i got on the bus in hope that it wouldn't read right and then pretend I couldn't hear the driver when he asked me to try again.  $2.25 in my pocket!
-I ration tampons.
-I pound out chicken breasts so I can fool myself into eating less food because it looks bigger.
-I steal creamers from the cafeteria in my building so I don't have to buy it (It's not technically stealing--they're giving them away.  I just don't think they expect me to take 10)
-Every month when it comes  time to pay rent, I consider selling my guitar.  You know in old cartoons when starving people look at their dog or whatever and it turns into a big pile of steaks?  That's how my guitar looks but with money.  I love my guitar.  His name is Simon.
-I am pretty good at dividing the ABV by the price when selecting beer.
-I have started to fool myself into enjoying ramen.
-I keep a box of wine at my house.  I won't give up wine, no matter how broke.  You can't take wine away from me, universe!

So all that being said, yes I would love to stay at this job, but I also would like to leave my apartment to enter the public sphere and not feel immensely guilty if I get myself a burger and a beer once in a while.  Maybe it's going to be a moot point and the opportunity won't pan out, but if it does... I mean, I have bought myself 1 pair of shoes in the last 2 years.  I would like something nice someday.

Diet.

A couple years ago, the perfect storm of weight gain happened to me.  I went from being on my feet working on a ranch 40 hours a week to waiting tables at a very slow Italian restaurant and simultaneously went on birth control and started dating a guy with the metabolism and eating habits of a 12 year old.  Anyway, excuses aside, 30 pounds happened to me.  And apparently wishing off the weight is not as effective as one might imagine.
Over the winter I went through a brief phase of running and exercising, and saw some results, and then some other health nonsense kept me out of the gym.
All of that aside, today is day one of my diet and exercise plan.
On a friend's recommendation, I downloaded the Lose It app to my iPhone, I signed up for a 5K in June and the Beach Dash on Montrose Harbor in July.  I am doing it!

While I have no intention of dedicating this blog to what promises to be a slow and boring path back to being thin-ish, I would like to talk about my first days.

Last night I made two lunches-worth of chicken and brown rice and an apple.  I also hard boiled some eggs, and proceeded to leave them on the counter over night.  So those will get thrown out today and I shall start over with that situation.

It is currently 2:50 in the afternoon, and a couple hours after my sensible lunch of a palm-sized pieced of pan-sauteed chicken and about a half a cup of brown rice and a small green apple, I really have to tell you that I am slowly but surely starving to death at my desk.  I keep slugging down water in hopes that my stomach will be fooled, but alas it is too smart for me!  I just keep peeing!

Also I eat at the absurdly early hour of 11:00 due to the need to keep enough people covering the phones, and so I feel like there is positively no way I will make it to 5:00 without death giving me its cold kiss.

I feel like somewhere, I have read at some point [citation needed] that hunger is fat being burned.  I have also heard that you should never feel hungry because that is your metabolism slowing down.  I do not know which is correct, but if fat being burned is supposed to make me feel sad, then this surely must be it.

And I am supposed to go running tonight.  This is bullshit.  I feel like my body is going to reject this whole process and try to fool me into believing that I am actually happy being chubby.  I must stay strong.

Well That Was Embarrassing...

Well... Well it's been 2 years since my initial blog post, and ironically that post promised that it would not be my last post.  I guess as of now it wasn't a lie.
 A lot has happened to me and nothing much as well.

I am currently an "Inbound Ad Sales Rep" with a large local Chicago-based newspaper, but I still mostly surf the web and read and listen to podcasts.  I also take phone calls from people who are trying to place classified ads in the newspaper.  So mostly old people.
I make $12 an hour, which is not enough to make ends meet.  Which is fine.  I have been broke for about 2 years straight, and somehow am still surprised when every week I check my bank account and I have $30 to last the next week after paying bills and rent and bills and bills and grocery shopping.

I have a very sweet boyfriend with whom I live in Uptown.  He makes just slightly more than I do, but works mostly nights, which is tough.  We are wonderful examples of people who can't seem to live up to our potential (especially according to my parents).  The economy and job market are two things that make me want to sit down and cry.
I recently read this article:
1 in 2 new graduates are jobless or underemployed

Yup.  That's the world I live in.  I graduated college with a fancy liberal arts degree and now I will never ever have a well paying job.  I cannot dwell on this too much or my little brain will explode.  All I know is that I am becoming one of those petty people who listens to Mitt Romney talk about his "couple-a cars" and I want to smash my hand-me-down tube tv.  I can't help it.  I am not mad at him for being successful...I am furious because I don't think I will ever be given a shot to become successful.  Ever.  And that he doesn't pay enough in taxes.

Let me try to describe my 18 year-old-self's vision of what 26 is like vs the reality:
Married/thinking about marriage (ok...close there.  Not that anyone can afford a wedding or anything)
Living in a nice apartment downtown (Nice apartment...kind of dangerous neighborhood.  I make the sacrifice because I needed granite countertops)
Making a decent living...say 50K? (Try halfing that, bub)
Have a job that is mentally stimulating (....no.  most stimulating part of my day is reading Friendly Atheist or steaming Morning Joe on MSNBC.  Or figuring out the appropriate abbreviation for "overnight" so someone can fit into a smaller ad template.  Or this game)
Keep in decent shape, maybe take a few dance classes here and there (Shut up, 18 year old me.  I hate you)
Have some stimulating hobbies- hopefully keeping up with horseback riding (I might take a part time job shoveling shit at a stable near by for minimum wage.  Is that what you mean, you 18 year old know-nothing bitch?)
Possess an adult, fashionable-but-not-too-high-fashion wardrobe (I do own 8 different colored target $8 V neck Ts.  Check and mate)

So that's that.  Like 24 year old me who wrote the last entry, I haven't decided what this is going to be.  Something between an atheist, feminist, budget, weight-loss thing.  Or something else.

We shall see.