“…And Then It’s Work, Work, Work All The Time!”

Aha! I didn’t make myself out to be a liar, a cheat or a thief…well, I don’t really know what I would be stealing. Your faith? Your trust? Whatever, it doesn’t matter because I didn’t steal it. I’m here, just as promised! Not that anything I have to say will be Earth-shattering or sky-moving but hey, that’s not my call. Where did I leave off? Oh yes, eating…

My little laxative adventure has been lingering in my mind since that fateful weekend. Don’t worry, like I said, they remain untouched in my drawer, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think about them. I’ve kept to the schedule Flower (my nutritionist) recommended but sitting there, on a little rocking horse, like a kid in a horror movie, is this voice. And the voice is rocking back and forth on that stupid rocking horse, telling me over and over that I’m fat and that I eat way too much. It tells me that my thighs move too much when I walk, that there’s too much overhang on my gut and that my face is too round. I thought about jogging today. I can’t even begin to explain how weird that is for me. I never want to run. Anywhere. Ever. Unless I’m racing my dog. That’s usually fun, even though I usually lose. His little legs are fast as hell. I can feel those pills on my tongue. I hate the way my body feels during the process but afterwards I feel better. That’s what matters. And I look amazing in my clothes. That matters too. I need to figure this out. Quickly. Because if I don’t, I will grow. And being my age, that is not acceptable.

Workforce- I feel like a team should pop out of nowhere and we should all jump up like in Power Rangers and yell some team slogan in a power pose. “Workforce, go!” I was a big Power Rangers fan as a kid, okay? It was pretty awesome watching all those horribly fake explosions and puppet tricks. Now, I have been trying for a million and a half days (I can’t say years because it hasn’t been that long, I won’t say that. I feel like that would be an insult to people who are super unemployed) to get a job. I’ve been on all the sites, pulled out all the stops, dropped in everywhere I could and…nothing. Not a call, not a ring, nothing. It sucks ass. And I need a job. Yes, I’ve been volunteering at the library. And I’ve been able to hang out with people other than the four walls of my room and the dog (which is actually quite refreshing). But I can’t continue to hang out with said other non-wall-people if I can’t fund myself. It’s a cycle that I can’t break until someone cuts me a break. I’ve heard it all from just about everyone. “It’s hard when you first get out of college.” “Things get better in a few months.” I don’t have a few months. I need shit to start moving now! We’re expected to go through all this stuff in the airport: the ticket-buying, the jostling, the difficulty and wait of boarding and once we’re finally on the freaking plane, the captain wants to announce that we’re not moving anywhere for a while for one reason or another. School (at whatever level) is the airport. Life, you may have correctly assumed, is the plane. And yet again, you have correctly assumed, mine has not taken off. Oh, oh, but Thomas’s has skyrocketed. His broke the sound barrier the day he was born. Star Child. Always aimed up and out of this world. Me? Well, I was but at some point, my gaze dropped. Rather than blink, snap out of it, or yawn and turn my head back up to the clouds, I just kept staring at my feet instead. Look where that got me. Stuck with four walls as friends. Well, not any more. I’m busting out. Okay, not literally. That would cost thousands of dollars and haven’t we just spent much longer than even a generous paragraph explaining that I’m broke and jobless? That’s what I thought. I have friends. Good ones. I think they’re good people. My judge of character might be skewed but I think this time is different. Let’s just pray (frankly, for my sake), that I’m right. Do friends get me a job? No. Do friends help me afford a new car battery or pay for the speeding camera ticket I got a few weeks ago? Nope. But they let me feel a bit better about myself, and less fat when I try and say the car had to have more gas to move because I weighed so much. So, you see my problem? I’m getting a job. I know the phrase usually goes: “if it’s the last thing I do,” but it won’t be the last thing I do. Hell nah. I’ve got a long, long list and my lack of a job isn’t going to stop that.

*I would also like to save my Interwebs cred and note that I watched the original Power Rangers…as in Mighty Morphin’! None of this Mighty Force, Mystic Force, Ninja Force, Grandma Force, Culinary Force, Nazi Force — blah, blah, blah! It just happened to fit the reference! And you do know how I enjoy a good reference!