Not working in the Sunshine State

I used to do things. For example, I used to blog pretty frequently, but then I got sad and depressed, and unlike real writers, mental anguish didn't fuel any artistic fires for me. I don't understand people who write about their pain; I would much rather crack myself up with my dazzling wit than dwell on the things that keep me up at night. That stuff dazzles no one. I stopped writing altogether and that's right around the time when my job became the only thing I had going on -- and that's never good for mental health or personal relationships. So, after a few years of this non-happy-fun time, on February 26, 2009, I quit my job. Awesome timing, I know, what with the economy rocking as it does.

I was living overseas when I made this decision, so my housing options in the States (where it's much cheaper to be jobless than where I was) were limited to (1) a cardboard box and (2) my parent's house. Yes, every 28-year-old's dream: living at home. I did this to myself, so I can't really bitch about it too much, though I likely will.

What do I do now other than not work? Not a whole heck of a lot. I look for jobs like it's, well, my job, and I apply for those jobs. Oh so many jobs have I applied for. I've gotten a couple interviews over the last few weeks and I have not been rejected by either of those jobs yet, yay me! But I'm sure it's just a matter of time -- the silence is deafening. In the meantime, I go to my neighborhood YMCA every day and die a little when I realize that a lot of those 80-year-old ladies can outlift me (I live in Florida. Most people are 80). Nonetheless, it's something to do and is healthier than drinking a bottle of wine every day...like I often want to.