When someone asks, “Where have you been?” there’s always a good story behind it.
A lot has changed since January, and yet only one thing in my life is actually different. I’m unemployed. Although it hasn’t been long since I left (four weeks ago today, actually), it feels impossibly long ago. Like the people I worked with for one year are like high school acquaintances. Like my desk was some residence I occupied, now empty and waiting for whoever will be next. And now my apartment, where I spent less than a third of my waking hours (I may or may not have calculated that a month after I started work…), forms the perimeter of my life.
Before I left, some of the people at the firm advised me to enjoy my time in between jobs, for it may be the last time in my career I have this much time on my hands (“Go to the park!” “Catch up on TV!” “Explore your town!”). Easier said than done when you’re constantly wondering if you’re doing enough to find work, calling the unemployment office multiple times a week to see if you’re even eligible for unemployment, and trying to block out the downstairs’ neighbors kids when trying to write your fifth cover letter of the week.
Still, it’s been nice to go to the rec to run at 10:00 a.m. on a weekday (I will run that 5K this year!). I’ve started DJing again at my college radio station. As for blogging…well, I definitely want to start posting again more regularly. I also bought a journal yesterday. I haven’t journaled regularly since junior year of college, and I’m sure my child self is not pleased. Part of the reason I journaled so much as a child is because I knew if I didn’t write my memories down, I would forget what my life was like at age seven, ten, thirteen. As an adult, it may not seem like I have much to journal about, but I already know that there are memories of my work achievements, dates with Josh, and nights out with friends that are being lost to time.
There’s no need to wait for something to start, whether it be a new job, season, or birthday. Life floats on no matter where you are. One day I’ll miss having enough time to watch an entire Sex and the City marathon. Or maybe ten years from now I’ll need a reminder that my early 20s might not have been the best time of my life. Whatever I end up learning from my memories, I’ll need something to draw on. And although I’m dying to get a new job (four interviews so far!), I’m not going to wait around for my life to start – it’s already begun.