Anywhoo, today I received an interesting email from my Lily Pulitzer clone of a mother--and it looked something like this:
Subject: From Mom (uh-oh)
Content: SNAGAJOB.COM
XOXO
Content: SNAGAJOB.COM
XOXO
That's it. Just snagafuckingjob.com and some hugs and kisses. Well, yes Mom, I have been desperately trying to find a job for, oh, two weeks, but don't nonchalantly send me silly emails like that--because let me tell you a little something about snagajob.com. Unless you enjoy wearing hair nets-hanging with toothless co-workers-eating unhealthy foods, then well, I'm sorry-the website is hopeless. And believe me, I don't want to belittle anyone who is in that sort of industry, but hey, I still have some city gal in me. That website is belittling ME by even opening in my browser. To be honest, I have never seen more Pizza Hut and Boston Market job openings in a single sitting. Do I love Boston Market mac-n-cheese every blue moon? Yes. Do I want to serve it curbside with a side of cornbread? No, thank you. Also, Mom-for someone as proper and conservative as yourself, would you really want your daughter delivering pizzas or roasting hundreds of Henry's a day? Oh, and I definitely can't forget to mention the numerous U.S. Army opportunities I saw on that website. ARE YOU ARMY STRONG? Nope. And if I joined the army, my mom would shit herself.
But on a serious note-I sincerely do want a job. While I know I am lucky to have an abundant amount of work during the final semester of my senior year of college, for some reason I just want something more (insert sarcasm). My schedule is in fact...well, basically non-existent...and I am actually starting to see myself getting wildly weirder as the days progress in this Arizona heat. I currently have three online classes, all of which are related to parenting-(embarrassing)-and two classes that I truly love on campus-a Religion seminar and Black & White photography class.
So, I decided to take the liberty to do the math of my wasted time for you, and well, for myself.
1 day=24 hours
Monday-Friday=120 hours
A full week=168 hours
Hours on campus per week=7 hours
Hours of sleep per week=30 hours (stupid insomnia)
And finally, wasted hours during the week-(weekends can obviously be wasted so we won't count those days)-A grand total of...83 stinking hours. Shoot. I guess to make myself feel a tad bit better, we will just say that about 40 of those hours are spent taking photos-reading-saving the world-painting-drinking the vino-being an unmarried housewife-day dreaming-and last but not least, attempting to cook from Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking (you have NO idea how long any recipe takes). So, ultimately, we are still looking at a large/bewildering sum of 43 hours wasted during the week...I need a job ASAP--At least for the sake of my sanity. Oh, and to keep up with Joey. His work ethic is sickening. Not sickening in the way that I was going to vomit when I discovered my wasted hours, but in the sense that if he is idle, not working, for merely two days, he's "work frustrated". Slightly different from sexually frustrated for two reasons--one, I am the best girlfriend in the world and I never allow that to happen--and two, well, I am the best girlfriend in the world. Either way, he makes me look like a sitting duck. And when I say sitting duck, I want you to picture me with an orange flat bill, webbed feet, and a body of white feathers, relaxing in the sun poolside-probably drinking some wine-well, definitely drinking some wine-portraying Michael Bedard's famous lithograph. Look it up, smile, and then understand that his artwork is what my lovely man has to come home to. However, I would not be myself if I did not look at the bright side of this unemployment situation. So, in the mean time, as I not-so-patiently await replies from employers, I am not going to open any emails from my mother with the subject 'From Mom', and I am going to continue saving the world...preferably by the pool.
But first! A short little story...
My dearest friend Jessie is enough inspiration for a book alone (another time, another story) and as one of my biggest supporters in pursuing my dreams, she said something extremely captivating to me yesterday--BUT, before I quote her, I have to set the record straight even before it is crooked. Jessie is not even remotely as gracious or poetic-(that is, except in school and with me)-as this comment will make her seem. But don't worry, you will learn this rather bluntly in the near future.
"A reader will only continue to read something if you are able to surprise them and evoke feelings/emotions they can't get from anywhere else." J.K.R.
First and foremost, a big thank you to my other half...the one person who I believe knows me better than I know myself. Why? Well, simply because I know the hidden notion behind her too affable of a remark is in fact, "Liz, let your guard down, write exactly what you feel, and make it fucking outrageous."
So, thank you Jessie. And to any readers--if you are, in fact, out there--I want you to know that as I continue to discover myself as a writer/photographer, I truly hope you will follow me along the yellow brick road to reach the Emerald City, because...
But on a serious note-I sincerely do want a job. While I know I am lucky to have an abundant amount of work during the final semester of my senior year of college, for some reason I just want something more (insert sarcasm). My schedule is in fact...well, basically non-existent...and I am actually starting to see myself getting wildly weirder as the days progress in this Arizona heat. I currently have three online classes, all of which are related to parenting-(embarrassing)-and two classes that I truly love on campus-a Religion seminar and Black & White photography class.
So, I decided to take the liberty to do the math of my wasted time for you, and well, for myself.
1 day=24 hours
Monday-Friday=120 hours
A full week=168 hours
Hours on campus per week=7 hours
Hours of sleep per week=30 hours (stupid insomnia)
And finally, wasted hours during the week-(weekends can obviously be wasted so we won't count those days)-A grand total of...83 stinking hours. Shoot. I guess to make myself feel a tad bit better, we will just say that about 40 of those hours are spent taking photos-reading-saving the world-painting-drinking the vino-being an unmarried housewife-day dreaming-and last but not least, attempting to cook from Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking (you have NO idea how long any recipe takes). So, ultimately, we are still looking at a large/bewildering sum of 43 hours wasted during the week...I need a job ASAP--At least for the sake of my sanity. Oh, and to keep up with Joey. His work ethic is sickening. Not sickening in the way that I was going to vomit when I discovered my wasted hours, but in the sense that if he is idle, not working, for merely two days, he's "work frustrated". Slightly different from sexually frustrated for two reasons--one, I am the best girlfriend in the world and I never allow that to happen--and two, well, I am the best girlfriend in the world. Either way, he makes me look like a sitting duck. And when I say sitting duck, I want you to picture me with an orange flat bill, webbed feet, and a body of white feathers, relaxing in the sun poolside-probably drinking some wine-well, definitely drinking some wine-portraying Michael Bedard's famous lithograph. Look it up, smile, and then understand that his artwork is what my lovely man has to come home to. However, I would not be myself if I did not look at the bright side of this unemployment situation. So, in the mean time, as I not-so-patiently await replies from employers, I am not going to open any emails from my mother with the subject 'From Mom', and I am going to continue saving the world...preferably by the pool.
But first! A short little story...
My dearest friend Jessie is enough inspiration for a book alone (another time, another story) and as one of my biggest supporters in pursuing my dreams, she said something extremely captivating to me yesterday--BUT, before I quote her, I have to set the record straight even before it is crooked. Jessie is not even remotely as gracious or poetic-(that is, except in school and with me)-as this comment will make her seem. But don't worry, you will learn this rather bluntly in the near future.
"A reader will only continue to read something if you are able to surprise them and evoke feelings/emotions they can't get from anywhere else." J.K.R.
First and foremost, a big thank you to my other half...the one person who I believe knows me better than I know myself. Why? Well, simply because I know the hidden notion behind her too affable of a remark is in fact, "Liz, let your guard down, write exactly what you feel, and make it fucking outrageous."
So, thank you Jessie. And to any readers--if you are, in fact, out there--I want you to know that as I continue to discover myself as a writer/photographer, I truly hope you will follow me along the yellow brick road to reach the Emerald City, because...
"In the land of Oz, we are all small children walking down a road of yellow brick in a crazy, outlandish, ozzy sort of world."
L. Frank Baum
L. Frank Baum
XOXO
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