I think this Monday build-up is far more nerve-wracking than the first day of school. The feelings and anticipation surrounding my first day of work mirrors those late August days before school. The summer had ended, afternoons on the lake and big thunderstorms subsided to a regular schedule. I realize the summer has yet to begin; my season off work, however, is ending.
It's a significant change in my life. Working at the newspaper, I often felt that a full-time job never was part of my future. Of course it would be fun and "neat," I always thought, especially after my short, full-time stint at HGTV. I also clung to an ideal that I had to LOVE what I did to make money, and that work would become my main passion. I can even see it in the cynicism and negativity I harbored against my employers and the bureaucracy that enraged me. This seems like a pretty typical response for a fresh J-school grad though.
So I packed up my few belongings and skipped across the country, looking for that ideal job, that ideal city with those ideal bike lanes. Portland is "so cool," according to...everybody, apparently. It was cool, but it wasn't for me. Not yet at least. Living 3,500 miles away from my dearest family and best friends helped me realize the loves of my life. I like the challenges still apparent and on-going in the South, the ones that once enraged me and drove me so far away. Portland was full of passionate people. The environment there, the volcanoes and other seismic activity, and the culture attracted folks of all colors, backgrounds, and with different interests. Portland made me feel a little apathetic and a little more moderate than I had imagined. My passions lie elsewhere.
In the meantime, though, to complete my exploratory mission v. 2009, I road the rails across the country. I was still chasing some dream, which for two seconds was to teach little people. I met lots of young kids who were on a similar adventure, retired couples who were vacationing, folks who were laid off and taking time off, farmers, mothers, babies. I saw beautiful landscapes, incredible mountains and the great plains. I rolled into Chicago, and a few hours later landed in the homeland of New Orleans where two precious friends awaited my arrival.
Somewhere in the mix of all this talk, travel and living, I realized it is not what I do to keep the lights on that makes me passionate. I am fortunate enough to have landed a position that will help me be the best writer, another fear I've held since J-school. And I'm passionate about writing and publications, something I lose sight of at times. But it's the Chattanooga visionary efforts, the music scene, the great friends and conversations and renegade bike rides that make me feel complete. The main stuff. The celebrations, the reunions, the cycles and patterns and folks who swirl in and out of my life and mirror what is going on in my own. That is the change I look forward to and the change I embrace on this Memorial Day, May 25, 2009, the day before I re-enter the workforce as a copywriter in downtown Chattanooga, Tenn.
So break out the style book! Round up your favorite pens, and lay out your outfit for tomorrow, Laura Jane. It is a new day, and my Tuesday will be filled with new faces, lots of names, a new building with history, more early mornings, more battling wrist issues.
Joy of all joys! Fists shakin, eyes pointed to the heavens!
I AM EMPLOYED!
I recieved an offer to be a copywriter with True North Custom Publishing, a local company that produces healthcare-related magazines and newsletters. I graciously accepted that offer, of course, and I start work next Tuesday.
This followed yet another day filled with the usual stresses of unemployment: I continue to spend money I don't have, flail around town for no reason on my bike (notably, a favorite hobby), and otherwise network and shamelessly promote myself. Really, my current living situation was the biggest daily nag. While I am so gracious to have a place to live, I look forward to my own apartment. And guess what? I get to live somewhere. ALONE. I want to live in a flat place, as well. While climbing Mt. North Chattanooga gives me the biker butt and legs I've always dreamed of, it severly limits my accessibility to things I love to do in town.
What's that, you say? Hardcore biking, not for me? Yes, friends, this is right. I would much prefer a set-up similar to the slow, short cruise I had from Fourth and Gill to downtown Knoxville. It enabled me to ride home late at night instead of dealing with the worries that fill my head when I consider riding up Tremont or Boylston streets. Not to mention the quick climb up North Market/Old Dallas, where, upon moving back to Crestwood, had me wondering how and what I should write in my will.
(Wendy Walker, attorney-at-law in Knoxville, Tenn., advised me on our brief Mother's Day encounter that I can write my will on paper, in a journal or somewhere you folks would find it, and it will be considered as my final wishes.)
Regardless, I would prefer to live in Andrae McGary's 8th district. McGary recently won a run-off for the city council seat, and while I am still wholly uneducated on Chattanooga politicking, I want to pay my rent where I work, spend my money and hang out. Downtown Chattanooga, here I come.
Did I mention I get to work on 8th and Broad? This will include extensive bike riding to and from work. It will include free parking for that car I don't have. Maybe there's a fancy shmancy bike ride around the back of the building. Who knows. Maybe I'll have a bike-to-work buddy at True North. And financial stability. And a portfolio! Let the Laura Jane branding campaign begin. Fonts? Layout? Webpage? Yes, please.
Christopher Walken has moved cubes; the lists and diagrams from my early days working here have been recycles. Empty cube, empty mind, sleepy eyes.
I wish I could say empty inbox or something, but that's not likely to happen in the remaining 15 minutes of my tenure here at the 9-5. My last day of mindless chugging through articles. It was particularly painful because I couldn't sleep last night. Tossing and turning, moaning about how hot (haaaahahahahahaha....) it was in my room. Ironically enough I cracked the window a bit to make it sleepable. When I awoke this morning, the sun brightening the room, my glass of water in the windowsill was frozen solid.
I'm debating a quick bout of excercise before heading home, but I'm afraid I would quickly pass out after getting home, missing my dinner date entirely. Harumph. We shall see. I could pack a few things, too. That was the other reason I couldn't sleep: as the days pass it's getting harder to turn off the to-do lists in my head. Things I should be doing, things that should be packed, visits to my house that should be made. It will happen, things will get packed, and it will all happen very... quickly, needless to say. Pangs of guilt pass over me as I fail to mention to a co-worker that it's my last day. I'm tired of explaining, and I'm just tired. I wanted so SO badly to sleep well last night, but it evaded me nearly three hours after curling up in my bag.
So I'll sit here and scratch my head, looking perplexed, worried or concerned, whichever one you think, till it's time for me to go.
