Dying of Boredom Seems to Be A Real Possibility

(I used to have a friend who would say, "It's a real possible" when you asked him if he was interested in doing something, like go out for drinks after class or whatever. Is this something that people say on a regular basis? He grew up in Wyoming.)

Anyway. I've been unemployed since late March. And I'm not gonna lie -- despite the underlying cold sweat of panic, it was awesome. Although I (mostly) liked my job and loved my coworkers to death, I hated the people I was working for -- a couple of the most morally bankrupt people disguising themselves as Christians who give a crap about everyone but really don't that I have ever had the misfortune to meet. So it was hard to be there. And I don't think the bad economy had really affected us till that point, so I foolishly thought I would find a job quickly. So I went on many, many interviews and was hopeful and confident, and met friends for lunch and even had one day where I just went to the local scrapbook store and scrapbooked all day long, all by myself. It was awesome. And don't get me wrong -- I am still hopeful and confident, but after 8 weeks, have finally managed to wrap my head around the fact that it's going to take longer this time to find a job than the last time I had to do it (that time, it took two weeks). So I continue to interview up a storm -- 4 this past week, 2 this coming week -- and apply for everything that looks like a good fit and many things that don't look like a good fit.

And it's difficult and it's depressing and sometimes I am discouraged to the point that I just lie on the couch and cry for a few minutes. Oh, and try getting results from the unemployment office -- what a cluster fuck that is! I loved seeing those people on Oprah's show this week who actually managed to collect unemployment, because I was starting to think unemployment was a myth, like unicorns and Zeus. But I am nothing if not a plucky heroine in the novel of my life, so this is not going to get me permanently down.

It's just that I'm super bored.

This is how I spend my days: drop The Pook off at school, come home and get ready for interview if I have one, and if not, seat myself at the computer for several hours of applying for jobs, making phone calls about jobs I've already applied for or to follow up on interviews, and occasionally working on my novel. In between, I tweet incessantly and screw around on Facebook, hoping for a brief contact with another human being -- something I always had at work, that human contact. I'll take it, even if it's just online.

At first, my Facebook friends thought it was funny. But now I suspect even they are becoming super bored by my constant status updates and lame quiz results. And frankly, I'm bored by it too. And there are only so many blogs I can stand to read, and only so many fan sites I can lurk around on, and only so many questions I can research the answers to. Sometimes I watch Ellen and Oprah, but honestly, most of the time it's not worth the horrible daytime television advertising one has to endure. Ugly attorneys fighting for your rights following a car accident! Study at home for a degree from a really crappy university! ProActiv... because you're probably covered in hideous zits if you're sitting home in the middle of the day!

So I've read about 15 books in the last 8 weeks, which is great but honestly? I'm kind of bored with reading now. Something I never thought I'd say. Plus if I finish all the books in my existing unread pile, I'll eventually have to hit the library for more, and I hate library books -- they've got other people's germs on them. It's a good way to pick up flesh eating bacteria (thanks, Oprah!).

I've gotten as caught up on scrapbooking as I can without having to buy more supplies, so scrapbooking is out for now, except for a couple of album completions I need to do.

The house is very clean and way more organized than ever.

The Pook and Rob have enjoyed many delicious home cooked meals.

I have this list in my head of all the things I could have accomplished with these 8 weeks:

1). Could have worked out every day and lost several pounds.
2). Could have made serious progress on my novel.
3). Could have done volunteer work and made the world a better place.

I don't know, the list seems longer in my head. But you get the point.

Instead of doing these things, I get trapped in the cycle of thinking I can't start something in case I get called for an interview, or in case I get a job offer, or in case some temp work comes up. So I confine myself mostly to the house to be available when the phone rings. Which it does, often enough. I just wish it would ring with an actual job offer.

Before I do actually die of boredom.

It could happen.