Keeping on the Fuckin' Sunny Side.

Okay, first off let me say knowingly that my attempt to do two posts a week for National Blog Month (what does that even mean?!) has been a miserable failure even though it is only November 7th. Secondly, in hopeless defense, I did try to make this post three days ago, but my iPad battery ran out and blogger failed to auto save the entry I had partially written. My fault, of course, but I do love mesome shoddy excuses.

In any case! Times is tough, kids. Pretty tough. I should relate to you that times is not tough in an Irish Potato famine sort of way, nor in a "I have three kids to feed and no job and can't afford to pay for electricity" way (I don't have kids for that very reason. Well, okay, that's like reason 184). It's hard to pay the bills, sure. But the "tough" I'm talking about is very much a sort of romantisized, struggling to create my art while maintaining a balance to feed both my artistic soul and my physical body.

Yech. I just made myself throw up a bit. You?

Someone posted this on facebook recently. I think it's even better now that NPH actually is married (but still awesome, I should hope).

I fully realize that I could, indeed be making all the money I want, were I not committed to a show which demands much of my free time (and there's been a lot of it these days, trust me), though I will say, even before I was involved with the show, it was pretty darn difficult to get anyone to even look at my (awesome) resume, never mind hand me an application. BUT! I am exceedingly lucky. I have a warm (and pretty awesome) place to sleep. I'm not in debt (except to myself, really). I'm not starving. And I'm surrounded by (mostly) people of uncalibrated awesomeness (more on that later).

Let's be honest, though, this (by "this" I mean the whole white suburban-raised girl struggling artist thing) would all be a lot easier if the art I was creating was... well... Good awesome. That being said, I have been extremely spoiled over the last few years regarding who I've gotten to work with in this very small theater community. Again, I count myself lucky that I'm even in a show at this time of year in this little community.

Somehow it makes it easier and harder at the same time to know that many people around me (not to mention the world) are in the midst of a similar predicament.

Easier because, well, at least I'm not alone. I'm surrounded by people who are just as broke and down trodden as I am.

Harder because... I don't know if you know this, but I'm lucky enough to be surrounded by some of the coolest, smartest, most attractive and talented mother fuckers you've ever seen. My friends are amazing.
And smell nice to boot.

However, I've just passed the mark of two months (under)employed. Fifty bucks a week doesn't take you too far, sometimes just far enough, but it is just enough to start wearing on my wallet, and unexpectedly, my heart.

SO. I did something that many people would find logical for someone in m situation. Something thousands of people do when they get laid-off due to no fault of their own. And something I-nor you-my darling reader(s?), will never tell my mother.

I filed for unemployment.

Honestly, I should have done it a month ago. I have work lined up if January (Full time, most awesome bestest coolest job anyone could ever want), I'm not an alcoholic, I'm not a drug addict, I'm the freaking poster child for unemployment. Seriously, I should be on a poster. Not that anyone's trying to sell the idea of unemployment, but it would be cool to be on a poster.

In a word- I'm an actor. Unemployment LOVES actors. Why? Because we're basically contract workers. We have short-term contracts and when we file for unemployment it's usually because we have another job lined up that prevents us from getting hired at some "real job".

"Why can't you tell your mother?" You may be asking. Well, I would love to answer! But first, I feel that it is very important to give you a brief intro to: My mom. First and foremost. I love my mom. She's a super awesome independent artist, and exceedingly supportive of all my seemingly ridiculous endeavors, she was a single Mom putting herself through grad school while Regan was president (I still don't really know what this means, but when I tell people that, they always seem impressed) and is all-around pretty freaking cool. She also hasn't entered the job market since 1986.

My how things do change.

From discussions we've had recently, the view I think my mother has of unemployment is similar to how need-based scholarships work. For example, were I to apply for unemployment and receive it, that means that someone else who maybe needs it more, wouldn't get it. After a bit of research, that's not how it works at all, but I guess I understand her sentiment. I could argue with her, prove her wrong, etc. but why would I want to start some shit if I didn't need to? My mom is also delightfully stubborn. It's best she just doesn't know, I think it would worry her for my welfare anyway. She also seems to think that future employers check the see if you've been on unemployment and are likely not to hire you if you have been. I'm not sure where that idea comes from, but I think it would be a cute short story.

All that being said, I can't help but feeling horribly, disgustingly ashamed. I'm in my mid-twenties, I have a college degree, I'm able-bodied, I'm qualified to do many things in this world. Like awesomeness. Know anyone hiring for awesomeness?

This too shall pass. I have less than two months to get through and then my life will change entirely, again. Which reminds me, stay tuned for a new blog I'll be starting, hopefully near the end of December. About what, you may ask? Well, I'll give you a hint: English majors everywhere are either about to love me or hate me.

Cat, mentioned previously, but needed another picture. Proving that I'm NOT a crazy cat lady... right...?