Facebook© Depresses Me

Facebook© Depresses Me.

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Facebook© Depresses Me

Birthday Flowers from Son

I just had my 45th birthday this week and sadly, it wasn’t so happy.  I have been unemployed for 7 weeks now, and was denied Texas Unemployment checks! For a state that maintains a heat level of 100 degrees, everyone who harshly and unexpectedly loses a job on the planet Sun should automatically receive checks. We’re at home all day, applying for jobs online, and running the air conditioning bill to drastic and costly extremes. What other pleasures do I have, aside from getting my hopes up as I drive 45 minutes to that stellar job interview? My new career–that’s going to change my life to the point where I can sit back and reflect at my oh-so-close brush with poverty and appreciate every scrap of material wealth I attain from this point forward!  My God, it will be a spiritual awakening that I appreciated having to go through, as I stand at the helm of my yacht, wearing a cocktail dress, with my perfectly styled hair blowing in the wind (said hair is blowing perfectly behind my face, not that awkward, frenzy of hair blowing in my face and sticking to my Chanel lipgloss) No, this scene is perfect–ie: Goldie Hawn in the movie “Overboard“, after she’s rescued from her temporary life of the underclass, and placed back in her original, wealthy life, and has that look of serenity—as if she’s thinking quite profoundly, “The hell if I’ll ever be poor again, that shit sucks!”

And who’s idea was it that my Facebook© , so-called “Friends”, will constantly post their happy ass, vacationing, perfect family, dreamy vacation spot, all paid for by their fabulous jobs, while I sit here tearing up the keyboard, scouring the internet to apply for yet another job interview. Facebook© is seriously starting to depress me.  Even the hot Hispanic guy that Facebook© fired still made money from his shares of that blimey, picturesque dream crushing social network–Oh, and the movie! 

Well, my birthday was a day to be grateful for after all. Began the day with a visit to my therapist who considers me quite normal compared to her other patients. Flirted with young pharmacist while reloading my xanax. Then spent a relaxing, dinner-and-a-movie evening with my parents, (I vetoed their idea of taking me to a posh restaurant. They need to save their money in order to help me out.) and my wonderful son sent me flowers that reminded me of the time I took him to HawaiiToo bad I wasn’t a Facebooker at that time in my life.  I’ll be there again soon….

Countdown: 17 Days to Pay Rent!

Since this is my first blog, I chose a topic that is very near and dear to my heart attack.  I was harshly fired three weeks ago from a retailer that I should never have applied at in the first place.  I accepted a commission sales job in a department store that openly encourages customers to return almost everything I sell them! Which means, that once they bring it back after wearing it, my commission check takes a hit.

About a week before the painful dismissal, my parents took me to the emergency room because I was having panic attacks due to worrying about my abysmal job and my evil ex-husband’s custody lawsuit against me. Thankfully, I had insurance for my mini vacation in the E.R. Whoever invented valium is my hero.

Fast forward one week, now unemployed, crumpled up holding a box of tissues (almost typed the word Kleenex, but that’s a copyrighted word…don’t need more trouble), in my therapist’s office.  My therapist puts quite a positive spin on how toxic that job was for me, and that now is the time to get all those dreadful issues I’ve been weakly avoiding since my divorce years ago. Mainly, my emotional health and applying for legal aid, to regain the original custody plan that was put in place prior to moving here. Dr. Tria also gave me brilliant advice by placing great emphasis on doing a thorough job search, instead of taking the first job offered to me, which is my pattern, and usually ends up really, really, horrific.  What Dr. Tria did not give me was rent money. In fact, I believe I gave her a check.

The countdown now begins with exactly 17 days until my rent is due.  My dream job is to work from home and get paid for various creative projects and eventually be a published writer.  I have dealt with all the red tape of obtaining unemployment checks, and once I even got to speak to a real person who assured me that I should be approved by the end of this week.

I’ve been marketing myself through social media which is time consuming, but I am a firm believer in networking and I actually do have skills. I hope I get some positive feedback from other bloggers who have been in my situation and will tell me they either found the perfect job by being patient or were able to make a living from their home computer.

Exactly how do people end up happy in their profession?  Today, i finally decided to take a break and go to my apartment’s gym.  I figured that at midday on a Tuesday, I’d have the place to myself.  I walked into the gym and there’s a young woman, about 25, wearing tiny gym shorts and a tiny sports bra, perfect body, blasting loud, catchy music. (My gym attire is cute, but meant to cover my flaws, ie: most of my curvy frame.) She’s making quick movements around and with the various gym equipment and free-weights. She must make a decent living as a personal trainer, Zumba instructor, and then win big money on those ESPN female body builder contests where the contestants choreograph their workout routine to loud music. So very jealous. As I am pondering what the fuck’s happened to my life—in walks an average looking guy, with a few tattoos, wearing a wife beater…..drug dealer.

Laura Lowery is a Creative Professional Dabbler and would appreciate any diplomatic feedback and advice from other bloggers. You may contat her thru this site or prodabbler@gmail.com, or follow her on twitter @spapartyplan.