(Written July 12th, 2013)
IMPORTANT TO NOTE: my last Westward Hoe post was dated 10 months ago and elaborated on the freedom of getting off food stamps. Moreover, getting off food stamps, off unemployment and starting a steady job in a better apartment. That Westward Hoe was growing up! Things were moving in such an upward direction, I clearly felt no more need to blog on the trials and struggles of a gutsy, dream-filled move to Los Angeles. I was done--victorious, and literally in the sunset of my year-long day in the Los Angeles sun (good metaphor? great metaphor?)
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| JULY 2012. SO SMUGLY HAPPY. |
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| JULY 2013. SO CONFUSED WITH OWN FAILURE. |
Granted, I'm not dead, nor have I resorted to stripping. I have a smattering of good palz in LA and a wonderfully grounded and adorable boyfriend, which is arguably harder to obtain than a job. Things could be worse. But since being laid off of my flexible-well-paying-non-service-industry-job, the struggle to find employment again has chipped away at what I thought was my pervading Ali-ness, my steel curtain of optimism--a spiral which I'm trying desperately to reverse before I start blaming "The City of LA" for my struggles like every other jaded weirdo here does. An overview of my mourning process goes as such:
DENIAL: Of being upset with losing my job. Will not waste and time feeling sorry for myself, instead be proactive about getting a new job in the blink of an eye. It's meant to be! Now I can focus on my ACTING AND WRITING CAREER. The perfect ending to Act One of my life-screenplay! Er.
ANGER: At not being able to find new job right away.
BARGAINING STAGE 1: No writing/marketing jobs coming through right away. Maybe I'll have to go back to nannying for a little bit to make money!
BARGAINING STAGE 2: Nanny families seem not to need my services currently. What-EVER. Those rich kids don't deserve my pointed midwest wisdom. Maybe I'll have to go back to waitressing!
BARGAINING STAGE 3. Strangely, not hired at all-African-American bar. Or 3 other bars. Maybe I'll accept this job selling salon coupons for a lady I met on the street!
Realization this job will make me feel worse about self than currently do.
DEPRESSION FOREVER.
Every job or opportunity that doesn't come through confuses me. Is it me? I thought, or I was pretty sure that I was one of the best people ever. I don't know if I've been unemployed for 3 months (while trying) before.
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One particular waitstaff interview really got me down. Yesterday, I went to an open call interview. The boss asked if I was an actress (normally I would have said "no", but I've been going through a renaissance where I think it will be better for my psyche to admit to myself and others that I was an actress, and not just a writer who performed. Right.) and proceeded to make me feel like a lobotomized turkey for the remainder of the interview. I felt so upset afterwards that I got in my car and drove to Venice, not knowing how else to handle my helplessness.
Venice is a very cool but extremely inconvenient to get to part of Los Angeles. In my state of despair, the hippie/fuck-da-man/beach bum mentality that pervades along the Venice coast seemed to be the best medication.
Walking on the dirty beach, with homeless people sleeping and seagulls picking at garbage, and nothing but the Pacific Ocean stretching onto infinity, I kicked at the sand. The wind picked up and the skies grew gray. People started to leave the beach. It began to sprinkle, but didn't rain. I stayed out by the water.
The wind was a torrent of darkness, among the gusty trees
-- The Highwayman, Alfred Noyes
When I'm around nature, when waves crash in a dramatic fashion, everyday pain seems more insignificant. I told myself that when I moved out here, my only goal was to not get jaded.
I live in California. And by the water, I feel possibility once again.
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One particular waitstaff interview really got me down. Yesterday, I went to an open call interview. The boss asked if I was an actress (normally I would have said "no", but I've been going through a renaissance where I think it will be better for my psyche to admit to myself and others that I was an actress, and not just a writer who performed. Right.) and proceeded to make me feel like a lobotomized turkey for the remainder of the interview. I felt so upset afterwards that I got in my car and drove to Venice, not knowing how else to handle my helplessness.
Venice is a very cool but extremely inconvenient to get to part of Los Angeles. In my state of despair, the hippie/fuck-da-man/beach bum mentality that pervades along the Venice coast seemed to be the best medication.
Walking on the dirty beach, with homeless people sleeping and seagulls picking at garbage, and nothing but the Pacific Ocean stretching onto infinity, I kicked at the sand. The wind picked up and the skies grew gray. People started to leave the beach. It began to sprinkle, but didn't rain. I stayed out by the water.
The wind was a torrent of darkness, among the gusty trees
-- The Highwayman, Alfred Noyes
When I'm around nature, when waves crash in a dramatic fashion, everyday pain seems more insignificant. I told myself that when I moved out here, my only goal was to not get jaded.
I live in California. And by the water, I feel possibility once again.
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