On Unemployment

It is my last day of unemployment. Tomorrow and henceforth, a person of some supervisory capacity will expect things of me. He/She will expect me to be punctual and efficient, and probably contented by the mediocre compensation which he/she has offered me in order to render services that will make him/her exponentially richer, by virtue of enlisting my womanpower, and my cheery disposition to boot.

I will continue to collect some small fraction of unemployment through the vehicle of the Massachusetts Department of Unemployment. This payment will draw from the wealthy banks of my former employer, in light of my former employer’s decision to send me packing, just minutes after my former employer escorted my former bossman out with his trenchcoat and gym bag and no goodbye.

Fortunately for me, my life is not so terribly existential as I sometimes illustrate it.

Rather, for the last month, I have been slovenly, leisurely, and sometimes totally frivolous with money that I did not have. I posed as a Lady who Lunched. I made good on some care packages to friends and mothers. I spent long leisurely hours at the gym. I flossed, sometimes twice in one day. I kept a checklist and sometimes, kapoot with it all, I was going to watch the Food Network by candlelight for several hours.

A forced sabbatical is much different than one that is chosen, one that is planned. So I have tried to make the most of mine. I was often beleagured by shady job prospectors and the general sense that there was no one on earth whose very life would assuredly be improved by my efforts to get up in the morning.

But that is also the problem of unemployment. One develops a certain ego about her time, her purpose. Which is why I am so glad to be returning to a dayjob once more. I am not sure that I can spend another day with myself.

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Good Counsel

The fact that my paper on free speech was both 1/8 complete and 7/8 incomplete was giving me heartburn. I wanted to start it so that I could complete it. I hated to start it because it was so galactically far from completion.

I woke up this morning and read every webblog and online profile of everyone with whom I have ever attended school. I made some tea and organized my workspace, and then I sat and read a few Supreme Court cases. Then, I read them again. I put on a CD and feigned the need for inspiration. I read the Supreme Court cases and regretted the fact that the CD was both distracting me, and that the CD player was galactically far from my now immaculate workspace.

I called the Good Counselor. “Pop, I have a homework question.”

The Good Counselor is handy when one has to write a paper on free speech, particularly in light of historic Supreme Court cases.

I explained my thesis and how I had to reword it, but that I didn’t have the words quite for the rewording.

“What is the stare decisis?” he asked.

I looked at my workspace and it seemed a laboratory for a mad professor. I twirled in my swivel chair and sighed.

“Stare du-what?”

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I can be reached by e-mail at kendratheadverb at gmail dot com.

You can also leave me a message in lipstick on the mirror in my bathroom.


Update list and P.O. Box coming soon!

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