onward and upward!

I just finished my last NFRU household today for the Census.  I didn't love the job, but it gave me some good people experience, like how to have doors slammed in your face, how to deal with reluctant respondents, and how to navigate weird neighborhoods.  Plus I had to practice my Spanish, which was really great.  Hopefully there will be more Spanish opportunities ahead.  I'm searchin....

ahhhh, employment

In the last few weeks more than ever, I'm wishing that I had a standard 40-hr/week job ONLY because it is so hard to prove my earnings without one.  Because I live hand-to-mouth, or at least that's how it appears on paper, I have to compile several different sources in order to justify my meager earnings.  Questions like "attach a recent pay stub," or "take-home monthly earnings" make me sweat because the answers to those questions for me are so long and complicated!

the end of an era

LOST's finale reminds me of some papers I've written: I start out the paper bringing up creative ideas, intriguing back-stories and compelling mysteries for a few pages.  Then I realize I'll have to double or triple the page count in order to satisfactorily answer the questions I've posed, and, being too lazy and probably on my 6th Starbucks doubleshot and 2nd hour of sleep, decide to just go ahead and wrap it up.  I quickly funnel the loose ends into a shitty "well see, you should really think about that and be good humans, and what if it is all a dream, meaning of life blah blah" catch-all ending, and pass out with my head on the desk.  So you see, ABC writers, we're not that different.  My professors were probably just as let down as SEVERAL MILLION VIEWERS are right now.  Not a big deal.

¡Deséame suerte!

Today is officially the day where I start making use of my degree.  I took a job with the U.S. Census, and under "languages spoken" in the application, I entered Spanish, because a) it would help me get the job, and b) I actually do, on some level, speak Spanish.  It is very very entorpecido, rusty, but how am I going to brush up on it again if I don't practice?  This will be the right combination of pressure to perform and not actually mattering too much in order to get me to do it, I think.

ahh, why yes, the real world. nice to see you again

Fast forward about 6 months.  I'm back from Antarctica, jobless and purposeless and living at my mom's.  It sounds really pathetic, but it actually rocks....for now.  I know I should find a job, but my unemployment check just got processed and if the numbers are right, I'll be making almost as much per week NOT WORKING as I was when I worked 50+ hrs/week in Antarctica.  Plus, I don't feel bad collecting unemployment because I already paid into unemployment insurance with my last two jobs.  But, I've been home for three weeks and as much as sleeping in rocks, I feel guilty for having it so easy and while I don't necessarily want to get a job, I feel that I should.  So, I probably will. 

Jaialdi is coming up this summer, as is Josh's weeklong family reunion, so finding a flexible job is probably pretty key.  I don't care if I don't get paid vacation, I just need to be able to take time off when I want.   Time is MUCH more important to me than money (says the girl who has never paid more than $200/mo rent in her life....)

a snapshot of our new zealand trip

“thank you for pulling over!!” Josh waved to a campervan as we streaked through the Alpine Pacific Triangle section of Highway 1. We’re headed to Kaikoura, a beach town two hours North of Christchurch on the coast. We’re driving through what looks suspiciously like the Snake River plain, with arid farmland, foothills, and fields of sheep butts (the sheep’s heads are down to their task of grazing). We just left an area where there were wineries on either side of the highway for miles, and I imagined what it would be like if came back here someday, and could afford any of the attractions of the region-- namely, wine. The last couple of days Josh and I have been staying at the South Brighton Motor Camp, sandwiched between the beach at New Brighton and the estuary of the Avon River, on a wildlife preserve. Motorcamps are pretty interesting institutions.  The closest comparison in the States is an RV park; indeed, there are several motorhomes and hookups and trailers.  But there are also tent sites for rent, in which Josh and I gladly partook.  When you rent a tent site, you also have use of the amenities block, which includes showers, a kitchen and sometimes a pricy internet connection or wireless tokens. 

Kaikoura, in Maori, means "dinner of crayfish," and I'm hoping to feast on some fresh crayfish when we roll into the little beach town this afternoon.

Hung out in Dogtown too long

My Stanley summer is finally coming to an end. Stanley really is a magical place, but if you’re stuck with a shitty job, it takes away your lust for life. I know i’m being really melodramatic about it, and part of it is that I’ve always only had freelance or part-time summer jobs, never a real 9-to-5er (or in this case, a 6:30-2:30er). A huge part of Stanley is socializing in the bars at night, meeting new people, planning adventures, listening to country music, and occasionally drinking (resort towns are far too expensive to get drunk at the bar every night.) I missed out on that part of it, partly because I felt bad that Josh couldn’t go, but mostly because my body and mind were so tired from waiting on 200 people that day that I just wanted to go home and sleep. I might come back here again, because it’s a great place, but I definitely wouldn’t hire on to the Swillage again. It’s far too hectic for what it was, and if I’m in Stanley, I’m gonna enjoy it, goddamn it.

I’m now entering a brief liminal period filled with gear shopping, trying on boots, buying long underwear, reviewing itineraries, and entering the long wave-train of paperwork, Raytheon orientations, and flight-layover-flight-layover-flight-layover-ICE-type schedules. Then it will be a new chapter of my life, filled with hard labor, endless days (literally, the sun doesn’t set), and bitter, bitter cold. I’m pumped!