Day 1: And Just Who the Heck Are YOU?

I am unemployed.

I am unemployed and sitting on my couch, in our new Denver apartment for about the 20th day in a row.

I feel about a joint away from the guys on Knocked Up or the main character in Forgetting Sarah Marshall when he starts enacting scenes from movies to entertain himself. I am starting this blog mainly to keep from becoming like Esther in Sylvia Plath's THE BELL JAR. Because I'm getting close.

Now, a bit about myself, just for reference. I am 27. I am in a relationship, and my significant other (what is the best term for this, really? I think there should just be one, and everyone should have to use it...like "novio/a" in Spanish, which means fiance but has nothing to do with being engaged) is in first-year med school, which makes me feel like an even bigger slacker. He spends his days studying to save the world. I sit on the couch and write into a potential void. We have a dog, Bela. He's a cute munchkinface of a Wheaten Terror. He keeps me sane these days, because often the only time I talk from 9-5 is to say, "Bela, no, drop it" in my serious voice.

I have two college degrees, both in equally unemployable fields--history and music. I got the first degree, because I couldn't decide on one (I had changed about 5 times), and I only had a year left before I was supposed to graduate. So I completed all of the required courses in two summers and an eyes-bloodshot-from-reading-so-much year. In some act of luck, I was elected by the history faculty as "History Graduate of the Year" from a pool of 5 graduates in the department with the highest GPAs out of 200 or so students. Even though it was true I had done well for myself, presenting papers at conferences and helping with grading as an undergrad, I wondered if I was there mostly by charm. After all, I received a C+ in Problems of Peace and Security, only because my professor pitied the fact that I forgot to answer one of the essays on the final and let me do some extra credit. That doesn't seem like HGY behavior. I spoke at graduation and cried through the whole thing, recounting all of my beautiful memories from various conferences, yada, yada. It was embarrassing.

But I really thought doors would open for me at that point. Let me rephrase that. I thought I would start opening doors at that point--that I would begin to see a direction for my life. That I would start to take my life seriously and see my potential when I really put my mind to something. It didn't happen.

I got the second degree in music two years later. I have always played the piano, and everyone--Mom, professors, Mom, friends, peers, Mom--thought I should get the degree, so I did. What else was I going to do? I have a good deal amount of talent for the instrument, and I am in love with music. I think that was their reasoning too. But it turns out that music jobs are hard to find. Go figure. And you have to be REALLY good. Or really convinced you are good. I am neither. I am good. So now I have two degrees, both of which I enjoyed pursuing. However, I can't say I'm too appreciative of the choices they've left me after graduation. I'm lost. But on the upside, I know what a harmonic progression is. I can tell you the tenants of Just War Theory and most of the major battles of World War Two. And I can analyze Chopin's first piano concerto. Jack of all trades....

I am from Montana. And yes they, surprisingly to some, have running water there. It is a beautiful, magical place. Maybe someday I will post a picture here for anyone at all to see. But let me attest to the fact that you can be gloomy and lost anywhere. That's why I don't dream of living in Cabo San Lucas. I know I would just be sitting on my couch THERE, watching my dog chase squirrels in his dreams, and writing this post, because I probably wouldn't have a job. Well, I could probably teach English, and likely I'd be sitting on the toilet much more than the couch, but those are neither here nor there.

Now, briefly, the title of my blog. I hate titles. I only come up with them at the last minute, because they are mandatory. I usually do so after I've written, because I'm so bad at them and I can spend 10 minutes thinking of a crappy one when I could otherwise be writing. I ask, "Who has the time?"

But this one seemed to incorporate the things I spend most of my day thinking about. And it is probably what will make it into my blog most of the time. And I think three words with a period after each looks cool. But I'm probably horribly wrong, since I suck at titles.

Fashion. I have a closet that takes up half of a room out of our 2-bedroom apartment. I have close to twenty coats at this point, and an equal proportion of scarves, shoes, blouses, boots, bags, hats, dresses, etc. I am probably not alone in this reality. Despite my expansive closet and attention to fashion detailing, I am under no illusion that I am the most fashionable girl walking down the street. I know how to put things together, but I am a bit predictable. Long tank? Check. Shorter tank to go over it? Check. Jeans? Check. Scarf and boots/flats? Check. Cute blazer? Hell yes. And a variation of that is pretty much what I wear every day. As you can imagine, my tanks take up an entire drawer. I have them in five different shades of green.

I told my boyfriend (is this a better term?) that if I ever go into extreme depression, just hand me a GLAMOUR magazine, and I'll perk right up. It is scary how true this is. I get strange, deep pleasure out of picking out outfits, having discussions about clothes, tearing out fashionable outfits from magazines for inspiration, and watching Sex and the City.

And that leads us nicely into the obsession part. I have a few of those. Sex and the City tops the list. As for the rest of them, you (and I) will learn about them in time. Now, I am not one of those women who thinks (or worse exclaims), "Oh, my girlfriends and I are SOOO like that show. My life is basically just like Sex and the City." I am jealous of those women. I don't really have girlfriends. Sad, I know. Well, I do, but they live all over the country--world, even--and I rarely see them or even talk to them enough for me to say something like "If you don't give him head, how do you expect him to give you head?" (Samantha). No, those conversations are once in a blue moon. I barely have them with my sisters. (We were brought up in a conservative Presbyterian family, after all.) No, I like Sex and the City precisely because it is NOT my life.

I didn't find out about the show until my first year of college at NYU, when I was a scared but precocious little freshman, 30 pounds overweight, with no friends and no boyfriend or lover to speak of. And it was obsession at first watch. It made me feel like I was part of something, that I was friends with those women, as sad as that sounds. That I, too, could be cool and talk like them at least in my imagination.

I haven't had a TV since I was little, so I had to rent the seasons at Blockbuster (since Netflix didn't exist). And I used to be really embarrassed by it. Here I was reading classic novel after intense classic novel, my nose always stuck in a book, only saying enormously serious things in class, getting a 4-point. And what did I watch in my spare time? The History Channel? BBC? The news? No. Sex and the City. While eating a gallon of ice cream.

You will hear lots more about Sex and the City, whether you like it or not, because my relationship with it has evolved into an almost healthy one. Almost. And I'll try to include thoughts about it in each blog. But moving on to love....

This is probably the third reason I love the show so much. (Remind me, what were the first and second? Oh yeah, fashion and friends. And I thought we were moving on....see! Obsession!) There is one episode where Charlotte says, "I have been dating since I was 14. I'm exhausted. Where is he?" And that sums up my entire life until about 7 months ago. At one point in high school, I actually said to my mom that I didn't think I was worth anything if I wasn't in a relationship. I have been engaged three times, two with bona fide rings and wedding dates. Only one with invitations sent out. And I have never been married. You figure it out.

Despite that history, I'm applying for jobs at wedding dress boutiques. A die-hard romantic, I cannot NOT talk about love and relationships. So I'm sure you'll be getting some of that. And that's the beginnings of my blog.

Well, here's to fall, the gloomiest season around, but also the most soulful. Hope you'll be back, I will.