After college, I endured a period in my life known as "unemployment." In order to deal with the day to day mind-numbing quality of it all, a good friend of mine informed me that she referred to that period of her life as "funemployment." And it stuck. I spent approximately four months shooting out resumes and cover letters. I interviewed with no idea of what was expected of me. College does not prepare you properly for that aspect of the real world. Sure, it teaches you critical thinking and vastly improved my writing, but interviewing? There was no class on that. There was no class on patience or the best way to spend your days watching every single match in the World Cup on Univision, becoming accustomed to State Farm commercials in Spanish and refusing to watch any of the matches in English. I found the best way involved Maccy, the dog, and a bag of chips. Funemployment is lonely.
When I got this position in Roanoke, I was thrilled. Beyond thrilled - I was getting my foot in the door of nonprofits, I was going to learn the ins and outs of fund development, I had an excuse to live somewhere completely new. It was perfect.
However, now that funemployment part ii looms overhead and another move is in my fairly near future, I'm becoming sentimental. I knew this year had an expiration date. I had no intention of doing a second year in Roanoke, but now it's all starting to hit me. I have to move soon - I have to find a new apartment, a new grocery store, a new hair girl*, a new routine, a new KITCHEN. Ah, the tragedy!
This time last year I was itching for change. Now, a year later, and I'm nervous about it all. OfficeMate and Britannica will no longer be nearby. I won't live in an apartment with well-meaning rednecks who will protect me with their shotguns. I know I'll be fine, but I know my nerves are getting the best of me.
*When I went to get my hair cut last week, I told my hair girl that I was moving and it made me so sad because I love what she does. I feel like I'm breaking up with her, it's tragic. She suggested I fly down every 6-8 weeks from wherever I end up, but I don't think I'm ready for that kind of financial commitment. WHO TELLS THEIR HAIR GIRL THEY'RE SAD THEY HAVE TO LEAVE THEM? She must be relieved I'm leaving.
(image credit to the ever-fantastic Natalie Dee)