I completely forgot to do a post about my new found employment. Actually, since being fired from the Retail Booty Hole, I have acquired 2 jobs. In November of last year, I was hired by a smaller retail store, and I started there the day before Thanksgiving. (If I ever said "never" regarding retail, I either lied or greatly underestimated the need for Christmas cash.) I was hired by the local school system to be a substitute teacher also. I started doing that a couple of weeks ago.
I'm really not sure what the future holds for me. Are ANY of us??? I wiled away the better part of my 42 years dreaming of being a supermodel. I mean seriously, I wanted that like people want air to breathe....Only they made it happen; they're breathing, but I ain't modeling. Now I'm like a high school senior wondering what to do with my life. The difference is that I don't have that kind of time. When I was in high school, we had to make a collage about what we wanted to be when we grew up. I made mine using pics from the collection of fashion and teen magazines I had amassed over the years, and I didn't half-step with that shit. My collage was TIGHT. After class, I overheard this chick all UPSET because I picked fashion model for my project, like there's only room for one on a runway or something. CHILD, BYE.
Maybe she was jealous because at 5'9", I actually met the high fashion model height requirement, whereas she was like 5'1". (I grew another inch by graduation, so there's that.) I can still see and hear her now: "If she can be a model, I know I can!" Oh, and there were other instances of snickers and snarky comments when I said I wanted to be a model. I wanted that shit to stop. I enjoyed watching the local news back then because I had a massive crush on the sports guy. (I don't know what it was about sports guys back then. They were to me what rock-n-roll front men were to groupies. Go figure.) One night while watching the news, I decided if any teachers ever asked again what we wanted to be when we grew up, I'd say a news anchor. Nobody would laugh at that....and they didn't. As a matter of fact, my 10th grade English teacher suggested a great college with an awesome journalism department. That's how I attended the college I did, majored in broadcast journalism, discovered that I am a pretty decent writer, then decided I didn't want to wind up being sent to some war-torn country and killed as I field reported my way up to the anchor desk, did a radio internship instead and got a job at a local radio station a couple of weeks before college graduation that I got bored with, and got a job working at the Retail Shitter for 15 years that I got fired from in August...In the house that Jack built.
So, I suppose I've come full circle because NOW I'm telling people that I have decided I want to be an elementary school teacher. You didn't really think that I was telling people that I want to move to NYC and make history as the oldest woman to break into the modeling biz and find success, did you? I mean teaching wouldn't be so bad. I love kids. I just really don't feel like that's what I was meant to do. It is only here that I can confess that I am a bundle of nerves everyday hoping my phone won't ring for a substitute teaching job. When I am called, I go, but I'm spinning my wheels there just as much as I am in retail even though I do enjoy being around kids a helluva lot more than grown folks who want haggle over already dirt cheap prices and old men who hit on me on senior citizen's Wednesday.
I just want to be happy, and I'm not. I'm not miserable like I had been less than a year ago, but if I'm not careful, I'm going to wind up that way again. If I can't model--and it's quite possible that I can't--I would like to write short fiction. That's what I love to read; I am an absolute bibliophile. I want to bring readers the same joy that so many writers have brought me. When fans ask Stephen King how to become a writer, and he replies, "Just write," he is absolutely correct. I suppose he also knows the feeling of hating what you've put on paper. After all, his wife rescued "Carrie" from the garbage. I've never had any writing I trashed rescued from the garbage, but I remember it, and it really wasn't worth saving anyway. However, we do need to have a moment of silence for all of the awesome, fanciful ideas that have passed through my head that I DIDN'T put on paper. UGH.
Oh! I haven't given much detail about the retail gig. It's a very small company; I have always said that this particular store was a step above Goodwill. They sell refurbished electronics, flawed/out-of-season/overstock clothing from other retailers*, a small selection of grocery items (YES! We accept EBT, in case you're wondering). The staff is very small, and I am still forced to wear navy blue and khaki, but it is what it is. Strangely enough, one (of a precious few) highlights about working there is the fact they aren't open 24 hours. We close at 9pm every day except Sunday, when we close at 8pm. I love that last hour before closing time when we have to clean the windows and vacuum. I'm not much for scullery work, but in this instance it's symbolic of getting the hell out, and I am all about getting the hell out. I guess I could call the place "Retailtopia", but at 15 hours a week/$7.25 an hour...hm. I do what's asked of me, but "above and beyond the call of duty" ain't happening, and I know that I won't be there 15 years. Screw that. Shellybird is just passing through. Heading where though, I do not know.
I'm really not sure what the future holds for me. Are ANY of us??? I wiled away the better part of my 42 years dreaming of being a supermodel. I mean seriously, I wanted that like people want air to breathe....Only they made it happen; they're breathing, but I ain't modeling. Now I'm like a high school senior wondering what to do with my life. The difference is that I don't have that kind of time. When I was in high school, we had to make a collage about what we wanted to be when we grew up. I made mine using pics from the collection of fashion and teen magazines I had amassed over the years, and I didn't half-step with that shit. My collage was TIGHT. After class, I overheard this chick all UPSET because I picked fashion model for my project, like there's only room for one on a runway or something. CHILD, BYE.
So, I suppose I've come full circle because NOW I'm telling people that I have decided I want to be an elementary school teacher. You didn't really think that I was telling people that I want to move to NYC and make history as the oldest woman to break into the modeling biz and find success, did you? I mean teaching wouldn't be so bad. I love kids. I just really don't feel like that's what I was meant to do. It is only here that I can confess that I am a bundle of nerves everyday hoping my phone won't ring for a substitute teaching job. When I am called, I go, but I'm spinning my wheels there just as much as I am in retail even though I do enjoy being around kids a helluva lot more than grown folks who want haggle over already dirt cheap prices and old men who hit on me on senior citizen's Wednesday.
I just want to be happy, and I'm not. I'm not miserable like I had been less than a year ago, but if I'm not careful, I'm going to wind up that way again. If I can't model--and it's quite possible that I can't--I would like to write short fiction. That's what I love to read; I am an absolute bibliophile. I want to bring readers the same joy that so many writers have brought me. When fans ask Stephen King how to become a writer, and he replies, "Just write," he is absolutely correct. I suppose he also knows the feeling of hating what you've put on paper. After all, his wife rescued "Carrie" from the garbage. I've never had any writing I trashed rescued from the garbage, but I remember it, and it really wasn't worth saving anyway. However, we do need to have a moment of silence for all of the awesome, fanciful ideas that have passed through my head that I DIDN'T put on paper. UGH.
*Don't sleep on flawed/out-of-season/overstock clothing. Y'all ain't cute. I have gotten all kinds of outfits from that store. I may never be a supermodel, but I'll certainly be able to dress like a supermodel's personal assistant.
