Wednesday, August 12, 2009

on being funemployed

Funemployed is not a term I made up. In fact, though it is one of my favorite things etymologically speaking (portmanteaus are my crack), it is a near-stupid thing that does stupid things to my brain.

These things include erasing all sense of proper bedtime. Doesn't matter if the day was full of productive, meticulously planned attack formations laying waste to To Do list items like so many ragtag armies; or loosely planned hours of consuming what the TV on DVD world has to offer me. This chick just don't know when to go to bed when there's nowhere to go at 7 in the AM.

My sister recently got back from a trip to the Dominican Republic. Of all the times she had there, and with all the folks, she was stunned that so many of her fellow travelers were bouncing around the world for indefinite stretches at a time, sort of planning on opening a store someday ("Once I find the right country") or waiting for the right moment to "start a modern-day jugband." Some of my blood boils when I hear about people like this, most likely having their own FUNemployed lives bankrolled by very much EMPLOYED parents, while jokes like me scramble to make rent money on wishes, prayers, and oddjobs. Then the rest of my blood gives a sidelong glance to the boiling blood and wonders when the heck I'll figure out a way to chuck it all and make the world my own personal lazy river ride.

And then my sprightliest blood cell will give its most oxygenated laugh, and reassure its brother and sister blood cells that if ever there is world-traipsing, band-starting, or store-opening, it will come amidst the unfolding of the other wacky plans up my sleeves & arteries.

That is, if I get the sleep to wake and take it all on.

gnight.

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