I’M BORED. And not just because I’m poor and jobless and I spend my days in the public library sneaking in food and beverages. (I often have the librarians chastise me for eating in the stacks).

I’m bored because I’m tired of living my life the way I’m currently living it.  Apply for Job. Wait for a response. Check my twitter and Google Reader. Repeat.

By the way, this is the last whiny post about how tired I am of being jobless and poor.  I’ll probably still write about the job search, but I promise not be so f-ing whiny. I’M tired of listening to me whine. I’ve got to gain perspective in my life. I need to redefine my goals. I need to seriously think about my life’s direction. I have to get myself together.

I always get excited when I stumble upon a really great person who seems to have taken live by the balls and SQUEEZED. I want to squeeze life by the balls.  I want to use my superpower, dammit.

I wanna DO something.

And then I think about all the things I could and, dammit, SHOULD be doing to fully start working for myself and then I come up with 5 billion reasons why I can’t do all the things I should be doing. And it’s stupid because I’ve done stuff that is way harder…. WTF is my problem?

Hence the “getting myself together” that I spoke of a few sentences ago.

Question 1. Why is it is so hard to move from “starting” to “doing”?

Maybe it’s time for an online to-do list, with you guys (yes, that means you) to keep me accountable, huh?

***

Everyone morning I look at my very beautiful Vision Board and I sigh. It makes me sad to even look at it.

Why? Because I remember the idealistic Monica that carefully and lovingly put the Vision Board together this Spring. (it’s so gosh darn PRETTY!!) And I remember the hot and sweaty Monica, who, this summer, after packing her car to move to Atlanta, scrambled to find a place for said vision board. (I didn’t want to wrinkle or, God forbid, tear any of it)

Now the vision board, my clothes, computer, and 20 books that I couldn’t live without are setting in Atlanta.  I’ve found a prominent place to display it where I can see it often through the day. But all I feel when I look at it is sadness. Not happiness, not joy, not hope, not even pride that I put together something so lovely. I feel sad. And Duped.

I was in a very hopeful state of mind when I put together my vision board. I thought about everything I wanted. (Yes, the words FABULOUS and FAMOUS can be found on my board.  Along with HEALTHY and SAFE and SUCCESSFUL, and my core values) I imagined my dream life ( not so farfetched that it’s unattainable) and I tacked it on my board. I put everything on it. The cities I want to live (no, Atlanta is not on it), the jobs I’ve really want it (and subsequently been rejected for), my business (that I’ve procrastinated starting) and my desire to rule to free world (what? I’ve been planning that one for YEARS)

Every day I look at my vision board with a heavy heart and I want to kick it and hit it and break it into a million little corkboard pieces. The GF says that I should calm down. I’ve only been here for a week, she says. It’s not my fault that all the jobs I’ve interviewed for don’t want to hire anyone until August, she says. Something good will happen, she says. Have a drink, she says.

We disagree on the point of the vison board. She says that the purpose of the vision board is to keep me focused on my goals.  I thought the vision board was to help me manifest my future. Which it ain’t doing.

Question 2. Who is right? Me or the GF?

Question 3. Why is it that everyone else can be optimistic about my future except me?

I had a conversation with my mother today.  She asked me how I was doing.  My new stock answer: Still poor and jobless.

I swear if she’d been in the room with me, she would have smacked me in the head and told me to snap out of it.

Instead, in her best “everything will be ok” voice, she proceeds to tell me that everything will work out. She reiterated the GF, that I’ve only been here for a week, that I’m smart and capable, that God wouldn’t put anything on me that I couldn’t handle.

Then she goes into her “you listen here, missy” voice and tells me that I am not to start doubting, I have to believe in myself. I can’t even use adverbs: maybe, probably, and hopefully can no longer be a part of my vocabulary. Over and over, using different words, she says

Something good is going to happen. I just know it.

I’m trying to believe mama, I’m trying.

Over the past few days I’ve realized that I’m back on my “depression sleep cycle”.  Bed after midnight, sleep til 10am.  Yawn all day….eat junk….mope around.

During the hours when I am, what passes for awake, I trudge from restaurant to restaurant from temp agency to temp agency putting on my happy face, and telling them all why I would be just AWESOME as a hostess, bartender, server, administrative assistant, call center rep……and all I REALLY want to do is cry.

This is not my life.  At least, this is not the life I wanted/dreamed of/expected.  I mean, when I finish writing this post, I’m going down to the local CVS to apply for a job as a cashier.

And to think. I actually WENT to college. TWICE.

At night when I’m waiting (usually in vain) for my eyes to close and sleep to overtake me, I run through my mind all the people I need to email, all the staffing companies I still need to get to, all the cute little restaurants that I should drop by, and ask the Universe, God, whatever you want to call the higher being that keeps the world turning…… When will it end? When will I hit rock bottom?

I am beginning to believe that it is only when I am on the brink of a nervous breakdown, all my optimism is gone, and I have no other options that whatever breakthrough I’m supposed to have will happen.  I’ll have a moment of clarity, and the path I’m supposed to take will be clear, and I’l stop feeling like a fish out of water.

And I think it’s close.

Everyone must know something about me that I am currently unaware of.  For the past year I’ve had co-workers, professors, counselors, friends, mentors, Jenny, new people that I’ve met and the GF all tell me the same thing. 

Monica, you’re awesome and successful. 

Every time someone tells me that I’m going to be fine and I should stop worrying about not finding a job, part of me doesn’t believe them (even thought I really want to believe them). I’ve worked crazy hard over the past year. I’ve been networking my ass, applying for lots and lots of jobs, going on informational interviews, going to professional conferences, tweaking my resume, building a new website all working towards getting a fucking job. 

Unfortunately, I’m one among 100’s (I know, I harass HR managers) of new graduates, and older experienced displaced workers going after the same very limited job pool.  So my goal has changed, and I’m piecing together a couple of entrepreneurial ventures with my friends and classmates.  And I’m really excited about them.  But I’m rather scared shitless. 

When I tell folks about the consulting and the promotions and the party planning, they tend to get really excited. And the more excited they get the more scared I get. 

What if I fuck it up?  What if I’m not as awesome as everyone thinks I am? 

Tonight I finally asked the GF why she keeps telling me that I’m going to be fine.  She said the proof is in the pudding. Over and over, she said, she’s seen me make something out of nothing.  She’s seen me hustle.  

She said, 

I would trust you to make a great cake because I’ve seen you make cakes and I’ve tasted your cake in the past so I don’t worry about your capacity to make good cake in the future. 

I make good cake, huh? 

I giggled at her metaphors (all food related, since we’re dieting), but I think she’s on the money. 

I am a diva (which is the female version of a hustler).  I’m seriously not going to be left penniless, homeless and hungry. I have always had a plan.  And I bought a domain name just in case. I go through my school notes, and they are filled with business plans, and funding sources, and potential partners. And I built a beautiful vision board with all my goals on it, and you can’t go wrong with a vision board.  I’m thinking about tumblring my vision board so you guys can see. It’s SO awesome, and I love it. 

I’m still scared shitless, but I’m not letting my fear stop me from moving forward.  In fact, I think my fear propels me forward.  

When my mama says she’s praying and my bosses tell me I’m great, and I interview with managers who tell me that they wish they had the money to hire me (but they don’t and they can’t), and the GF tells me that she’s not riding my anxiety train…… 

I’m going to take a deep breath.  I’m going to smile.  I’m going to nod and agree with them.  Then I’m going to double time it with my business ventures so that I don’t let all these wonderful people down. 

How do you deal with fear and insecurity?

This economy is crappy.  It’s March and I don’t have a job yet.

This is not the way I envisioned my life 3 months before graduation.  I sincerely thought I would AT LEAST have some serious leads about jobs.

But nope, it’s like 2003 all over again. I’m graduating and there are no jobs to be had.

I came to graduate school to advance my career.  But instead, I feel like I’m going to be stuck in a job like the one I left, or worse, completely jobless. Both which would suck in so many ways.

And I can’t stop asking myself, “What was the point?” Don’t get me wrong. I have gotten so much from graduate school. The much needed friendships and the sense of purpose that I’ve forged over the past two years are priceless. But when I look at my job prospects, I think I may have slid down the career ladder, instead of skipping up a few notches.

If I can’t get ahead in my career, then MPA School was 2 years of fun on the playground.

I spend hours a day looking at job announcements, applying for jobs, and working on my network. Wanna know what I get for my trouble? A growing stack of rejection letters.

And today I overheard a professor saying that my class shouldn’t expect to have jobs by May.  She said that December was a more realistic goal.

WHAT?!?!

Who has the time, patience, and most importantly, money to be jobless for an extended period of time?  I don’t even think we qualify for unemployment, since we haven’t been fired.

And who has the sanity to deal with the constant barrage of, “We’re sorry, but you’re just not good enough for this organization.”

I get so freaked out thinking about not having a job that I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.

I’m using my Spring Break to go out to California, and knock on some doors.

Basically the thought of being jobless is SO SCARY that it trumps the fear of traveling to Cali alone (which I’ve never done).  It trumps the fear and tediousness of setting up blind informational interviews (without letting secretaries transfer me to HR).  It trumps the fear of potentially getting thrown out of a whole list of city managers’ offices and pissing someone off. It trumps the fear of being foolish getting laughed out of town. It trumps the fear of cornering the mayor of San Francisco (it is on my itinerary) and convincing him that he NEEDS me on his staff.

The fear of not getting what I want (my dream job) is so strong that it gives me the strength to do other things that would otherwise make me nervous and sweaty.  I’d rather go and fail than not try at all.

I think the odds are in my favor, however.  When I think about the past few jobs I’ve had, this approach has served me well.  My past successes have been during those times where I’ve walked up to someone (literally) and told them why they needed to hire me (and not the dozens of applications that I’d completed).

I had someone who I think is REALLY f-ing smart remind me earlier this week, when I was in the midst of a breakdown, that good things tend to happen to me.  She told me to calm down, regroup and make a plan.  She, and others, keep telling me that it’s still early and I shouldn’t be worried about not finding a job.

Unfortunately, my worry just can’t be turned off. But I did regroup, get myself together, and make a plan.

On Sunday, off I go to California.

To take control of my future, and guerilla my way into a job.

I learned something new about myself as I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom, as blog ideas, paper ideas, half finished conversations, life questions and my to-do list swirled through my head.

Some people have muscle tension when their stressed. Some people go blind. Some people get irritable. Some people lose their libido. And some people eat or cry.

I get insomnia. And headaches. And I eat crapily.

As I started thinking about the times that I have had insomnia (and the other symptoms) in the past, I began to see a pattern.

I had insomnia for the entirety of hell year. I would go to bed around 9:30 pm. Lie awake looking at the ceiling, worrying about the bad ass kids I was supposed to teach. Finally, doze off about 3 or 4 am, and wake up at 5:30 to go to work.

At work I would go hide in the teacher’s lounge and cat nap in the bathroom (on the floor) or I would fall asleep during small reading group when the kids would read to me.

After work, I would spend 2 hours at the gym, go home, have dinner, have a couple of glasses of wine, take a sleeping pill (or three) and go to bed.  Then I would start the cycle all over again.

**shudder**

Four years ago, I started a new job, that I loved and for most of my employment there I took children’s Benadryl at night to help me fall asleep.

When I was studying for the GRE and LSAT 2 years ago, all the benadryl in the world couldn’t help me sleep the whole night through.

Every time I go visit the GF in Atlanta, the first night there is always spend restlessly calming down after the 6 hour drive.

You see, Stressd Moni = No Sleep

So a few weeks ago, the headaches started.  I thought it was the holidays. Or the constant NC-GA traveling. Or the crazy weather we were having . Or the GF.

Then I found myself staying awake until 2 am or later.  I thought it was because I was sleeping with the TV on (*cough*, gf’s fault) or because I was working on my capstone, or I was writing or tweeting or because of one thing or another.

But lately, things have gotten worse.   Even when I try to go to sleep “early”, at let’s say 1 am, I still find myself restless and screaming into my pillow.  I usually doze off at about 4 am.

Then morning comes and I drag my aching head out of the bed and into the kitchen, where I find that all I have to eat is canned soup, oatmeal, chocolate cake and popcorn (just slight exaggeration) because I haven’t been to the grocery in weeks.  So I eat chocolate cake (sans milk) for breakfast/lunch and get to work.

And I sit in front of the computer all day.  I’m working on my capstone, which this week means I’m data mining email addresses from downtown development authority websites.   Very tedious and mindless.

So mindless, that hours pass before I realize that all I’ve had to eat all day is chocolate cake. So I go back into the kitchen, get discouraged and eat some popcorn.

And go back to work.

Pathetic, sure. Stressful? Not really.

So what is my problem?

Then I remember my pattern. Not eating well, Not sleeping well, constant headaches.  Hhhmmmm. Sounds like stress.

But Monica, you’re still on vacation, the semester hasn’t even started, and your capstone is coming along. What do you have to be stressed about?

At some point, I’ve learned to live at a high anxiety level.  So, even when things are good, I CREATE stress. Or the perception of stress.  And if there is a little stress, I make it BIGGER. And if there is big stress, then oh boy!

I’m crazy. *sigh*

So, when I realized today that maybe the insomnia and heaviness that I’ve been feeling is stress related and not emotional or hormonal or a symptom of the coming full moon, I started evaluating my life and my stressors.

Know what I found?

Not stress. Not worry. Not really fear.

I found EXCITEMENT.

I am so CRUNK about this semester. My class schedule is amazing!

I have so many IDEAS. A new blog, short story characters, capstone stuff and business ideas have all taken up residence in my brain.

I will be starting a new employment opportunity soon.

I’ve set up lessons with a swim coach!

I bought a book that will help me create healthy meal plans!

I graduate in MAY and will be moving SOMEWHERE fabulous.

I’m finding direction in my life and I’m happy with where it’s going.

Even the things that scare me sh*tless like my classes or my capstone are contributing to the feeling of accomplishment and excitement and you-can do-it ness that I’m feeling.

I’m beginning to believe that stress doesn’t have to be bad. Stress (and it’s alter ego, excitement) can give us energy, and get our adrenaline pumping.

I’m glad I have been able to see that I’m excited (which is good), rather than worried or scared (which would be bad.)  I can use this excitement to get me through the next 6 months and make sure I get all my sh*t done on time.

I should probably stay up until 4 and get everything OUT of my head since I’m going to be awake anyway.

And when my body is ready to calm down, it will.

On December 13, 1981 a star was born.

That was real dramatic wasn’t it?  But it’s true. On that date, around 7 pm, according to my mama, a new (or fairly new) person entered this world.  I say fairly new because I’m not convinced that reincarnation isn’t real. I mean, how else to you explain deja vu or how some things (and some people) almost immediately feel like home? It’s because we’ve been here before and we’ve been sent back here to get things right this time (or just do a better job, at least).

What does it mean, to get things right? To me, it means fulfilling a purpose.  I’ve been thinking a lot about my purpose this week, partially because most days don’t go by without me thinking about what the hell I’m supposed to be doing. But it has been more heavily on my mind this week. And I’m blaming my mother for this too. (Most things are her fault, anyway, right?)

She says to me (on my birthday), “You are special. You have always been special. You have a calling on your life. I don’t know if you are supposed to preach (her wish for me) or if you are supposed to help people in some other way, but your life has a purpose, you have a mission.”

After I picked my damn mouth up off the floor, I stuttered my agreed. Yes, I said, I’m supposed to help people, and I went on to ask, “And since you are prophesying-why don’t you just tell me HOW I’m supposed to help people, I know the WHAT (sort of) but I’m stuck on the HOW.”

Of course, she didn’t have that answer. And yes, my mother is, like, crazy ya-ya spiritual. I just go with it; there is NO WAY to explain it. So when she starts telling me a dream that she had about me (that mirrored something that actually happened in my life) or when she says I’m “called” to do something, I take that sh*t seriously. She’s just that connected to whatever higher power is pulling the strings (or she’s crazy).

Either way, She’s right. I’m here on purpose. My birth was no accident. I have something to do that no one else could do. Now, if someone could just TELL MY WHAT MY PURPOSE IS!!!!!!!

Well, I’ve decided that 27 is a good enough age to figure that sh*t out. And it’s time for me to embrace whatever the hell I’m supposed to be.

I’m excited about being 27. Isn’t 27 the BEST age? It’s not like 24 where you are still too young, in most cases, to be taken seriously, or like 35 when you are too old to “drop it like it’s hot” or some other thing that 30+ people don’t do.

But at 27 I’m old enough to prove that I’ve been around the block and I know what the hell I’m talking about, but I’m still young enough to get a tattoo without having folks roll their eyes.

So I’m excited about 2009 and I’m looking forward to all that I will accomplish during my 27^th year!

I’m going to go ahead, letting the Universe know that I’m expecting this year to be moniceriffic (or monicalicious, or monicawesome (either will do).

I think I’ve mentioned at least once or twice how I love my job at the Chamber of Commerce. I’ve learned a lot since I started working there. I’ve learned so much; about myself, the kind of job I want in the future, and about the kinds of work I want to do. (An ode to why I love the Chamber is in the works, just not for today.)

Last week, I approached my boss to ask for the week between X-mas and News Year’s off.  And was informed that my services would not be needed after Wednesday. This coming Wednesday.  Sadness (and panic), ensues.

I mean my boss was is awesome.  He made sure I understood why I’m being laid off. I’mbeing laid off because they can’t afford me, not because I suck as an employee.  He even said that I rock as an employee and he wishes he could keep me and he’s being talking me up to folks who may be in a position to hire me.

I can’t believe that I’m being LAID OFF, this is so weird.

Why I’m being laid off (a longer version):

You see, the Chamber of Commerce is a membership organization.  Their members are local area businesses. And in a recession, businesses make less money.  All the businesses, regardless of whether they are professional services, restaurants, retailers, bars, or financial institutions when they make less money, they cut stuff to preserve the bottom line.   And some (I don’t know how many, exactly) of the Chamber’s members are not renewing their dues. I know the real estate and development community has been hit pretty hard.

As the Chamber’s members tighten their belts, the Chamber has to tighten theirs. And the intern budget disappears.

So I’m jobless. And not because I did anything wrong. Which makes it so much easier and happier (you can tell by my use of flowers and smiley faces and exclamation points, how much I mean this)

How the hell did I not see this coming???

But I didn’t see it coming. All this time, I’ve been making fun of the Big 3 and how they failed to innovate or do ANYTHING really.

And I’ve been scratching my head about the financial crisis and have shaken my head in disgust in my policy class when we would learn about the greed of Wall Street investors and am incredulous that they could do the sh*t they’ve done and still be holding their hands out.

I still haven’t figured out what the fu*k is the problem with the banks and why the hell can’t they just LEND money.

I’ve rolled my eyes at folks who made bad mortgages decisions. I mean, when I was looking for a home at age 24 I knew enough not to get into a ARM or a Balloon or a variable rate mortgage, so how are all these other people stupid enough to fall for it?

Well, I’ve heard the Chamber’s Executive Director talk about how next year will be the hardest year for the Chamber, who over the past 10 years has experienced double digit growth, but for the first time ever will be facing a cut.

But I didn’t know that meant that I’d be history.

Basically, I was stupid.  I thought that if I did more than my job, took initiative (asked for more work), and stayed visible and engaged, I’d have a job as long as I wanted it.

I was wrong. Sometimes when you do everything right sh*t still happens. And since I’m the low man on the totem pole, I shouldn’t be surprised that I happened to me.

It is fu*king hard out there for a pimp. (and I should know, as I am a pimp)

And the more I’ve thought about it today, even as I made a list of all the organizations in the area that I’ve like to work for the next semester, places I’m going to call right after the holiday break, I realized that probably every one of those organizations is going through a hard time. And as organizations slash millions from their budgets I KNOW that hiring me is going to be a hard sell.

Then I read this offer on Havi’s blog today and it seemed like a dream.  So I applied. And while I didn’t get the offer, it has given me another angle with which to approach my next move. And it gave me hope that work does exist. And I mean work from anywhere in the world kind of work, which would be awesome.

I mean, I’ve been toying with the whole freelance copywriting idea since the summer, and even talked to Naomi about it. But I never followed up or through.

So I’m developing my pitch, which will highlight the fact that hiring me as a contract working is WAY cheaper than hiring a full time employee, the fact that I can research and write, and the fact that I know all the local players.  And one of my favorite local news sources has even mentioned the fact that I’m hirable.  And that gives me hope.

And Kelly gave me a whole list of sites that I can use, in addition to what Naomi gave me, to start seriously start copywriting. And I starting feeling a little better. A little more hopeful.

And I talked to the gf and shared my fears about never getting a job (now or before May) because this is like a replay of 2003 right after Bush bombed Iraq and all the job leads I had dried up (I wanted to be an au pair in France, but after the bombs fell and the whole freedom fries thing, French parents started specifying English, from England au pairs, not American English-speaking girls.)  That’s right the Spring of 2003 was the pre-cursor to Hell Year!!

And when I think about that I get nervous and I start to sweat and I get paralyzed and unable to do ANYTHING. Then the gf tells me that she believes in me, enough even, that I don’t have to believe in myself today. And that gives me LOTS of hope, because she’s pretty smart, and she wouldn’t have faith in me if I were a complete loser.

To all my fellow low men on the totem pole, I wish I had something uplifting and spiritual and sh*t to share with you to make you feel that your job is not  in danger.

Sorry, I can’t say that.

But I can say that even if the complete bottom falls out. I am NOT too proud to work at Target. I am NOT too proud to bus tables. I am NOT too proud to work at the mall. (and neither should you be)

But I don’t really want to work at any of those places (and neither do you). What I do want to do is convince organizations that they need my skills (even if they don’t necessary have the budget for staff) and that hiring me to work on projects saves them time and money, and helps them to check small-ish projects off their to-do list.

So I’m still tackling the list of organizations that I made earlier today, I’m just refining the way I talk to them. And I’m no longer panicked. I have a plan. A plan that I probably should have BEEN working on, anyway.

How are you recession-proofing your job?

I am the oldest of four children.  Luckily, my mother gave birth to excellence all four times. We are smart, beautiful, gifted, funny and one day we will rule the world.

While I do believe the genes worked in my favor in a lot of ways, there is at least one way that my siblings are better than me.

My brother and sisters have awesome fashion sense.

And I don’t.

This comes to my attention every time I look at my youngest sister.  This woman is 18 and she dresses beautifully. She always looks well put together (even when she’s wearing sweatpants and t-shirts).  It is so not fair.  And my brother, goodness, this boy makes jeans and polos look as good as anything I’ve ever seen. They can wear colors and shapes and style and so many things that make me look dumpy and old. Or too young and fat.  Either way, my babies always look great, and I often look a step-child. And they are quick to point out all the fashion mistakes I make.

Well, this year I made a decision.  I am an adult andI need to dress like an adult. And just any old adult. I need to be hot, sexy, (but professional) lady.  I need to be a bombshell at all times.  I need walk into a room and hear my theme music.  [It is Dancing Queen, btw]

I need confidence.

I think better clothes will give me more confidence.

Furthermore, I’m in transition. I’m about to start the last semester of MPA school.  I’m going to going on interviews soon. I’m moving across the country. I’m starting a new life.   I am an adult, I should look like one. And I need to feel good about myself.  Now. Not just when I lose 20 pounds.

I’m growing up, and creating my personal style. Most importantly, my outside needs to match my inside, which we all know is peaches and cream, sugar and spice, super cool and awesomeness.

So this year, when my mother took me out for our customary “its your birthday, let’s buy clothes” shopping extravaganza, I made my super awesome, fashionista sister come with. And I made her give me lessons on putting outfits together. She had some good things to say:

• Make sure that shirts are long enough, so that you aren’t fidgeting with a too-short shirt
• Pants, likewise, should be long (my sis is tall and thinks highwaters are the devil)
• Stick to colors that are easy to match (but don’t get stuck)
• Take risks and don’t be afraid to try new things
• Love accessories (belts, necklaces, earrings, etc)
• Layer- camisoles and cardigans are your friend
• Buy clothes that fit (not too tight or you look skanky, but not so big that you look like a balloon)
• Create a long leansilhouette (no bulges)
• Be comfortable

This shopping trip was fun. For the first time, i didn’t fret that all the trendy jean styles didn’t look good.  I didn’t buy pants thinking, well, when I lose weight it’ll look  better. And I wasn’t in charge of finding my sizes (my sister was).

[Aside: This girl is a Economic major, but I swear she should be an image consultant. I'd PAY her for her insight, or to just go shopping and bring the clothes to me.]

I bought clothes that fit well and made me look more awesome than usual. And I’m really f-ing happy with my purchases.

Granted, some things never change so most of my new clothes are black, gray and red (I bet 80% of my closet consist of those colors). But wait, i bought a green cardigan and I bought something purple.   I also bought a few items that I normally wouldn’t wear, like buttondown shirts and hip hugging sweaters. AND I bought one of those wide belts that is supposed to accentuate my figure, and  long pants that fit. (no muffintop or highwaters for me, lol).

But since my birthday isn’t until Dec. 13 (that’s right, Saturday!!!!) I can’t wear my beautiful new clothes until then. BOO!   However, my lovely gf is taking out for fabulous dinner, and I’m looking forward to getting dressed up in my  new birthday clothes!

I had three really great conversations with cool, intelligent people over the course of 48 hours. And the topic of conversation?  ME!

This is what I learned from those conversations:

>>I am under tremendous pressure. Not because of deadlines, and papers and graduating from MPA School, however. I am under increasingly large amounts of pressure because I care too damn much about what other people think of me. Large amounts of my time is wasted because I am wondering, thinking, stressing over what this or that person is thinking about my decisions, my words, my life. I’ve called myself a chameleon for years, it is only now that I realize that this is not a compliment.  My chameleon behavior has caused me to wonder “Who the hell am I, really?” Because I’m someone different for everybody.

This is a problem, but I have no one to blame but myself.

>>I have carried friends and loved ones on my back, making sure that their lives ran smoothly, fixing their problems, being a sounding board but in the meantime I forgot about little ol’ me.  Who the f*ck takes care of me?  Instead of advocating on my own behalf, I have been more likely to work for the best interest of others. I ask, What works for you? What do you need? What will make you happy? Never once stopping to ask myself, What the f*ck do you want, Monica?

This behavior must cease and desist.

>>I say bad things about myself all the time. Regardless of all the great things I do on a daily. Despite all the awesomeness that seeps from my pores on the pages of this blog.   I often have feeling of unworthiness, inadequacy (this would be worse if I were a man, hee hee), I dwell on my shortcomings, my mistakes, regrets, etc. In short, I am never good enough (in my own mind).

And that is just plain wrong! I am so cool.

How do I know? Everyone tells me so .

Seriously, I have NEVER given myself a reason not to believe in my coolness. I always bring it. I rock. (Even as I say it, I don’t know why I have such a hard time believing it.)

I have to unwind my negative tape. And put in a better more positive tape (thanks for that visual, gf!) And give myself a daily pep talk.

>>My life is better when I’m spontaneous. And flying by the seat of my pants.  When I make a decision quickly, I’m a happy camper.  If I have time to stress, agonize, and worry about a problem, then I stress and worry, then make the decision anyway, but at the end I have a decision and an ulcer.

My need for spontaneity may explain why procrastination works so well for me. The last minute allows me to do what I need to do.  Then I release the decision, project, problem into the Universe, and I don’t have to worry about it anymore.  When I have too much time to work on a project, I end up stressing over it, and waiting til the last minute anyway.

>>I’m a rule breaker. I like to do things my way. I don’t like to walk single file. I don’t like to follow the speed limit. I don’t follow directions well. I will do stupid stuff sometimes just to see if I can get away with it.

But you know what? For 26 mutha f-ing years, I have done NOTHING but follow the rules and do what everyone expected of me.

And I’m over it.

I have been having a reoccurring NIGHTMARE for at least 3 years, where I’m suffocating and no one will help me, even when I scream my little head off.  Tuesday, someone that I pay to listen to me said something along the line of ” Well, if you’d let her out of her cage more often she wouldn’t try to kill you.”

She didn’t really say that. But she should have.

What she did say was that I am all I need and I am good enough. And when I free myself from the pressure of being PERFECT then I’ll stop suffocating. And when I truly understand and believe in myself, my super scary nightmare will go away. Because the real Monica is ready to stand up.

Intellectually I get all this. I see how all these horrible bad habits make my life harder and miserable. But old habits are hard to break. Will people still love me if I start caring for myself more than them? I sure hope so, but that is not the point here.

The point is that I’m learning, slowly but surely how to get back to me (for the first time, ever).

And I love my gf, ’cause she lets me be a complete teary mess and she listens to me.  She reminded me (and I didn’t even have to pay her for this nugget of wisdom) of all the things I’ve done over the past 18 months where I did what I wanted instead of what EVERYONE else expected.

• I broke up with my fiancé- who is a great guy, btw (just not for me)
• I started dating a woman
• I told my family that I’m dating a woman
• I moved out on my own
• I started graduate school
• I’m taking a hodge podge of non-finance/budget classes
• I’m moving far far away from here

And these are all things that make me happy. And I don’t care what you other f*ckers think!