a brief guide to unemployment

• Don't panic.

If you find yourself jobless on an unexpected Monday afternoon, it's a good idea not to worry about a thing.

The wound is so fresh and startling that you probably don't even need this advice. You'll feel confident that a job will be had by early next week. If it isn't, don't panic then, either.

Remember: there is no way that you can stay unemployed forever, as long as you're looking. A few weeks, months, or even a year are not forever—no matter how they may feel like it.

• Do what needs doing.

You might want to say things. No. Your wife may want to say certain things: to your former employer, to (dangerously) the internet. If you married someone with common sense (or an anxiety complex about self-disclosure), she will hold her tongue in the face of frustration... Although she may write some strongly worded letters she will never send.

It's okay—wise, even—to step back, to let some things slide. You don't need to feel guilty for neglecting the blog. You don't need to tell everyone every sad setback. Choose where and when you tell those stories.

But never stop talking to each other.

If you take care of your little girl during the day so your wife's part-time hours can cover some of the bills, "Daddy" will soon be the first word out of that girl's mouth every morning when she wakes up. She may also ask for bubbles. Or doggie. Which means you are very important indeed.

• Ok, panic. But take turns.

The down days will come. The credit card bills will arrive. It will be at least 3 months before your old boss tells you he made a mistake and wishes he hadn't let you go—if he tells you at all. Some days, you'll feel bummed, frustrated, rejected.

How nice if there are two of you. You'll ride different waves at different times. When you're up, say kind words that are true. When you're down, listen to the words that come your way.

You will end up living what you already trusted about each other—that you're in this together, come what may.

If the job search goes on longer than you thought possible, figure out a way to make potatoes taste delicious. They're cheap.

• Trust that things will show up.

Stop trying to wrap your mind around the way everything will work out. There are too many variables to juggle, and you're not in control of nearly as many as you think.

Your neighbors will invite you to dinner (thanks, Kenworthys). You might letter-press for an afternoon (thanks, Leland). Your wife might become an audition pianist for a day, a job she was grateful for, but in hindsight, also terribly underqualified for (thanks Tara and Bethany). Someone may order handmade crafts (thanks, Adrienne). The arrival of those checks will be more timely than their senders know.

And then some nameless do-gooder will leave a box of food at your doorstep just when you're wondering if potatoes and rice could possibly go together for dinner. It's okay that you don't know who should get a thank-you note. Things will show up for them, too.

Don't try to figure out how you made it this long. Just be grateful for everything that got you through.

And then take a deep breath, even more grateful for what comes next.

Today is Monday, and you're on your way to work at a new job.

speaking of firsts

Last week, I got my first haircut (a trim) since the baby came. I feel like I should be a grown-up now that I'm a mom, but I found out that I still stink at salon small talk.

In an attempt to make conversation, I often end up asking stylists how long they've been cutting hair--not a question you can repeat at every visit. So, I've had my hair cut at lots of different places.

I really liked this last stylist, though; she cut my hair EXACTLY the way I wanted it done. But she had zero to say, even when I asked her about her kid and her summer plans. I left with questions: Am I not hip enough? Could she smell my conversational fear? And should I have her cut my hair again? Or just go back to cutting my own bangs and shaking my fist at the mirror when I cut them uneven and too short?

i like the number 3

My good friend asked me to answer these questions about myself.

3 Fears:

• That robots will take over the world (This actually used to frighten me. In elementary school, I read a book called "You in the 21st Century." Robots did everything: they cooked the food, cleaned the house, did the laundry. Doesn't sound half bad. But it terrified me. I worried that robots would take over the field of writing fiction, and I wanted to write ever since I could hold a pen. I'm sure my mom had to bite her cheeks to keep a straight face to tell me that robots probably wouldn't be awarded any Pulitzers.)
  
• That I'll be a bother.
  
• That I'll look back and regret wasted time.
  

3 Joys:

• An apparent lack of food-cooking, house-cleaning, laundry-doing robots. While they would be nice, the threat of an uprising always persists.
• Books: I think we may have bought over 50 books last month. Of course, it helps when they're a dollar or less at the library sale. If only bookshelves cost that much.
• Mr. Christopher.

3 Goals:

• Be prepared for a robot uprising.
• Play Rhapsody in Blue in its entirety.
• Graduate with an MFA.

3 Current Obsessions:

• You'd guess robots, wouldn't you? You'd be wrong.
  
• Words in the Oxford English Dictionary.
• Short stories.

3 Random/Surprising Facts: I don't know if this means facts about the world in general, or about myself. I'll assume the latter:

• I'm not actually anti-robot. I imagine robots could prove quite useful.
  
• I played in a steel drum band for one semester. I was no good.
  
• I recently rediscovered that I really like sewing. I just bought this book and hope I'll have time to crack it open once I graduate.

I guess that's it. Since no robots have taken my job yet, I'm going to go grade some papers and write me a story.

My cousin's car was stolen

Brian with Anderson Cooper

My cousin Brian was one of eight people that got to meet Obama this morning in Colorado. Brian had gathered a lot of volunteers to go there, and is the president of BYU for Obama.

Brian with that guy

Brian parked his car in a paid parking spot. During the Obama rally, it was stolen.

Brian with Harry Reid

Only one conclusion can be reached. McCain used his combat training to take out the guard at the car lot and then he hot wired Brian's car.

(A photo-shopped image will appear soon)

Why? Brian the Community Organizer is the foundation of Obama's campaign. He's probably going to be Secretary of State or something.

I told him that next time he should do what we do, buy a car so crappy that no one wants to steal it.

tell me your worst nightmare

Fat people frighten me. Not overweight people, not jiggly people; I can understand those. I'm talking about people who have not seen their feet for a decade—people who would weigh 100 pounds on the moon. I don't fear them out of prejudice or some other misguided pride; I'm afraid because I don't want to become one. I'll tell you my most recent nightmare:

I needed to dress up for an important event. I tried on outfit after outfit. And every time I donned a new outfit, I instantly gained 15 pounds or so, meaning I couldn't go back to any previous outfits I had liked because they no longer fit. I almost feel like this happens daily with the items in my closet. Christopher has to reassure me every couple of days that, indeed, I have not ever remotely approached the size of a tank.

Between my unexplainable hormonal imbalance, two inert semesters without consistent exercise, and the handful of M&Ms in my mouth right now, I have every right to be afraid. I think I'm going to go do some push-ups.