being jobless, young, without much work experience, with too many degrees, in this economy, is risky.
i am passionate about tutoring, teaching flute to kids who haven't been touched by the rampant adolescent jadedness, working on musicals where everyone has good creative energy, and playing music that forces me to take a second, or third, look.
i struggle not to take personally every absent email or call from a potential employer. i'm qualified to do this work; why not call me? you stand to gain more than you stand to lose by doing so. it's a tough scene; i should've set myself up for it better.
lynn's compadre from her madrigals group at the rennfest yesterday liked my self-dubbed moniker: "marauding martha."
this week: wednesday, "glee" party with richard, pizza, twizzlers, ice cream...is this what i wish high school had been? sticky fingered sugar high, tripping on my own pretend happiness? it truly was the apex of our teenage lives, with a relentlessly regimented schedule, like the army with more social hierarchy and less yelling. i've convinced myself over the years that the few mentions i got in our senior year yearbook signified that i had made something of myself. now i realize it was only in mr. wright, our militaristic, baptist preacher of an AP english teacher, who saw beyond what we were and peered into what he hoped we would become.
i am passionate about tutoring, teaching flute to kids who haven't been touched by the rampant adolescent jadedness, working on musicals where everyone has good creative energy, and playing music that forces me to take a second, or third, look.
i struggle not to take personally every absent email or call from a potential employer. i'm qualified to do this work; why not call me? you stand to gain more than you stand to lose by doing so. it's a tough scene; i should've set myself up for it better.
lynn's compadre from her madrigals group at the rennfest yesterday liked my self-dubbed moniker: "marauding martha."
this week: wednesday, "glee" party with richard, pizza, twizzlers, ice cream...is this what i wish high school had been? sticky fingered sugar high, tripping on my own pretend happiness? it truly was the apex of our teenage lives, with a relentlessly regimented schedule, like the army with more social hierarchy and less yelling. i've convinced myself over the years that the few mentions i got in our senior year yearbook signified that i had made something of myself. now i realize it was only in mr. wright, our militaristic, baptist preacher of an AP english teacher, who saw beyond what we were and peered into what he hoped we would become.
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