Well hello there lady and gentleman (I’m only assuming of course that I have about 2 readers … give or take). I am writing to you from the majestic wonderland that is Santa Barbara, California … from a five foot by 4 ½ foot room in someone’s backyard — I get around. See now, since my iPhone (the first one … which I guess makes it a great grandma now) is not necessarily ringing off its’ proverbial “hook” with job offers in the journalism industry, I’ve resorted to stripping. Or babysitting … but mostly stripping.
Anyways, the family I work for has most recently moved to Santa Barbara from Calabasas. For my most avid reader (you know who you are) you will recall the entry where I describe watching The Bachelorette with the dad. We call him Esteban, even though that’s not his real name. I actually don’t even know why we started calling him that. It would be much more convenient to call him by his regular one syllable name. But we don’t. So get over it.
So here I am, moving up the ranks to being the next non-gay woman form of Anderson Cooper with only this computer, a claustrophobic white-walled room with no air conditioning, and a dream. It’s no CNN, but whatever. CNN can suck it.
As you can see, I try to mask the all-time low my unemployment has brought me to with sprinklings of humor … and for the most part that’s been working for me. So that’s good. But last night I received a text message from a friend from college who had moved to Chicken, Alaska to work in a bar after graduation. I’m actually not kidding. Like, that’s not me trying to be funny. It happened.
So anyways, the text message read “Is it too late to call you? I have an urge for an Ashley update and I’m not sure if I’ll last till the morn without it.” After the initial shock that someone is curious about what’s been going on in my life (just kidding, I know there are a crap ton of people who are super curious … ) I went into a panic.
“Oh my god, what am I going to say? I should probably make something up, but then he’ll start asking questions about the celebrity that I said I made out with and then what? Crap, why do people have to be so curious about what I say anyways? It’s not like I would say that it was an A-list celebrity, so why should he care? I should probably make something else up … something non-profity …” So when he called I told him I had been working for Amnesty International these last 2 months.
Just kidding. I told him the truth about my woes of unemployment. And then he told me he was going to India soon. And then I wished I had stuck with my NGO story. Next time.
As the conversation came to a close, he fell silent for a few moments and I knew it was because he was contemplating what we had discussed about our individual futures. But then he spoke all of a sudden and apologized for being quiet, but these three children just ran at him and were pointing and he panicked. He quickly realized that they were after the unicycle he was standing in front of and resumed our conversation. That’s got to be a metaphor for something. Like life comes at you fast but it’s not always what it seems … or behind every great man there is a unicycle.