September 15, 2011-September 16, 2011

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2011

As I’m driving home from dropping Liv off at school, the epic Thin Lizzy tune “Fighting My Way Back” comes on WXRT. I drink in the anthemic chorus—“Fighting my way back…”—and the hard-charging drums and guitars. An ass-kicking tone has been set for the day.

This is Pete Townshend's
Woodstock guitar.
Or is it?

Yes, I plan to take a couple swipes at my novel. Every writer keeps something in his or her back pocket, and this is mine. It’s a dream I’ve quietly been turning into a reality. Those of you who know me won’t be surprised to learn that the plot centers on Pete Townshend’s Woodstock guitar. (For those of you who don’t know me and live under a rock, Pete Townshend is the guitarist for The Who, the greatest band ever.) If the novel sounds kind of strange and not very compelling, well, I understand. But it all makes sense—you’ll have to read it and see.

If I ever finish it, that is. In the year prior to my layoff from Crushed Soul, my book became something of an obsession. I set aside a day each weekend to write it; my lunch hours at Crushed Soul were consumed by it; I would even scribble away on it at red lights during my commute to and from the office. By the end of August, I had written a whopping 90 pages—I was about one-third done. Then the bell tolled for me at Crushed Soul, and I was forced to channel all of my efforts into other stuff, like finding a job.

Today will be different, but first I figure I should spend at least a couple hours tending to the tedious business of survival. One thing leads to another—though, unfortunately, not to a job—and before I know it, the clock reads 12:15. Time to go to the gym.

When I return, I’m rejuvenated and ready to crank on my beloved novel. Before I can get started, though, I’m redirected by pangs of guilt. I’ve been putting off filing for unemployment, and I really won’t be able to write with a clear conscience until that’s out of the way.

On the one hand, I feel weak for filing, like I’m an unproductive member of society. On the other hand, I’m grateful for this humane mechanism. I’ve done everything pretty much according to the manual—I’ve worked hard and paid my taxes. Things beyond my control went badly astray, and now some help will be there if I need it. After all, my severance won’t last forever.

I botch my attempt to file online, but the nice woman at the unemployment office straightens things out for me after I call over there. Before long, I’m officially among the ranks of the unemployed. This realization produces more pangs of guilt, as well as several jolts of panic. Instead of spending the rest of the afternoon writing a book that likely will produce only modest financial returns when it’s published in the year who-knows-what, I opt to focus on finding a job that will pay money immediately.

Before long, it’s 6 p.m., and I’m spent. Yes, I fought my way back today, but not in the manner I had envisioned.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 2011

It’s 6:30 a.m., and I’ve just risen for the day. I’m staggering around the kitchen trying to get my bearings when I see Penny (one of our cats) squeezed under a cabinet. Only her hind legs are showing. I grab my iPhone and snap a picture of the rollicking scene.

Penny's hind legs.

“Hey, this’d be good for my blog,” I say to Cassie, who’s also staggering around the kitchen.

She’s not so groggy that she can’t respond with a zinger: “Now you’re going to blog about Penny, too? When are you going to blog about looking for a job? Like, ‘I sent out four résumés today. Yay for me.’”

She has a point.

But I’m one step ahead of her, or at least I will be soon.

• By 10 a.m., I’ve landed a freelance gig. The pay isn’t great, but it’ll be steady work. I think of it as a building block.

• By gym time at noon, I’ve set up a couple networking meetings. They’ll get me out of the house and, hopefully, a bit closer to something really cool.

• By 4 p.m., I’ve completed a lengthy application for a job I wouldn’t simply take because I’m desperate. No, this thing actually looks kinda cool.

Flat-out yay for me!

You know what? It’s Miller time. I’ve kicked some ass this week, and I plan to enjoy my weekend. My pal Gibby invited me and some other guys from our old high school gang over for a barbecue tomorrow. I’m getting tired of talking about myself—on this blog and to prospective employers—so it’ll be cathartic to share a few laughs and talk about nothing in particular.