When you enter my house through the basement, there is a freezer. On it is one of those mini dry-erase boards that we got years ago from a failing pizzeria. It was free, but the catch was that their logo was prominently displayed smack-dab in the middle of the thing, making it difficult to read any message one might choose to scribble on it.
This board has been clinging to that freezer for a decade now, and while it permanently haunts us with the memory of the now-extinct pizzeria, a seasonally changing message can always be seen on it. My mother adopted it as her way of updating the status of our immediate family or world around us.
“Welcome home Chrissy!” it would read during my sister’s college’s winter break.
“Merry Christmas 2000!” it said, two thousand years after Jesus was born.
“Congratulations Youngman! The world awaits you!”
This, after I graduated.
A year ago.
Today, it still says the same damn thing.
Apparently the world has not been holding its breath.
Anyone who has read the previous entries of this blog knows that I have not had much luck in obtaining a job. I have been led on, screwed over, almost scammed, ignored, and rejected. Rejected, mostly.
No. I was denied unemployment.
I am unemployed and got rejected for unemployment.
It is one thing to be a year out of college and not employed. But to not even be able to fully embrace my status as one of The Unemployed is just wrong. I am living in some kind of weird middle ground — not skilled enough, apparently, to get a job, yet evidently not in a situation where my joblessness merits any form of help from our government. Thanks Uncle Sam.
I hereby consider myself a resident of Youngman Browntown, where I am president. I would tell you more about this magical place, but in Youngman Browntown I am also my own boss, and I just sent myself home early for the day.