solar powered anticipation machine (moireach) wrote,
solar powered anticipation machine
moireach

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This is a blues riff in B, watch me for the changes, and try and keep up, okay?

I'm doing this ten steps to happiness thing, and the next one says: write down something you're grateful for.  Watch me segue.

1. Coming out of yoga class, feeling dim and dozy, into the warm spring night and the busy busy sidewalk of my neighborhood, the sandwich shop underneath the studio spilling light and Modest Mouse out its open windows, and walking the twenty-or-so steps home.

2. That I'm feeling good enough these days for both yoga and biking; pushing off in the cool morning, coasting down the bike lane to work.

3. I finally finally finally finally finally finally finally got a job.  There's a reason I've gone more or less radio silent here and it has to do with the hopeless angry feeling you get when you've been looking for a job for six eight ten-plus months.  It's what every post would have been about -- that and my terrifyingly expansive spreadsheets of informational interview contacts -- and you want to read that even less than I wanted to be writing it.

(To clarify, I have been working for most of this time, but contract work at the morally gray multilateral we shall continue to call the Ministry of Magic.  Very lucky because it was money and it was a way to look much more legit to all the folks I was trying to network with.  Very crappy because there was zero possibility of being hired in the long term and it meant I had to keep full on looking for a real job with fevered intensity while also trying to juggle, you know, actual work.  Let us sum up the horribleness of that entire era into the overly tidy: blergh.)

But long after I'd tempered my expectations down to shreds of their former selves (“Look, you’re British, so scale it down a bit, all right?”) and almost immediately after I'd stopped looking for jobs in DC altogether (I'll spare you my tight five on a city that runs on the labor of unpaid interns) ...... I got called and asked to interview for a job at the partner organization for a company I interviewed with fourteen months ago.  Which I did.  And then interviewed some more.  And everything happened very quickly and I ... essentially got my original dream job.  So all of a sudden I'm doing everything I wanted to be doing, the whole reason I went through that stupid grad school nightmare, someone's actually paying me money to do international development technology consulting here in DC.  They gave me a title bump. They acquiesced to my ridiculous salary counteroffer.  (They legit really wanted me to come work for them!!! ???)  They just moved into a gorgeous new office space an easy bike ride from my house.  Today I got assigned my first two projects, for Laos and Haiti. I'll get to travel internationally.  I don't really understand how ten-months-of-ceaseless-rejection suddenly transforms into this, (what even is the labor market?!) but I'm not going to complain.  (And I was looking hard, in all the miserable networky ways you're supposed to; if nothing else, this process has transformed me from sullen introvert into a regular Keith Ferrazzi.)

It has felt very surreal.  I kept expecting it to get taken back away, right up until I walked in the front door for my first day.  I feel overwhelmed with gratitude and pretty damn terrified of everything they're trusting me with.

tl;dr, Richard Siken gets it:
The way it's night for many miles and then suddenly
it's not.


4. POETRY MONTH, KIDDOS, which like 99% of you are already fully aware, I bet.  But (1) aaaaahhhhh, The Hairpin linked to me!!!  And suddenly there are a LOT more subscribers (like, I can't even let myself think about it) on the silly little email list I started for my LJ friendslist long long long ago.  It makes me all verklempt and thrilled. And (2) GOD it makes me happy every year to plunge face first into this frog pond.  It forces me to wedge this thing I love back into my life, hardcore, no matter how busy or stupid my life gets.  Like, I have to let Ted Berrigan take us out:

I am in love with poetry. Every way I turn
this, my weakness, smites me.
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