Unemployement -- enjoy it while you can...

I realize there is little reason why I should impress you with a blow by blow account of my daily routine. My life is quite obviously not that thrilling these days. The no-job/living-at-home thing doesn’t bode well for excitement, but I figure that if you’re reading this, you may be mildly entertained. Truth be told, would having a 9-to-5 job chained to my desk be that much more exciting? It seems like landing any kind of employment would justify everything, but really who wants to sit around all day snacking on M&M’s pretending to be busy so as to avoid an awkward confrontation with your passive aggressive boss who secretly monitors your every move from underneath his baseball cap (I used to work at an allegedly laid back place). Perhaps I’m overreacting slightly, but I certainly do not miss it. No full-time job means no routine schedule, which means FREEDOM! Then there’s the no-money thing, but you can’t have it all. But hey, I’m writing this on a plane to California for a few days. Word of advice to the unemployed, enjoy your freedom while you have it.

Enjoying while you can or profiter, as we say in French, is key during your “in between things stage.” I never really found the right translation for this word in English probably because Americans have no idea how to profite as the French do. How many families drink wine every night without fail in America? Unless they are French wannabies (which I totally understand) , not that many. My very French grandmother has recently told me that her daily wine – night and day—is her medicine and is what keeps her kicking. The French really do know how to live. Probably not the best place to jumpstart your career if you’re into that kind of thing, but what does that really matter? I would say profiter falls somewhere between “taking advantage of” and “luxuriating in.” Take advantage of it while it’s there, because it won’t be there forever, carpe diem!

And with that, I will attempt to describe a rather typical morning in the part-time-loser- unemployed-older-daughter’s life. Monday morning – ah, no alarm clock, no reason to wake up anytime soon, I can just sleep until I feel the urge to awaken, but that definitely won’t be for a while. Wrong. The all too familiar words of “sweet Caroline” somehow make it into my dream. I have found myself rocking away at a party to this song with some friends who I am seemingly very excited to be with, but am incapable of placing. “Bam bam bam” oh wait, that’s Olivier chiming away, is he at this party too? Ooooh, I get it, that’s right, it’s Monday morning and I’m in my bed at home.

This is how I wake up every morning. My brother has this thing with blasting corny music from his IPod speakers while he showers. Pretty soon someone will get electrocuted, but that doesn’t seem to stop him – he’s already fried his laptop this way (I wasn’t there to witness this, but I’m reminded of the scene in Groundhog Day when Bill Murray tries everything to kill himself, including submerging a plugged-in toaster in his bathtub to electrocute himself). When I express my fears, Olivier confidently retorts, “I’m still alive, aren’t I?” Oh yes, yes you most certainly are – not a day goes by where I am not reminded of it. Now you all know what really happened to me if this blog suddenly stops. No I definitely did not get a job. I was electrocuted by the IPod speakers. What an embarrassing way to go. Oh I shouldn’t have said that, now I’ve jinxed myself!

I manage to lull myself back into my dream, I was so happy there. Besides, it’s only 8:30 in the morning, way too early to be awake. Guess again Juliet. Olivier busts into my room (his chill-out lounge) fresh and ready for the day. As soon as he sees me luxuriating in bed, he exasperates, “Pffff, Juliet, how do you expect to get a job?” and proceeds to belly flop onto my bed. My eyes slit open, this guy is way too excited about life right now. “No one responds to emails at this hour,” I croak. Honestly, all I need to do is make the 2 second walk from my bed to the computer – it’s not like there’s a commute involved or anyone to impress. No need to waste time on trying to look pretty! Besides, my bed is way too comfortable to leave. I spent 7 months sleeping in discomfort on a rock-hard bed awakened at all hours of the night by Thai karaoke (it makes Western karaoke sound like a heavenly musical sound), roosters, dogs, cows, you name it. This is what I call catch-up-on-my-sleep time. Admittedly, “catch up time” has been slightly over-extended a few weeks, I mean months, but profite profite profite!

Alright fine. I should probably get up and get my life on track. Bla bla BLA. I emerge from my bed with my hair sticking up in all directions (I really should invest in some headbands). I roam downstairs to the kitchen on auto-pilot only to find that we are out of the only edible cereal. Awesome. In my daze, I don’t even notice my father sitting at the breakfast table reading the paper in his bathrobe. “What the hell are you doing here!?” I ask baffled. At 9:30 AM, I’m always the last to have breakfast. I certainly should not be spoken to at that hour either. “Nice! I just got back from Asia I’ll have you know. It’s called jetlag.” Ohhh right. I look disinterested. I’m secretly glad he’s here though. My papa and I deal with things radically differently (he thinks I’m crazy, I think he’s closed off), but inside, I believe we are very much alike.

I plop down in my chair and concoct a rather unappealing mixture of five different cereal leftovers dating god only knows old long. “So what are you up to today cherie?” Hmmm, what am I up to…? I guess I should be surfing career sites and writing cover letters. Would that be a productive way to spend my Monday? Absolutely not. News flash: there are no jobs. Sending a resume blindly through the internet rarely used to work, how could it possibly work now? No no, no job searching. I’m getting on a train and traveling far far away from Larchmont. To the city that is. And there I will have a long luncheon with my uncle’s wife (I’ve been forbidden to call her my aunt since she is a mere two years older than me) followed by a lecture on reiki at my grandmother’s apartment. Oh and I should probably get ready for my upcoming “vacation” to California. It is a tough life I lead, but we’ve already discussed my martyrdom so I will spare you. The bottom line is this: PROFITEZ DE VOTRE LIBERTE (enjoy your liberty!).