From T-shirts to couch pillows –the tangible in my life screams of the past. Good, bad, happy and sad. “Things” I have acquired and kept year after year, move after move resurface and conjurs up emotions in me I cannot describe.
Birthday cards, college essays, my couch, my coffee table –that ugly sweater I will never throw away or ever wear in public. Everything I own has no monetary value, yet the magnitude of its value is held in my heart and soul.
Some will say, “It’s just stuff.” But I’ve moved enough in my life where the “stuff” I have kept, I must have kept for a reason. It reminds me of who I was, who I am, who I can be and who I want to be.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Adventures of Unemployment
April 22, 2011
My name is Charis Wallace. Yes, Charis. The "h" is silent. It is like Paris but with a "c." If I had a dollar for every time I had to say that in the past 26 years I would never need to be employed again.
I am as enagmatic as my name and I am starting this little journal/memoir to spin a devastating change to my life in to something. What exactly? I don't know.
It is 2011 and I have grown up knowing that employment is a good and necessary thing to have ... to well ... state the obvious, live. I have been fortunate to work in a number of different vocations in this life and this is how I define employment. I do something someone wants me to do and they pay me. Simple.
So, I have been being paid for the past 14 years to do various tasks that people and companies have paid me to do. I delivered newspapers, babysat, cashiered at a grocery store, stocked grocery stores, sauteed vegetables in a Yacht Club kitchen, waited tables, tended bar, sold condoms, took photos of condoms for a Web site, sold student loans, Answered phones, stuffed tubes with bananas, ordered takeout for blue men, sold tickets for blue men, marketed Medicare and more. I learned at a young age that employment gave me money and that gave me freedom. I was never imprisoned, but for some reason I grew up having a thirst for freedom and independence so I always had this thing we call employment. Doing things-doing anything and being paid money-money. Everyone needs it. Everyone wants it. Yet I hate it!
With all the money I have "earned," with the myriad of jobs I have done, I can't say too much positive about my financial stablility. One would think that an individual who worked so much from such a young age would have learned how to manage money and balance a friggin check book. That is not the case for this newly unemployed twenty something girl. My credit sucks, my debt is mountainous and a savings account doesn't exist. Not even a piggy bank. Ooops. I must have been absent the day they taught money management in high school.
I don't want to dwell on where the money went cause I don't even want to think about it. Rent, bills, college, Way too many clothes. That will do it. Okay, I am getting off track. So, back to employment and my definition and my life. In sum, I have been doing THINGS for OTHER people for the majority of my life. What makes me happy? What do I like? What do I want to do?
Don't worry, this isn't going to turn in to some existentialistic search for self. Just making a point. I have never put myself or my wants first. So I lost my job 2 days ago. By the way, I love how they say you "lost," your job, like it's next to that twenty in your winter coat pocket and you will surprisingly find it next December. Anyways, I have no job, we'll get in to that later.
My name is Charis Wallace. Yes, Charis. The "h" is silent. It is like Paris but with a "c." If I had a dollar for every time I had to say that in the past 26 years I would never need to be employed again.
I am as enagmatic as my name and I am starting this little journal/memoir to spin a devastating change to my life in to something. What exactly? I don't know.
It is 2011 and I have grown up knowing that employment is a good and necessary thing to have ... to well ... state the obvious, live. I have been fortunate to work in a number of different vocations in this life and this is how I define employment. I do something someone wants me to do and they pay me. Simple.
So, I have been being paid for the past 14 years to do various tasks that people and companies have paid me to do. I delivered newspapers, babysat, cashiered at a grocery store, stocked grocery stores, sauteed vegetables in a Yacht Club kitchen, waited tables, tended bar, sold condoms, took photos of condoms for a Web site, sold student loans, Answered phones, stuffed tubes with bananas, ordered takeout for blue men, sold tickets for blue men, marketed Medicare and more. I learned at a young age that employment gave me money and that gave me freedom. I was never imprisoned, but for some reason I grew up having a thirst for freedom and independence so I always had this thing we call employment. Doing things-doing anything and being paid money-money. Everyone needs it. Everyone wants it. Yet I hate it!
With all the money I have "earned," with the myriad of jobs I have done, I can't say too much positive about my financial stablility. One would think that an individual who worked so much from such a young age would have learned how to manage money and balance a friggin check book. That is not the case for this newly unemployed twenty something girl. My credit sucks, my debt is mountainous and a savings account doesn't exist. Not even a piggy bank. Ooops. I must have been absent the day they taught money management in high school.
I don't want to dwell on where the money went cause I don't even want to think about it. Rent, bills, college, Way too many clothes. That will do it. Okay, I am getting off track. So, back to employment and my definition and my life. In sum, I have been doing THINGS for OTHER people for the majority of my life. What makes me happy? What do I like? What do I want to do?
Don't worry, this isn't going to turn in to some existentialistic search for self. Just making a point. I have never put myself or my wants first. So I lost my job 2 days ago. By the way, I love how they say you "lost," your job, like it's next to that twenty in your winter coat pocket and you will surprisingly find it next December. Anyways, I have no job, we'll get in to that later.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
June 24th
Everything yearned for a story and my life needed fiction. Reality can be too hard. It felt like there was a boulder on my chest. I couldn't breathe -couldn't move.
My aunt put a photo of my uncle Scott on top of her as the wind whipped right through me, but managed to tangle my curly hair. We all stood around her. Some in silence, while others chatted quietly.
I couldn't even get a glimpse of her pearly white hair or her beautiful smile. All that was there was an urn in the ground surrounded by flowers.
Amazing Grace started playing in the background and I finally saw her. Strong and smiling, with her dark pools of eyes looking at me as they always did. Comforting me. Loving me. Letting me know she was okay.
My high heels sank in to the soft ground below me. I looked around at the others. I saw faces wet with tears and faces bright with smiles. Were we grieving or were we celebrating? What was I supposed to feel? Not knowing what to do, I grabbed my mother and held her tight but wore no emotion on my face. I was blank and numb.
Right then, at that very moment, I looked up and saw my 14 month old nephew. As if inebriated, he stumbled toward me (as he had only been walking for a few weeks then.) As he got closer to me, he reached out his arms. How did HE know that is what I needed when I didn't even know? I picked him up, held him close, and with all his strength he hugged me right back.
My aunt put a photo of my uncle Scott on top of her as the wind whipped right through me, but managed to tangle my curly hair. We all stood around her. Some in silence, while others chatted quietly.
I couldn't even get a glimpse of her pearly white hair or her beautiful smile. All that was there was an urn in the ground surrounded by flowers.
Amazing Grace started playing in the background and I finally saw her. Strong and smiling, with her dark pools of eyes looking at me as they always did. Comforting me. Loving me. Letting me know she was okay.
My high heels sank in to the soft ground below me. I looked around at the others. I saw faces wet with tears and faces bright with smiles. Were we grieving or were we celebrating? What was I supposed to feel? Not knowing what to do, I grabbed my mother and held her tight but wore no emotion on my face. I was blank and numb.
Right then, at that very moment, I looked up and saw my 14 month old nephew. As if inebriated, he stumbled toward me (as he had only been walking for a few weeks then.) As he got closer to me, he reached out his arms. How did HE know that is what I needed when I didn't even know? I picked him up, held him close, and with all his strength he hugged me right back.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)