The Drunkard's Walk

There's a book called "The Drunkard's Walk" by Leonard Mlodinow, and it's all about randomness and how there's really no such thing as destiny or fate, that life is made up of coincidences. People create connections between one random event to another because they want there to be some sort of control, some sense of reason in a completely unreasonable world.

It's an interesting read, nothing earth-shattering, but he raises some pretty good points. One example of over-reaching Mlodinow gives showcases a recent lottery winner describing why he picked those specific numbers. The winner said he picked the number 7 because two other numbers, 5 and 3, played a significant role in his life and 5 +3 is 7. Anyone who's graduated beyond first grade math can tell you that 5 + 3 does not equal 7. Mlodinow states people are so desperate to find a cause for things that happen in their life that they go out of their way to find it. Another example is a person trying to find a pattern behind the flickering of a candle flame. There has to be a reason because randomness is just too chaotic for anyone to handle.

I recently sent my resume to the editor of Rhode Island Monthly, in hopes of gaining a spot on the coveted staff of their Brides publication. There was no ad for any open positions, I am simply reaching out to anything and everything that's even remotely editorial related. I think it's actually become tradition for me to send an email to the Editor-in-Chief of Rhode Island Monthly, asking if there are any openings on their masthead. She responded within a couple days, saying she appreciated the interest and while there were no current openings at Brides, she would keep my resume on file. A few days go by, I get rejected by another job without even an interview, and I make my daily visit to craigslist. But wait. What is this? An Editorial Assistant position? Full-time? AT RHODE ISLAND MONTHLY??? No. It's too good to be true. Maybe it's a sign. Maybe my stellar cover letter indicating unadulterated interest in their publications led the Editor to open a position just for me. Naturally, they have to advertise, to make it look legit, but surely they must be saving this job for me. I mean, it's too big of a coincidence not to be related.

Maybe this Leonard guy is wrong. Maybe things really do happen for a reason. I'm just saying...

Celibate in the Suburbs

In honor of the "Sex and the City" sequel and my seemingly endless relationship with unemployment, we re-enter the blogging world. I have officially been without a steady and reliable income for almost two months and I have to say, I'm not liking it. While the freedom of waking up whenever the spirit so moves me is absolutely delightful, the inability to budget in a night out with friends simply because I want to buy groceries for the next two weeks is depressing, to say the least. In all honesty, I could find a job within the week, but it would be exactly the same as the last job: completely draining and nowhere near where I want to be professionally. I left to find a career, not a job. But after the only three jobs that actually held any sort of promise rejected me without any semblance of professional courtesy, that feeling of empowerment that overwhelmed me when I gave my notice went out the door, sprinted down the street, and hopped a bus to the next state.

The last of my savings has just been mailed to the Navy Federal Bank to take care of June's rent. Thanks to my parents' generosity, a week of sanding, scraping, sweeping, and painting took care of my cable bill, groceries, and a much needed bottle of wine. Now we're at the moment when I decide if I give in and go for the job that will pay my bills but destroy my soul, or hold out for the career I've been waiting for. Decisions, decisions. While discussing my employment dilemma with my aunt/landlord, she suggested I take to the blogosphere. Carrie Bradshaw wrote her column based on her life and it got her a multi-book contract and freelance work with Vogue. Granted, Carrie lived in New York, had an active dating life, and wasn't afraid of spilling her friends' dirty little secrets. I live in Portsmouth, have zero luck when it comes to guys, and respect my friends enough not to share their private, albeit sometimes amusing, relationship issues. After relaying all this to said aunt/landlord, she paused in a moment of thought, then brightened up as inspiration seared through her, raised her hand in the air in triumph and declared, "You could write a book. Celibate in the Suburbs." I think it's clear why this woman is one of my favorite people in the world.

Citing the "Julie/Julia Project" and its subsequent movie deal, I choose to blog in fervent hope that someone, somewhere will find my musings somewhat interesting. Now if only I had a clever hitch to charge along my giddyup of a blog...