Tag Archives

thirtysomething

Roaring ’20s-Style Bachelorette Weekend in Palm Springs

[dropcap custom_class=”normal”]Though my flight from San Francisco was only a little over an hour to Palm Springs, turbulence plagued the last 15 minutes. As I gripped both arm rests, wondering if this might be where it all ends, I scolded myself for not having made friends with the guy next to me. He might be the last person I see. I should at least know his name. I silently protested: “I’m not ready to go yet. It’s not time!” I heard a small child cry: “Mooom, I don’t like this!” Kid, we are on the same page.[/dropcap]

5 Ways I Stayed Productive (and Kept Sane) During Unemployment

[dropcap custom_class=”normal”]The last time I experienced unemployment was over 10 years ago. I was in my mid-20s, living in the heart of Hollywood, California. I don’t just mean living in Los Angeles, I actually lived in the Hollywood neighborhood. My roommate and I could see the Hollywood sign from her condo balcony. I came home one Friday evening to a message from my temp agency informing me that I’d been let go from my several months long temp assignment. Again? I thought. While this hadn’t been a permanent job, it still marked the third time I unexpectedly and abruptly found myself without employment in a 3 years.[/dropcap]

I Woke Up Thirtysomething

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“As you sit in your rocking chair at the age of 100, what might be a regret you will have if there was something(s) you did not do/achieve/try?”

I stared at the question on the work/life reflection worksheet given to me by my career counselor. One of several questions aimed at helping me find my “passion.” The idea being once I discover this elusive passion, I can direct my efforts toward an endeavor I’d truly find satisfying and meaningful, instead of middling through a career that like a perfunctory meal, provides nourishment, but doesn’t inspire, isn’t particularly memorable or something you want to effusively praise to your friends.

Things I’d regret not doing? [/dropcap]

The End of My Love Affair with the Mailman

[dropcap custom_class=”normal”]I used to love getting mail. Remember back when the internet only existed in secrecy and you had to physically write letters to people? In junior high I had a French penpal. We’d write back and forth practicing our kindergarten-level language skills. My letters to her probably translated to something like:

“Hello, my French friend. How are you? I am teenager. It’s not fun as think. Have zits. How say zits in French? Zeut alors! Do go to discotechques? You are amiable. Texas hot. Thanks. Write back now.”

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