Category Archives: Work

You know how I’m always disgruntled with my career, no matter what, even when I’m doing the Thing I’ve Always Wanted To Do? Well, this past year, I finally realized that my frustration has very little to do with my actual job and everything to do with me. Let’s take a look back.

Shortly after college, I was an education reporter. It was the BEST JOB EVER. I got to write stories on freak dancing, banned books and teens who blog (hey, it was kinda newsworthy back then). I was gonna be the best education reporter, maybe one day I’d write big stories for Newsweek, maybe I’d even get a book deal! I was filled with passion and drive and energy.

And then I got bored.

Ugh, I was so bored. Really, who would want to write about standardized test scores and school district zoning and construction referendums? If I had to sit through one more school board meeting snooze-fest, I was gonna blow my brains out. I felt tired and stagnant. So, I quit.

I then became a fashion reporter. You guys, a fashion reporter! It was the BEST JOB EVER. I basically shopped for a living. Every day, my desk was piled with the latest bags and shoes and jewelry. I could do big things in my career, I thought. I could write for the major women’s glossies. I could get paid to travel. I could get my own column.

And theeeeen I got bored. I mean, how many possible ways could one describe a denim miniskirt, anyway? It’s blue. And it’s … skirty. I had to face it. I didn’t love fashion and probably never would. So eventually, I quit.

I continued to write for a living and started getting into blogs. Recently, I wanted to start a wedding blog. I’d go all out, posting daily inspiration, hopefully even getting sponsors. It would be the BEST JOB EVER. I was already spending my days swooning at my computer screen–might as well put that energy into a little business.

And then (surprise!) I got bored. Of wedding stuff. (Can you believe it?) I’d look at blogs and think, “Wow, another engagement session with balloons. So original.” (Not that there’s anything wrong with balloons! You should totally take photos with balloons! They’re so vibrant! Don’t hurt me.) But I’d see the same stuff over and over and realized I’d have nothing to add to the wedding world. So I’m pretty much over the wedding blog idea. (Though you know I’ll still be writing about my wedding here. All. The. Time.)

The point of all this is: I’m fueled by the thrill. I get really excited about my potential but hate doing the actual work that’s required to reach it. And because of this, I will forever be mediocre. I will never rise to the top.

Unless I make some changes.

In 2010, I need to pinpoint a subject area (or “beat”) that I want to tackle and then go at it and stay at it. Even when it’s boring. Even when other opportunities flash at me and scream, “Try me instead!” I’m 28 years old and should be done with the exploration stage. I need to focus and then re-focus. I need to make something stick.

The other day, I received this email from an old friend who had recently been laid off from her job:

“I was really shocked by the decision and completely unprepared, both financially and mentally. But I think I am coping well, and in the end I think it’s a way to make me finally pursue what I want – I just enrolled for culinary school yesterday and I have an agent and I’m going to pursue food hosting full-force. But it’s still super scary and I vacillate between depression and normalcy/slight elation throughout the day. It’s pretty rough – one minute I’m crying, the next minute I’m super productive and applying for jobs.”

After reading this, I felt sympathetic, sure, but you wanna know what I really felt? Jealous. It’s crazy, it’s stupid, but throughout this economic downturn, as friends are being spit from their positions left and right, the one word that comes to mind is … lucky. Because I know they’re smart cookies and will ultimately be okay. Better than okay. Their circumstances are propelling them to act, to reinvent themselves, to create from scratch the lives they’ve always dreamed of.

Perhaps I’m the only one in this nation who is glamorizing the recession, but how thrilling would it be for someone to rip the ground from under you and your only two options would be to plunge tragically or soar higher than you ever could imagine? To do or die.

I’m in awe of what my laid-off friends have already done for themselves. One started her own graphic design business, something she’s been wanting to do for years. Several others are applying to grad school. I understand that not everyone has the means to take such leaps, but I do believe that this is a unique time of opportunity. I hunger to do what I want to do, too.

But of course, if you do have a job and even utter the “Q” word, especially now, no one will dare say, “Congrats on taking a risk!” Instead, you’ll be greeted with oh-so subtle remarks such as: “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR EFFIN’ MIND!?!”

Today, as I finally have some time to breathe a little, I sat on the bike machine, flipping through Vogue. I happened to come across a profile of Stephanie Meyer, you know, Twilight lady, and while reading it, I started nodding my head yes. It was a good story, not mind-blowing or anything, but good, satisfying. And I was just like, hmm. You know, with a lot of practice and reading and mentoring and maybe some more training, I could maybe one day do this. As in write for big publications like Vogue. It sounds crazy, but is it really that crazy?

I have big dreams every now and then, but they always seem to get squashed by the chaos of reality.

I don’t know why I’m writing this post. I am fortunate to have a job right now. I believe this deep down somewhere, I really do.

But in time, I want to see how high I can soar. And to do that, I could really use a push.

Remember that scene in The Devil Wears Prada where Andy is pouty and defeated and talking to Nigel and she’s like, “I would just like a little credit. I’m killing myself trying,” and then he’s like, “Andy, be serious. You are not trying. You are whining. What is it that you want me to say to you, huh? Do you want me to say, ‘Poor you. Miranda’s picking on you. Poor you. Poor Andy.’ Hmm? Wake up, six.” And then the lightbulb goes on in her head and she gets all hot and drops two sizes and flashes a different designer ensemble every three minutes and throws herself into her work because that’s what it takes to make it, to be brilliant.

Well, lately, I’ve been feeling like frumpy Andy. Like I try so hard just to get by, but deep down in my soul, I know that I’m not really trying. When I complain about the work! the work! OH, THE WORK! it means that I’m doing, not living, and if I’m not living, is this really what I should be doing?

I don’t want to “get by” anymore. I want to work. I want to care. I want to stay up late not because there are items left on my checklist, but because I’m in a creative zone and can’t sleep until the finished project makes me crumple onto my bed and smile. I want to be proud of what I do again. I want to make my mark. I want to own it.

I want to put on my Chanel boots.