Get Your Butt Out of the Bardo and Come on Down

While driving around Lexington and environs lately, I’ve been fascinated by glimpses of streets and neighborhoods I don’t know well. I’ve been charmed by the number of small businesses and cafes popping up on North Limestone (NoLi, in the new local parlance, and aren’t we fancy these days?) and by views of numerous old houses with good bones that dot the city in offbeat locales. I admit to viewing any purportedly positive developments here with suspicion since I’m not a fan of the local government and have found life here challenging, to say the least, in recent years. Places, things, and people that used to seem simple no longer do, but still, I somehow manage to enjoy my old pastime of driving around neighborhoods and imagining if I could live in them. Since I moved from my old Nicholasville Road address, I’m constantly seeing Lexington from new angles.

I often ask myself: Do I see myself here? Or here? Or there? What about that street? I have a lingering fondness for the Arboretum (how can you not love such a beautiful place), but I balk at the idea of resettling in the neighborhood. I sometimes feel that I shouldn’t even be in Kentucky at all, having been cheated of my plan to live in California. When I see something about Los Angeles in the news or on TV, I feel something tugging at me. I like Kentucky, but it’s not what it used to be (was it ever?). I had hoped that a new job and a chance to experience another city, an idea long cherished before being acted on, would either cure me of the desire for change or show me that I was right all along. How anticlimactic to end up back in Lexington last August! (Though it was no doubt the wisest thing to do under the circumstances.)

I don’t believe all the people who keep talking to me about the changing workforce and economic conditions that have forced many people away from their intended careers. I always was an employer’s dream and still am. I deplore many of the current economic trends but do not think that accounts for what has happened to me. I was asked recently about my plans, and I was taken aback, since few of the plans that I have made recently, no matter how well thought out and prepared for, went the way they should have. But since I’m on the topic, I’ll just say this: If I could do whatever I want to do, I would be back in California with a plan to stay for at least a few years. I could always come back to Kentucky (or go somewhere else) if it didn’t take, and maybe by that time the bad influences here would have cleared out sufficiently to make life enjoyable again. Or perhaps I’d never want to come back here to live. I never got a chance to find out, but the question is still active.

There’s a good chance I wouldn’t even be working as a librarian if I could do whatever I wanted. I’ll always be a writer first and foremost, and it’s a shame I haven’t been able to make a living out of it since I left the newspaper years ago—though perhaps that will change. Here’s how I see myself in my ideal scenario: I’m continuing to write, but I’m making actual money from it. I’m teaching literature and writing, and I’m talking to people about my academic interests: mythology, culture, the written word, books, and information literacy. I’d love to travel like I used to. I’d like to study film and perhaps Irish and Welsh mythology (maybe now is the time to specialize). If I had the money, I’d like to live in California for most of the year, maybe coming back to Kentucky to teach a class in the summer, since summers are my favorite season here. I’d spend May traveling in Europe, doing research and eating pastries and chocolate. In September, I’d go back to California to work, write, and study. If I did come back to Kentucky in the summer, I might teach at U of L instead of UK. (Sorry, Lexington, but sometimes a change of pace is good; I’ve met my share of obnoxious undergraduates and law students here [and actually, people of all ages] so why on earth would I want to rinse and repeat if I didn’t have to?)

This is all pie in the sky right now. I’m staying with a friend in circumstances far from ideal and trying to figure out how to keep from losing my furniture, currently but-not-for-long safely in storage, and my bank account, currently empty. The thought of bringing everything back here, even if I could, roils my stomach. Since someone asked me, I thought I’d outline what I’d REALLY be doing if I weren’t stuck in the bardo. And it could still happen . . . you just never know, do you? Things can change in the blink of an eye, and I’ve seen it myself.

Rest assured that any changes in circumstance will be reported faithfully in this column, but right now, I don’t know when that will be. People are talking to me about moving into Section 8 housing like I’m supposed to be excited about it (sorry, I’m not, no more than I was a year ago). In the meantime, I try to maintain a positive attitude, and even though it’s not always easy, it’s perhaps not as difficult as it ought to be. You have no idea how hard it is to rattle me these days.

Wordplay Gets a Move On

Is there anything more exciting than moving? I'm not being facetious, or at least, I'm only being partly facetious. Despite the amount of stress involved, it is exciting, if you lift up your eyes occasionally from all the details you have to attend to and take in the wider picture: where you've been, where you're going, and how it all fits into the larger pattern of your life. For most of my adulthood, I've lived in only two apartments, and my last move encompassed only about a mile as the crow flies from my previous place. It would be fair to say that I tend to stay put.

The last move seemed like a huge deal, even though I was only moving a short distance, simply because I'd been in the same place for so long. Once I got here, the adjustment didn't take as long as I'd thought it would. Although I had moved around a fair amount with my family and during my college years, in and out of dorms and the like, it just wasn't the same kind of undertaking as moving an entire apartment of my own belongings. Once you're an adult and responsible for doing everything yourself, a move takes on a whole new meaning.

This time, I'm finally carrying out an idea that's been in my mind for years, if not decades, which is to move to the West Coast. I've been on the verge of doing it a few times before and even had a couple of opportunities career-wise, but for one reason or another it never seemed right. What was once an entirely daunting prospect became less so over time, as I traveled to the area frequently and eventually attended graduate school in Southern California. I wanted to move five or six years ago, but I hesitated; it seemed a long way to go without a sure prospect of a job and definitely a much more expensive place to live. On the other hand, a nationwide job search didn't produce results, either. The interviews I did get tended to be in California.

I'm going now, not exactly kicking and screaming, but with some trepidation because all I have are a few leads; I still don't have any certain prospects. Six weeks ago, it seemed prudent to stay here because a number of jobs (mostly part-time) were opening up locally--though I had my doubts that any of them would pan out, based on my experience of the last few years. Still, I applied for a number of things, had one interview, and at the end of the month reassessed again. I reached the same conclusion as before: I wasn't getting anywhere by staying put. What had formerly seemed like a wild scheme--going to a larger city to seek out opportunity--now seemed like the only smart thing to do. I seem to have outgrown my current town, and it doesn't help to pretend otherwise.

It makes sense to go right now because, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, employment prospects have been improving in California over the last few months; I've also been encouraged by the quality of the positions I've seen advertised. I certainly don't go with the intention of becoming a drag on the system but rather with the intent of bringing something with me, a set of skills and knowledge that can't be filled by anyone else. No one in Kentucky seems to want a writer who's also a librarian and a myth studies expert with teaching experience and a background in psychology--but that probably won't be the case in a big city. They seem to find room for everyone.

So I'm both worried and excited. I have no idea how it will turn out and whether it will all go bust--but you know what? I'm tired of being told, not in so many words, but through basically being marginalized, that I have nothing to offer. Right there is the clue that lets me know, and really believe at last, that I'm in the wrong place. I had envisioned an entirely new career phase opening up once I got my PhD, not feeling that all that work had only saddled me with a liability. I had transferable skills before I got the PhD, and studying mythology not only gave me a new bank of knowledge and a language for talking about things, it gave me greater depth. I think a part of me that had remained stubbornly undeveloped grew up and blossomed out as a result of the entire experience and what happened later. I'm not like I was 10 years ago, and that's a good thing.

One of the worst things in life, I've found, is to feel unproductive. In some ways, I've worked the last few years to my advantage, pursuing some of my research interests and discovering my creative voice. Those were entirely good developments. Now it's time to seek out a place that will recognize what I have to offer and reward me for it. I have a little bit of the feeling of leaping off a cliff. However, knowing I've exhausted the possibilities here with nothing to show for it, I feel better about making the choice now than I would have before.

"Look before you leap" is generally considered good advice, and I have followed it conscientiously. But some people also say, "Leap, and the net will appear." I'm hoping that my instinct that before was too soon but now is the right time will be proven correct. For more details on how Wordplay survives the Big Move, stay tuned. Meanwhile, I'll miss the fireflies this summer, but I'm glad I was here for the dogwoods and azaleas. Spring in Kentucky is a lovely thing, but spectacular as it is, it leaves you a bit cold once you realize you've been traveling in circles year after year.

Recipe Fail, Walking Shoes

The good news is I'm not at the Salvation Army; the bad news is I got excited about making a potato soup recipe from the Old Farmer's Almanac that turned out to be quite bland. I'm not sure if it was the chef's fault or the recipe's. I like potato soup, and it was an award-winning recipe, but somehow the sum of the parts added up to less than spectacular. Maybe I should have added parsley or used a different kind of potato, but thrift demands that I eat all of it, and so I am. I added a little cheese to it, which helped. Maybe I shouldn't say this, because I know bacon isn't good for you, but if ever there was a situation that cried out for bacon bits, that soup was it.

Despite the recipe fail, life goes on, interspersed with time spent applying for jobs, wondering about the future, and cleaning the bathroom. Almost every day, I see a job posting that I'm qualified for, and some of them I get excited about. Even the ones I don't get excited about are ones that I would gladly do because I see them as stepping stones to get where I want to go. I can honestly say that as frustrating as my job search has been, it has also been revealing. When I step back and look dispassionately at the types of jobs that intrigue me most, they are not what you might expect. Looking in one direction is just too limiting.

I've sometimes thought about how much fun it would be to have someone pay me to recommend books--I could be a one-person reader's advisory. You tell me a little about yourself and I'll tell you what I think you would like; thanks, that'll be $50. I actually have a decent track record of recommending books to people without charging them anything, but in times like these, you like to be compensated for your talents. I could also do movie reviews or free-lance dream analysis (strictly subjective, of course, but I think it often is). I could be a travel consultant; hand me a list of your hobbies and interests, and I'll tell you where to go. For an extra fee, I could tell you which books to take with you and how to pack everything you need for a three-week trip in just a tote bag.

Speaking of dream analysis, I took a nap on the couch this afternoon after doing my laundry and dreamed I was walking around the UCLA campus, talking to people. In the dream (as in real life), the campus was quite sprawling, and I was just getting to a part of it that looked familiar when I woke up. I don't know what brought this on, but I've been thinking about walking shoes a lot this week, so maybe that preoccupation carried over into my dream. I could almost see the campus library from where I was standing near the end--almost, but not quite. Is that an indication that my dream job will have something to do with books but may not be in quite the spot I was looking for? I don't know, but that's the kind of question I ask about those types of dreams, just in case you were thinking of hiring me.

There are times this week when I've been reminded of the anxious period I went through just before graduating from college. I was going to graduate school that fall, but graduation still felt like stepping off a cliff. So many people already had jobs and knew exactly where they were going, but the way ahead for me was much less clear. I didn't even know where I was going to be living that summer. As it turned out, I ended up with three part-time jobs and a roommate off campus who introduced me to an entirely new group of people. It was one of the most active and social times of my life, and it all took shape in the last couple of weeks before graduation. You never really know what's around the bend, and as anxiety-provoking as that can be, the seeds of positive change are sometimes already at work before you even know they're there.