One of these days, I promise, really, I will have an honest-to-goodness happy, upbeat post. Yeah, today's not that day. So, unemployment. It's hard. First of all, you have that no-money-coming-in thing going on. I am incredibly lucky as my husband is well employed in a fairly recession-proof industry. But it's meant loans have gone into deferral, credit cards are off limits, my Kindle is perpetually set to offline, etc., etc. Like I said, I'm incredibly lucky, and I know that. But given my past couple of job experiences (which frequently led to self-doubt) coupled with a chronic mood disorder, things get out of hand in my little world nonetheless. In what will no doubt echo at least one email I will receive in response to this post, it's difficult watching people complain about their jobs on Facebook and having to physically restrain oneself from commenting "AT LEAST YOU HAVE A JOB. WAH." It's totally unfair of me and intrusive into what I call
The back of the house is where theater's black magic happens. It's a place where empires rise and fall, where people love and hate, and the place where gods live and die. And yet, like the man in the movie said, it all turns out all right in the end. It's a mystery. Which is another word for miracle.