I. Need. A. Drink.

I realize that nobody ever technically needs a drink, but I plan to make an exception in my own case. The irony is that I cannot have a drink because I’m in the midst of some freak intestinal issue (TMI, fuck off) that does nothing but make me wince and cry (in my Virgo way of not crying) when I move. Life is beautiful in Melialand this week. Gaah.

So, I didn’t have a chance to blog about my weekend, but it was nice and quiet. Some shopping, some Rock Band and a birthday party. Not too shabby, and there was a slight reality break, to boot. Life is fabulous when not being micromanaged.

As many of you know, I recently began looking for work as a means to support myself and my kids. In all of this, and the 11 years in which I’ve not had any “real” work experience beyond a trickle of freelance jobs (and the annoyance of trying to balance working at home and be Betty White, er, Donna Reed), it has come to my attention that even with the coveted degree I finally received, I still don’t qualify for many “real” jobs. Part of this is the expectations of companies that consider a “web designer” to know each and every bit of web programming languages out there, analytics, graphics, social media, SEO/SEM, marketing, ROI, etc.

Yes, and every doctor knows all about each and every organ, system and disease in your body, even if they are a podiatrist.

The other part of this is that for those 11 years, I have had to squeeze in “work” between the demands of four children, a house, animals and a “partner” who couldn’t really be bothered to do much beyond criticize my food, the housekeeping, etc. So, my skill set is limited specialized and the jobs offered to people like me who actually need to make enough to support five people in the DC area are, well, limited. When I DO find those job ads, I’m all over them. Even those that would take me away from my kids for 12 hours/day. I can, however, build a pretty damn good business out of what I do, and that takes time. Obviously, as I was told, I have been planning this for years because I’m just that prepared to fly out on my own.

That being said, I am extremely insulted at the insinuation that I’m not trying hard enough to get a job. In fact, in all of those 11 years, had I been given the time and support I needed, I would likely already have a business going now, which is what I wanted to do from the day I started freelancing for my last actual boss. Or, maybe I could have just done nothing. I could have become a zombie bride and catered to everyone’s whims, pushing my own to the side, and lived happily by taking medications each day to dull the pain of a life of emotional slavery while being scorned for each and every interest I had that ever mattered to me. Oh, wait, I pretty much did do that. My bad.

Um, oops, sorry for the rant.

Again, I need a drink. A big, big drink. With lots of olives.