But I'm Good with my Hands!

Ah, the days of my youth, wasted and forgotten, sunk like old roots in a muddy terrrain that I can no longer navigate. Why the sudden need to wax poetic?

It's the 35th year of my life, and I am currently unemployed. There is nothing quite so humbling as searching the wanted ads for employment and realizing you aren't very qualified for anything. Even the paint store requires "paint mixing" experience. Does mixing it in my living room with a stick count? (i think not).

Where are the golden opportunities? The easy manual labour? The stepping stones to my newfound career? I've never applied for so many research studies in my life, convinced that perhaps my calling is to become a professional test subject (if only the aliens paid more, I might be rich).

Do you remember back when you had convinced yourself that there was plenty of time and many opportunities waiting for you, so feel free to just...enjoy yourself and take it as it comes. Sadly, I still practice that ethos, ever aware that it is exactly what got me into this predicament in the first place. The difference being (other than age) that now I do so in order to keep myself sane.

So Mr. or Mrs. eccentric millionaire, you know who you are (mainly because you're reading this right now) I am here ready and willing to be your jester, your transcriber, your muse. Call me, we'll do lunch.

Edit!

In light of my Holli winning this year's Hell' Kitchne, I feel that perhaps I was a touch hasty in choosing her to be in my five.

So she's bumped.

And replaced with Miri Jedeikin. yup, I feel good about that choice:



(you can follow Miri on Twitter: http://twitter.com/mirithejedi)