…Call in three months time and I’ll be fine, I know
Well, maybe not that fine, but I’ll survive, anyhow…
I’d like to be writing about the knitting I’ve been doing: progress on socks, beginnings of a wedding shawl for a friend, plans for my homespun yarn.
I’d like to show you pictures of my spinning lately, both with wheel and spindle and to talk about the lessons I’ve been learning there.
But I don’t feel like being creative right now, or talking about achievements (however small they might be). I’m just down, and that’s all.
I’ve been a temp at this one place for over six months now, and have been getting some praise for the work I’ve done, too, yet have found out I’m done in two weeks. As a temp, I should be happy to get this much notice at all, and intellectually I’ve known all along that nothing was secure. Yet I had begun to hope, that I’d have a real job, with opportunities and a decent salary, that I’d be able to stop worrying about having enough for groceries and fibre, that I could focus on figuring out what I really want out of my life rather than struggling just to pay for it at all.
Now, though, I can’t think ahead. I know things will be ok: I’m with a good agency, I’ll have another placement and rent will be covered just fine. I can probably still buy the fibre I want (and worry I need in order to get me through the workdays, but that’s another meditation for a different time). I’m just tired of being overeducated and underemployed. I want to live my life for me and for my future, not for the day-to-day. I don’t want to be a “temp” any more.
Enough of me — here’s Kelly’s newly-acquired cat:
The Clawless Mouser