In between two jobs

In a couple of weeks, I'll be starting my fifth job in five years. It's not something I'm particularly proud of, but then again, that's the way it is. I am pretty much resigned to the fact that I'm not a Human Resources dream. After all, I've held some fifteen jobs in my life--as a fastfood worker, a secretary, an editorial assistant in a book publishing company, a copywriter, an editor, a trade journalist, a loyalty writer and even a bookstore worker. As I tell prospective employers, I'm a bad bet. I have two kids; I write fiction in my spare time, and my cv shows I've never stayed more than one year in one place.

I know my life so well that this little interlude, this pocket of time in between the job I left and the job I will have has become dearly familiar. It's never more than a couple of weeks, and yet, I've come to look for it--even welcome it. I think it's the nothing and nowhereness that I love, just as much as I relish the potential of it. How I can do anything, make anything happen.

Big things can happen as well as small things. It's a time for new beginnings, resolutions, journal entrees, making lists of what to do and what not to do. It's about resting and gathering strength. It's about enjoying empty hours that are mine to fill ... or not to fill. I could write a short story. Get a massage. Go out and have a solitary lunch by the river. Hunt down ingredients for dishes I want to cook. Clean out my closet. Take my kids to the park.

Maybe that's what I'll do tomorrow. Then again, maybe not.