When College Jumped the Shark: Why I don't have a degree.

Part of preparing to reincarnate my career is assembling my resume.  One of the first things listed on a resume should be education.  Well, on mine I have "Florida State University: 2000-2004".  No degree listed, because I didn't get one. I started college determined to go to law school, because I wanted to be wealthy and powerful and wear nice outfits in all the TV shows, that's what being a lawyer looked like.  Every now and then on a TV lawyer would go to court and FIGHT for JUSTICE.  They would win their case and the respect of the curmudgeon judge because they had spunk and truly believed in what they were doing.  Or, if it was Ally McBeal, she'd win because she was cute and quirky and ruling in her favor took less time than listening to why her latest hallucination proved her client right.  Anyway, I figured I would be a good lawyer because I believed in fighting for justice and if that didn't work, I could pull off cute and quirky.
Well you know what?  Pre-law classes are BORING.  There were no crusades for justice and I didn't get to wear any suits.  But I really liked to write, and it turns out you can get a degree in that, so I changed my major.  English courses are a whole lot of reading, and I love to read, so we got along well.  Then I really got into my major courses.  My short story writing course didn't teach us much about writing short stories except not to write about people dying or falling in love.  As far as the structure, the professor told us to rely on what we'd learned in high school.
But what about the eternal wisdom of Simon and Garfunkel?!
In high school, I learned the power paragraph/pyramid structure; a strong introductory paragraphy that goes gradually into more detail, followed by paragraphs that follow that idea going gradually into greater detail.  Thinking Like Your Editor says that structure is no longer favored.
I'm gonna go with Simon and Garfunkel on this one.
Later came the poetry writing course.  We'd read different forms of poetry then write something inspired thereby.  The grading was very loose.  Poetry is a fluid genre, it's hard for the professor to be subjective, I understand that.  When we started learning about certain poets, the same applied.  The professor did not want to pass judgement not only on their work, but on their lifestyles.  Some poets live pretty far off the mainstream, which influences their art, I'm sure, so without these choices, they wouldn't have such contributions to literature.  When we came to Allen Ginsburg, my professor said, "He was an active member of NAMBLA, and you know, that's cool."

That was the moment that I realized - and English Degree was a collection of entirely subjective information, which may or may not prepare me for a writing career.  That statement wasn't the only thing that lead me to this epiphany.  That semester I was taking a class that taught a book that may or may not have been a novel, non-fiction narrative, or meta-advertisement, it was up to the reader to decide.  I was also taking a class that taught only Frankenstein (FRONKENTSHTEEN) stories in all their permutations, because that's what the professor's thesis was about. The degree I was slated to get was not about what I wanted to learn, but about the people teaching me.I think I've turned into a pretty decent writer, despite the lack of letters after my name.  The question is, will that absence keeep me out of the running for other jobs, regardless of my actual talent?  I guess I'm about to find out.

Like a roller coaster, but less fun and potentially more vomiting.

Monday's weather was of the sort that people make iconic New York movie scenes about.

<iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/t2ACWi-Jm-o" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

Like this, only February, not October.
It was cool, but not cold, sunny, but not too bright.  It was Valentine's Day, so there were a disproportionate number of happy people in New York City.  Heck, I even walked through Verdi square (several times). It was a bounce-in-your-step sort of day.  The sunshine threw itself through the windows of my apartment with a dramatic verve that said, "I'm HERE! Let's go have an adventure.  The city is our oyster!"Ok, Sunshine! Bring it on!  I missed you, buddy.  You know, did I ever tell you that you're one of the things that really makes this place home?It hit me.  This place is home.  A friend of mine told me that I should be prepared to move, to follow where the wind takes me, but I'm not.  The wind blew me here and I grew roots and the sunshine, among other things nurtured me and this has grown to be home.  Watching people gleefully shlep red mylar balloons and cheery bouquets, I was suddenly very depressed.  Not for any reason that had to do with their cargo, but I watched them and wondered what they each did to get to stay here in this neighborhood to which I've become so attached.  What will I have to do to stay?  As much as my potential for achievement may be limitless, the opposite became suddenly apparant; I could utterly fail.  We may have to move and leave behind the life we've built, the home into which we've become so settled.  The weight of the possibility pushed the breath from my chest.That possibility is counterweighed by the weight resting squarely on my shoulders - the responsibility to replace my income.  The anxiety at the potential of having to leave now had a partner in uncertainty - will I be able to put together enough freelance projects to pay the rent?  If so, will I be able to handle them all?  Will I get a book deal?  Does an audience exist that is willing to listen to me whine for several hundred pages about my dead kid?Failure. Anxiety.  Uncertainty.  Terror.  WE'REALLGONNADIEPANICMODE.I later found that I had several emails from friends with potential job leads.  There were several leads, and several others pursuing them.Competition?  Oh, no.I felt compelled to act immediately.  I was already in WE'REALLGONNADIEPANICMODE. My professional life was broken and these emails were like duct tape.  I must respond!I found myself at a loss as to how to explain this to my four year old, who preferred me to read him Mickey and the Troll, or my one year old who preferred me to allow him to chew on my face. Neither of them relented (nor should they have.  What was I thinking? that this was the potential gateway moment to my professional future?  No. Just an email. It would still be there in an hour.) and I got overwhelmed.  My fear, their noise, even hair on my face, it was all too much.  I yelled about something stupid.  They both cried.I felt like shit.  Not only did I make my boys cry, it was for naught.  It's not like they learned a lesson from my tantrum.  I apologized profusely and pulled them both into my lap until the tears subsided and Moo told me I was crushing him.  I didn't want to get up.  I could have held them for hours, sitting on the floor in the last little bit of the day's sunshine.  But life had to move on.  Dinner to cook, chores to do, Moo had OT, I still had to go to work, all of this in the cloud of a panic attack.I managed to get it all done and get to work in time while anxiety coursed through me.  There, I checked my email to find that I'd been offered a blogging position.  It won't pay the rent, but maybe the electricity and the exposure will be great.  The ego boost certainly didn't hurt.  The palpitations were gone, but the residual shakiness of the panic attack was still there.  I popped out during a quiet moment at work and picked up a cupcake from My Most Favorite Food.  On the way back, I sucked in deep breaths of cold air - the weather had changed to the sort they don't mention in movies (except those that feature Santa.  He's not in the movie version of my life).  Cupcake in hand, I was fairly certain it would warm up again soon enough.

Planning ahead, looking back.

As in everything, I need to count my blessings.  This is always easier when those blessings are revealed.
The most obvious advantage in my situation is that I have TIME.  Between now and September, I can plan, network, explore and, just in case, save.  We've discussed our budget and there is not so much frivolous spending in our lives that cutting anything would make much of a difference.  We have a savings account into which we make regular deposits and when the time comes, we will G-dwilling have about 3 months rent saved.  Cutting the occasional lunch out will not significantly impact our end balance, certainly not enough to make it worth the stress of never being able to grab a bagel on the go or meet up for lunch. 
We are also not cancelling our Disney vacation.  What the future holds does not negate the fact that we have not had a family vacation in two years and May will be the end of a 6 month stretch of minimized family time and emotional strain.  Especially if we are facing uncertainty, we need the strength that can only come from being happy, together as a family.  Finally, the truth is that financially, cancelling the trip won't make that big of a difference.  A week in Disney would cover two weeks of our family's expenses in New York.  If it came down to only having two weeks to keep our heads above water, we would have had to come up with a more drastic solution than drawing on savings, anyway.  The good news about that, though is that we are halfway to earning enough to live in Disney World.
My goal is to stay in Manhattan.  Logically I know that it's expensive and that we could get by on less somewhere else, but this is home.  We are happy here and one thing I must remember through this journey is
Happiness > Money
(thank you, BB for saying that flat out.  As much as it may be common sense, when times get tough, that's one of those things that you have to see written out to believe.)
I'm not viewing my career goals so much in number signs, but as a means to achieve what I want in life.  The first thing is to be as happy as I can.  Having spent the last three and a half years believing in what I do, being proud of my job and, in fact, looking forward to going to work, I know that I will never be happy doing something that just pays the bills.  I have been shown that I have the potential to serve the community and HaShem through my work and I can't settle for less.  A great part of any journey is knowing from whence you came.  Standing here I can look back and see what I have accomplished, the impact I can make.  I can also look forward and see endless potential.

Countdown to the Cut!

So, my salary is being cut by 2/3, but not for six and a half months. I kind of saw it coming, so I'm not shocked.  I work for a non-profit that doesn't fundraise, so it just makes sense. Yes, but now what?
I want to stay in Manhattan.  We're happy in our neighborhood and we're truly at home in our apartment, so I need to replace my income.  Ideally, I'd like to even increase it, but first thing's first.
I'm going into this confident and faithful that HaShem will provide, that this is just another step on the path He has laid out for me.   I have time, I have resources, I have ambition and I have talent.  My "disadvantage," is that I have spent the last three and a half years serving the community in a meaningful way doing a job that I love and I only believe in moving forward.  I can't go from a satsifying, meaningful occupation to something menial that just pays the bills, I owe myself better than that.  As always, I work to live, I don't live to work, but I refuse to spend eight hours a day miserable to support the other sixteen. 
My main hope is writing.  I already have several freelance projects going, but I have always wanted to write a book.  I'm reading Thinking Like Your Editor, in the hopes of getting the guidance I need to put together a proposal and push my writing career forward. My speaking career is off to a good start and I have high hopes in that arena as well.
I've consolidated all of my professional ventures at http://www.hiimyael.com/.  I'm accessable, I'm flexible, I'm ready to roll. Let's see what's out there