I’m in the midst of job searching right now, which has been a lot of, “Thanks, but no,” and utter silence. Not unusual for any job search, but it is getting wearing. I’m picking up odd jobs here and there from all the things I’ve done as hobbies and side jobs (web design, cover design, fiction editing, book formatting, etc) while working on a BIG project with a friend that has a ton of potential to become my main job, but won’t pay for a bit.
And all of this while learning the mom thing with my now six-month old.
I feel like I’m throwing handfuls of pasta at the wall from fifteen different pots with no idea how long each one has been cooking or even what kind of pasta is in the pot. Because linguine might stick, but it’s not going to be as good as spaghetti. And tortellini is awesome, but getting it to stick would be a miracle!
Okay, it’s not a great analogy, and now I’m really hungry, but that’s basically the story of my life.
I’ve asked myself over and over if I’m being stubborn about not going back to the US. Because I have at least one if not two almost-certain job possibilities back there. But that would mean a car payment. And cold. And child care, possibly. When I drill down, combined with the fact that I just don’t want to, it doesn’t make fiscal or emotional sense.
I’m so grateful that it’s possible to live on so little where we’ve chosen to live. That every day I have the beach and the sun and the jungle creatures to cheer me up. But I’m ready for some sticky pasta.