a hobby for a workaholic

sarah hall — Wed, 13 May 2009 09:05:57 +0000

I’ve never understood hobbies.

Now, I say that with the recognition that I’m currently part-time employed by some of the best-selling craft and hobby magazines in the country, so I suppose I understand somewhat. What I mean is, I’ve never really had one. I don’t have the patience to garden, much to the dismay of my mother. I get only random urges to work out. And I find Trekkies to be among some of the most frightening people on the planet–but I’m jealous of them.

They have something I don’t: A purpose in life beyond the nine-to-five. An outlet for expression and self-awareness. A hobby.

My passion has always been my work. I can’t remember I time when my absolute goal in life wasn’t to get good grades, go to college and land a job. That, as sad as it may seem, is my essence. It’s everything I’ve ever worked for. I’m baffled when people complain about their jobs, saying they’d rather be doing anything else. I’ve always enjoyed my career path. I like what I do and I enjoy (most of the time) doing it.

But it’s not enough.

I never considered what it would do to me as a person if I couldn’t get that job I’d worked for my entire life. I should have had a back-up. Something. Anything.

And now I feel stuck. Frozen. Lost.

My boyfriend compared my search for a job to looking at the sun. I can’t see anything else. And I need to look away before I’m completely blinded–completely crazy. I’m not in a position to completely forget about my situation. I can’t remove the large, circular blob from my eyesight even if I look away. The image will still be there. But, I can attempt to look at other things. And maybe if I do the blob will fade.

He suggested I make a bucket list–except one that hopefully doesn’t involve dying in the end. It’s a “To do before I get a job” list. It’s an attempt to spark a passion in something else–or at least take advantage of free time while I have it.

1. Get party without consequence with college friends before they disappear from my life…in five days.

2. GO HOME. Once I’m gainfully employed vacation days will be tight. I should spend time with my parents, brother, high school friends, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cat!, while I can.

3. Actually finish one of the 800 books I’ve started in the past few months.

4. Find creative ways to recycle all the magazines I have. I refuse to throw them away.

5. Start freelancing. This, I am terrified to do. I haven’t figured out why. And I have no idea where to start. So, my advice to myself is just “start.”

6. Create a Web site better than the template-style one I have. And get a real domain name.

7. Make a list of places to volunteer. Because I have no idea where I’m going to be any given week, see what can be done remotely.

8. Visit my best friend in St Louis.

…. So some of them are petty. Some will be on-going projects. And some I haven’t even thought of yet.

It’s a start.

an unplanned journey

sarah hall — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 08:33:03 +0000

I decided my professional future–and therefore my fate–at the age of seven. It was my best friend’s birthday and she had received a friendship book as a gift. We sat cross-legged on her blue-carpeted bedroom floor filling out this keepsake that was to safeguard all of our most valuable information. In two columns we listed favorite foods, books, movies, etc. When we got to the T.V. show category she scribbled “The Simpsons.” I wrote “Dateline and 20/20.”

I wanted nothing more than to be a journalist.

What I didn’t anticipate was that 14 years later after working myself to the core to get into one of the best journalism schools in the country, secure top-notch internships in the U.S. and abroad, win a plethora of national journalism and communication awards, and graduate early with two degrees in journalism and mass communications and political science, I would be virtually unemployable. This is not because of lack of merit or (I hope) social awkwardness. Instead it’s a consequence of a flailing global economy coupled with an unequivocally tanking old form of media and a sudden rush by young Americans to join a political movement.

So here I am. Standing somewhere in between the college world I moved on from and the working world I can’t move into. Somewhere between living while I can and trying to stay alive. The biggest life planner you’ll ever meet unable to plan a thing. Holding student loan notices, personal health insurance bills and an expiring lease on a house I can’t afford to live in even with roommates.

In effect, I’m an American on an unplanned journey–with 5 million others–holding nothing but hope.