Totally disregarding my financial security

Phillip and I had big plans to go to bed early last night. Our last two weeks having been the equivalent of sticking our heads in blenders and hitting "Puree", we were solely interested in television, junk food and sleep. Ah, sleep.

But I had homework. And then there was ice skating. And I decided to apply for a new job, which I did upstairs in between running downstairs whenever Phillip yelled "IRINA'S SKATING NOW!" and "SASHA COHEN FINALLY GOT HER SCRAWNY BUTT ON THE ICE!" Dear hopeful potential new employer: If my cover letter is wearing too much makeup and my resume is smothered in sequins, let's blame NBC.

So today? My head hurts, I'm sort of snappish and my face feels like it's been covered with a tight layer of plastic wrap.

As for this new job thing, I'm trying not to think much about it. Mostly because I probably won't be contacted and my lack of sleep will have been in vain, but I think I'd be okay with that. It was the kind of job that popped up and said: You are a damn fool if you do not apply for me. So I did. We'll see.

But I have some thoughts (I always do) and of course I will use my personal website to Work Them Out. Brace yourselves.

Becaaaaaause, this is not The Most Perfect Job Ever. (It may be the most perfect job for me, right now, but we'll get to that.) For one thing, it is "contract", whatever that means. (I'm assuming it means "part time".)  It does not have a fancy title that will impress my friends, family, senior year English teacher or my former important-ish boss. It most likely pays less, is attached to no benefits, does not advance me in my current industry, makes no use of any connections I have and most certainly will not stamp my forehead with Hot Young Professional. This goes against the very fiber of my 9 out of 10 Highly Anxious Personality Traits disposition. What will people think?!

With the exception of the 8 months I spent taking care of old ladies in hospice, it is quite possibly the first job I've ever applied for that is more about being happy than getting ahead. And that feels very very wrong. I am 26 years old, childless for the near future, owner of a nasty mortgage and residing in a high-cost-of-living city. It should be required for me to get ahead. But the other day I was told by a very excited and encouraging person that I'm at the very beginning of my "career" and all I could think was Oh, God, I don't WANT a career. Obviously I am lazy, selfish, horribly unambitious and willfully taking advantage of my husband's admirable and fascinating wish to provide for his family. How rotten am I?

On the other hand, I have decided to stop assuming that the only thing I have ever wanted to be when I grew up is impossible and actually TRY. That means reserving time for this pursuit, possibly cutting my real job back to part time in order to make it happen. It means finding another job that doesn't make me want to zone out on the couch for hours as soon as I get home or jealously guard my free time on weekends. It means making this writing-a-novel-that-may-never-be-published-let-alone-earn-me-any-actual -dollars-thing a priority and I just don't feel like that's possible with the life I have right now.

This new job involves writing and editing for a local charitable organization. It's "contract". It totally excites me. I probably won't be contacted, for a multitude of reasons, but I need to try because things need to change. I'll be sad to leave where I am right now, but I'm tired of waiting for something to happen . If I were pregnant, I'd be waiting out my time here until I had my baby this summer and working part time afterwards. Having to ditch this plan has been super duper extra hard, but I am beginning to admit (a teeny tiny little reluctant smidgen of admit) that things may be working out well...

So how horrible is it? To work part time before I even have kids to stay home for? To make the financial burden on my husband even heavier? To pursue my totally pie-in-the-sky dream when other people have to work three jobs just to pay rent? What would Linda Hirshman say about me? (Okay, that last one is a joke. Even my highly anxious personality is not that eager for punishment.)