Travel & Food Writer

I have a question for bloggers out there:

 

How is it that those of you with day jobs find time to write?

 

I was bad at blogging when I was unemployed, but now it seems impossible. My day job takes up my days, waitressing takes up my Saturdays (and occasional evenings), the gym is in there wherever I can fit it, and there are things like my Physical Therapy appointments and grocery shopping and Bible study and visiting with friends, and the next thing I know it’s time to go to bed.*

 

*that is, eat ice cream, watch  Friends, and go to bed

 

Am I doing something wrong? Do I take too long to blog, perhaps? Are most people writing their posts on lunch breaks where they can crank out a witty blog, complete with hand-drawn artistic creations and YouTube clips and Photo-shopped pictures in 30 minutes while eating? It takes me roughly 2-4 hours to complete an entry, which clearly demonstrates that I was not an English major in college or someone who excelled in Journalism. I do not work well under pressure. I fail at games that involve timers. I’m convinced that most of what I write is unpublishable. Or maybe I just care too much about quality and ought to relax?

 

That’s right, potential employers:  my weakness is “perfectionism” —I CARE TOO MUCH ABOUT QUALITY.**

 

**please don’t examine my previous postings

 

**also, why is the weakness question still asked during interviews? Who’s going to say, “My weakness is that I freak out under pressure and resort to crying,” or “My weakness is managing proper hygiene and attire, seeing as I’ve been living in yoga pants for the past year.” Is it true that everyone who applies for a job is a perfectionist or has OCD organizational issues? Me thinks not.

 

I promise you, though—if I published everything I drafted, it would be one hot mess of a blog.

 

Speaking of hot mess, I was a sight to see last night trying to get ready to go to a University of Glasgow event in Boston last night (which, by the way, was SO FUN).

 

It began with the realization that it was a black tie event***, and sadly, I had to email the contact person to verify this wasn’t a lie and I should, in fact, wear a dress as opposed to, say, jeans and a sweater.

 

***the actual specification was “black tie/kilts”

 

I had a black dress in mind, my “go-to” nice dress that I wore as a bridesmaid’s dress several years ago that has treated me well ever since, but I realized during my 15 minutes of allotted “get ready time” that the dress I had in mind was still in New Mexico.

 

In fact, ALL of my dresses save ONE were in New Mexico.

 

The one dress that remained was the one I wore in England this summer. It was supposed to be my 2013 New Year’s dress but I forgot it in New Mexico, ironically enough. It was also the dress that I stashed in my closet containers for the winter because—hello—it’s cold outside. Who wears fancy dresses in snow?

 

(Well, possibly a lot of people. But I am not one of them.)

 

So, I fished out my dress, which was, of course, wrinkled, but I didn’t have time to iron it because the iron was in the basement and I live in the attic, and it seemed impossibly difficult to overcome the three-story barrier. I tried being creative with other skirts and tops I own, but that was not successful, so I figured I had to make my only black dress work.

 

I tried it on, and because of its natural “ruche,” the wrinkling wasn’t noticeable, so I forewent the iron with less guilt and the dress stayed on.

 

Then, as I was in a hurry, I ripped my pantyhose while trying to pull them up. I don’t think I’ve done that since I was seven years old and unskilled at dressing myself. The tear was high enough to not be exposed, though, so they stayed on.

 

I tried on two pairs of heels, both of which were open-toe because that’s all I have (pantyhose and open-toe strappy heels make quite the fashion statement), and went with the $10 pair that was black and had rhinestones.****

 

****The heels were 75% off when I bought them, so it wasn’t like I pilfered them from the kids’ section of Payless. Just fyi.

 

I even went so far as to curl my hair, which, as anyone who knows me will attest, is a remarkable feat. I actually cannot remember the last time I curled my own hair because

 

1. I haven’t owned a curling iron since I was an undergraduate (my parents recently mailed me one)

2. I’m really bad at it

3. My hair usually resists curl and instead chooses to be flat and lifeless.

 

Typically, I have skilled people do it for me, but I experimented last night. It was an unprofessional, warp-speed curl job, but it turned out surprisingly successful.*****

 

******by my standards, which are 10^-18 times as strict as the red carpet, and/or prom.

 

(I realize I should have photographic evidence here, but the only picture I took last night is not focused on my hair, so it’s hard to tell.)

 

 

I ended up leaving my house 50 minutes after I intended to, which would have been okay, except that I entered the wrong zip code into my GPS and ended up at an identical address thirteen miles from where I needed to be.

 

But my night would not have been complete if I didn’t have the opportunity to loathe Boston for its stupid traffic and stupid streets and mean, unyielding drivers.

 

By the time I arrived at the event, I was ready to welcome the free champagne with open arms (mouth?) and meet the kilt-wearing men.

 

I will have to continue this discussion of Scotland at another time because I’ve been at work for two hours and need to go on the clock now.

 

Seriously, bloggers. HOW DO YOU DO IT?? Please, share with me your secrets.