During every tour with the Foreign Service, there comes a time where bidding becomes an obsession; a period of strategic planning of finding jobs that will be appropriate to the needs of the family: a job that will challenge Mark and help him grow as an officer, an hopefully one that doesn't steal his soul, a place that has decent school opportunities for the kids, and if the Jim-dog can come. We consider my opportunities as well. Can we find a country that I get to explore, or even better: can I work? If I have learned anything at all about myself in the entirety of my life, is that I love to work. I need to work. I crave work, to deter the idle hands of spousal life that is always a precarious risk when your spouse works in the Foreign Service.
Even though we won't likely find out where we will go until September of this year, bidding already takes a large amount of effort and attention for Mark. He needs to reach out and network, making inquiries as to whether he would be a viable candidate for position X. He seeks advice from past bosses and organizes his thoughts into this complicated web of"if, then" possibilities. It's exhausting but part of the game. Maybe he will get formal interviews by the end of summer, maybe not. Maybe he will be led to water, but will he drink? Will he find something that fits his and our needs? Can we have the best of both worlds?
My point is, there is so much to consider and yet a lot of things are out of our control. It's a long, drawn out dance and while he has his methods to keep him sane, I have to admit that bidding season always leaves me in limbo. I don't work from home or telework, so I can't really make a career decision of what to do with myself until we know where we will be going. Even then, it's still a mess of "if, then" possibilities and a metric ton's worth of "what ifs" and "maybes." For example: if we get posted to a place that requires language training, then I have to decide whether to work, take language, or study something else. Would anyone even hire me as a nurse? Would I start at the bottom of the totem pole if I did? Probably. Should I study something like massage therapy, or go back to school for a Masters? I wouldn't mind working as a temp, in fact, it could be very fun. But a decision like that in lieu of taking language could be a detriment to my wellbeing at post. After all, human beings as a whole need to feel understood, to be able to communicate.
All of this consideration leaves me overwhelmed. It also leaves me angsty, gassy, and sometimes hot tempered. I thought maybe it would help to write about it. Maybe it will make it worse. Either way, I should be grateful that I am spoiled for choice.
During the hiring freeze last year, I toyed with the idea of teaching yoga as a home-owned business. There would be a lot of annoying business junk that I would have to face, but it seemed like a decent option. Plus I am at a crossroads of deepening my practice and I am barely getting to know the fundamentals of a meditation practice. There is so much that I don't know, but at the same time, so much that I want to offer. I thought, perhaps another yoga cert would be just the thing.
I also considered getting an online certificate in copy editing, a skill that could be useful in not only personal blog posts, but to help others, preferably as a paid gig. Boring and painful to read someone else's drivel? Absolutely. Useful? Also absolutely.
Then a writer friend of mine told me very recently that I should consider getting an MFA in writing, probably the nicest compliment I could ever get. In the U.S., there are a few programs where I could earn an MFA as a low-resident, meaning I would travel to the school twice a year for 2 week, onsite intensives. By intense, my writer friend indicated, would be literal blood, sweat, and tears, as we'd be baring our souls 24/7, writing, editing, critiquing ,etc. Something like 4 semesters and 60 credit hours later, I'd get a Masters degree.
In fact, during my MFA research today, I was looking at the faculty list at one of these low residency programs and saw my college freshman english lit teacher. Even after 18 years, I recognized her immediately and felt nostalgia and admiration pound in my chest. I don't remember much about her class, except that she was an overwhelmed grad student. Half of my class was football players. We tried to write rhetoric and personal essays and I tried too hard to be quirky and funny. I also remember trying baclava for the first time in her class, though I don't remember why.
Of course I stalked her on FB and sent her a message saying hello. Turns out, she's kind of a big deal in writing circles with all kinds of awards. I bought her books then read her CV with a growing sense of unease and paranoia. How on earth could I ever amount to something like that? How could I possibly have enough intelligence and self-awareness to accomplish such a feat?
Mark told me to shut the hell up.
Yoga and meditation (as a unified concept, you can't have one with other) basically teaches us to live in the present moment. I observe and honor this concept, but at the same time, I fight it because our lifestyle demands a huge amount of planning and flexibility. It is so easy to get swept up in the "if, then" statements. I definitely love the flair of drama that fuels my ability write, wallow, and freak out about my future. So for now, I give myself the next thirty minutes to do just that. Then I will shut the hell up. At least until tomorrow.
Even though we won't likely find out where we will go until September of this year, bidding already takes a large amount of effort and attention for Mark. He needs to reach out and network, making inquiries as to whether he would be a viable candidate for position X. He seeks advice from past bosses and organizes his thoughts into this complicated web of"if, then" possibilities. It's exhausting but part of the game. Maybe he will get formal interviews by the end of summer, maybe not. Maybe he will be led to water, but will he drink? Will he find something that fits his and our needs? Can we have the best of both worlds?
My point is, there is so much to consider and yet a lot of things are out of our control. It's a long, drawn out dance and while he has his methods to keep him sane, I have to admit that bidding season always leaves me in limbo. I don't work from home or telework, so I can't really make a career decision of what to do with myself until we know where we will be going. Even then, it's still a mess of "if, then" possibilities and a metric ton's worth of "what ifs" and "maybes." For example: if we get posted to a place that requires language training, then I have to decide whether to work, take language, or study something else. Would anyone even hire me as a nurse? Would I start at the bottom of the totem pole if I did? Probably. Should I study something like massage therapy, or go back to school for a Masters? I wouldn't mind working as a temp, in fact, it could be very fun. But a decision like that in lieu of taking language could be a detriment to my wellbeing at post. After all, human beings as a whole need to feel understood, to be able to communicate.
All of this consideration leaves me overwhelmed. It also leaves me angsty, gassy, and sometimes hot tempered. I thought maybe it would help to write about it. Maybe it will make it worse. Either way, I should be grateful that I am spoiled for choice.
During the hiring freeze last year, I toyed with the idea of teaching yoga as a home-owned business. There would be a lot of annoying business junk that I would have to face, but it seemed like a decent option. Plus I am at a crossroads of deepening my practice and I am barely getting to know the fundamentals of a meditation practice. There is so much that I don't know, but at the same time, so much that I want to offer. I thought, perhaps another yoga cert would be just the thing.
I also considered getting an online certificate in copy editing, a skill that could be useful in not only personal blog posts, but to help others, preferably as a paid gig. Boring and painful to read someone else's drivel? Absolutely. Useful? Also absolutely.
Then a writer friend of mine told me very recently that I should consider getting an MFA in writing, probably the nicest compliment I could ever get. In the U.S., there are a few programs where I could earn an MFA as a low-resident, meaning I would travel to the school twice a year for 2 week, onsite intensives. By intense, my writer friend indicated, would be literal blood, sweat, and tears, as we'd be baring our souls 24/7, writing, editing, critiquing ,etc. Something like 4 semesters and 60 credit hours later, I'd get a Masters degree.
In fact, during my MFA research today, I was looking at the faculty list at one of these low residency programs and saw my college freshman english lit teacher. Even after 18 years, I recognized her immediately and felt nostalgia and admiration pound in my chest. I don't remember much about her class, except that she was an overwhelmed grad student. Half of my class was football players. We tried to write rhetoric and personal essays and I tried too hard to be quirky and funny. I also remember trying baclava for the first time in her class, though I don't remember why.
Of course I stalked her on FB and sent her a message saying hello. Turns out, she's kind of a big deal in writing circles with all kinds of awards. I bought her books then read her CV with a growing sense of unease and paranoia. How on earth could I ever amount to something like that? How could I possibly have enough intelligence and self-awareness to accomplish such a feat?
Mark told me to shut the hell up.
Yoga and meditation (as a unified concept, you can't have one with other) basically teaches us to live in the present moment. I observe and honor this concept, but at the same time, I fight it because our lifestyle demands a huge amount of planning and flexibility. It is so easy to get swept up in the "if, then" statements. I definitely love the flair of drama that fuels my ability write, wallow, and freak out about my future. So for now, I give myself the next thirty minutes to do just that. Then I will shut the hell up. At least until tomorrow.
You’re a wonderful writer...your perspective is always entertaining (that quirky sense of humor always makes me laugh). You might consider writing fiction (lightly based on your experiences). Each book could be set in a different country. The protagonist could be this funny lady with a career foreign service hubby, a couple of kids that pop up along the way, and her partner in crime - a really cool old guy named Jim. Amateur sleuth, adventurer or life lesson learner (or any combination). Best-seller material, and you already have so many stories that could be leveraged for this fictional heroine! And ‘Em Loves Beer’ is a great title for the first in the series!
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