Honestly, I've never thought of myself as the kind of person who would be - or could be - unemployed. Is that offensive? When I say "the kind of person," I don't mean to imply any slight on unemployed people. I guess I'd just never thought I'd end up being the girl who relies on a man as exclusively as I do right now, and it's devastating to my self worth. I've been an independent woman for a while. Living with my parents at the beginning of college, I was reluctant to take money from them. Reluctant even to let them buy me groceries or clothes. I'd held down a job all the way through high school and college, and then through my two year masters degree. There had been times when my studies would suffer from the long hours I had to work just to make rent, but I was happy with my situation.

Sometime during my junior year of undergrad, I met the guy that I'm with now. He's a wonderful, caring, loving man who decided on a far more practical career track than I did. Daniel, upon graduating from his master's program, was immediately offered a 9 to 5 - the holy grail for most of us just entering the job market. Coming out of my fine arts MFA, I was offered absolutely nothing. So for lack of something better to do, I moved with Dan to a little house outside of Columbia.

And so begins my story. It's a story about how much I hate the job hunt, really. About how adjusting to Columbia has at times been the most frustrating thing in the world. About how, despite the fact that I have a degree and graduated summa cum laude, I chose possibly the worst career path in the entire world and now sit at home, searching job websites, finding myself progressively more disgusted with the way my life is going.

So, reader, whoever you are, I hope you understand that this unemployment is not my choice. And even though Dan is the most supportive, wonderful man I've ever met, he can do nothing to help me and I can't seem to help myself. Someday, when I've figured out what I want to do with my life and have begun a real career, I'd like to be able to look back at this. Know how far I've come.