The Story of the woman and the elusive job

This blog is one of the little stories of my life, which is nestled in other stories then other stories and eventually becomes my entire life. Thinking like this makes unemployment seem less scary. I have yet to find a mindset that makes death less scary. I met death a few weeks ago. He didn't really say hello and ask my name- just peeked at me as my car tumbled off the highway and held my gaze while my windshield filled with snowy earth and the windows shattered. This passing encounter with death is the inciting incident for this blog. It is the reason I am unemployed and also the reason (not surprisingly) I'm afraid of death.

Less inherently understandable is the Arabian Nights gimmick. In The Book Of One Thousand and One Nights Scheherazade tells a story every night to save her life. This is kind of what I'm doing in my search for a job. I'm not fearful that I will loose my head if I don't find a job after one hundred and one applications. However, I do fear that if I don't find a job I am going to enroll in a very practical school and come out with a pragmatic degree for a job I don't really want; a job that will make my life stable, orderly and predictable. The horror!

In One Thousand and One Nights there is this idea that if a story is good enough it can save you. So really, if I can write an excellent cover letter that tells a story about how one young woman from the mid-west with no friends of great notoriety or fortune, but a history of energetic hard work is the perfect candidate for a job opening, then by the law of Arabian Nights I will get an amazing job.

Following the car accident I can't help but think of the million ways anyone's fragile life could suddenly be lost. But, if I can tell myself a good enough story, where the world is friendly and pleasant and terrible things don't happen all that often, maybe I can convince myself the world isn't such a scary place after all.

Until that day comes, I'll be applying for jobs and reading through Arabian Nights. Considering the economy and 1,335 pages of the Book of One Thousand and One Nights, I think I'll be here for a while.

I'll be back tomorrow with a post on the translation of Arabian Nights I'm reading. A man named Richard Burton finished it in 1885. He was an explorer in the glory days of the English Empire and by today's standards, or really any standards of decency, an offensive bigot. So, if you are anyone but Richard Burton you can look forward to being horribly offended by tomorrow's post.