Hi, Sarah —

I’ve found the perfect job opportunity — a museum curatorial and research assistant position in a musical subject area. I have a BM in music and a BA in theater, curatorial/research summer positions at two museums, library cataloguing experience, a passion for the subject, lots of geeky research and classification expertise, and lots of volunteer/hobby work that relates to the subject. It’s so perfect for me it hurts.

The problem is that I lack the requested three professional references. I can give one good one (former library supervisor and current musical coworker who forwarded me the job posting) and one okay one (current choir director for paid soloist position), and then I fall apart.

My museum jobs were summer positions 12 and 21 years ago, respectively, and the people I worked for have moved on to other institutions (I don’t know where). My theater professors are from 1987-1991, and most have retired or passed on.

My volunteer work has been with a living history group, where I founded a choir that’s in its tenth year, taught, wrote, performed, and filled all sorts of offices; and creating a convention for a fashion doll and cartoon fandom, which is now in its fifth year and drawing an international crowd. As real as the skills I developed in those groups are, the wacky contexts seem like reference/résumé poison, although I am able to bring them up in more standard-sounding ways in interviews.

My music professors from 1999-2003 would have to mention how I completely failed as a music teacher (depressed introverts with broken ankles are bad first-year teachers, no matter how well they know the subject) — and the most relevant one, for whom I’ve been researching and writing program notes for two years, is someone I don’t get along with personally, though he likes my (unpaid) work. I don’t know if I can trust him to be objective about my skills.

I’ve been doing administrative temp work out of desperation for most of my working life, including a current assignment that’s lasted almost two years. My boss thinks I’m great and would like to hire me permanently, and I trust him, but I hate to use him as a reference because focusing on my being an admin highlights the central failure of my life rather than my relevant qualifications.

That failure is largely because I’m severely depressed and have burned through all the medications and several therapists without success. I’ve survived and stayed employed and fought to be functional, and I’ve managed to maintain some amazing friends and live on my own and not become an addict and keep the demons quiet with the hobbies and performing and volunteer work, and that has eaten up all my energy and drive. I know that I have to own up to my cruddy job history, but I also know I can’t mention the depression, which I think makes me look really, really shady. Nearly 40, great academic credentials, great performing experience, periodic flashes of drive and talent — and I’ve been a temp secretary all this time?

So — if I have to choose between the questionable professor and my temp boss as a reference, who’s the better risk?

And how do I finesse the career fallout of the depression? Every non-temp interview I’ve had in the last 15 years brings up the discrepancy, and the previously effective gloss of “I haven’t found the perfect job yet and like the flexibility” seems inappropriate at this stage of my life.

Sorry for all the parentheses,

Trying to be a phoenix

Dear Phoenix,

I would go with the temp boss; your admin experience is more relevant to the position you want than you seem to think.Research assistants do a lot of administrative work, so the same strengths apply — and interest in the particular field isn’t necessarily what they’ll hire on, as much as the ability to gather and organize information.

On top of that, you’ll just waste unnecessary energy stressing over what the professor is going to say, so I’d ask the guy who’s going to give you a for-sure positive recommendation.

The depression itself isn’t something I’d focus on, as far as your contact with your hoped-for employer; in fact, I’d resist as much as possible the urge to jump out in front of that.If the gaps in your c.v. come up in the interview, explain that you in fact haven’t found the perfect job yet, and while you realize that holding out has had its price, you considered it a worthwhile risk…and that also you’ve had some health problems that interfered with your ability to craft an unbroken career arc.Don’t specify; don’t apologize.Adopt a regretful tone and keep it short.

If you’re qualified for the job, you’re qualified for the job, and it’s not really their business why you’re applying for it at nearly 40 instead of 25.People have problems; shit happens.You wouldn’t beat yourself up to this extent if you had some other chronic illness, I suspect, and you shouldn’t do it over the depression, either; you did what you had to do to get through.You also did a couple of jobs you kind of sucked at, as have we all.

But you should rehearse yourself so that your first instinct, after the small talk, is not to start apologizing for and overexplaining that part of your life, because it’s not the depression itself that would give them pause, I don’t think, but rather your need to tag yourself with it.

I mean, it’s not irrelevant, but give them a chance to give you a chance.Depression isn’t “shady”; it’s depression.Focus on your accomplishments so that HR can do the same.

I am a longtime lover of the site, your writings (I used to read Dawson’s Wrap!), and your advice. I’ve trolled and trolled The Vine for friendship advice akin to what I’m about to ask, and if it’s there, I haven’t found it.

I’ve been friends with someone very special and dear to me for about 10 years. In my mind, she is one of a kind, immensely intelligent, well-read (even that is a huge understatement), great taste in music, totally hilarious and gorgeous, all that jazz. But for the past year and a half, she’s been blowing me off.

I’ve sent messages, texts, ran into her randomly and reciprocated the whole “Yeah! Let’s get together! Really, let’s do that.” But it became pretty obvious that even though she could call or text or message or email or come by (we live in the same neighborhood), she was not doing any one of those things but just (drunkenly, usually) telling me she loves me and misses me, and, of course “let’s get together, REALLY.” Then nothing.

After feeling hurt, wondering why, doing the whole thing, finally agreed with myself that if this person did not have the maturity or moxie to tell me why she didn’t want to hang out with me (a year is way too long to have just been “busy”), then I wasn’t going to analyze it. It was Her Problem, not My Problem, and sadly resigned myself to losing a friend rather than have a confrontation with someone I know very well will run and hide, if confronted, and has. She disappeared from my life before, we had plans to get an apartment together, and only years later found out why (it had nothing to do with me).

Cut to recently where I got a two-sentence email from her, saying a certain singer reminds her of me (?) and “where are you?”

Well, “where I am,” is having the worst time of my life, in every single facet. I have held her crying over boys, I have picked her up when her car was broken down, I have made her dinner, I have hung out with her and her family, I have been there to save her, I have invited her over and made several attempts over the last year to get together.

Point is, if I’m going to fight for this friendship, now is my opportunity to say WTF. Seriously. I’m going through what is legitimately horrible on all fronts for anyone and haven’t heard from you in a year and a half, what is up with that.

OR…or. I think I’m at the point of wondering “well then what kind of so-called friend is she,” but if there’s anything that I have done, and can learn from that, I’d like the opportunity to hear it.

Also, and I am of course hurt and confused, this is my chance to voice that rather than hanging on to said hurt and confusion. I’m just not sure that I’m the one that needs to be learning how to be better (especially given how low my life is right now) or doing the confronting, instead of saying screw it, if this is your version of friendship, I don’t need it.

Need your analysis ’cause mine is driving me insane

Dear Need,

Say WTF.Seriously.I would give her a pass on the part where she’s not there for you right now specifically, because she has no way of knowing what you’ve gone through recently, but…whose fault is that, in the end?It’s hers.You’ve made the effort, she hasn’t, and that in and of itself is hurtful to you, but not necessarily “bad” or “wrong” — just one of those things that happens in friendships sometimes, that they peter out.

But for her to get all “where have you been?”…enhhhh no thanks.Tell her exactly what you just wrote to me: you were there for her, she disappeared, now you’re tits-high in the weeds and she wants to know where you’ve gone — she can check herself.You miss her and everything, but if she wants to know “where you are,” she can pick up a damn phone and ask.

And then so maybe she runs and hides, in which case you’re no worse off, really, are you?

I don’t think you have to tell her that you’re done — unless you really are — but sometimes people really don’t get that their behavior has certain effects until they’re told in so many words.Maybe she’ll pull it together, maybe she won’t, but at least you’ll have had your say either way.

Hi Sars,

I’ve got a writing dilemma.

Basically, I want to write but can’t. Not in the staring-hopelessly-at-the-blank-page sense, though; it’s more that I just can’t find a way to make the logistics work right now. I have the idea, the work space, and the support from my lovely husband, so I’m very lucky in all those respects, but it’s the lack of time that’s totally killing me.

After working all day, hitting up the gym for a bit, grabbing dinner, handling a few chores, and catching up with the husband and kitties, I find myself with maybe an hour left to devote to writing before it’s time to fall into bed. And while I know that even an hour a day can add up, I’m having a really hard time making my writing brain work in these one-hour chunks.

The last time I did any writing, I was in college and life was very different. I had the option to just sit and think and play with ideas for hours at a time, and usually an hour or two into the process, the paragraphs and pages would start to flow. It was pretty awesome, and looking back, I wish I’d taken better advantage of the situation.

I think my creative mind got used to that kind of lax timeline, however, so it’s totally not cooperating in this new reality of grown-up responsibilities and other time commitments. When I retreat to my little office in the evenings for my precious hour of writing time, the hour is often over before I’ve really found my footing and figured out what I want to work on for the night.

So, I guess my question is: what can I do to make this work? How can I retrain myself to be more productive in the limited time that I do have available? Quitting my job, giving up the chores, and packing the cats off to their kitty-grandma’s house aren’t really options (tempting as they may be) — nor is giving up the writing, because this idea will make me crazy if I do — so I have to find some way to reset my brain and work with what I’ve got.

The creative frustration is starting to make me feel like some Obnoxiously Mopey Faux-Writer Girl (in my own head, anyway), which I would very much like to put an immediate stop to, because it’s just gross.

Any suggestions you might have would be wonderful…

Overbooked

Dear Book,

It’s easy to let all the ancillary crap that surrounds the actual work of writing prevent you from getting anything substantive done — procrastinating with outlines, re-editing yesterday’s pages instead of moving forward, obsessing about character names.

In college, this seemed to me like part of the package, part of The Grand Tragic Show-Offy Romance Of The Writing Life.It took a few years for me to figure out that I wasn’t really getting anything done, but eventually I got it, and you should give yourself a little time to adjust to the essential nature of the job of writing, which unfortunately is largely thankless grinding that can often seem like time you’d have better spent doing something else.Like stabbing yourself in the eye with a ballpoint pen.Not that I’m having plotting issues of my own right now or anything.

Anyway!As I said: give it some time.Also, before you go into your lair to work, try to have some of the administrative stuff done before you start.If your project has pieces, break them down into as many little parts as possible, make a task list, decide what you want to do in tonight’s hour, and address that, and only that.Spending half your nightly hour dicking around with the pre-flight checklist doesn’t get you in the air, and makes you feel ineffectual besides.

Then it’s time to start the annoying workshop tricks, like setting a timer for 20 minutes and not letting your fingers leave the keyboard or stop moving until the bell rings.You will end several days of “work” with 17 pages of the word “blah,” interspersed with the occasional “FUCK THIS,” but stick with it; sometimes, when your conscious mind is consumed with the desire to put your laptop in the toilet, the rest of your brain will cough up something interesting.

You just have to keep doing it every night until it stops seeming like a fruitless affectation; until everything you write in your 20-minute blocks stops being about how you hate yourself for being fruitlessly affected, a bad writer, a bad person, stupid, and ugly; until one night you don’t need the timer anymore, and your husband finds you in there the next morning with keyboard hair.And over coffee he asks how it went, and you say, “I beat that second act with a beehive, friend.High five.”

That will happen.Before that happens, other, much more annoying and crappily-written things will happen, but those things will get you used to slogging through the work, and will let you get to the good stuff.

And know this: girl, I feel you.We all do.This ain’t no way for grown-ups to make a living.But here we are, so put the coffee on and don’t give up.

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