My partner leads me to the scenic spot near our apartment to watch the fireworks celebration across the city. In the distance there are explosions of color, punctuated by soft delayed bangs. It’s too far for us to see them clearly, but the spectacle is captivating all the same. Palm trees of light and cinder flash across the bay, glittering in the night, and a large crowd gathers in the overlooking park, oohing and aahing.

Recently, I took a hiatus from writing for this blog to focus on a practical problem: finding a full-time job.

My first job out of college is like a blur to me now. I was underpaid, but it’s still more than I’ve ever made since, and for reasons I won’t go into here, I stumbled, and it really hurt me professionally. For a few years I’ve floated between unemployment, retail, and contract jobs, and with each one it feels like I’m just scraping to get by. I won’t hide it; finding consistent work has been a real struggle for me. That corporate world I was briefly immersed in feels so far out of my reach now. Every outlet is telling me that no one is hiring, and companies are laying off their workers in disheartening numbers. It feels like all the doors are closing on me, and I don’t see a way forward.

I’ve asked friends for help navigating the job-searching landscape, but it always feels like there’s a disconnect. I’ve seen almost all my colleagues refind employment far faster than I ever have, and it’s hard not to feel like that’s because I’m doing something wrong, or that my resume is irredeemably unfit for what I want to be doing. I understand applying for work is a crapshoot, it’s as much timing and luck as it is what skills you actually bring to the job, but it’s discouraging all the same. In the past month I’ve applied for almost 10 job listings a day, and most of them haven’t gotten back to me. The only thing different I can think to do is ask about applying in person, but for the most part that puts me back in retail again, barely getting by.

It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to the interview stage. The few times I have, the companies were sketchy, not to mention the flash of surprise I see on the interviewer’s faces when I arrive; despite Sam being a gender neutral name, it never feels like employers are expecting someone who looks like me. I don’t want to chalk it all up to that, so I try to move on and come to terms with the notion that I either didn’t leave a good impression, or that my skills are lacking. I’m afraid to take up space in these situations, and I don’t know how to advocate for myself. I don’t know how to navigate the conversation around expectation and compensation; I’ve read talks about how to better represent myself, but it really feels like a negotiation I have no leverage in. All I can do is ask, which might even hurt my chances of getting the position I’m interviewing for.

People tell me I’m a good writer. I’d really like to believe them, but this skill hasn’t offered me any stability. Every month I feel like I’m about to get bucked from the horse and what little I’ve built is going to vanish. As the cost of living rises and my options seem to dwindle, it’s getting harder to imagine where I’ll be in ten years; it’s getting harder to imagine any future. Between media outlets measuring success in clicks over quality of writing, and the entertainment world so brazenly broadcasting that writers (and actors) don’t deserve even a small share of profits, it doesn’t feel like being a good writer is worth very much. And unfortunately I have bills to pay, so I have to think of it in those terms.

I try not to let it bother me, but money is a constant consideration, whether I’m debating whether my partner and I can afford to go out on a date, or weighing the pros and cons of gender-affirming care. Lately, I have to stop my train of thought from entertaining those possibilities too long because most procedures are prohibitively expensive for me; even if I had the money, I couldn’t afford to not be working for the amount of time it would take to recover. Previously, my transition was limited by what I thought was physically possible, but now it’s limited by my means.

I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m unhappy. I have a loving partner, friends living nearby, and I’m more comfortable in my body than I ever have been. It just feels like it could all be taken away in a matter of weeks.

As the sky gets darker, the crowd atop the vista disperses, at first we’re not sure why. The answer comes in the form of a sizzling tower of explosives; while they aren’t permitted in our neighborhood, someone has lit a pile of fireworks. A guy in a dark hoodie runs away from the fuse holding a lighter. The first rocket in the salvo shoots from the mound with a whistle and a sparkling tail before the rest follow suit, flying in a myriad of directions. The sky erupts in green fire as deafening booms echo through the unassuming streets. From this close, the colorful explosions are misshapen, we can’t really make out what they’re supposed to be as we tilt our heads up to see the spectacle and gritty ashes fall down on us. Car alarms blare through the smoky night, and the sound of police sirens wail in the wake of the cacophony.

I’m sure, to someone, it was a brilliant sight. With distance, you can see the whole shape of the blasts without worrying about blowback, or an errant firework flying your way. My partner squeezes my hand. I hope someday we can see the fireworks from somewhere far away too.

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Movie club is still going, hopefully I’ll feel stable enough to start posting reviews again soon. I’ve been trying to write some longer form pieces lately, although I’m not sure if that’s been a good use of my time.