Friday, July 09, 2004

blah.....it's just one of those days. Granted, I'm enjoying the thunderstorm while my window is open. Cranky.

Job situation still irking me. Found a job yesterday that would have solved my job dearth for the summer after guys and dolls is done....but my vacation falls on opening weekend. That's a no-go if there ever was one. I did something nice and recommended it to a friend who needs work, she got an interview. i imagine she'll get the job. So, I'm happy for her, but disgruntled for me as usual. I figured, ok, the job really wasn't for me to begin with. If only I had noticed the dates more carefully I wouldn't have bothered to respond. But what frustrates me most is I could have done it, I was perfectly qualified, and I got a call within an HOUR of my email to them.

That never happens to me. EVER. That's what bugs me most of all. After months and years of sending stuff out to here and there, I actually find someone who WANTS me, and extenuating circumstances get in the way.

Mind you, I am NOT throwing away perfectly good vacation time, especially where we're going, and after a year or more of madness Mike and I deserve some nice time away from here.

I just kinda feel like a tool...I don't mind helping my friend, as it is I'm going to be hiring her to help me sew stuff soon anyhow, but I just wish I hadn't been placed in the middle of the transaction to become upset about it. I really wish there was someone who had the kindness and connections to do that for me more often. I got lucky with this current job, but that's not enough to keep my unemployment fears at bay.

I just hope that what goes around really does come back around and someone will help me for once when I need it most.

At this point I'm not counting on getting anything else for this summer, although I'm still trying. It's getting halfhearted at this point. Who is going to hire me on for only a month and a half -minus a week?

I don't think graphic design is going to get me anything. It might have been a good idea to try for, but I think people look at my resume, see I'm in school for theatre and go...well why the hell is she looking for part time graphic design then? And I also wonder if the fact that the last time I did anything professionally was almost 4 years ago has something to do with it. I don't know.

I'm doing my best to enjoy this break, trying to get involved/caught up in things I never had time for during school: cooking, sewing, cleaning, webstuff, surfing around mindlessly...
It's just so hard becauseI've been so driven to do things - constantly, that I feel like I'm wasting time by doing things involving rest or hobbies.

Nonetheless, I'm still stressing and complaining about jobs. I don't know what to do about that. Worry and patience are not friends, but worry comes over here to drink more often.

The only way I'll really get over this is if I apply somewhere I actually want to work, and get hired.
Not easy, and not an experience I've had much of.

I've had this wicked day dream of creating a resume that, while humourous, embodies my feelings and misgivings about the job market and they way people are treated as prospective employees in this country - based on my experience of course.

We could start out with qualities:
Yes, I am a frequent daydreamer, I believe that busywork is absolute bullshit, I can serve customers, but I'd really rather not because there's always that one asshat that wants to make my minimum wage position out to something important, I watch the the clock often in anticipation of going home, I dislike boring meetings that don't apply to me, and although I am fluent in corporate-ese, I will not speak it.

Experience:
Let's see...well, I've been alive for 20 some years, that should count for something, I've had many opportunities to look like I cared about my company, I have countless hours of lunchtime experience, and then there's the veritable years I've spent trying to get out of the stupid ass jobs I couldn't stand into something less stupid.

No, I'm not bitter.... I'm Guinness EXTRA STOUT.

Which sounds good right now oddly enough.

The reason I have such trouble with work and jobs (apart from my apparent inability to get them), is the whole premise behind why we're even working in the first place.

It's costs money to live.

How stupid is that. I should have been hit by a truck a long time ago, in that case, cuz I'm sure as hell not raking in anything.

So, seeing as how we have to PAY to be alive (oh what a privledge), we must be productive, musn't we? yes, yes. Make shit and sell it to people who don't want it. Sell sell, buy buy.

Can't just sit there and make pretty pictures if no one is going to buy them, get up and work at that food counter, there's only ten hundred hungry cranky over sugared consumers waiting to hassle you for a fucking donut at 5am.

It's apparent to me that I've just opened the bile duct - and it's on HIGH.

Work just makes no sense to me. If you're going to get paid, because you have to give out little worthless pieces of paper (or intangible numbers) in order to exist, then the least you should be able to do to be productive is do what you were born to do and are inherently good at, right?

Here's me, in 3rd grade, being told by my best friend that she'd going to be a chemist when she grows up. What do I want to be? an Artist. She says they don't make any money.

This, in 3rd fucking grade. Ok, fine. Didn't stop me. I kept doing art. Unfortunately, it's what I'm good at. I'm not great or stupendous, but I'm good enough at it to impress some people, anyway.

So fast forward to now, when it's SO apparent what I am supposed to be doing with my life, and I'm still faced with the same 3rd grade sentiment and view of art.

Fine, I won't make much money. I was warned of that at the age of 8. Now can I please do what I'm good at?
No, you have to move to another city.
No, you need connections.
No, there's just nothing for you right now. Sorry.But it's ok, if you get hungry or something, just chew your arm off. You don't use it much anyway, do you?

Bile bile bile.

I sometimes wonder why and how artists still exist at all. Some of them must just get lucky. And then, like any good king, they don't retire in their wonderful glorious jobs, no, they DIE there. So no one else can ever have them.

The End.

Now, a story about pushing a witch into an oven.
Damn kids, get off my lawn.

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