And the hunt fruitlessly continues...
The job hunt, that is. Torn between not wanting to be a graduate in the art of selling myself short and thereby being a trainee and between morons who after days of saying one thing, turn around and claim that their office is full, I find myself rather jobless. Undercurrents that alternate between self-pity, scorn, disappointment and grief are often beaten into submission by my unashamed optimism (it could be delusional, but I like it).
"Learn to enjoy losing," says a voice in my head — a very familiar voice that later tells me not to take any guff from these magazine swine.
Learn to enjoy losing.
Learn to enjoy losing?
Seems paradoxical, non? Especially in this society of ours with its ever-growing numbers, its ever-tightening and suffocating competition and its ever-increasing tendency to throw humourless, witless and frankly idiotic people in your path, just to make life that little bit harder for you. A society where winning is everything. Losing or failure is not an option. I'm rather familiar with those last two concepts. I like to believe they build character.
"Who wants to build character? I want to be made, paid and laid!!" some may cry. They have my deepest sympathy. Knowing that you are capable of taking a body blow and then, doubling over, spitting out a nasty cocktail of blood, saliva and fragmented teeth, breaking bones, maybe even falling down on your face AND YET, standing back up and saying, "Shoot me again. I ain't dead yet." That's character.
At this point, I feel it's very necessary to apologise for that shocking musical reference to the travesty that was Shoot me again..., which appeared on a catastrophe of an album that was St. Anger.
But my point is that I'm in an unknown and alien situation. The warm coziness of being a student and everything that goes with it is gone. I'd rather go through a few months of hell in this unfamiliar and unknown situation now and discover how much resilience I'm capable of mustering up. Then again, I could end up wilting, crying myself into a stupor or self-destructing (Psychologically, I mean!! Suicide is for the weak). All in all, pretty interesting times to be living in.
So why then, am I blanketed by this irreverent indifference? Why then do things still jar violently in me from time-to-time, while everything around me is so jarringly still?
2 comments:
The indifference is a result I think of three years of getting the guff kicked out of us by a crazy old toad, around 6 months of a beardy journalist, 3 with an accented broadcast lady, and 36 with Johnson.
People CAN toughen up and be indifferent to what 'life' offers them, after experiencing THAT.
But yeah, as far as I'm concerned the indifference is slowly getting replaced by anxiety, as my parents give me shifty looks whenever they see me home. Or maybe that's because I haven't shaved in a week.
-Darius
I concur with Harry: you've got a big ass.
Also, good blog...two points though. First: suicide isn't always for the weak, think of Dr Thompson, or those two guys in Aliens...not saying they were necessarily right, but they weren't weak to do what they did.
Second: Jobs come and go, you've been busy getting educated for what...20 years now? So I think you deserve a break, take a leaf out of my book and just do what ever you want for a while, just so long as you aren't messing with anyone else who's going to mind?
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