|THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016).|
I try to solve all my problems the same way- by curling in a ball and hyperventilating.
Tomorrow i guess i have to tell my boss that i'm only going to be able to work 2 days a week, since i guess i'm going to work for my mother. I guess.
Did i really try? How do you know. What does it feel like.
Maybe my problem is that i've never had to try before. I'm not used to this effort thing. Highschool was a big joke and i went to college for something that i love and can do well, it wasn't that hard. In the real world, i'm not used to being bad at things. I'm not used to practice and failure, really i'm not.
I've sent.....god, maybe 100 resumes? had less than 20 interviews? in 2 years? And nothing.
I didn't want most of the jobs anyway, most of them i just tried for in the steps to gain experience and get something better. No job without experience. No experience without job. The old loop.
Don't get me wrong though, some of them i did want really bad. Hallmark, Ganz, any of the toy companies, yeah those ones hurt.
So in an effort to get SOMETHING creative going in my job life, is me working for my mother.
The bad parts are a punch in the face. Leaving Rowlf for 3 days (and nights) a week to go and stay at my....at my.....parent's house. I can't shake the notion that parent's house = failure. At i wouldn't be moving back in or anything of that nature. It's a 50 minute drive, it makes more sense and i'll save money on food. Parent's help = failure, in my head.
But working there would allow me to look for real work, and go to interviews without having to call in sick and risk getting in trouble. And i would be drawing and designing, in a way. A way that has never interested me, but was i really interested in any of those jobs i applied for that consisted of laying out copy for local newspaper real estate ads? No.
And i'm sure it would be something to put on a resume at the very least. I hope it is. It surely would look better than spending more months working at a fucking hardware store.
She now owns a stained glass studio and their designer is knocked up and gonna pop any minute. And you can legally take up to a full year of maternity leave in Ontario.
Who can draw? Me.
Who's not working in any real sense? Me.
Who are they counting on to help out? Me.
I explain it to people that "my family's business is in trouble, they need me." And that makes it sound all honorable, like those Asian kids who take over the convenience store for a few weeks.
But anyone who knows me knows that i have a surprising lack of family duty or closeness.
I guess i owe them though, i guess.
Don't get me wrong, i hate my fucking job. But for some reason it's easy enough of a rut that i'm dreading to leave it, and the people are nice. So it's hard. I don't know what's better. I don't know what to do and it's sort of too late anyway.
Curl in a ball.
Full metal panic.
I always hear people talking about doors closing on options as you get older, as you get more responsibility. I have no responsibilities in my mind for the future other than keeping myself fed and housed. And all my "doors" that might close are as insane as they are impossible.
I'm just now beginning to realize, for example, that i may indeed never be a rock star. This is due mostly to the fact that i've never been in a band, learned an instrument proficiently or sang out loud in public. Oh, but the dream is still in there and i'll be fucked if i'm letting it go easy. I'm going to be a goddamn rock star in my head and no one knows this. And i'm just starting to come to terms with the fact that i may never gain magical powers.
I do not have goals. As such, i am driven into the most insane whims of how my life should go, and i will inevitably feel like an utter failure if i don't end up being and opera/rockstar/dominatrix who also has a line of licensed cartoon merchandise while i end world hunger. A failure in any of these categories suggests lifelong unhappiness.
You're SUPPOSED to have goals, right? I'm crazy aren't i? Where the fuck do i start.
Some people have the mid-life crisis. I call this stage i'm in the pre-life crisis.
I used to seem mature. Everyone said so. I didn't drink or do drugs in highschool. I wasn't out of control. I didn't party hard. I didn't partake in the gossip and drama. I avoided the highschool stereotypes. And now i seem like a child for being the same way. I don't want normal things, my friends are all married and only now do i imagine something is wrong with me. I'm in stasis. I'm still wearing the same kind of clothes.
I DIDNT CHANGE, I DIDNT GROW, I DIDNT FIND MYSELF. I don't look back at things i did in highschool or college and laugh at my foolish youth. Everything i did still makes sense to me. I'm convinced that if i went back in a time machine and talked to myself at 16, it would be no different. We would give each other the *thumbs up* but I'd carry on being fucking lost.
Never has someone been so overwhelmed by so little. Just clean out your fucking car, it's so simple, right? I just don't want to have to make dinner anymore. The thought of spending money and buying food and cooking it for myself, repeating this for the rest of my life, is so oppressive. I could sooner throw my fist through a wall than be bothered to make another soy-based ham substitute & cheese sandwich.
Anyway, i'm seeing TOOL tomorrow, so that should be nice.
i know tons of comics artists, most of whom draw lots of ads and posters while putting together their graphic novels, spending years on a single to-be-mass-produced-via-indie-publisher artwork.
bands work just as hard and have even less of a chance (when they stick with it).
my own experience with the sprockettes is a tale of blood and sweat. in the first days we rented music and "how to strip" videos. we practiced in the street for hours every night, scrambling to pull props out of the way for passing cars. when the winter came, we paid rent to practice inside or roughed the rain. we've been practicing for two years now and have managed to save enough to purchase our own portable sound system so we don't have to rely on there being something when we get there (there've been many many many cases of poor sound because people don't know how to set up for dance teams).
what do you want to do wisper? what do you dream about? you may have to dig out a niche for yourself and it takes a lot of hard work.
it's never to late to follow your desires, to experiment, to learn. optimism is good, sticking to your guns is good, sometimes being a total (maybe not quite) asshole helps too, i don't know.
as far as my experiences have led me to believe, employment isn't the real world. it's the choices you make and the experiences and people your cherish. it's pain and pride and dirt on your face.
maybe you have magic powers that you just don't notice, magic is mostly on a tiny scale.
Next time your found, with your chin on the ground
There's a lot to be learned, so look around
Just what makes that little old ant
Think he'll move that rubber tree plant
Anyone knows an ant, can't
Move a rubber tree plant
But he's got high hopes, he's got high-igh-igh hopes
He's got high apple pie, in the sky hopes
So any time your gettin' low
Instead of lettin' go
Just remember that ant -
Oops! there goes another rubber tree plant
When troubles call, and your backs to the wall
There a lot to be learned, that wall could fall
Once there was a silly old ram
Thought he'd punch a hole in a dam
No one could make that ram, scram
He kept buttin that dam
'Cause he had high hopes, he had high hopes
He had high apple pie, in the sky hopes
So any time your feelin' bad
Instead of feelin sad
Just remember that ram -
Oops! there goes a billion kilowatt dam
All problems're just a toy balloon
They'll be burstin' soon
They're just bound to go pop -
Oops! there goes another problem...kerplop
But goals? Fuck goals. I'm not saying you shouldn't try, but I don't think you can really know where you'll be happy until you're there.
Failure's ok. Fail with gusto.
Listen to me talk. I should take my own advice.
And hey, I get panic attacks when I leave the county, so I've been embracing living back home with a gusto. Luckily not with my father, granted, but he only lives about 15 minutes away and we hang out a lot. I like it that way.
Sometimes waking up in the morning seems like an insurmountable difficulty, let alone dressing or cooking dinner. So sometimes I don't do any of those things. Sometimes we just don't know what we want to do, and we let the thing find us. And I think that's dandy.
Your job can be as much of yourself as you want it to be. Sometimes I think I'd like to be a "writer," like someone who gets paid to write. And sometimes I think it's better to have a job that doesn't consume my life so that I can do something I love. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up--why should I grow up?
And the doors are never closed on your options until you close them yourself. I think sometimes it might get harder to do something, but that shouldn't stop you if that's what you want to do. And maybe what you want to do right now is not know what you want to do.
wanna be a dominatrix? come to california, i'll hook you up.
that's exactly the point of my blatherings in the rose-colored glasses thread. call it a saturn return, or whatever. paradigm shift. new rules.
you can shut it off after the first 16-17 seconds.
Awwww, god. It was so sweet.
Thank you for listening to me. I cherish every reply like the rare snowflake that it is.
That reminds me of our favorite (by favorite i mean craziest) host on the legendary local phone-in bible show, he got fired. One night a caller was egging him on, and he snapped and went crazy, ranting about how every war and every world problem was the fault of the jews. Yep, the jews. It was fucking classy.
I'm so glad we were watching that night.