I have mixed feelings about entering the real world. On the one hand it's almost certainly going to be drudgerous, soul-numbing, menial labor for demanding and nasty bosses who didn't do as well in school as I do but were more willing to focus on earning money at the expense of doing anything useful or interesting. (Not that I demand to work for someone who got better SAT scores, but I'd prefer not to be under grown-up versions of the blowhards I hated in college.) On the other hand there'd be the money, which would come in handy. Also on the way home I had a break in some of my writer's block and figured out how I wanted to start something. There's something to be said for stimulation, and bouncing from office to office as a temp just might provide that. I'd take anything that was only for a few weeks, just because it would give me a chance to try it out and learn something, maybe pick up a recomendation or two. It makes sense on a lot of levels, but I'm still hesitant because it's not what I want to do and I do feel like I feel better. Maybe it's arrogant, but it's how I feel. In fact, I'd rather do menial physical labor for cheap than menial intellectual labor. Heck, working in a store wouldn't be so bad, a chance to stretch your legs and move around rather than sit chained to a desk and transcribe shit. I've always been told I would have it better than that, at every level in school, from previous bosses, everywhere. On the other hand, maybe that's what I'm destined for. It's a different world out there now and I'm a terrible self-promoter. I think I could be a really good writer, but maybe I don't have that capacity. I don't understand how normal people lead normal lives. It's a concept that escapes me. People find jobs all the time, people with worth credentials. They fall in love, get married, move to the suburbs, feel satisfied. I'm just not wired that way, and I know that some people will claim it's because of a bad attitude or all that other shit that those who get off on believing that happiness and misery are directly tied to merit. It isn't.
I don't know, things will probably work out and I'll have a medium successful life. Produce some stuff I can stand, make enough money that I don't die in the street (supplemented by inheritance and the fact that I won't have children to drain the old wallet) and...whatever else will come along. I've felt good at times during these past 6 months and I'm sure I'll feel good again. I may even feel confident. Right now, though, it's rough. It's a rough time for the country, an economy that's still soft in many key areas and may even slide back into recession if the housing market busts, and a rough time creatively unless you want to get into advertising or somehow convince an executive that that old catwoman script of yours is not the worst idea of all time (P.S. it just might be.) I'm complaining now but I'll get up tomorrow and do the research I need to for the website and then try and write something. I don't have another choice. My only regret is that, despite the fact that I am an absolutely horrific livejournal friends who is way too hesitant to friend back and does an excellent job of scaring people off after short periods, a dozen or so people will read this and lose a few minutes of their day to what is, in the end, futile whiney bullshit. Venting is necessary but public venting is self-indulgent. It seems, at times, it's all I do. I'll try to be more interesting tomorrow. I'll try actually living up to my self-image. I'll try to be more than a futureless file flunky. What's the harm in trying?