Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters
socratic

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I hate poker, and breathing

The interview did not go well. It started about as inauspiciously as an interview can start, trouble striking well before I got there. I got ready too late, partially since I dressed up like a responsible adult, with sportscoat, button down shirt, real shoes, and even a nice white tie. Unfortauntely my sportscoat is a little bit too big on me now. It's not really unfortunate, since it means that I've reduced my size a bit, but it made me look more disheveled than I would have liked. I printed out at a local copy place, since I still don't have a printer for reasons of lazyness and lack of room. I was a little behind schedule at that point, at least in my mind, so I rushed to the 110th street subway station. The downtown was closed, so I had to take a cab to 96th street and get on the express from there. Cost me $6 to go those 14 blocks, but in real shoes it would have taken me almost 15 minutes. The express got me down to the job site in time, but I was more than a little bit rattled. When I got there the office had all sorts of cute little inspirational and cloying business cards on the walls. They wanted address information on my references, which I hadn't expected. The interview itself was nothing, she just explained temping to me and asked me silly questions. When time came for me to ask a question I asked a really dumb one and stumbled saying it. I'm not sure why I was so thrown, I don't really care about this and I didn't do anything really embarassing (except get stuck in a small chair I sat in, but I slid out with enough grace that she wasn't forced to acknowledge that.) It might just have been being out there in the "real" responsible world. I might get a call from them at some point, I think I have excellent qualifications and I'll have good references.

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?
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