Unemployment is a funny beast, to be sure. It’s all you yearn for when you are working. Sitting around…watching horrible television (excluding Ellen of course)…talking to your pets…wait, just me?
Anyway, I have worked a fair share of strange jobs in this little life o mine, and it is always so easy to forget in those moments of 5 am alarms, unflattering and unwashed uniforms and forced interactions that it is somehow a fair trade off. That purpose…must be an acute part of our identity as humans, because as much as it seems illogical that I could have such a distaste for unemployment as I do, being that I have a strong and overwhelming distaste for employment (especially the kind of employment I’ve experienced).
It’s that money thing…darn that money thing. Can’t quite escape it. Consciously I don’t really care for the stuff…having had the naïve epiphanies that come with being in my twenties. You know, those realizations that enlighten you to the importance of relationships and challenging experiences and other valuable nuggets of truth that are, what I’d define as…good.
And while I still cling to the knowledge that those things are ultimately the most important, and I’m not in enough of a middle class anglosaxon induced haze to know that money matters. If one wants to live a non Jeramiah Johnson lifestyle (I envision myself in a loincloth, bow and arrow in tow, accidentally shooting my foot while trying to shoot a Bison…it just would happen, I know it). That sounds cool and all, but I really appreciate (O-ppreciate as Cory would say) such things as eating in general (& usually excessively), power locks and windows in my Ford Focus (Jealous?), premium denim and Mac oil free foundation. All of these things can fit nicely into my desirous life of building relationships with all sorts of fine folks, acknowledging people (Lindsay?) and being glamouosly haggard (Mary-Kate Olsen?).
This brings me back to the beginning. Unemployment is generally lame. You always feel guilty about not finding a job that day…everything you do that brings the smallest amount of joy (watching the lady on Maury who has a phobia of chickens) is followed directly by…I could have just been on Craigslist finding that ONE perfect job that doesn’t exist before the hoards of fellow unemployed, more qualified people snatch it up. Truth be told, I’ve never heard of a job that sounds perfect. I don’t think that is the purpose of an occupation…to be enjoyed. But something in my coddled rearing has led me to believe that I can have it…alas…DESERVE it all. “All” including: Job which utilizes the skills I possess and want to cultivate. This is made more complicated by the fact that I seem to be skilled at some fairly unluctritive things, i.e. clearing tables at the mall (my mothers suggestion), fitting elderly females for bras (not the biggest tippers), and drawing perty pictures. Wow.
So for now, I am broke. Still happy…totally sure it will ALL be fine…but still, nonetheless, broke. I guess it is good to have a bit of a reminder that working is a worthwhile endeavor after all.
1 comment:
i will forgive you that this blog did not begin with the phrase: 'i went to the zoo and saw a monkey' as all good nongsense blogs do. i wish i could comment on each line individually cause you know i would. what i hate is this constant pursuit of work. its not work we hate, its how hard GOOD work is to come by. and then how big of sell-outs we are when we take whatever is offered waat waaa. someday, precious kitten, someone will pay you for your doodles and all things nongy. until then, thanks for being free to me. :)
Post a Comment