Chronicling Unemployment

22 years old and no prospects in sight you guys

[unwillingsahd]

i've told friends to end men for less than what he's doing to me

[unwillingsahd]

rejection is simply redirection

[unwillingsahd]

I have whatever disease it is that tells you you're so special and unique and just no one knows what it's like to be you. I think it's called youth?

An interesting symptom of this disease is simultaneously thinking I am the best person to have ever been born and that is why I am so special, and that I am the shining example of what not to ever do in one's life.

Currently, I grapple with the thought that I must be so horrific and horrible at everything I do and that is why I cannot find a job that I want (I feel like I must preface this with the fact that I am in an incredibly privileged position where I can just not work for a while and survive just fine). I keep hearing that I have to start from the ground up.

"Work as the cashier or teller or volunteer and then you can climb the ladder!" (What they don't mention is that ladder leads to a career akin to lying on a bed of hot coals)

I do not want to start from the bottom of just any ladder. I worked so hard to get my degree. I went to a top university. I fought with blood, sweat, and tears for my education, and my soft skills, and my ability to do any job thrown at me. I think I deserve to pursue the career I would like.

And don't get me wrong, I am happy to be at the bottom of the food chain in a company that I admire, in an industry that I am inspired by. I will work 18 hour days if it is something that I actually enjoy. It may not seem like it, but I do love to work. I love to use my brain and my hands, and my computer to perform tasks that are difficult, or annoying, or taxing. But I don't love doing it if it's a subject that I find incredibly dull.

So why do I have to settle? Why am I being told that I just have to accept anything and apply for everything? I don't want just anything. I want what's best for me. I want to be motivated and inspired and I want to love what I do (well I don't have to love what I do, but I just can't hate it). I feel like I've earned the privilege of being choosy. At least for a little while.

However, ask me again in a couple of months and my tune may change.

[unwillingsahd]

Drawing

I wish I could draw. And before you say, "Everyone can daw! It just takes practice!" No. I mean I wish I could make all the scenes in my head come to life so my eyes could take in the fragments of ideas my mind puts together.

Every scene or image I dream up is akin to a mirage. If I look to closely or pay attention too long, it disappears. I want to draw for myself. I want to bring these wondrous worlds to life in a way dreams cannot. I want to share these worlds with the people I love and say, "Look! Look! This is exactly what I see in my head!"

I've always envied those who can draw or paint or sculpt or create. My hands are as uncoordinated as a toddlers first steps. They cannot capture the fleeting images my mind sets forth. If I stare too long it's gone.

It angers me that I cannot draw. It angers me that I cannot hold onto my dreams long enough to bring them to life. It angers me that all those lovely sights and scenes dancing around in my head cannot be seen by the world.

But how lucky am I that I get to dance in evergreen forests and run through enchanting castles anytime I like. Even though I cannot show others the homes in my heart, maybe it's for a reason. Maybe they are sacred and not meant to be shared. They are sights and sounds and ideas that I am safeguarding for those little voices that live in the corners of my mind.

I guess I'll hide them if I must.

[unwillingsahd]

A commitment

Well, well, well. Look who’s back to writing. As an afterthought. 

No, it’s actually not an afterthought, just a thought I’ve put off over and over and over again. But here I am, with nothing but time on my hands and a desire to actually work on something that is productive. Well, kind of productive.

Within the last four months I graduated university, travelled to Europe twice, applied for what feels like a million jobs, and have been left with approximately zero friends. Ok, that last one isn’t true, but my best friends don’t live in the city anymore and my the ones that are here have jobs and things going for them, so I think if I hung out with them I would want to end my life from feeling so inferior. 

I am going crazy, to be so completely honest with you. My whole life up until this point had been picture perfect in terms of knowing what to do next. I lived in the same house my whole life. Went to elementary, middle, and high school all within a ten minute walk from my home with all my childhood friends. Got good grades. Got into the best university. Had internships. Did odd jobs that I loved. Studied abroad. Fell in love. Came back and became an academic weapon. 

And then I graduated. With no job waiting for me when I did so, and parents who couldn’t believe I was wasting my time. And now here I am, on a Friday night, writing a random diary entry because I don’t have anyone to go out with, no money to do so either way, and a crippling phone addiction. So it is time to write. Write about anything. Write about nothing. But just fucking write. 

I’ve probably started hundreds of stories and papers and trains of thought in my life, but I have never finished one. And that upsets me severely. Well, now I have to. I don’t care what I write about. I don’t care how poorly it’s written (case in point). Words just need to hit the page and I need to create something without the help of AI. I need to just WRITE and use the brain I was given.

So, what will be first on the chopping block?