I hate myself
My new job has been keeping me quite busy. It is as if I’m at my first day of school with my new shiny backpack, packed lunch, and awesome new clothes. Except now, I get paid much more to do it while somehow managing to keep my consistent, broke-as-fuck life experience. Yet, I’m happy and enjoying this new gig. For now, that is more then enough.
I suppose it is time for bed and to rest my weary eyes. I shall leave you off with a question that I have been pondering for a bit, “What are you greatful for?”
Let today be the day… That I get a job, start making money, exclaim that I made it!
No, I am afraid. My hope is slowly dwindling as my aspirations disappear with each dollar spent from my bank account. Do I even know what I want?
Why is it so hard to get job? Why didn’t I save more $ for these rainy days? Most importantly, why did I fail to create an impressive portfolio before I graduated college?
These questions battle my mind tonight as my self doubt augments out of control. May this be a laughing moment in six months time just as graduating college was three years ago.
Ahh, that tough time in history brings a smile to my face and a little hope for my current future.
Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.
– Mahatma Gandhi
When no one was there
To offer me a hand
Depression offered me
And I used it
To climb back down
So, I have been applying to jobs since my recent graduation from college (queue in applause). The whole job application process has been the hardest part about the grad life thus far but quite manageable. However, tonight I ran into the dreaded question, “In a 150 characters or less, tell us what makes you unique. Try to be creative and say something that will catch our eye!”
Damn, I wonder if I can write, “Can impress my instructors and boss despite being hungover with unprecedented results?” Okay, I could… but this post can help you make something better.
That is all for now…
When applying to jobs through sites like LinkedIn and The Resumator, there’s always a section that says, “In 150 characters or fewer, tell us what makes you unique. Try to be creative and say something that will catch our eye!” I know I’m not the only person who dreads seeing this text box once my resume is perfected, my cover letter is proofread, and I’m officially drained of creativity. The exclamation point makes the whole thing seem mockingly effervescent in comparison to the tableau of despair I can see reflected in my computer monitor.
I did some work on The Google, and found that there are a whole lot of people out there asking for advice on what to say, but the answers they get are polarized to either flat-out examples or, “If you have to ask, then you’re doing the creativity part wrong.” In this article, I’m going to…
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Now, right now, it is happening.
Her memory floods my senses causing a waterfall of thoughts.
The inevitable pain.
Why do I hold on? What do I see? How can one have so much but be taken down from a simple moment of time? After all, it is only a memory.
I listen to the music in the background. Oh, that volume is way to low.
Now, the notes bounce off all four walls like a live concert. My heart is pounding and the beats are coursing through my veins.
It does not work – my mind has escaped my grasp. The clock strikes.
I went for a short walk earlier today. I wanted to clear my mind of the million of images and conversations that fluttered around in that deep abyss. While the panoramic did not cease to play in this stubborn head of mine, I do believe some clarity was found.
The small things always appear to have the biggest impact.
It has been awhile since I read a book. Beyond that, it has been even longer since I have read a book BEFORE going to the film. Ahh, yes, I agree that is shameful. This time, I did both of these things before attending the exhilarating, heart-wrenching, and captivating American Sniper film directed by Clint Eastwood.
And by golly, I am quite glad that I read the autobiography before getting into my salty, buttery, uncontrollable popcorn eating state with eyes glued to the screen in front of me. I noticed, perceived, and understood minor film scenes and points that would have otherwise gone wholeheartedly unnoticed. Take, for instance, the moment where tridents are being pounded into the casket. Chris Kyle, our lethal “Legend” sniper makes a point to qualify the importance of this act – otherwise only lightly implied in the movie. Also, the book does a much better job in capturing the views, attitudes, and changes developed by Kyle as each tour came along. In all honesty, I could make a list longer than the tallest building in the world on why the autobiography read is a must-read.
So, do yourself a favor… read the autobiography and watch the movie. You will be happy you did. I know I was.
She appeared overly excited to see me. I guess, after all, it had been at least four months since my eyes had the opportunity to look at her beautiful face. Anyways, I did my common dialogue of “life-updates.” You know the conversation for yourself, mine goes along the lines of expressing my excitement for graduating college, my fear for finding a job, and my ignorance of both. Then, I quickly throw into the mix of the convo my recent travels — this time it was Jamaica.
Yes, I could have talked longer but my utter non-enjoyment of my internal voice was given me a headache. You see, I would rather hear about the lives of others: what is new with their dreams, hopes, and aspirations. So, I quickly asked her, “How is life and work?” She answered rather quickly with the newest things that rushed to her head as she searched her mind for all of the personal events in her life over the last half-year.
I wasn’t listening anyways. My focus was on her eyes. I could tell some things had not changed. Namely, she still had a residual, deep lingering aspect of discontent. I lightly brought it up. Eventually, I enlightened the struggle of her current relationship.
To put it lightly, her boyfriend – my friend – is still an absolute dick. Worse, he does not deny this and she ends up staying with him anyway. This, of course, is also the reason I have a supportive stance to this great girl. She is mirror reflection of me in a scary amount of ways. Holding on to love & caring just a little to much on someone that will likely never feel the same. Despite all of our good intents on doing otherwise.
I abruptly dive into my own past… making me happy that I had undergone the path to walkaway from the girl I so dearly love even if the heartache is still present. It does get easier over time – a long, slow, pathetic amount of time.
Anyways, I snap back into the conversation. I recognize the moment. I am something important to her despite my elongated absence. Maybe, just maybe, I need to change a little more of who I am. Stop running from what is so hard to do…
I continue to listen with no need to share. I can tell, at least at this moment, she just needs someone to hear her story about a boy that does not care.
Then, at then end, I will simply say “until next time, my beautiful friend”