This week’s attempt at life

This is really crappy. It’s a blog post and blogging and other stuff.

A couple of times a day I get this idea. Hey! Let’s blog about: (insert thingie here).

But on my way to the laptop, I get this thought: You have the time to blog about that.

Not exactly sure how to convey the proper stresses in those words. I could blog about the homemade deodorant that I made this past fall. It was great until it wasn’t. I’m allergic to everything.

I could blog about the variations on Tilapia I’ve done since my surgery. I had a lot of Tilapia because my dad did my shopping while I was recovering. It gets old.

I could blog about the ways I’ve filled my time in between applying for various and sundry job positions. (This is the most depressing part) I’ve researched recipes and cleaned out my email. I’ve sort of clean up. I’ve recommissioned empty containers to contain other things and it’s kind of working. I’ve listened to entire collections of this artist or that artist. I’ve watched this show and that show and various movies that I didn’t have time to get to before.

The fact that I could do any of that is jarring to me. In a way that makes all the air leave my lungs until I’m just slumped on my couch staring at the coffee table and wondering when my phone will ring for the next interview.

I may get around to actually blogging about those things. I might. When it’s not so depressing to do so. It’s really hard keeping my spirits up when I spend days going through ads and job descriptions and nursing my anxiety and the intermittent back pain that just blows my mind.

Then I started catching up on my fellow bloggers. That killed an afternoon. Then I started reading fanfiction again. That was fun. And depressing because I had to come at it like a newbie. All my bookmarks were erased when I had to reset my laptop to the factory settings earlier this month. Half the links I had were broken but that’s not the point.

I’m going slowly mad. I’m hardly talking to my friends. I’m only talking to half my immediate family at this point. I work hard when given the chance. I will pour my soul into a job, whether it warrants it or not. I’m just that sort of person.

I’ve spent time in the past marveling how fast my friends would jump from one job to the next within months. Months. As an adult! I can’t fathom making a commitment to work someplace and then just leap off it in a matter of months. My first job was 10 weeks. It was a summer thing I felt like crap leaving them but my parents gave me an ultimatum. School or work. Not both. Not now. (I was 16.)

My second job was a contract. It ran the length of the school year. I was still kind of miffed cause there was work undone. But it was the sort of work that would always be undone.

My third job was almost exactly a year. I went from full time to part time but I stayed there as long as I could manage it. My fourth job started a few months into my third job. I was full time for two years. Exactly.

I had a span of three months of unemployment until job five. It sucked. I never thought I’d have to relive it. Then I spent 18 months at that job. Part time, full time. I did leave it to go to my last job. I was there 5 years and three months.

Marketing yourself as open to anything is hard. Cause I do have longevity. In that one field. No one thinks you can adapt. It’s hard to show it cause you have to prove it. Getting your foot is isn’t very easy. No one tells you that in the romantic comedies about love and life. You gotta work hard to get the chance to work hard.

I’m told I’m awesome. Sometimes I believe it. It’s usually when I’m not paying attention that the world sees it, too.

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