Tossing Salads

I just realized now while I was waiting for the awfully slow internet connection to load up the webpage, that I would not do good as a director. In fact, I would not do good in any field that would give me too much time to think and rethink, too much time to plan, too much freedom to decide. It would not be good, no, because I'm not skilled at planning efficiently and god knows how indecisive I am. I would need a regular office job, one that would force me to report everyday day at a specified time sched, finish all the work according to deadlines and enjoy the weekend like normal yuppies and corporate slaves do. I would need a certain someone, perhaps, to balance me out and keep me inspired when I can't seem to inspire myself. I would need those, yes, I would.

I'm banking on only 2 possible sources of employment at present, 1 offered by my alma mater's department chairperson, the other a PR writing stint referred to me by my wonderful friend Bismuth. Let's face it, I'm not at all prepared to deal with employment competition, not at this stage where I'm literally just starting out again (hopefully the last time I'll be back to square 1). I've accepted the fact that I'm a high-risk applicant, someone with all the necessary background but with no refined skills when it comes to occupational specificity. While all my relatives tell me to apply in multinational companies like Nestle and PNG, it would be like paper-cutting my own throat with somebody else's resume. They don't understand that it's not as easy as it seems even if I graduated with honors in a highly reputable university and I am fluent in English, with diction far better than most applicants who haven't worked in a call center. But the thing is, even if I'd have impressed them with my educational background, it wouldn't be so easy to speak my way to employment. Then again maybe it is. Maybe I didn't learn anything in college. I don't know. Maybe I just lack confidence in myself. Maybe my view of corporate reality is distorted and always negative. I really don't know.

This is the reason why while I'm still in somewhat optimistic spirits about my future, I wanna be really gung-ho with my attempts. I pray to be fearless because I'm not so good in dealing with frustration anymore.

And this is where I came to thinking about getting a job as soon as possible. I'm starting to drench myself into overanalysis mode once again, now that the sobriety has sort of subsided and Bailey's Original Irish blend liqueur is just around the corner of my thoughts. I need a job that'll keep me busy. Something that'll add more meat into my skills market besides customer service. Of course, the conversational topic of coin. Me need moolah. I wanna shop til I drop with my "first" paycheck. I've deprived myself of so many material things, I need a break from my subversive anti-commercialist self and just enjoy having NEW! stuff.

It's realistic to think that my salary's not gonna be like Umberta's and I won't still be able to migrate into my own art-deco dream apartment, but I made it clear to m' Mum tonight how inconvenienced I am with people sharing my room, even if those people happen to share my blood. Blood curdles regardless of its origins. It is definitely time to move out, yes, it is.

And what about my dream job? It wil remain a dream, I guess. My transparent dangling carrot. Unless of course my carrot salad is tossed yet again and I have to make do with eating it without dressing. Who knows, it could be healthier in the longrun.