It’s time for me to find a job. This is probably for the best, as much as I don’t want to admit it. But I’ve had my fun at this point. Getting high and playing video games all day most days has lost its luster, just like most everything else eventually does, as has sitting on the couch fretting about my dog’s emotional health. Also I could use the money, or something, and I’m never gonna be bringing anything in doing this nonsense. (I would grade my writing skills, on a good day, somewhere in the B- range. This isn’t necessarily a problem – there are major blogging platforms that can’t even be bothered with correct spelling – but all of trying to freelance is flop-sweaty hustling, to which I am allergic. This has made me seriously question how much I could possibly want such a life.)
Anyway, my point is that I feel caught between worlds somewhat. Having a job isn’t necessarily as bad as all that. While it remains true that capitalism is coming to grind our bones into the meal that forms the base of the slurry used to feed the next generations of trust fund babies, having a job still provides, if not actual purpose and/or direction in life, a decent enough simulacra of those ideas. Sometimes that’s all you ever get out of life under the best of circumstances.
That said, most of my relevant work experience is in law, and I’m in no rush to get back to getting a new asshole carved out my existing asshole on the reg. As a result, my most recent job searches have been lacking in direction. I have no idea what I’m doing or even what I’m trying to accomplish. Also, just about everyone I know these days hates their job, regardless of how close or far their work is from what they would choose to do under ideal circumstances. This has created a pervasive sense that there simply aren’t any jobs worth having these days, and that perhaps our energies would be better served trying to overthrow our corporate masters.
Oh well, I’ll figure something out. I always do.
Rob Writes About Whatever 