Oh, rapture! I've always dreamt of not working for months on end, now if only I could truly enjoy this moment rather than being paranoid it will all end with me out on the streets. Well, that isn't entirely true. I sleep in every day, play a lot of music, only put on pants if I must, and even went on vacation just last week. Including a run to Amoeba Records, I think we spent $100 total for a 5 day getaway. Sweet. What was I complaining about?! Ah yes. Even trying to find jobs to apply for gets more difficult by the day, but at least I'm having a bit of fun. Cheap fun, but fun nonetheless. Hooray. Now, back to the pain. I spent some time last night filling out a variety of job boards, ones where you enter a very specific quantity of information in order for them to run searches on The Career For You, and I think the best part was after 15 minutes of spelling out exactly how qualified I may be for something within my range, the ending result was the same for all:
0 matches
Ha! I wonder why I even bother trying to find something I might actually qualify for as opposed to just going for anything that might be available. OH WAIT that's what I'm already doing. I practically vowed never to return to construction since I did my time in the form of 9 years stuck behind that desk before receiving The Downturn Hatchet, but since that is where my resumé appears healthiest, after this much time being jobless at least half the places I apply for are within that field, just because I might as well go for what I have a chance of nailing, as opposed to some mystical new field where I get a great big hardon every time I think about clocking in. The result? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Well okay, I had one visit with a general contractor over 3 months ago, which was the last time I had an interview, and their "we'll call you tomorrow with a salary package" offer turned into dead air before I so much as unassed myself from their hot seat. Alas!
Unrelated bout of whatever:
Last night I had another Didn't Finish College Yet dream, although this one I was anticipating the completion of one final class to ascertain that goal, and there was no paranoia involved. To be fair, I was thinking about the fact that it has now been over 7 years since I graduated, shortly before falling to sleep. I am of the opinion that dreams are very much influenced by whatever might be racing through one's mind immediately prior to passing out, and do not usually attempt to infer deeper meaning into such things. Maybe I'm just no fun with regard to this, but it is be what is be. Anyhow. After leaving the dream-class (?) I walked by Stevie Wonder, who happened to be busking, oddly enough sans performance. He asked me for a dime, and mentioned that I could just pretend to put one in his cup, as he wouldn't be able to tell the difference anyhow. I told him sorry, no dice, and then was hassled by a few people. Moderately. I informed them two things: first, I had already given him a dollar earlier in the day, and second, that I did in fact own "a shitload" of his albums already. Technically speaking, I don't think I gave him a dollar, and, most importantly, I only own two Stevie Wonder albums, which most certainly does not constitute said shitload. It would seem that I lie in my dreams. Interesting.
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