Economic optimist

Well, it's been quite a while. Actually I should be drawn and quartered in the realm of blogging goes. Baaaaad blogger, you've piddled on the rug. Anyway, I read my last entry and it's kind of funny. Not the ridiculous unemployable aspect, the insane optimism part. I really thought that I'd be getting a job hook up. So much so that I was ready to spend money I did not have to make sure I had appropriate uniform materials so I'd be ready to go. I'm not sure if that shade of rose tint is inherently me or if it's just a necessary by product of the economic times. You have to keep some faith blind or measured that things are going to get better. If I didn't I might not even get out of bed.

It's okay though. I've come to the conclusion that I'm not suppose to be working for someone else. Unfortunately I can't seem to figure out how to get my own projects off the ground with zero capital. This does not mean that I will stop looking for work. It simply means I'm at least aware of the universe and it's bullhorn tactics. However more importantly, how do those people do it. You know the neo urban hippie types. They manage to get by on odd jobs, spit and duct tape. I've had my fair share of odd jobs. I'm not opposed to "vintage" clothing. I can work out an amazing brown paper bag lunch with the best of em (see sandwiches). But how do you do any of that flat broke. I mean dead busted, I checked the couch cushions last week, the coinstar's been payed a visit, my peanut butter says Peanut butter when you look for a list of ingredients kind of broke. What about that?

What's New...

Well, lately I've been in a bit of a funk. Not the worst funk of my life but a persistant one. I did the math yesterday and I'm zeroing in on 8 months of looking for employment. Now I didn't believe it myself but it's true. I have been consistently going on job interview for 8 months with nothing. Well, not nothing. I did land a job once with a clothing retailer but honestly it was kind of crap. Little did I know that was the only job I'd actually have as an option for the next year.

I regret that, sort of. I'm not really in a position to be picky but I have been. Which is maybe the problem but I'm not entirely sure. I can't quite make out if I'm rubbish at interviews, just plain under qualified or if dog gone it people just don't like me. It's more then likely a combo deal. Anyway, there may be a light at the end of the tunnel. All thanks to my friend D. Who has graciously offered to help me get a job at the major media and appliance store where she works.

Bull market

Okay, so I'm steadily looking for a job. That's right a job. I'm fighting the urge to get all weird and spastic about it. It's not easy. Apparently I'm over qualified for most things and under qualified for the majority of the things in my field. (graphic design) It's the funniest thing. There are a million job post for Graphic Designer w/web experience. Which translates to web guru. They want you to know the industry standard design software, and be current in Dreamweaver, Flash, HTML, be familiar with XML (the new HTML), be an action script god and have three to five years of experience (read ad agency) for a tidy 25-30 k. Which if you didn't know is atleast 5k short of what starting salary for a not so good design graduate.

It's so retarded I don't even know where to begin. Honestly that's like three jobs in one. No person in their right mind would even think of doing that. It's ridiculous. Web design isn't exactly the same as graphic design. I know it's "the future" But come on it's not that simple.

I wish I'd taken to web design I tried but it just wasn't my thing. I had to smoke half a pack of cigarettes and drink a bottle of wine to get the hypertext language to make sense to me. It's so tedious. Now I know why early typesetters for newspapers where allowed to drink on lunch breaks. No sober person can deal with the minute details involved with the job. This concludes the tiny bitchfest for this evening.

W

Sorry

I am the Mayor of Bitter-Town

I have a friend who says that your personal sense of desperation is directly preportionate to your level of hunger. Which explains the last post. Suddenly after a little nosh I'm good and only a little bummed about the no job thing. I renounce my position as mayor of bitter-town and promise not to take it back up. At least in print.

Post...
S., you're on. One deluxe sandwich coming up.

That's It!

Okay, normally I would reserve a blog for chipper and more upbeat conversation but I'm pissed. What the fuck is up with this whole job scene. I live in a major metropolitan area. I've been to school and I'm actually quite good at what I do. I'm not saying I'm the best in the world but I'm certainly not the bottom of the barrel. The really screwed up part is that I'm not even trying to hold out for the dream job in my field. I just want a source of income. Any source. Well, not any source. I have some scruples. Okay, maybe just one scruple and I may have lost it somewhere in the den but it's there.

I have been on so many mindless interviews, for craptacular jobs that I can't even keep up. That's not even counting the number of resumes and inquiries sent out. If I get one automatic response for every ten e-mails that's a good week.
As a general note for all employers out there. Entry level means you could pull a hobo off the street, clean em up, and put them to work. No years of experience required.

I heart Sanwiches

Sandwich, oh how I love thee. There's just something about sandwiches. There is a sandwich-esque food from every culture I can think of and they are all exciting to me. I know it sounds crazy but I love making them even more than eating them. Today I had a friend "D" who took me shopping for sandwich fixins. She actually let me pick anything I wanted and we hung out at her sister's house. Now for those of you who don't know, I make a pretty mean deluxe sandwich. I'm not tooting my own horn. They really are that special. It's kinda my thing. It's a small wonder but one I enjoy immensely. As it turns out life is actually all about the small wonders. You turn the corner with an amazing sandwich on a plate to cheers and utter shock. If you close your eyes it's almost like they're cheering just for you. I even like to watch peoples' faces when they take the first bite. It would be my fetish if I found it to be even remotely sexual. I don't by the way. It kind of goes along with the whole special snack included at the bottom of your childhood lunches. A good sandwich should make you suddenly hungry, give you something you weren't expecting and leave you surprisingly satisfied.

Sandwiches... it's all I'm saying

Oh, I guess it's the begining. Again.

I love blogs. I've never been able to maintain one but I'm giving it another try. Besides, I had to start another one so I could leave post for a far away friend. So, here goes. I'll be blogging about whatever the hell passes through the bus depot in my head. So prepare yourselves it could get ugly. No, seriously it's gonna get real ugly. Welcome to my world. Bring an umbrella.