Gabi and the Expectation for Employment but Anticipation for Unemployment

                                    

I work for one of my university’s federally funded outreach programs, and since we failed to use up all of the funds this past school year, the program will not be refunded for the fall. My hours are being cut fast; so, I am now back on the market, the job market that is. Ugh, this was already my third job this year, and I was just starting to get past the point where I’m not just comfortable with finally getting a steady income, but getting rather cocky about having a steady income. “Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little wallet, my treat.” Well, not anymore.

I have big travelling plans for the end of the summer too; so, I really can’t afford to let my already deprived bank account slip. So, I’m pretty much throwing rolled up applications and résumés at business establishments like a paperboy trying to cover a fifty mile radius in less than an hour.

My guess is, under such short notice and urgency, I’ll get stuck in retail for the rest of the summer. Meaning, I will be working weekends again. Wah! I don’t mean to act like a baby; I just don’t want to be treated like an adult.

I’m also trying to whip up an out-of-this-world/I-must-employ-you-now résumé for an internship in the fall. The catch is it needs to be done by tomorrow morning, writing portfolio and all.  Maybe it’s unrealistic, but I’m trying to convince an organization to choose me for the internship, even though one of the requirements is an ENG degree, meaning you have it physically in paper, you’ve walked the stage, shook the hand of the guy in the wizard costume, the whole enchilada, and I have not. I have a semester to go before all that shiny stuff that says I’m now tolerable within the elite academic community that puts too much weight on titles and gives too much credit to pseudo-intellectuals mooching off the real brains like brain-eating zombies with decent salaries.

Speaking of brain-eating zombies, I went to a friend’s family barbeque this past Monday at her uncle’s house. Now I had never met her uncle before, but he was… eccentric. I think he’s an old veteran or something, and maybe a little toasted in the head, which is really a whole other bag of worms about how this govt uses propaganda to mislead the young and innocent into war and then leaves them to cope in society on their own.  Aside from that though, while my friend and I were waiting in the living room for the food to be finished, her aunt walks across the room with a hunting bowie knife.

“What’s that?” I ask

She gives a small smile and says, “It’s… from our survival kit.”

I smile with my teeth because I think she’s joking. But she’s not. In my mind, I was picturing something like a small fishing bait box filled with some useful tools for them to use when the power goes out. However, when I ask if I can see this “survival kit,” you know, just to see how people’s ideas of what’s necessary to survive differs, I am totally caught off guard by what she shows me. To my surprise, there is an empty room with a wide closet filled with four huge hiking backpacks, each weighing about 50 lbs, filled with thermal blankets, axes, antibiotics, knives, flare guns, and whatever else you can imagine Bear Grylls would take with him if banished to Siberia by himself.

“…What are they for?”

“Well, _____ says it’s in case the economy crashes.”

“Interesting,” I say, even though I’m thinking he’s prepared more for a zombie apocalypse than a dip in the stock market. 

Is it paranoia or substantial preparation? Security is a sham, I got that. But is the job market so bad that some people are not just preparing but expecting a total chaotic uproar of workers? Maybe instead of passing out applications, I should pass out flyers that say “Economic Apocalypse Coming Soon! Just Quit Your Jobs and Run for the Woods!” Then these employers will be forced to hire me, by default.

Gabi and Doing Stuff In the Rain

                                      

I tried my hand at spoken word once. I’d written an angry ode about the education system and the deteriorating role of educators. I had one of my writing friends look over it, and in the kindest way possible, he said it was crap. I was offended and stubborn, because I’d written it in the moment, overwhelmed with frustration and angst. However, now in retrospect, it is crap. Funny how when the storm calms, things seem more shallow and disposable. Can humans even have a pure moment anymore without feeling like they may be imitating some scene from a film or repeating some lines from a character? Is this making sense? We may try to work creatively and independently for solely intrinsic satisfaction, but in the end, the extrinsic is always there, waiting just on the other side from the window of your phone, computer, ipad, etc. Do we ever really forget it’s there? With limitless access to the public, media, and language, how can we not serve it, even unconsciously, with everything we do?

Today was a day off for me, and I spent it alone. I love spending time by myself. It’s therapeutic and extremely relaxing for me. Sometimes, when I let it go on for too long though, like weeks, or sometimes even months, I crave association with others and I become social again. Now, I can honestly say that I love spending time by myself, but others would maybe roll their eyes, tell me not to be so self-loathing, and get over myself, because it’s not cool to be so angsty and anti-social anymore. The thing is, I’m not! I’m genuinely happy alone; I even wore a bright fruit-patterned skirt today, I was so happy, seeing the sequenced cherries glittering from the sun! Still, those "others" are so used to this overrated Byronic character they see in movies and TV, you know the awkward kid that’s not really awkward outside of having glasses and at the end attracts their secret admirer for being so "mysterious and complicated." Give me a break! Can I enjoy a day by myself without you accusing me of trying to be a character I don’t relate to at all? On the other hand though, I will admit that there are people who do just that. Surfing through Facebook (sometimes I can be a creeper like that, and it’s usually around the time I’m beginning to want social interaction again), I came across a profile pic of an acquaintance of mine, she was in her room, holding the camera up to her face not-so-nonchalantly, her eyes were red, her lips were swollen, she was obviously distraught and crying. I’m thinking, "Really? We get it, you’re a pretty crier, but is this necessary?" It made me feel sick, turn off the computer, and extend my alone time to the next few weeks. I keep thinking about what could have come over her to make her think, "Not only am I crying, but let me document this and post it publicly." Reality TV is undoubtedly her destiny.

Basically though, we want recognition for our lives, and we may just be imitating those who got that recognition. I have a friend who uses "cool cat" and "darling." Is that him being fake and shallow? Well, that’s certainly not modern lingo; so, he’s obviously taking pointers from old art scenes, but people don’t mind, in fact, they love him for that. Are you still following, because my ideas keep wanting to diverge as I struggle to stay on track here?

Basically, a prime example would probably be of walking in the rain. How about dancing in the rain, kissing in the rain, singing in the rain? We would probably still do it even without the hundreds of film and music references, but since they exist, can we do it without thinking of any of those references? And since we can’t do any of those things without a film/music scene depicting the same thing popping into our heads, are we actually doing it for intrinsic pleasure or for the extrinsic satisfaction of someone passing by and seeing you or of being able to share with your friends the next day as they say, "Aw, how romantic"?

If so, I’m just coming into terms that maybe it’s not a bad thing. This is only because I do this too. I went camping with my family a few years ago, and I have a distinct memory of bathing in the river with my older sister after dark. It was a really pretty moment, just being with her, the stars’ reflections twinkling on the black surface of the water and soap suds floating around like little fairies. We felt like nymphs in the water, completely isolated from the rest of the world, and I thought about how beautiful it would be to reenact a moment like that in film because it meant so much to me. Does this make me a sell out in life? I’d say no. But then, at what point is too far? At what point do we begin to exploit ourselves and reality with public documentation?

Well… I’d say the moment hipsters get their hands on it :)