I’ve been promoted from intern to freelance animator at my morning job! This morning was my first shift under the new title and I couldn’t figure anything out and I did an awful job. Ugh.
But, sucking at something is the first step in being sorta okay at something. - jake the dog, adventure time
Tomorrow will be better.
I got a small raise and increased hours, then I failed to show up at all the next day.
What does it mean to triumph as a poet? Doesn’t our poetic awareness sometimes take us to some rock bottom sense of ourselves, on the one hand, and, other times, on the other hand, to some elevated pinnacle of what we understand about ourselves — ourselves and our subjects, our metaphors and our communion with readers? Does it make a difference whether this place is a sanctuary cleansed by ritual or some darker, more remote cave in your mind and your heart?
The Poet’s Journey: Chapter 11 by David Biespiel (via therumpus)
…another “civil service” exam today…copyright 1944.
Halfway through the test I thought to myself “wait, didn’t I take 6 years of advanced education and rack up thousands of dollars in debt so I wouldn’t have to put up with this bullshit?”
I wanted to walk out, but didn’t want to seem like I was defeated by a garbage city exam. So I made passive aggressive notes in the margins. A vocabulary word was “obsolete” so I circled it a bunch of times and wrote “LIKE THIS EXAM”. Then one of the “word problems” had to do with who handles MIMEOGRAPH repairs. So I circled that a bunch of times and wrote something like “I DIDN’T KNOW THIS EXAM COVERED ANCIENT HISTORY”.
For once in my life I sat in a testing room with people 30+ years older than I was and figured “well shit, they know how to do long division and square roots by hand”. I have been disadvantaged by modern education. Then I thought to myself; that’s fucked up, it’s not my fault this podunk city hasn’t updated it’s hiring qualifications in SEVENTY YEARS.
SEVENTY YEARS. I’m not kidding. SEVENTY YEARS. I didn’t pass the math portion of that exam. But my CALCULATOR tells me that 2014-1944 is SEVENTY YEARS.
And I will never be happy,
And I will never feel normal.
(Source: Spotify) (0 plays)
O’leavers: 9pm. Five doll hairs. Come see some kick ass bands!
LIFE is COOL with The Doneofits (EP Release!), The Baberaham Lincolns and Bird Shuus.
(We’re under BirdShuus this time, as our lineup has changed slightly. O the awkward growing phase of a band)
Remember that job you applied for 6 months ago and we never contacted you to tell you anything about the application or process?
Weeeeeeell, you’re on the list for a PT assistant job. Do you want to be interviewed?
(Well maybe if I didn’t flee the state for another job opportunity because you left me fucking HANGING)
Down; Many more to go!!
It wasn’t bad. I had fun. Things got a little out of control, but that’s perfect. I can’t wait to do it again!
I was super nervous all day; still working on vocals and getting anxious. Buuuut I would have regretted it more if I didn’t do it. I did it! We did it all together! I wonder if anyone has pictures?
Everyone was super cool and supportive. Hopefully this means more shows in the future; living in Omaha right now and having this outlet is something I am so grateful for. Hurray!
After a gentle prodding email regarding the status of my application:
We haven’t made a final selection. At this time we are interviewing the 3 candidates that scored the highest.
However, I want to let you know there will be another position opening up soon.
Not so bad. At least it was a cushioned fall. I appreciate her tact.
But still. No new prospects on the horizon. That was the last active app. Let’s see how long it takes me to subject myself to all that rejection. I might wait til next year.
Or. Fuck it. Imma join the Peace Corps.
…trying to use willpower to overcome the apathetic sort of sadness that accompanies depression is like a person with no arms trying to punch themselves until their hands grow back.
Allie Brosh of Hyperbole and a Half