Find happiness in work and you will not be happy. So said Christopher Columbus. Should I commit to a job that will most likely make me miserable for 8 hours of my day, 5 days a week for 2 years but will pay off all of my student loans? First off, let me say that this opportunity isn't knocking on my door, not even close. I have to go out and try for it, but I suppose I have an "in" at this bank and hopefully this time I won't mention any plans of studying abroad at the interview, which is what guaranteed me such a swift rejection last time. I consoled myself by saying that I don't want to be tied down my senior year in college and it made sense at the time. I was relatively happy at the library and saw no reason to leave except better pay. But I was unwilling to give up my life for better pay. Times have changed, I've gone to study abroad and right now I need money to intensely pay off my loans and be a free woman in 2 years time. But that's 2 years out of my 20s. I see these craigslists ads for writing interns, light editing positions, internet magazine contributors... jobs that in a way seem completely out of my sphere of interest (and perhaps reach), but at the same time, jobs that would excite or challenge me in some way. Excite me more than offering yet another credit card with a low interest rate to the next customer.
I find that being home limits me as well. I can feel this unspoken and invisible pressure to go for the bank jobs as opposed to the creative jobs. There's also a certain unfavorable disposition towards the shit, temporary jobs that would give me immediate cash, such as the graveyard shift as an LAX shuttle dispatcher (ha!). Not that I'm really striving for those jobs, but the fact is that I would consider them more seriously if I didn't have my mother's disapproving aura permeating through my brain. On my own I'm a bit less picky, a bit less "clean" and a bit more idealistic. I feel myself quickly sinking into the quicksand of my mom's household and to escape it I need some sort of privacy, my own space to talk on the phone to any employer that I want, any friends that I want, at any hour of the day. There's no actual restriction on my life in this house, but there are disapproving glances and those glances will slowly kill my individual self if I don't do something about it quickly. The rooms are getting separated tonight and I'm getting my own bedroom back. Decorated the way I want, arranged the way I want and containing my now grown-up life.
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1 comment:
I find that any job that you show interest in and intiative always works out... and I soooo get the glances too, even on one occasion a "I told you a music degree wouldn't help"...
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