It's Friday night. I am sitting here, alone, in my newly cleaned room that I share with my sister (who said community service doesn't rehabilitate delinquent younger siblings?) and I am eating chicken nuggets for dinner. I am watching Iron Man and am completely exhausted. I am 23 years old. If you cannot decide what's more pathetic, I will give you the answer:
It's the fact that I think RDJ is hot and that you now agree.
However, let the class open their books to the chapter about recurrent economic trends. Please save annoying Facebook statuses (stat-i?) about finals. I don't care. And the more I think about I really don't care so much for government wish-wash and all the technical stuff so I would like to sum it up for you as quickly as possible.
In my last year and a half of college, all of which was my senior year, I was aware of the frantic lament of the economy. Of course my main source of news on the American job market came from the stat-i (it just sounds cooler, okay?) of friends and that kid everyone thought was dead after middle school until, HALLELUJAH! a friend request proves that zombies do exist. They all typically spoke of failed but elusive interviews. Many also obsessed over their choice of such a useless degree, or the choice of college in general. "Not me," I declared. It'll all be cool by the time I'm out there maaaaan, I thought. Cue questionable smoke and some Grateful Dead. Turns out I thought stupid amounts of wrong.
I never considered the literal meaning of the words 'unemployed' or 'jobless.' What's worse is the word 'unemployable,' but that's not a realization the last fragments of my youthful eagerness is willing to even begin to contemplate. I never thought any of them could be my reality but they are. And now, as I snack on the meaty tail of a delicious T-Rex I've named Wexley, a sentence forms in my brain. My face is contorting with the same "what the fuck, seriously?" expression I assume every time I see there is going to be another season of American Idol as I realize: I have been unemployed/jobless for six months and counting.
That's my current reality. That, and I am out of ketchup. I've applied everywhere and anywhere wanted signs appear. Nothing pans out, but don't get me wrong. I am not complaining. I humble myself by continually keeping track of the times. Literally, the Times and specifically that world: Africa section. If ever you need to shut yourself up from all the whining, head back to the Motherland.
I believe that this time shall pass. I think that the government needs to understand that they are selfish assholes because no one cares what they do- people will be people and live their lives BUT current economic climate is now fucking with my money. NO ONE fucks with my money. By now I am hoping people assume I look like Tony Montana. I am clear that whatever is going on, despite "it's on the the up" chatter, needs to do some meth and get higher. It's just weird. Like, I never understood the game of Risk but I imagine politics is exactly like that. Americans are gathered around the board. They don't understand so they say, "this shit is stupid," and the only ones who stay around and act like they know what the hell they are doing are the dorky kids. Yeah, I'm one of the cool kids but eventually those "asthmatic" kids keep playing, making shit up as they go, even throw in a Magic card once in a while and that should suffice them just fine. Like District 9, they multiply and that's how government and politics and economy and Donald Trump are born.
So to all of my fellow unemployed brothers and sisters, go back to the Motherland and stay strong! I know I'll keep looking for the wanted signs and so should you. It can always get worse but thankfully we do live in a country where shit is pretty legit and cushy.Thanks, Magic cards!! Just stay focused and market the shit out of your Defense against the French Arts degree. The horse and buggies of entry-level positions are a-comin'. Mind you, avoid all those clubs full of "gentleman" along the highway. What they want is not good. I've done the legwork. But, ya know, "fool me thrice," and all that jazz...
