Jul. 11th, 2012

lar_laughs: (Hitgirl - snarl)
I'm working on my resume.

I'm more irritated that I couldn't spend the night writing something fictional than anything else.

There're no jobs available in my skill set at my BILs workplace (because my sister seems to think I NEED to work there) so I looked at what a local health insurance company had available. Don't know if I want to go that route or not.

The one thing I hate most about reading job requirements - feeling nine inches tall and completely stupid even though I could probably do the job just fine even without the list of superhero accomplishments they want. Thank you so much for making me feel inadequate.

And my mom wonders why I'm not leaping on this task with wild abandon. "You're a writer! This should be easy!"

On a good day, I have the emotional level of a flea about some of this stuff. When I've been beaten down by life and a job that has nearly erased my computer skills (Thank you very much for making some of them five years old because you REFUSE to see the computer as a valuable asset and continue to treat it like a decoration on the counter top), I don't have much left over for trying to make myself look good.

Where is that rich uncle who's supposed to die and make me independently wealthy so that I can buy myself a hovel (with internet, of course!) and write all day long? My mom and dad obviously have to get some new family members for that to happen!
lar_laughs: (Hitgirl - snarl)
I'm working on my resume.

I'm more irritated that I couldn't spend the night writing something fictional than anything else.

There're no jobs available in my skill set at my BILs workplace (because my sister seems to think I NEED to work there) so I looked at what a local health insurance company had available. Don't know if I want to go that route or not.

The one thing I hate most about reading job requirements - feeling nine inches tall and completely stupid even though I could probably do the job just fine even without the list of superhero accomplishments they want. Thank you so much for making me feel inadequate.

And my mom wonders why I'm not leaping on this task with wild abandon. "You're a writer! This should be easy!"

On a good day, I have the emotional level of a flea about some of this stuff. When I've been beaten down by life and a job that has nearly erased my computer skills (Thank you very much for making some of them five years old because you REFUSE to see the computer as a valuable asset and continue to treat it like a decoration on the counter top), I don't have much left over for trying to make myself look good.

Where is that rich uncle who's supposed to die and make me independently wealthy so that I can buy myself a hovel (with internet, of course!) and write all day long? My mom and dad obviously have to get some new family members for that to happen!

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