Stomped on by the Giant Elephant of Life Sucks

One of my friends was reassuring me tonight and said she was hopeful for me even when I had trouble with it myself and I told her, "Oh, I'm still hopeful. It's just that I keep getting my hopes up only to have them stomped to death by the giant elephant of life sucking." I have trouble believing in the power of prayer and the like when I know that despite all my friends and family and myself praying for me to find a job, I still get passed over and rejected at every turn. And I know that that's really not how I should be thinking about it, but, damn it, it's hard not to after 9 months of job hunting (and it really has become a hunt; I think that editorial jobs in Dallas ought to be up on the endangered species list--there have barely been any new job postings in my field in the last month). Faced with the prospect of having to borrow thousands of dollars more from my parents (as Jane put it so succinctly in P&P, "How is half such a sum to be repaid?"), put my stuff in storage and move halfway across the country, it is increasingly difficult to be hopeful about anything. My current job definitely does not inspire hope. In fact, I am quickly becoming jaded about humankind as nearly all of my shifts at work have involved some kind of brush with theft. Apparently people who read are inherently more honest. I can only remember one significant case of theft in the two plus years I worked at Barnes and Noble in high school. I've already had to deal with ladies who stick shoes in purses or attempt to walk out with them on their feet and men who stick shoes down their pants (Nancy Drew: Shoe Detective...there's a reason nobody's made that movie). It's not like they're necessary to your life. It's not like you can't go to Wal-Mart or Payless and get something passably stylish. It in simply incomprehensible to me how these people can live with themselves. I would feel like I was walking around with two cement blocks of guilt on my feet if I ever stole a pair of shoes. But apparently my values are not a reflection of our society en masse. The only good news right now is that I have four days off from Shoe Hell to work on my stories. If I could just finish a novel, then maybe all my troubles would be resolved. At the very least I could say "HA!" to all the people I went to high school with at my ten-year reunion whenever it is (I'm just glad it's not this summer). So, yes, right now I really feel as if Life has stomped on my spirit and left it behind forgotten and groaning into the dirt.

Jaxx Recommends...New Episode of Platinum Grit!

In February, I mentioned Platinum Grit in a post on my favorite web comics. At (over two years) long last, there is a new episode! Whoo!! A perfect time to remind everyone that this comic is completely, totally AWESOME. Though episode 19 will probably make almost no sense unless you've read at least some of the preceding episodes. And of course it raises almost as many new questions as it answers. I can't really say anymore about it without ruining it, so I'll finish by simply saying: READ IT.

Don't Let Them Eat Me!

It's official. There's something worse than having to work in retail. Having shoe-nightmare-induced insomnia. Everytime I close my eyes I start seeing shoes, so many shoes. Spilling out of boxes and strewn all around me and as I'm racing to put them away, more keep piling up in every direction. WHY? WHY AM I CURSED WITH NIGHTMARES ABOUT SHOES? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH MY MIND? It's not enough that being on my feet, running to and fro across a store makes my calves ache and my feet want to fall off. Or that I'm so tired my brain feels like scrambled eggs over easy. No, now my mind has decided to intrude upon the hours that should be a blissful escape from the hell that my daily existence as become. Tonight I can't even make it into REM sleep because the moment I close my eyes four-inch heels and wedges start dancing across my eyelids and I'm forced back awake. I'm SOOO tired. Why does my mind hate me so much? All I want is to sleep for a few hours. Is that really so much to ask?

Entitlement and Epiphany

Yesterday, my younger sister told me she was proud of me and how I'm handling all the shit life's been throwing at me. That meant more to me than I could even explain, especially since I've been feeling like the worst failure ever. She also said that she'd finally realized the value of how our parents raised us and I agreed with her completely. Growing up, we never got rewards for good grades or good behavior. It was a standard that was simply expected of us. As a result, she and I have never felt like we should be entitled to things. We've known that if you want something, you have to work for it. When I wanted to get special toys, I had to save my allowance for months to buy them. But I don't mind that because they meant more that way. My sister was complaining about someone she knows who doesn't have a job because she "doesn't want to work" and yet goes out and buys expensive cars and eats out every night because she feels like the world owes her that lifestyle. And she expects for other people (family and friends) to bail her out when she winds up in debt. It pissed my sister off to no end and I was in complete agreement with her. It's that sense of entitlement that brought about the economic depression we're in right now. And part of what is so annoying (to both of us) is that we're suffering from it, my sister will graduate in less than a year, possibly six months and have to compete with mid-level career job seekers for entry-level positions, and yet, we didn't participate in the problems that brought this about. My mom passed along an article from the SF Gate today that tied right into this. It explains so well why my employers have always been impressed with my work ethic. I didn't understand at the time, because I just did what was asked and expected of me: I showed up on time; I worked whatever hours necessary; and I did what I was told to do. Like I said, that's how I was raised. A couple of years ago, one of my co-workers ran across a survey of college students about to graduate. The majority of them said they expected to be earning over $100K/year at their first job. And I laughed and said, well the real world will come as a slap to the face for them. But I'm learning that whether or not they're paid that, people are living as if that's what they make. It's especially prevalent in the area of Dallas that I live in. People drive expensive cars and rent expensive apartments that I just don't understand how they can possibly afford. Especially since I see them out in the middle of the day, walking their pedigree dogs in the park. What sucks the most is that despite the fact that I am not like those people, I can't get anyone to give me a chance. I can't get anyone to let me learn on the job. Today I had an interviewer reject me before even meeting me. And it hurts even more than the rejections that come without offering me a chance at all. Because they held out the candy to me and then just as I was reaching out for it, pulled it back and said, wait a minute, we don't want to share with you after all. I just want to SCREAM at the top of my lungs because I actually WANT to work my ass off (and I'm almost back to entry-level salary) but nobody will let me!

Pondering Back Up Plans and Zack and Miri Make a Porno

"You jest, but these are the exact circumstances that people find themselves in right before they start having sex for money and making porn." - Miri
...
"If it's so easy, how come everybody doesn't do it?" - Miri
"Because other people have options. And dignity. Which we do not have. Which puts us in an amazingly advantageous position." - Zack
"Fuck you. I have dignity." - Miri
"Where? Is it hidden in your gigantic underpants that are plastered all over the internet? Is that where you hide your dignity?" - Zack

Today I had my first shift as a retail shoe slut. Better than I feared, but it still reminded me (in under than four hours no less) of all the reasons I was not sad to leave retail behind when I graduated from college. Still it beats making a porno (I am not yet THAT desperate--yet being the key word--my other ridiculous back-up plans (i.e. marry a filthy rich septogenarian; become a madame of a European brothel; work at Disneyland dressed up as a Princess; and find a sugar daddy) would probably come about before that one) and at least I'm making more than I did working at the local independent bookstore sophomore year (minimum wage at the time in Nebraska being a mere $5.15/hour). And money is money. The bills must be paid and my unemployment benefits are very nearly used up. Previously, I've always been saved at the last moment from actually having to return to the world of retail sluttism. But, apparently, I've pissed off some important and powerful omniscient being and said being is bent on ruining my life. I'm also convinced that he or she is attempting to wash the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex off the map. One of the heaviest bursts of rain occurred, of course, just as I arrived home from work, so not only did I have aching feet and a migraine, but I also had to towel myself dry because I looked like a drowned rat. Is there something terribly wrong with me for wanting to quit this job before I've even finished training?