T-7 days left and counting. . .

So, Dear Internet, I’m on my way to spin class for the first time in a couple of weeks. Boy am I going to be smarting tomorrow. . . But that will be balanced out with a lovely cake-filled baby shower for a friend of mine. And strangely enough, I won’t be providing any baked goods. Oddly enough. Kind feel bereft about it. Huh, maybe there’s a patch to deal with the withdrawal symptoms. But I do have to put together a present package and make a cute card (I have a stamp set that’s perfect for my needs. You can imagine I’m fiendishly rubbing my hands together while grinning maniacally, if you like. It’s a fairly accurate image. . . Well, except I’m actually on a train and writing this on my iPhone, so it’s more what I’m doing in my head that in actuality. Not to burst your bubble there). But I think cake will be a nice panacea for my sore muscles, plus hangings out with peoples what are awesome = double plus good!

But today I’ve been kind of having an existential crisis. I know, right? Who has those anymore, Dear Internet?!

It’s my second last week of actual employment, and though I’ve been assiduously applying to boatloads o jobs all fricking summer, no bites. Not a call, nothing. It’s looking more and more that this was an anomaly instead of, as I had hoped, a sign that I might in fact soon find myself fully and gainfully employed.

Luckily I have PEI to look forward to, otherwise I might get depressed or something. No idea what I’m going to do after PEI, aside from look forward to the next wedding on the docket (and maybe even the making of my pretty dress). And, duh, more job hunting. The benefit to everyone using the Internet for job applications is that if you have access to the Internet you can easily apply to as many jobs as you can make cover letters for. The downsides are that you feel like you’ve thrown your application into a deep ocean crevasse instead of worked to secure your future, and that the hundreds of millions of other people who have access to the interwebs have done the exact same thing. And nobody ever bothers to let you know if your even being considered as a candidate. So you’re left to assume you’re not and forget what you’ve applied for. Cause if you care about the opportunity, it actively hurts each day that you don’t get a phone call.

Of course, by the time someone does call you for an interview, you’ve then completely forgotten everything about the job and then sound pretty silly asking “What job is it I’m interviewing for again?” Also, if you do have the honour to get an interview (yes, it’s an _honour_ Bulldunkle.), the odds anyone ever gets back to you with feedback afterwards (even if they promised to do so) is next to nil. Of the 20-odd interviews I had in the last couple of years, THREE got back to me after the interview, one of which was for the job I ended up getting. A good six-ten others _said_ they’d get back to me.

And my experience so far is that you have to have 20+ interviews, at the very least, before you’re likely to actually ever get a job offer. For example, after graduating from a Masters degree, I spent two years futilely applying to countless jobs only to end up with a temporary, crappily paid summer student gig with terrible prospects cause they just cut 1900 jobs. . .

Oh how I love this state of being.

So I think I should, instead of dwelling on it (and thanks for letting me rant it out, Dear Internet), I should try to live each day as it comes. Look forward to the things to look forward to, and madly apply to job after job after job after job (and go quietly mad from the boredom) and get more into my hobbies. Maybe even start an etsy store or something to fill my time. So I can potentially offload the massive amounts of crafty I’ll probably end up producing. . .

Cause one thing I know for sure is that job hunting, it is one of the most boringest activities known to man.

At least I have a roof over my head, food in my tummy, and supportive and awesome peoples standing by and being all supportive. Maybe I won’t have to wait another two years for the next crappy short-term job. Always positive, that’s me. Well, I said I should try to look forward to the good things and live each day for itself, not get a personality transplant. When I get chipper, that’s when you know I’ve succumbed to the drugs.

Anything getting you down, Dear Internet?

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Heh. Just saw this sitting on the shelf near me in the bookstore (waiting to go to my spin class, where else would I hang out? Do you know me at all?). Though, sadly, too true. . .

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