Real life is giving me a good kick in the ass. This is the sort of thing that occurs when you have résumés to mail out and your printer decides that it would be a good time to run out of ink. This is also the sort of thing that occurs when the holidays are simmering around you and the only thing you can think of is "Shit, I hope no one is getting me anything."
It is my preference to not get a job and to say that I got a degree just so that my children think I'm smart. Hi--real world calling.
I got a job offer last week from the principal of a charter school about an hour from here. Not only is teaching not on my list of things to do before I die, but the cost of driving there everyday far outweighs whatever benefits of pay provided. On top of that, any time there's a mid-year opening for a teaching position in a school it makes me suspicious. Why did the last teacher leave? What's wrong with the school? When you say "charter" do you really mean "untraditional learning atmosphere where ill-bred students flock"?
I guess the real problem with my job search is that I have absolutely no focus. I went into college all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with "Pre-Med" stamped on my forehead and "Music department" engraved on my ass. It didn't take me long to chisel either off. I think it was sometime around month two when some id-jut of a teaching assistant scoffed at my maladjustment and depression when I was going through a rough spot. I'd lost two family members in a few months, and wasn't handling it well. What did "Mr. Holier-than-thou because I wrote a thesis" tell me? I believe it was, "People die. Get over it." What really broke me down was when I had missed a day of class and had a friend tell me that the assignment due had been pushed back to the next Monday. When I turned in mine on Monday, he wouldn't accept it. For me it was "late" because I wasn't supposed to know that the assignment had been pushed back. Asshat.
That fucked me up reeeeeeeeal good for the next four years.
I didn't like anything after that. Even the things I was good at held no passion for me anymore, so imagine trying to focus all that hurt, anger, frustration, and grief into finding a new major and deciding on a career path. Hah!
I told myself at some point that, "Tiffany. You are a writer." True, I have been since I was six and scribbling poems about bedtime on the school bus. Heck, I even have a few published writing credits from back in the days when I was a sweet, good, God-fearin' girl. Ahem. However, the type of writing I crank out is not only time consuming, but frustrating as hell. I have probably 5 half-finished epic dramas festering in my file case. They're pretty good, but at this point in my life I lack the discipline required to sit down eight hours a day and peck away. Equally frustrating are those little unpresonalized rejection slips that editors send you making it painfully clear that they hadn't even bothered to read past the title and first paragraph. "Not for us--try again."
I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I just know that I have to be something. I'd be perfectly content with sitting on my arse all day and springing to action only when the kids get off the bus in the afternoon, but that aint going to happen.
On a seperate topic, I just noticed that a résumé I was about to send out contains traces of severe fuck-up. It would have been mildly embarrassing having to explain that inclusion away if I had been called in for an interview. I guess I need to add "be a better proofreader" to my list of things that I suck at.
Holiday depression sucks. To my credit, I can say that I haven't put my head in an oven yet and cranked it up to 500. That's mostly because I'm scared the power bill will be outrageous.
Posted by Tiffany at December 21, 2003 02:25 PM