Yesterday I completed job application number four, and last night I received my first rejection notice from a job I had applied to a few weeks ago. Okay, no big deal. It was in Newtown Square anyway. I couldn't help but still be a little bummed out.
I desperately need a new job. I'm sitting here smoking Pall Malls because someone gave them to me. I'm stressing over how I'm going to afford my car insurance this month. Don't even get me started on the fretting I do over long term things like, "How the hell could I ever afford a house? A child? Are you kidding me? How the hell do people do it?"
It's easy to get disheartened when you feel as if you don't meet a job's qualifications. There's all kinds of things I think I would be good at, that I would enjoy doing, but upon reading the job posting's requirements/qualifications, I realize that no, it might not be for me.
So I apply anyway. It can't hurt. I am constantly tweaking my resume and making every and any type of networking connections I possibly can, and praying.
I wish the winds of change wouldn't just blow, I wish they would hit me with hurricane-force gusts, because living like this is killing me.
I know I'm not the only person my age going through something like this, the problem is, I don't personally know anyone who is. Or if they are, they choose not to talk about it. All of my friends seem to be doing pretty damn good. Don't get me wrong - I am incredibly happy to see them doing well and living fulfilled lives. I wouldn't want anything less for them. And I'm not sitting around waiting for some kind of break or handout. I'm prepared to work my ass off for it - I mean, I do that at my current job, no matter how miserable I am with it right now.
So I just need to keep plugging away, all the while keeping my eyes and ears open.
No One's Going to Take Away Your Guns, So Calm the Fuck Down
I don't usually get political on my blog - this is supposed to be a place for introspection with some comic relief thrown in, but this topic has been weighing on my mind for the past few days.
I am SO sick of hearing people bitch about the state of this country, lay the blame on the president, and whine and cry assuming that, because of new gun law proposals, the government is going to take their guns away by creating a countrywide ban. Guess what people - it's not. And if all you're going to do is sit on your ass and complain via Facebook, why not be more proactive and start contacting your state representatives and legislators? Bet yet, get educated?
On a personal note, as far as the issues of mental health and gun control - I don't even know what to think. I've never been a fan of guns, and more or less ambivalent when it comes to a person's right to own them. The fact that my ex kept guns in the house solely for hunting purposes used to scare the shit out of me because sometimes it doesn't matter how safety conscious one is when it comes to handling them.
I've been following this whole clusterfuck closely and making sure my points are valid. I watched President Obama state that no one is planning on taking away the rights of law-abiding, gun-owning citizens as I huffed and puffed away on the elliptical machine at the gym on January 14th. However, as of today, he has signed 23 executive orders meant to tighten the reigns and curb gun violence, and I agree with them 100%.
If people did their research, maybe they would stop crying. If people are law-abiding citizens, maybe they would calm the fuck down. I am shocked at the outpouring of rage in regards to this topic coming from people I thought I knew.
I never knew you hunted with assault weapons.
I didn't think you had any reason to be concerned about having a background check run on you if you go to purchase a new firearm.
I'm surprised you managed to graduate high school without a full understanding of our country's Constitution and Bill of Rights, because your rants make it abundantly clear that you do not have one.
Because, let's face it, the chances of one being forced to protect their home, family, and livelihood while wielding a firearm, at least in Delaware, are slim. Unless you live on 4th street or in Brookside, I don't want to hear it. (The people I hear doing most of the complaining? No, they do not live in crime- or drug- ridden areas of this state. And to be honest, I felt safer in my own home than I ever did at my ex's, with his cache of firearms and hunting rifles.)
This is my opinion. I do not demand that anyone agree with me. This is my blog, and I write what I feel passionately about. No one has to read it. I do not shove my thoughts on gun control down anyone's throat. I will, however, discuss it with people who feel the same way I do. Unfortunately, I do not feel compelled to discuss it with those who think differently, because I have better things to do - like decide how or whether or not I am going to start writing letters to my state representatives and legislators inquiring as to why my paycheck has shrunk - rather than become a little dumber by listening to uneducated and uninformed people berate me with misinformation.
I am SO sick of hearing people bitch about the state of this country, lay the blame on the president, and whine and cry assuming that, because of new gun law proposals, the government is going to take their guns away by creating a countrywide ban. Guess what people - it's not. And if all you're going to do is sit on your ass and complain via Facebook, why not be more proactive and start contacting your state representatives and legislators? Bet yet, get educated?
On a personal note, as far as the issues of mental health and gun control - I don't even know what to think. I've never been a fan of guns, and more or less ambivalent when it comes to a person's right to own them. The fact that my ex kept guns in the house solely for hunting purposes used to scare the shit out of me because sometimes it doesn't matter how safety conscious one is when it comes to handling them.
I've been following this whole clusterfuck closely and making sure my points are valid. I watched President Obama state that no one is planning on taking away the rights of law-abiding, gun-owning citizens as I huffed and puffed away on the elliptical machine at the gym on January 14th. However, as of today, he has signed 23 executive orders meant to tighten the reigns and curb gun violence, and I agree with them 100%.
If people did their research, maybe they would stop crying. If people are law-abiding citizens, maybe they would calm the fuck down. I am shocked at the outpouring of rage in regards to this topic coming from people I thought I knew.
I didn't think you had any reason to be concerned about having a background check run on you if you go to purchase a new firearm.
I'm surprised you managed to graduate high school without a full understanding of our country's Constitution and Bill of Rights, because your rants make it abundantly clear that you do not have one.
Because, let's face it, the chances of one being forced to protect their home, family, and livelihood while wielding a firearm, at least in Delaware, are slim. Unless you live on 4th street or in Brookside, I don't want to hear it. (The people I hear doing most of the complaining? No, they do not live in crime- or drug- ridden areas of this state. And to be honest, I felt safer in my own home than I ever did at my ex's, with his cache of firearms and hunting rifles.)
This is my opinion. I do not demand that anyone agree with me. This is my blog, and I write what I feel passionately about. No one has to read it. I do not shove my thoughts on gun control down anyone's throat. I will, however, discuss it with people who feel the same way I do. Unfortunately, I do not feel compelled to discuss it with those who think differently, because I have better things to do - like decide how or whether or not I am going to start writing letters to my state representatives and legislators inquiring as to why my paycheck has shrunk - rather than become a little dumber by listening to uneducated and uninformed people berate me with misinformation.
The Tale of the Dark-Haired Goldilocks
Okay so while driving home from the bar last night, something dawned on me.
If you know anything about me, you might have picked up on the fact that I have been (technically) single for almost five years. Damn, has it been that long? So I am accustomed to just doing my own thing. If I'm in the mood for some dirty, no-strings-attached fun, it's at my fingertips. If I'm in the mood for some strange, that's not usually hard to find either. But lately, I haven't been bothered to partake in any of that, and I know why.
There's someone on my mind. Someone I'd rather be with than my Drugstore Cowboy - you know, the one with the bedroom eyes, or my heavy metal lover - the one who blasted into my life out of nowhere around Memorial Day last summer.
Part of me is okay with this, part of me is terrified.
When I think about it, it's very similar to the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Except I'm a brunette and we're not talking about beds and porridge, we're talking about relationships.
The Drugstore Cowboy is 25 - too soft around the edges, immature, pretentious, seemingly intimidated by women, only ever calls after midnight and I was usually responsible for getting myself off. Hey honey, the same two positions have gotten quite boring.
The Heavy Metal Lover is 44 - a little too rough around the edges, with a been-there-done-that kind of attitude, not interested in relationships because he's run the gauntlet already, and while the sex was always fun and hot, he never really took the time to find out what blew my mind.
But one who is on my mind is 34 and he knows when to be soft and when to be rough, his sense of humor is a good mix of sarcastic and genuine, we share common ground on lots of things, and he takes the time to figure out what gets me off. More like makes it his mission. We compliment each other, in and out of the bedroom. He texts me in the morning with a "Have a good day!" and a kiss. We do things together. I spend the night at his house so often that I have a toothbrush in the medicine cabinet and pajamas in his drawer. I've met all of his friends and his entire family. He gave me a Cuisinart food processor for Christmas. There's a jar of Splenda next to his coffeemaker for me. He constantly tells me how beautiful I am, he can't keep his hands off me, and the feeling is mutual. He's out of town this weekend and asked if he would be seeing me tomorrow night when he gets back. He's the one whose porridge is just the right temperature and the bed that is perfect for sleeping in.
If you know anything about me, you might have picked up on the fact that I have been (technically) single for almost five years. Damn, has it been that long? So I am accustomed to just doing my own thing. If I'm in the mood for some dirty, no-strings-attached fun, it's at my fingertips. If I'm in the mood for some strange, that's not usually hard to find either. But lately, I haven't been bothered to partake in any of that, and I know why.
There's someone on my mind. Someone I'd rather be with than my Drugstore Cowboy - you know, the one with the bedroom eyes, or my heavy metal lover - the one who blasted into my life out of nowhere around Memorial Day last summer.
Part of me is okay with this, part of me is terrified.
When I think about it, it's very similar to the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Except I'm a brunette and we're not talking about beds and porridge, we're talking about relationships.
The Drugstore Cowboy is 25 - too soft around the edges, immature, pretentious, seemingly intimidated by women, only ever calls after midnight and I was usually responsible for getting myself off. Hey honey, the same two positions have gotten quite boring.
The Heavy Metal Lover is 44 - a little too rough around the edges, with a been-there-done-that kind of attitude, not interested in relationships because he's run the gauntlet already, and while the sex was always fun and hot, he never really took the time to find out what blew my mind.
But one who is on my mind is 34 and he knows when to be soft and when to be rough, his sense of humor is a good mix of sarcastic and genuine, we share common ground on lots of things, and he takes the time to figure out what gets me off. More like makes it his mission. We compliment each other, in and out of the bedroom. He texts me in the morning with a "Have a good day!" and a kiss. We do things together. I spend the night at his house so often that I have a toothbrush in the medicine cabinet and pajamas in his drawer. I've met all of his friends and his entire family. He gave me a Cuisinart food processor for Christmas. There's a jar of Splenda next to his coffeemaker for me. He constantly tells me how beautiful I am, he can't keep his hands off me, and the feeling is mutual. He's out of town this weekend and asked if he would be seeing me tomorrow night when he gets back. He's the one whose porridge is just the right temperature and the bed that is perfect for sleeping in.
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