Tuesday, August 05, 2008
I hate to blog while depressed... especially since it seems that's the only time I blog lately. It gives the impression that my entire life is about feeling sorry for myself. And yes, right now I'm feeling sorry for myself.
My "new position" is exactly what I thought it would be: hours of baking frozen cookie dough, slicing tomatoes, putting cookies in boxes, mopping the floor.
Aside from the obvious: this bores the living shit out of me and I will be suicidal within a month of doing this bullshit repetitively; let's look at the even MORE obvious: I am doing a job that a minimum wage stooge can do. How long before they call me into another "meeting" to explain that I'm just too overpriced for what I'm doing for them and they're letting me go?
Oh sure, there's a big to-do on Friday I'm supposed to make a "tasting tray" for--trying to get some more upscale business. And that's cool. But again, how often can that happen? Just shoot me now and put me out of my misery.
Rusty is being as patient as can be expected. "You'll pull yourself out of this, you always do." But that's just it: I never pull myself out of anything. I just live long enough for things to change. I guess my first mistake was setting goals, or having a desire to be something I'm not. Stupid crap like "homeowner" or "successful". And so I struggle and struggle, trying so damned hard to get there only to find myself at the bottom of the hill again.
It makes me sick to think about all the energy I spent trying to convince Shitfoot to save money and buy a home. He prefered to drink his cash, and gave up the idea of owning a home because we couldn't afford one like his parents were living in, and he wasn't willing to "slum it". He bought his first home one year after we divorced. Naturally, he bitches about every aspect of it at every chance he gets. I've been applying for a mortgage about once a year since our divorce and can never qualify for anything big enough or safe enough for the kids. Every year, they tell me I need $x for a down payment, or xyz on/off my credit report, or somesuch. Every year after I've met that goal, they change the rules and now there's something more I have to do. Sure, it's not MY fault the mortgage industry has imploded.
And after I lost my "dream job" at the restaurant, I struggled for so long trying to find my feet again. After accepting the fact that there were no other similar jobs in this town, or nearby, I spent (how many years now?) trying to open my own business. Sure, it's not my fault that the collapse of the mortage industry has caused an implosion in the credit industry as a whole and nobody will give me a loan.
So is my problem that I just want too much? Is it "uppity" of me to want these things? Is it 'nervy' of me to EXPECT homeownership to be an attainable goal? Am I a snob to think that because I repeatedly find myself feeling like the smartest person in the room that it might be a sign that I am perfectly capable of running my own business? Is my ambition what's making me miserable? Is it even possible to learn to be perfectly happy in crappy apartment after apartment working whatever job I can find? I guess I need to find out, because it's looking less and less likely that I'll ever have a life of anything else.
My "new position" is exactly what I thought it would be: hours of baking frozen cookie dough, slicing tomatoes, putting cookies in boxes, mopping the floor.
Aside from the obvious: this bores the living shit out of me and I will be suicidal within a month of doing this bullshit repetitively; let's look at the even MORE obvious: I am doing a job that a minimum wage stooge can do. How long before they call me into another "meeting" to explain that I'm just too overpriced for what I'm doing for them and they're letting me go?
Oh sure, there's a big to-do on Friday I'm supposed to make a "tasting tray" for--trying to get some more upscale business. And that's cool. But again, how often can that happen? Just shoot me now and put me out of my misery.
Rusty is being as patient as can be expected. "You'll pull yourself out of this, you always do." But that's just it: I never pull myself out of anything. I just live long enough for things to change. I guess my first mistake was setting goals, or having a desire to be something I'm not. Stupid crap like "homeowner" or "successful". And so I struggle and struggle, trying so damned hard to get there only to find myself at the bottom of the hill again.
It makes me sick to think about all the energy I spent trying to convince Shitfoot to save money and buy a home. He prefered to drink his cash, and gave up the idea of owning a home because we couldn't afford one like his parents were living in, and he wasn't willing to "slum it". He bought his first home one year after we divorced. Naturally, he bitches about every aspect of it at every chance he gets. I've been applying for a mortgage about once a year since our divorce and can never qualify for anything big enough or safe enough for the kids. Every year, they tell me I need $x for a down payment, or xyz on/off my credit report, or somesuch. Every year after I've met that goal, they change the rules and now there's something more I have to do. Sure, it's not MY fault the mortgage industry has imploded.
And after I lost my "dream job" at the restaurant, I struggled for so long trying to find my feet again. After accepting the fact that there were no other similar jobs in this town, or nearby, I spent (how many years now?) trying to open my own business. Sure, it's not my fault that the collapse of the mortage industry has caused an implosion in the credit industry as a whole and nobody will give me a loan.
So is my problem that I just want too much? Is it "uppity" of me to want these things? Is it 'nervy' of me to EXPECT homeownership to be an attainable goal? Am I a snob to think that because I repeatedly find myself feeling like the smartest person in the room that it might be a sign that I am perfectly capable of running my own business? Is my ambition what's making me miserable? Is it even possible to learn to be perfectly happy in crappy apartment after apartment working whatever job I can find? I guess I need to find out, because it's looking less and less likely that I'll ever have a life of anything else.
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