is this it?

Yesterday, at my temp placement, I had a little freak-out (internally; no fax machines were ACTUALLY harmed). So instead of getting dolled up and going to my friend's cousin's condo to meet a promised "cute guy," I stayed home, watched a movie about a future dystopian society (Children of Men), and painted my nails dark purple. Being a drama queen is quite the rollercoaster of emotions.

Re: temping: I'm coming around to the opinion that leaving the trees was a big mistake. Let's go back to hunting and gathering, and forget this whole "office culture" thing. I've devised a strategy involving continuously ingesting liquids so that I have to get up and go to the washroom as often as possible. How do people live like this? Office life is more likely to turn me into an alcoholic than beer wenching was.

Not that I'm going back to the pub (yet). I suppose I haven't really given it a fair shot; plus, since I'm temping, it's not like I have any work to do that I give a damn about. So it's brain-meltingly boring. Perhaps if I CARED whether or not the database is updated and correct, I wouldn't have this problem. But I suppose if I cared about their damn database, I'd be a much less interesting person.

this afternoon

I’m sitting in my unair-conditioned apartment, checking Craigslist for writing/editing jobs, and it only just occurred to me that it was a completely unorganic and possibly ridiculous way to look for a job. I haven’t done anything that could prove to any objective person that I can write well; while I’ve been told I can, and I think I can as well, I have no concrete proof.

However, it also seems somewhat inevitable that I should be sitting in my uncomfortably warm apartment on a cloudy Friday in July, idly clicking on job ads and trying to picture myself in each role. It seems like most of the ones I am qualified for (having no experience or certification) would require a total personality transplant for me to perform successfully—by which I mean not going berserk and setting fire to my desk. I have no concerns over being able to manage the duties involved, just very real worries about being imprisoned for arson.

Plus, I would need an entirely new wardrobe.

Being broke and unemployed is my own fault; at the end of April I quit my job and blew all my savings on a trip to Europe. I don’t regret it; I just wish the exchange rate was more favourable.