While I realize that I’ve only recently posted an article on the job hunt (I also realize how uplifting and positive it sounded), I actually wrote that one about a month ago and scheduled it to be posted when it was posted. I’ve since grown a tiny bit bitter.
Why are so preoccupied with the successes and later chapters of those around us, when we ourselves are only at our relative fifth chapter? Why are we so consumed with the future and less privy to the now? More accurately put, why am I so obsessed with it? I say, I, because I am in no means an accurate representation of the whole. I am one person attempting to decide my happiness; a happiness somehow hidden deep within the incorruptible and impenetrable mystery of employment. In my lifetime I have tethered this thought of happiness to a career, to stability, to knowing my future because I thought that it was the one thing I could control. Of all things I can and cannot control, I choose the one uncertain thing that I’m not even sure I can grasp, let alone control.
I’ve spent the last few months yelling into the faceless masses of employers whom have received countless cover letters and resumes from other recent college graduates, of whom I am one. That’s just it, I am ONE of thousands. Yet I get angry at my competition and I get angry at HR representatives who don’t email me back and I get angry because I feel no one will give me a chance. Even friends and family tend to bury themselves precariously beneath my skin with their meaningful affirmations of “hang in there” and “stay positive.”
Damn, do I hate that phrase. “Stay positive!” I’m a twenty-two year old who wants to have a life but not a dime to lead it. All the while, I’m unemployed because I have an English degree that employers don’t give two fucks about. But hey, at least I can “stay positive.” Do you see my bitterness now? Can you smell the black coffee traveling its wispy bitter notes up your nostrils to your olfactory bulb? Can you feel it go down your throat, leaving behind a trail of slow burning caffeine? Add some sugar, it’ll go down smoother.
I understand that I need to re-route the anger and attempt to look at it differently; add some sugar, so to speak. I get it. But the reason I get angry at these people is because I’m too proud to be angry at myself. I shouldn’t be angry at myself or them. In fact, I shouldn’t be angry at all. It won’t solve anything. All it will do is bring about a throbbing pain to my temples. Anger is like the little kid who throws a tantrum because he’s only recently discovered the word ‘no’ and has electively decided that it’s a naughty word, up in the ranks of poopy and broccoli, and that it shouldn’t exist. I don’t like being angry, but sometimes it just happens. There’s only so much you can take at a time before you snap.
So this is it, folks. I’ve snapped. And now please give me the benefit of the doubt as I try to tie myself back together and move along my merry way.
Hopefully to a job.
Hopefully to a chance.
Hopefully to happiness.