spyonmebaby

I can't deal with myself sometimes, let alone anyone else.

An exam to write tomorrow morning and a paper and exam on friday morning, then a decision to make about whether I'll be flying out to calgary for the summer to work, and if so whether I'll be staying with my brother (and his, probably infuriating, ugg-clad partygirl 'roommates'), and what sort of job I'm willing to work, bleh. I can hardly think.

I'm not doing poorly, all told, just a little scattered.

I suppose they’re both flavors of the same, but I undergo massive moral dilemma when writing a resume or filling in the biographical details on a social networking site – not because I’m that blank or uninteresting a human being, but because I have a hard time bridging the gap between who I am and who I’m expected to be. I don’t want your company to succeed, I don’t want to work in a fast-paced environment, or be part of a dynamic team striving to maximize growth in an exciting new sector – I just want to work, preferably doing something for which I’m most qualified, and put dollars, preferably as many as possible, into my pocket. Fuck rhetoric. The only resume I could write without feeling a twist of guilt would be a single type-written sentence on a field of white: “I am going to work harder and better than most/all of your employees, will always show up on time, when scheduled, and am easy to get along with – you won’t regret hiring me.”

Similarly, filling out personal information for life-sucking social network sites, cordoning off my interests and traits, is a constant struggle between what I am, and what I want others to think I am - I mean, who wants to talk to someone they have nothing in common with? (I'm not sure I want to, either, which explains why I'm a recluse) It's a battle I still haven’t managed to win.

I don’t like being dishonest, but with deceit as the norm, I’m really just hurting myself - my truths are just considered unimaginative lies regardless.

On the way back from work today I treated myself to a long lost and greatly missed treat - THE WIRE magazine - 15 bucks for 99 beautiful pages. (It's a little strange that my favourite television show and magazine have the same name, but, uh... ). I'd forgotten how much I love it, honestly - the articles are incredible, the photography almost as good, and the reviews beat the fuck out of scouring the internet for inferior versions of the same. I'd love to write for them - but of course I'd have to live in a place that attracts artists more diverse than 'taking back sunday' and 'billy talent'.

Most important fact learned from this issue: A 'boris' album featuring the guitarist from 'ghost'? FUCK YES - two of my favourite japanese acts/artists conspiring to rock face. (yes, I know it's old news, but I've been out of touch awhile)

NOTE TO SELF: Get a WIRE subscription as soon as you move for the summer.
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I spent the whole day thinking about writing out a ridiculously long, and probably sleep-inducing, synopsis of my life's events since getting out of highschool. THIS IS A LIVEJOURNAL, YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO COMPLAIN. I've written in livejournals since about the time I graduated, but I've been so self-effacing that not only is the story incoherent in its incompleteness, but it contains many outright lies. If I ever finish it - and I've already started - it'll probably be something on the order of twenty or thirty pages. Scary. I promise it will be written well, if not ABOUT anything interesting.

Warning. This is long, un-edited (I'm done with it, I don't think it can be turned into anything worth using again, so I'll leave it as it is), and potentially not very good. I wrote this a few months ago for school - it was the first non-formal-form paper I've gotten to write in at least five years, and I am somewhat happy with it.

Feel free to make fun of it publicly or privately - that's why it's here.
( Sorry. )

Well, this journal is going to be mostly public, unlike the last I used. At least for now.

I'm going to be copying stuff out of my paper journals to put in here, too - I'm not sure how much of THAT I'll leave public - I'm just tired of having no access to any of it without flipping through a half dozen tattered books, most of which I can never find at the right time anyways.

Regardless, I'm bad at public journals, so don't set your bar too high.