“Wow, your life is so interesting. Why do you want to work here?”
I sighed deeply as i looked out the window at the wind raking through the trees, and i look blankly back at the lady; who looked like she hadn’t left her office chair since some time in the early 60’s. Her and the chair had become one. You couldn’t tell where she ended and her chair began.
Ok, i didn’t respond quite like that however i’d already decided i just wanted to get out of that office. She thought my life was some crazy hollywood ride and she couldn’t quite fathom why i was sitting in front of her applying for a low paying job that is mostly for college students. Frankly, i couldn’t entirely fathom it either. Apart from the raw honesty of the matter of me wanting money on a consistent basis. To pay for camera equipment, flights, road trips and everything in this world that money has to buy.
She gave me the job, but i haven’t taken it, and i probably wont.
My life isn’t a blockbuster. Its a rough one.
The hundreds of sacrifices, changed plans or things i’ve missed out on because i’ve lived the way i do. Its not to say i’d change it, but i also don’t know that i would entirely recommend it to anyone unless they know what they’re getting into.
Moving away from your home country is a very hard thing to do, and i’ve done it several times. You’ll find yourself feeling like you’ve missed out and that you’re this lost soul amongst a crowd, looking in on a life that could have been yours but instead you took a step out of line — then you kept walking.
You wont feel shame, but when you return home this awful feeling of not belonging can really make your heart bleed. And theres no one else who can relate to said feeling. That is very very lonely indeed. As i’ve said so many times before, i’ve been lucky to have someone supporting me through thick and thin, but some people wont have that. They’ll be in over their heads and they’re likely to drown. I’ve almost drowned more than a hundred times.
My life? Its not perfect and everyday isn’t glamorous. In fact, most days i’m struggling to think of things to write about or things to take pictures of, because its not especially easy for me to get out and explore. This apartment doesn’t look the way i want it to. I don’t have the furniture i wish i did, becuase i dont want to buy it until i live where i want to stay — and i may never find home. This state is expensive, and though it maybe beautiful it doesn’t inspire me. The culture, the history, the working environments and the people — i can’t quite get in there. So to speak. I’m the type of person who has to feel everything to be productive. And i find it hard to feel positively when i’m living somewhere that just doesn’t work for me.
So no, my life is not a hollywood movie, and i wouldn’t ever want it to be.
And i’m not unhappy.
So, I don’t think i’m above the job. Whatsoever. No one is above a job. You do what you need to do and you hustle. Its mostly that i know i’d quit within a few months out of the sheer monotony of it and frankly my phone manner isn’t always polite or friendly– which would result in wasting her time and mine. Not to mention a large amount of very displeased people with complaints about an angry redhead over the phone. Think of it as trying to cage a bear or shoving a bison into a shoe box. Not to mention those who were working at the time i was being interviewed, looked about ready to eat each other just for a change of scenery, like their souls had been sucked out of their ears. It was also the absolute weirdest and most uncomfortable interview i’ve ever been to. A pretty good indication of what the job would be like under her management. She spent more time trying to dissect my travel log, talking about her rich friends and foul mouthing Texas rather than discussing the job with me.
The Texas thing was the kicker, it happens to me quite frequently in New England, whatever the whole Texas thing is — lets go ahead and get over it. Shall we? I mean there are places i don’t like either, but i make note not to shit on it and rub anyones face in said fecal smudge. Its rude.
By all means have an opinion but also common decency.
As i’m writing its storming outside — the sky is in as much turmoil as i am. The thunder is rolling and lighting is snapping at the ground like a bullwhip. I’ve got myself thinking, wandering and pondering. My mind has run on ahead of me. I feel trapped and i’m ready to move again, somewhere by the vast plains, . Maybe in the dark woods in Denmark. All I know is i’m not built for the office life or the everyday 9 to 5. Im not made to stay in the wrong place or in the same place for too long. It just doesn’t function with me. Im not saying its a bad job or a bad state, i’m just saying i know i couldn’t do it personally.
There are some jobs that just don’t work for some but that happen to work for others.
I need to create like i need air. I need to be free to imagine, get dirty and find out what life is all about — and to me life can’t be about living in a cubicle everyday. Its about the road and getting there. I need to discover life so i have something to write about. Thats not to say i don’t work shitty jobs, because trust me. I know how to work a shitty job pretty damn well, i’ve worked a lot of them — and i do it gladly because life has to go on, but an office job is just too much of a reach for me.