Job Questing

I have a story inside this post. I wrote it before, but it was polished, I had dulled the edges to the point that it was a series of pleasant sentences which made no impact. Stop. Take a moment right now and prepare yourself to go on a small journey with me, one which is not tempered with my usual style, but rather a more told with more focus than my usual hazy lens provides.

I wake up and my dreams slowly filter from my head as I stumble to the shower. It is 8:30 a.m., and BBE is about to leave. I want to be awake, to feel some concept of the schedule of the employed. I remember puppy legs fluttering like a horse rearing up, and as I douse my slightly thinning hair under the hot water I begin to organize my day. I can do anything, but I should find a job. It is hard. It will require hours of sitting at a laptop filling out various forms with the same information I carefully organized in my resume, which often seems to be a document more for my reference than potential employers.

I ponder breakfast, what can I eat without gaining weight, as my chance of exercising is 50% at best, as I every moment not typing cover letters is a moment of selfishness. I have a duty to find a job. I need to be employed. Isn’t taking an hour out of my day to work on my body the absolute definition of selfishness? Only unemployed have this luxury, and it is one I feel bad about indulging.

Sated on cereal or a morning salad I sit down at the laptop. I type the word “L” into the URL bar, and my various legal job hunting sites materialize. I browse, I weigh whether or not applying is worthwhile, I revise, rewrite, or compose a new cover letter. I read it a loud to myself. I submit. Hours go by, the unairconditioned study becomes stuffy as sunlight slowly filters in from the window. The walls feel hot, but I don’t notice I am most likely thirsty. I continue on. Hours pass with only an occasional music break, a 4 minute span where I review my e-mail to see if a magic job opportunity might have snuck into my spam mail. I return to typing, reviewing, convincing, analyzing, and applying for jobs. It is 3:00 p.m. I’ve forgotten lunch, but figure it is fine. I haven’t moved. My salad is sitting fine. I get a message from BBE about the day of a working man. I respond, and realize he will return soon. I ponder dinner. I leave the laptop shortly. I cook. I smile. I toss in my bed, reviewing various sentences I’ve written in 15 cover letters. Did I same Memoranda or Memorandums? Did I mention my mediation experience? Was that job even something I could do. I sleep.


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