Labour

I got an e-mail today rejecting my application to a job I interviewed for last week. This is neither a surprise, nor a disappointment. The only difference between it and all the other rejections I've gotten is that I interviewed for it. My father, who is an actor, identifies with being rejected for stuff (with the number of auditions he's had), whereas my mother, and Nanna, have been more affected by this, and more sympathetic. Overly sympathetic. It's too much. What none of them seems to realise is that I don't actually mind.

Yes, I do have a terrible fear of failure, and I don't cope well with being rejected. It makes my already-low confidence plummet and initiates self-doubt - more so. But I'm slowly coming to realise that that's mostly to do with girls. When it's jobs, yes, it can be disheartening, but at the end of the day, it's just a job. With me, specifically, I can't think of any job out there that would actually be perfect for me - I mean, every job has its downfalls, sure - but for some people (in fact, realistically a lot of people), they have a vague idea of what it is they want to do. I don't.

What I do want to do is have some sort of job which allows me time for blogging - which hasn't been a problem before, so I don't envision it being any sort of problem now - and one which allows me enough money to move out of my parents' house - which brings the issue back to girls. Not that I try, particularly, but I imagine it would be a lot less difficult to appear attractive to girls if I lived on my own. Plus, if I had a place of my own, any ladies I happen to bring home (to discuss the finer points of global politics over a cup of Joe, obviously) wouldn't have to eventually meet my mother, and that means that any chances of successful romantic endeavours are at least multiplied by five.

This leads me to ruminate that what I should have done, of course, would have been to move into a tiny studio flat while I was still a TA. I wasn't earning much, but it would have been just about enough. Not doing so was a spectacularly dumb move.

In any case, being rejected from a job is, for me, much worse than being rejected by a girl. I've been rejected, I think, maybe twice. That's the number of times I've actually asked anyone out. When it 'happened' with TD, Rebecca and even Soldier Girl, it just sort of 'happened'. Not successfully asking anyone out isn't a good track record. And with a girl, I'm putting my heart and soul totally on the line. Plus tying them to the line, twirling my moustache and cackling while dangerous-sounding ragtime plays. Only in this case nobody comes and saves the poor heart and soul. Being rejected is a cruching blow and as a result I don't ask people out. I know, what a loser, right?

Anyway.

As long as asking for jobs doesn't carry the same gravitas as asking people out, I'm kind of okay with my situation as it is. Not having a place to attract sexy ladies is a constant niggle, as I said in paragraph three, but then again, the fact that the shelves on my bookcases aren't in perfect alignment is a constant niggle. Not having a job makes me seem lazy, but it's not for lack of trying - plus it means I have time to talk about sex with chocolate over Twitter and watch Ghostbusters on my family's digital box. I honestly don't mind it.

But if something does suddenly come along, I'd like to think that it would help iron out the kinks a little bit.

I'd also like to think I wouldn't hate it, either.