I didn't know "candidness" was actually a word... Must be the combination of antibiotics and tylenol PM.
I'm sitting here alone, having applied to about 8 different jobs today- all of which required various tweaks to my cover letter and resume... do you have any fucking idea how time consuming it is to change your resume and cover letter that many times?! I didn't work today, because I woke up more of a mess than usual. In addition to the ten bug bites I have on just one foot alone, I also have pink eye and a UTI... typical. My immune system fucking hates me. Probably because all I ate today was chips and salsa and two meatballs. My mother would NOT approve. "Kelsey, you need to take better care of yourself. Kelsey, you really should be taking vitamin-C supplements...."
If I don't get a paid writing job soon (or any other job for that matter) my soul will surely die. I can't go on. I literally can NOT go on. My only consolation right now is Thom Yorke. I think he must be my favorite lyricist of all time... I feel like he gets me in my lowest moments of despair, loneliness, and desperation. Then again, he's a musician, and as I've said before, musicians are better actors than actors are. So who knows if Thom Yorke has ever actually felt the words he sings. Whatever- I'd still marry him. Even with his wonky eye. ;) I love me some misfits ;)
Seriously though. It's been a rough week and it's Thursday. Lately, my weeks seem to have no beginning and no end. I had planned a three day weekend (of sorts- technically Sunday, Monday, Tuesday) off with my boyfriend. We originally intended to go away... that plan was ruined when he had to work Sunday. Oh well. Maybe next time....
I think my job is taking a real tole on me. My stress levels are out of the roof (hence my non-existent immune system), I find myself crying almost daily because of my job... although the triggers are absurd little things. Like last Friday, I started balling over a national geographic documentary that showed a starving penguin chick who was abandoned by his parents and isolated by the rest of the colony. Tonight, an article about a special needs child who had no friends to sit with at the lunch table was enough to make me cry. Dude.... I need to get out of this fucking rut....
I find myself taking my frustrations about my job out in other areas of my life. I find that when my job situation gets bad, I push my body to the limit. I really should take better care of myself I suppose. I start going berserk over every little thing that upsets me. I blew a fuse the other day because my boyfriend is hiring yet another bottle server that is already employed as a model (legit model- signed with legit agency). I don't know why. I don't know if it's my own insecurities, or the fact that I bust my ass working 40 hours a week at a job I hate and making hardly enough money to get by, while these girls get hired solely on a basis of how hot they are and walk away with $800-$1000 for two nights of work. I just can't. I can't. The feminist in me blows up every fucking time. It's been increasingly hard trying to tell myself that it's just his job and doesn't effect me.
I need a vacation... like, a legit vacation... somewhere warm. with a beach. and no telephone.
