Down the long thin line.

On many days I'm grateful that I've got my dad around to help me with editing cover letters - giving me advice on what should and shouldn't be in them, figuring out what I might be missing that'd be useful to state my case.

Then I get to days like today, where I want to throw things and yell and just sendin the damn things to get this over with. They're too long, they're too short, there's too much, there's not enough, I need to elaborate, I can't say too much, I have to be humble, I have to be proud, I can't stand up and shout I'm perfectly suited given my education and employment, I can't sit quietly and avoid drawing attention to myself. I know full well it's a balancing act, and I hate it. Cover letters aren't creative enough to give me any freedom, and they're just creative enough to be frustrating.

I hate that I'm basically free of responsibilities right now - sure, I've got some internships, but nothing that's paying my bills and nothing I can't leave for a week or two if I wanted to go on vacation - but because I have this long-standing quest to get employment, I can't chuck it all to the winds and take a few months off to basically do whatever shit comes to mind. Go to Australia again or something, rent a cheap apartment in Montana and start writing novels, take a weekend off and visit someone nearby or just take a few days off and enjoy the city. Wallowing in depression and getting a minimal amount of work done isn't cutting it anymore.

There's job feeds that come by e-mail advertising entry-level positions in kitchens and auto body repair and motorcylce mechanics. They're really, really tempting - maybe I can make a case for myself on the grounds I like working with my hands - and who the fuck knows, maybe I'd get lucky and start work fast. And then I stop and think how I spent two years getting this degree in an area which I like, and then I remind myself work is a way to support what I want to do, which is write, and then I end up looking out the window at pigeons again.

Maybe if I didn't have so many of them - my crop of letters to edit this round is fifteen, and maybe if I wrote five a week or something like that I'd be better able to focus on the individual needs of the jobs. A part of me doubts that since I hate it all so much.

There is no way out of here.