Down the long thin line.

[hannah]

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.

Comments

[perspi.livejournal.com]

I'm afraid I'm not particularly helpful, but I'll pass the tea?

*passes tea*

[hannahrorlove.livejournal.com]

I'm in a state where I don't know if tea would help or not.

[perspi.livejournal.com]

Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry, and it sucks. ((hugs))

[hannahrorlove.livejournal.com]

I don't know what I can do right now to get out of here. I mean, what I'd like to do is stuff my therapist doesn't want me to do, and just send the letters out as is even if they're shitty just to get it done, and - I end up sitting and doing nothing because shutting down is a safer option.

[perspi.livejournal.com]

Would it be reasonable/possible/appealing to just take a notebook and go people-watch at a cafe for an hour or two? To not put pressure on yourself about the letters right now, to set them aside and come back to them when you're feeling better about it?

(Granted, I'm not your therapist and don't know what she's recommended, but I do want you to know that there are good vibes coming your way from here.)

[hannahrorlove.livejournal.com]

No, it wouldn't work - I'd know I'd still have this stuff to work on. I won't ever feel better about it. That's not a possibility.

[recrudescence.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry job-hunting is such a hellish thing. If getting out and working with your hands will give you a change of scene, a change of pace, and something constructive (and paying!) to do while you hunt for something more suited to your specialty, there's no harm in trying, right? Maybe it would help, even if it's not a dream job.

[hannahrorlove.livejournal.com]

There's a fairly loud bit in my head which says it would be harmful, since it's not something where I'd actively be working towards a full-time library gig. Even if all I'm doing today is crying on and off to the point where I'm crying hard enough I start coughing.

I don't know what I can do to get out of here. It's too big for me to see it anymore.