Preparing a writing portfolio to submit to grad schools… fun! What do I have to put in my writing portfolio? Oh boy… well… a newspaper column here, a script there, a couple of short stories… maybe even a poem or two.
Good lord. This moment in my life is nervewracking. Which pieces DO I include in my portfolio? Furthermore, I need a script of some sort. And what do I already have in my folio that most closely resembles a script? Bloody Mary’s, of course! And so it makes its most vengeful return, much to my own reluctance.
Right now I think… forget these real life people. They suck. That’s why their bar has no business. These are facts. My stories, however, are brilliant. I actually read a few outloud the other night and rediscovered the fact that they are HILARIOUS! LOL! Yes, even Andrew made me laugh, even though I mostly hate him. It matters not how I feel. All that matters is that I have… something… to submit, even if it’s random and makes no sense.
To be fair, I have seen PLENTY of dumb TV shows that make absolutely no sense. My little Bloody Mary’s script is just like that. It’s a dumb TV show that makes no sense, kind of like my entire life. Anyway, it is brilliant. Now I must dig up the epic scroll that is buried somewhere in my office and piece together some semblance of a full-length document.
The personal statements are coming along better. I have received more offers from schools in my email. The other day I got one from the Penn State School of International Affairs! Really! It briefly reminded me of a dream I once briefly had to be a political journalist stationed overseas, contributing live for Al Jazeera English. Oh, the dreams I’ve had of writing. I think someday I could maybe try to be a journalist, but I like to embellish too much and put a fictional spin on my stories. I sincerely believe it would be to my benefit to study actual journalism, though. I could stand a lesson in professional writing ethics. I think everyone here would agree.
My journey into the graduate school application process has been a surprising one. I feel caught off-guard, mainly because of the emails from various schools. I didn’t expect anyone to be interested in my profile. Now I feel like I should consider other options. I don’t know. It’s hard to say. There’s nothing stopping me from spending the next few days dedicated to personal statements alone. Perhaps once I finish one, I will feel more confident to write more.
It’s a strange feeling I’m having. I feel like I am so accustomed to negative feedback that any positivity surprises me. I don’t know what to think. My self-esteem sits in the toilet most of the time, no matter what kind of fabulous outfit I wear. It’s difficult for me to believe someone would actually want me around. Then again, I live in a crap hole in the middle of nowhere. Nobody has ever accused small town South Dakotans of being open-minded.
Still reflecting on Paris… I have finally discovered the true source of my frustration: it was not long enough. I have also discovered the frustration with my editor: we did not work closely together enough. What I NEED is to sit down with someone and go through the entire stack of material from my website so I can work through it aloud and figure out what goes where and how it fits together. I have not yet found a situation where I can do this. I certainly didn’t get close enough to anyone in the workshop to feel comfortable asking any of them. Besides, most of them were in their early 20’s, and therefore not entirely serious. No one can blame them. I didn’t care about anything in my early 20’s, which is how I ended up where I am now.
Okay, that’s not true. I cared a lot about a variety of things when I was in my early 20’s. It’s just that my life went in a crazy, ridiculous direction and did not turn out how I thought it would. That’s fine. That’s what the 20’s are for. Everyone told me when I turned 30 that this would be the decade when I finally got my shit together. I choose to believe them, and continue working toward a brighter future.
Currently trying not to feel shitty about a certain job-related event that took place in the last few days. Ugh. I am disappointed in myself but simultaneous recognize the fact that I was in a toxic environment. This comes as absolutely zero surprise to me, a person who hates this industry specifically because it is one giant toxic environment. It’s way too easy for me to burn out on these jobs. I hate it anyway, and walking into that environment every day just makes me hate it even more. Yes, I needed the money, but I always need the money. I’ve started over at $0 so many times now, the idea of it doesn’t even phase me anymore. It’s just like, “Wow, can’t wait to get another job I hate doing the same thing I hate just so I can continue to hate my life! Hurray!”
Obviously the solution to this problem is to apply for different jobs. I have indeed tried this tactic. I have been rejected every single time. Thus, I remain underemployed and stuck dealing with situations I hate. It’s like, I’m a seasonal employee. I don’t care about your failing retail business. I’m here because it’s easy money. Now you’ve made it difficult for me by painting a target on my back when I was just trying to do my job. You clearly don’t want me here, otherwise you wouldn’t be bullying me constantly. So why bother showing up? Why not just quit before I get “fired” for my so-called “shitty attitude,” which is really just your shitty attitude that you’ve projected onto me?
Fuck this bullshit capitalist society we live in. The day I never have to work another service industry job is the day I will truly be happy. No more petty managers, no more stealing my hard-earned tips, no more fucking me over with shitty hours, no more unfulfilled promises, no more driving long distances for low wages, no more standing on my feet dealing with bitchy, entitled assholes all day, no more workplace bullies. Someday I will sit in my office and write the day away without worrying about how I’m going to pay my rent. Someday… someday…
For now, I’m just happy I quit that job. Fuck the service industry. I hope I never work there ever again.