Anxiety has a way of affecting my work. It’s limiting, distracting, and damaging. It’s been more than a month since I wrote anything in the sequel to a work of fiction, and a week since I’ve drawn a comic strip about the characters.
I think in the coming couple of months, my roommate will want me to move out if I don’t find work. So it’s putting me into this really shitty position, with a lot of fear of the future hanging over my head. I’m tired of this cycle; I’ve been here before, and it sucked then, too.
Things did work out then, but only to get by – for five years. I don’t think I can stand doing that again; putting my own work on hold for another five years. And then another, and so on and so on, until I’m too old to work. Like where my mother is heading; she’s been working since she was fourteen, and now has some bone-related health problems at nearly fifty-two.
Something about just constantly getting by is ticking me off. I can’t stand that shit anymore; it seems to be the demand society wants to throw on me. There’s little, if any, interest of anyone in my family in the things I want to do: writing and stand up comedy.
My brother tells me I need to get a job, and I know he means well; I want an income – not another decade of bullshit. I’ve been through enough of that. I’ve been through that stuff for my entire life. It’s amazing how much of my life has gone by doing a lot of work, and how little of it I have got out of it.
Maybe I’m not shooting high enough. But then, the demands on the higher jobs expect my attitude to be adjusted to it, too. I’m sick of that nonsense where people expect me to be some perfect little gentleman. It’s not me. I’m not a dick to people; but I’m also not there to change my attitude to someone else’s expectations. I need to be able to remain honest in everything I do; integrity is important to me. More important than a dollar.
The little support from my family is annoying. I have relatives that haven’t even bothered to take a look at a comic strip – something that might take less than a minute of their time. It took six months to get my sister to read one of my works. I don’t know; everyone’s life seems so busy when I’m not busy, and when I had a job, they seemed welcome to having me help.
It’s irritating. Having done so much work, and then having to return to do the same thing, knowing neither has brought me closer to a more free life. I’ve felt trapped by this notion that I should have a boss; that someone else should take one-third of my day.
So I’m constantly reminded of this – staring at Craigslist, Monster (which sucks), and other job boards out there. What makes things worse, none of my friends seem to give a rat’s ass to help me find work. A lot of loneliness; and I have no professional contacts. It feels like I’ve been ripped away from any chance of finding work because of the obsessive compulsiveness of potential employers.
These minor inconveniences; you can’t even apply for a job in person anymore. Nobody wants a resume given to them at a front desk. It’s intrusive; some asshole turned it around to a negative thing. Initiative, once thought of as a great virtue, is now considered a sin in business. Everything needing to be quickly planned in some agile environment; yet, they can’t even consider just letting someone drop off a piece of paper or two.
That builds more anxiety. I know these mangers are using software to search through tons of resumes. I think it’s despicable; letting a computer determine if a human is capable of doing a job. What a sick twist of irony; being a software developer.