Word Vomit #2

This is a stream of written prose that has not been edited since it was first written a few days ago. This one loosely rhymes, but loosely doesn’t either.

Tell a story explaining what I have done around the house and all that shit mother fucking done with the thing and the thing thing thing, walnut snap break, cotton, gyroid fencing, better waiting room furniture, tastefully buttoned shirts, carpet salesmen, dusty old books, the rolling stones, a broken record, a washerlady’s purse, a broken hip, a smashed up railway station, a silent whistle, a short-born teaser, a jealous rich-mun (blud) and a broken side nose. Worst than that there’s a shoved up handkerchief and some iron filings ingrained in the carpet, and nobody loves you no more, and the water begins to taste of lead and you start to feel it all go to your head and the procession of idiots flicker on the tv and you thank Christ-Almighty it’s a democracy. And then somebody speaks to you and you hear nothing at all, and the curtains are drawn to keep out the world and wrapped inside in a duvet you writhe and you squirm, all instead of doing and acting out what is that you yearn, but you’re lying in the duvet in front of yourself, the picture on the wall a glimmer of what you once dreamt. You would wish to be on stage in front of the crowd, singing your verses crafted to avow what is about life which you wish to infer to others who can understand, stand stupefied and reduced to murmur.  You want others to understand, to connect with them, show them yourself and in turn make them think of who they are.

Do this, and tread lightly with your words.

The hunt for a job-a graduate’s woes

Trying to find a job these days is as boring as it is terrifying. Having just finished my Masters degree in modern history, I need to get one, because of rent, debts and for the sake of any ambition I have to do something reasonably interesting with my life.

Some positives with finishing my degree:

1.) I have started reading and writing for the pleasure of it more and more now that I’m not forced to read large volumes of boring books and regurgitate them into my own hoop jumping scripture.

2.) I can do anything I want. ANYTHING. This is a bit of a double edged sword, yes I can do what I like, but what the hell do I even like? I’ve been blindly following the treadmill beneath my feet up to this point, and now that I’ve looked up from all the head burying techniques I’ve used since childhood- reading books, gaming, watching films and more recently mind altering substances such as alcohol- I have no idea how to get myself into my own driver’s seat. Does anyone? Am I the only one? I know I’m not, and that’s little comfort. However, if I, and people of my age who find themselves in the same position, can just about manage to begin facing life head on like the majority of humanity seems to manage on a daily basis, then perhaps we can work out what the hell we want.

Two negatives with finishing my degree:

1.) Why the hell did I do history? Oh yeah, because I had no idea what I wanted to do, and I still don’t! I love playing music, or do I love the idea of playing music? If I want to do music then I still need a job in the meantime, but then what the hell do I choose? These are the sort of mundane non-problems that punch me in the chest with nervous anxiety fuelled ferocity all the time. I want to give music a proper go, no more half practicing, no more staying within my comfort zone forever and ever, it’s time I start getting serious about music if I want to be taken seriously. Perhaps I could tutor kids in maths or english as a way to support myself, or teach guitar to kids. If I taught guitar then surely I would get better myself because it would kind of force me to. If I put an ad out on gumtree and say I teach strictly beginners, then maybe I could make a few quid. And then I could have periods where I work in temporary jobs in order to boost my income and savings so I can carry on playing guitar?

2.) I’m a pussy. This is perhaps my greatest obstacle. Self-esteem, well ain’t that the dream? I’m terrified of making the wrong decision, I’ve only realised recently how much I constantly worry about everything. I think, I could set up a business of some kind, and then my first thoughts go; what the hell would I even set up? And then: I don’t know how to run a business, I would fail. I am a failure. i don’t believe in myself enough, even though I know in my head that I am smart, I am a fast learner, I can work hard, I can be funny, I can sing and write good music, I can do these things but I lack the capacity for the audacity for hope. I fear failure so much that it paralyses me, I fear not having enough money to do the things I want to do, and yet if money were an easy aspect of life then more people would become self-made rich people, and yet I still worry about it. Overall I have the confidence of a little fat 9 year old girl at a beauty pageant.