funk-alicious

Once again. Nothing to write. What did I do today? What do I do every day? What is better? Wasting your time at a job, and getting paid for it, or wasting your time at home doing nothing, and not getting paid for it. It seems right now I'd rather the latter. Mostly, because I can't think of a job that I would not be miserable at. And, furthermore, there is no job I could get that would pay enough for me to live on my own, so why even bother? But I do need to get a job. Apparently. This is what people tell me.

I think. I seriously think, about whether it would have been better for me to have stayed in Pittsburgh, working at the library. I would probably be full time now. I could afford to move out. But I know that I would be miserable, because I would wonder -- for the rest of my life -- what it would have been like to move back to London for grad school.

So I'm stuck at home, with my dysfunctional parents. 23 years old. Economy in the shit. Can't get a decent job. Don't know what I want to do career wise. Thought I knew. It seems like I am good at things only to a point, never enough. Like teaching, hate grad school. Like literature, don't want to spend 4,000+ words making something of Crime and Punishment that no one will care to read.

I'm "alone, exposed on this bleak eminence." (Virginia Woolf). And don't know what to do about it.

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Jack Vettriano