Monday, 24 January 2011

No motivation, no talent, whatever.

Today my morning news was punctuated by several "stories of interest". These get flagged up in my brain with a sound not unlike when Solid Snake gets discovered in Metal Gear Solid. A trumpet-frog being stood on in a dimly-lit street while you're trying to be quiet. That sort of sound. It's a bit unnerving when you're still a bit sleepy - even more so when you're only halfway through your first cup of tea and Frasier hasn't even finished being on yet.

But which one would I write about? If you follow me on Twitter, you may be aware that recently, after several THOUSAND failed job interviews, I have become aware that I am possibly irreversibly stupid; unable to write, to come up with plausible ideas, incapable of even holding a pen while signing my name on a receipt at TK Maxx after forgetting my pin number for the last time. I am terrible at everything, even - no, especially writing blog posts, and for the past two weeks or so I have found it increasingly difficult to come up with even one decent idea for an article.

If you don't believe me, you should see my desktop recycle bin. It's filled with imaginary scrumpled up bits of lined A4 with "exercising? - good and bad" and "baking is fun!!!!! Maybe do another Dorset comp?" written on it. The truth is that like most people who've had a bad run with regards to job hunting, I've lost all confidence and therefore motivation to do any of the things I used to think I was good at.

And before any of you losers (I love you) begin telling me that I might be good at writing or any other motivational gubbins, I am sort-of joking. Although I am shite at everything at the moment, hence my current obsession with walking miles and miles around the park. I can walk, and I am fairly good at it. I have only fallen over once in a whole week. Here is where I would normally put a funny hashtag. I told you I was rubbish at writing now. What a stupid dum dum idiot with a face as dumb as a butt.

Being unemployed is very strange. I feel as though my days are secret; as though I'm getting all these chores and fun things done, but it's naughty of me to be doing anything. Very much like when you took a sick day off school and you felt better by lunchtime, but if you started acting better - say, dancing around the front room to Nineh Cherry or loading up the megadrive, Mum would swiftly be on the case to inform you that "ill people do not get out of bed". So I am now blessed with the constant niggling feeling that I should be in my front room looking and feeling like crap instead of schlepping around Kirkgate Market in my "girl about town" clothes looking for Gurnard (yes, I have been sat in my house watching C4s Fish Fight for the past week - why do you ask?). It's odd, but I do feel like I'm being very naughty. I suppose that's the point of Jobseeker's Allowance. If you haven't got a job you are indeed being very naughty. My possible retaliation to this is that literally nobody will employ me - be it through sheer bad luck (I nearly got a job and then their old person asked for their job back) or simple errors on their part (I was not given a job for being "too much of a communicator" despite it being a marketing/PR role), and so there is nothing short of bribery and/or physical violence I can do. Perhaps I shall get wonderful Jedrzej on the case.

One thing I can do without feeling too much of a cheeky mare (there is a fine line between "shopping to survive on the dole" and "going to a deli and buying awesome chorizo on the dole") is sit at home and write. Which brings me back to my original conundrum - I CANNOT WRITE ANYMORE. I have been typing, yes, but none of it is very good. I am currently attempting to write a book, but all that seems to happen is I write 300 or so words and then start daydreaming about the man who has kidnapped the protagonist. God, I love a man with a Slavic accent.

This all stands to reason, because a person who gets out of the house every day and has a job and a real life would not be doing such silly and unproductive (and downright WRONG) things.

So what I'm asking is simply this - Please. Somebody. Find me a job. Because if you don't, all my blog posts will end up being like this.


Laura. said...

i'm there my friend. although I have a job its not what I want to do.
And the constant ignoring from people is doing my head in
When I get my 'im going to be productive' head on I actually do, but then when I hear nothing i think oh what the eff is the point! :(

on another note. please vote for me to win an elle internship hahaha

Mcgingerbiscuit said...

This is very seem to have the opposite problem to me.I have lost the ability to write because I have a job and feel like I have no time to write and when I do Im so tired or fed up of being good, I either waste my time watching childrens TV in a coma or out trying to simulate 'fun' by drinking too much and then making my next day off a blur of headaches,nausia and watching childrens TV in a coma.
I think the real problem is, we both think we deserve to be famous/succesful/omnipotent and so furverently believe we are due status and recognition without having first dredged the living hell of a creative types mid twenties, spent almost unendingly searching for jobs and throwing away first drafts that we forget that most people, no matter how talented have to dredge through their mid twenties unedningly searching through jobs and throwing away first drafts until they get where they have.
Personaly I blame The Xfactor for making us all think if we have talent then all we hav to do is turn up to an audition,toss of a member of the porduction team and hey presto were prime time TV deity.
This probably sounds negative an unhelpful and typicaly gingerish, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that this line of work is difficult to get into because so many useless cunts persevere so hard,lick so much arse that it is sometimes very difficult for the people who will employ us to sift through the metaphorical bins outside tesco without eating a few mouldy bananas on the way.
if a diamond spends enough time around mouldy bananas, it will get all covered in rotting pottasium, but if it polishes itself up as darn hard as it can as much as it can, when that big fat greasy hand of corperate media oppertunity reaches in, they'l be running to the press with you, quicke than a pap with an upskirt shot of angelina jolie.
I love you, persevere and you are way talented enough to shine through bumface.
(rare, possibly dangerous optomism sponsered by a cup of tea and a particularly moist walnut cake)

Katie said...

How lovely Ginge, I could cry, as though I was gazing upon the crab nebula xx

PS. You are of course, right. As always.

O said...

This isn't a job as such because they are only looking for volunteer writers, but it could be something worth persuing if only for some extra credentials to stick on your CV?

I bought the first 2 issues of this magazine and I guess it's attempting to become a sort of UK version of Bust magazine.

Katie said...

Thanks "O", you mysterious helper you :)

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