I feel the need to post some explication of my recent reticence in updating my blog, as it is not due to any lack of will or desire for writing, but rather from my energy being sapped by the tedious demands of actively looking for a quality job on the other side of the continent. It has been awhile since I’ve had to buckle down and scour the earth for jobs, and I’d forgotten just how draining and depressing it can be. First, you’ve got to update the resumé, stretching down deep into your coffer of conventional business verbs (“initiated,” “implemented,” “directed,” “spear-headed,” “supervised,” “ensured”, “experienced”) to somehow compel interest in a medium of disinterest. Then you’ve got to spin your monkey-see-monkey-do capabilities into an attractive and concise cover letter for a job that looks to be out of your realm of experience based simply upon the appearance of your scattered employment history. All while sifting through the shallow yet murky realms of job search sites, which are like walking through a red-light district in the night—bright, neon calls for easy jobs that promise stay-at-home ways to make money. Somewhere scattered in the midst of these spam offers for spam jobs lie some real offers, which are generally administrative office work. And then, maybe 2 times a week, a job posting that is genuinely sort-of exciting, though most likely inundated with resumés more enticing then yours. You wade through the listings all day long, and are happy if you’ve found one job worth applying for. It’s draining because it feels like you are putting a lot of work into something that’s leading nowhere.
On top of this, I’ve also been doing the tedious research into the surprising windfall of my grandpa’s antique gun collection, which included a trip to my first gun show yesterday. I have to admit that I was a little bit disappointed: I expected lots of patriotic pasty folk with full beards and confederate flags, but it was more like a flea market with a few guns scattered here and there. Some normal looking genteel couples wandering amidst mostly hobbyist looking kind of men, with of course a few scaries swaggering about. I didn’t glean much info from a pair of old antique gun selling salts, but I did come away with a bottle of scotch bonnet hot sauce. Still much more research to be done, which may require the enlisting of an expert appraisal.
All of this on top of attempting to apply myself, somewhat ineffectively, to studying the math gymnastics required for the GRE, while trying to keep sane while living temporarily with my parents, who are driving both my girlfriend and I up the wall. We may have to just cut our losses and move out east without any jobs and live in cardboard boxes for a while.