Finding a Job is like a finding a girlfriend.

Overrated, little to no pay, vigorous, and ultimately something you do not want to do. I bask in misery as I still type away wide eyed to the greatness that is Starbucks. I hate the commute, the job, and yet I want a new part-time job, then realizing that it's not worth it in the long run due to the fact that I'd be making the same money with the same blokes. Pity it is me that wastes away like this, however I look and set my face to the hillside.

The problem is being in the service industry so damn long and not having anything to show for it. Isn't it funny? After so long, you simply lack any sort of care, or charisma for that matter. How spirit breaking is it to work for the same company for three years, and know that no matter what, advancement is not an option, nor is a raise. It's a dead end job, and yet I'm told daily that "Well, at least you have a job" bearing in mind that people who tell me that are on unemployment as we speak, reaping the benefits of a complete day of doing nothing and getting paid more than me to do it. Sick of it, I totally am, and it's frustrating really. What really sucks is that I still have no idea of what it is I would like to actually do with myself for the rest of my life. I know I don't want to fritter away my days remaining docile and bored.

Speaking of boredom, I think that is the biggest killers of American's in the world as we know it today. What we do in our free time is so crucial, I've learned this the hard way. I spent the last year of my life drinking my youth into docility. I've only learned that you can not go through life without any sort of passion, for these old broken-spirited people have nothing but negativity emitting from their pores. It is a shame though? Who knows, I can't tell if they're bitter, but I sure I know I am, and I can take that to the bank. Life is too short to be bitter as I've felt, it's only until recent that I have quit drinking, that I have quit pissing my money away, and that the super-rare occasions (that I do have any sort of opportunity to drink) is valued greatly. Sitting on a bar-stool makes me anxious and otherwise nervous. My need to leave is lifted to the ceiling, and my spirit remains broken: going from Martini's to Bud-light sets my perspective, suddenly I adorn the nicer things in life.

Last point of my esoteric ramblings: Brand loyalty is something I disgust to a newer high. It's weird how people become so fixed to their 'brand' that wavering on the subject is simply not an option. I say this of course, in relation to drinking, which is a topic I would love to explore, it involves the caustic purchasing of the same beverage over a long period of time. What does that mean? If spending any gross free income on the same thing over and over again is considered a good thing, what about leaving the nest again? To me, I see brand loyalty as a mental safety net. Then again, take pride in stoicism.

I don’t know.

            That’s fine, not a problem, I’m not complaining, nor should you. The toughest thing about writing is coming up with content to write about. Writer’s block is often assumed to be some sort of made up syndrome: the ability to be in absentia, and justify it. That’s where I stand now. On my way to my fathers house, I was talking with Tim, my content administrator (title pending), and we were talking about content, trying to come up with essentially anything to write, talk, or really, provide any sort of content that any sentient marsupial would read for amusement. I present to you not only a stream of consciousness, but a plea for clemency; this was a task that is not easy to write. However, I’m good at writing, not with a hammer. So I sit here, typing away, looking over shyly at my empty class of rum, Tim agile with his wallet and Mac of which I envy, and sit dissolute: I yearn for so much, even this website is a challenge.

            So with my absolve, my psychobabble, I realize that life is pretty meaningless and boring. Ever sing in the car alone? Ever yell at yourself in the shower? Ever chew the food you know you shouldn’t eat slower as some daunting realization that “Hey motherfucker, heart attacks aren’t just rumors?” That’s why I write, that’s why I write about pointless topics and laugh about them, dare I say, scoff? I like music, I hate food, I love reading, I hate Starbucks, what else is new, it’s the new lost generation! I world of the understanding of consumerism, the re-iteration that with a college education comes unemployment, and with hard work comes debt in a tax return.