November 20, 2019

   I just applied for an associates degree from my community college. As I was looking at the degree audit tool, I decided to look at some other degrees and certificates for fun. I have to say, I was surprised by just how many options there were, and how simple they turned out to be.
   When I was just starting college six years ago, I was planning on becoming a chemical engineer. That plan eventually fell down the tubes, not because I thought the classes were hard but because I found working in the lab environments to be extremely stressful. The next three years were spent trying to find something that I was good enough at to not have to study. Naturally, this ended in disaster.
  I wish that I'd taken the time to find something I could easily do. Than I would have a job, and I'd have more confidence. I'm honestly thinking of doing that now, then I would have a bigger chance of getting a job that would pay me decently.
   First I have to get a job that pays me though. I don't want to live off of my mother's money anymore. Getting a job is my highest priority right now.

Job hunting: as told by Kristen

Preface:

   Last night I had the most distressing nightmare I've had in a while, in which I, while using one of those play games for money websites, downloaded a virus to my surface. I was terrified, especially since this virus was an aggressive one that kept opening up windows and doing whatever it took to keep me from deleting it. It was the kind of dream that you wake up from being really grateful that it was just a dream and you don't have to deal with it anymore.
   So as you read this, keep in mind that I have a surface, and my biggest fear is losing it to my own stupidity.

    Now onto the job search.

Part 1: the anxiety

   The first thing I should mention is that I have an anxiety disorder. What that means is that sometimes my brain will randomly decide that a situation I'm in is horribly dangerous and do everything it can to keep my from doing it, even if I've done it a hundred times with no problem. A good example of this is escalators. I have no problem going up them, but when I was about ten I suddenly lost the ability to go down them. What happened was I suddenly got  scared I would slip while getting on and fall down and break my neck. Ever since then I've been unable to go down escalators, at least in the US (In Britain they give you more time to get on and settle in, clearly I'm not the only one with this problem).
   How it affects me when job hunting is that I'm terrified of going into interviews. I'm decent at social interactions when I'm not overwhelmed with anxiety, but when it hits than that all goes out the window. I also can't do anything that involves customer service for the same reason.
  I've been working on overcoming my anxiety for years now, but there's only so much you can do to avoid the moments your brain randomly decides your in danger for no reason. It doesn't help that I'm not naturally motivated, so overcoming my stupid fear of interviews takes a lot longer than one would reasonably expect it to take.

Part 2: the laziness

    Some people are born ambitious. They work hard, do everything they can, and don't stop until they get what they want. I'm not one of those people.
   Well, sort of. If I don't want to do something, you have to work very hard to make me do it. If I do want to do something, you can't do a lot to stop me.
   Which is to say that I don't really like the idea of working, so I try to avoid it where possible. I hate physical labor, but I'm decent at anything that requires thought (though I'm incapable of writing anything longer than three paragraphs).
   While I don't want to work, I do want a job. Not so much for money (which I mostly spend on notebooks on cheap pens) but because ever since I dropped out of college, I've just been sitting at home bored all day. The natural solution to this would be spending all of my free time in bars or hanging out with friends but, like I said, I really, really hate socializing and large groups in a loud space is my own personal definition of hell.
   So I don't want to work, but I want a chance to meet people. Not to advance myself, but just because even the least social among us gets lonely once in a while.

Conclusion:

   I want to stress that I'm jobless entirely because of choices that I've made. I could have dealt with this a long time ago, but I didn't because my mom felt that it was more important for me to focus on college, (and even then, plenty of people get jobs while in school). I've just been letting my fear of failure hold me back.
   I'm mostly just talking about this as a way making myself believe that this is real, and I guess as a way of pushing myself to find a job that suits my needs and wants. No matter how temporary it turns out to be.

November 14, 2019

   I've been working on filling up all my unfilled notebooks, in an attempt to creates something I'm genuinely proud of. I've also been working on getting a job, partly because I want tot get out of the house more and partly because my mom's getting increasingly angry at me for sitting at home all day and not doing any work either inside or outside the house (for reference, I'm 24). I figured that I'd make a step towards solving both problems by writing on this blog each day. Hey, someone might find my mindless ramblings about nothing of substance interesting. I can't possibly be the no one who laughs at things that aren't objectively funny, while at the same time disliking professional comedy.
   I don't really have a concrete plan of what I want to write, so I think it'll mostly be whatever I want to write on that particular day. I'd say thank god for writing prompts, but frankly I'm past the point where I find them helpful.
   I have a very active imagination. I don't want to say that it's "good" or "bad" because I frankly don't know, but I do know that I enjoy imagining things intensely. It's mostly escapism. I feel the same way about socializing that most people feel about math, and as a result so called "normal" life ranges from hard to nearly impossible, so imagining things helped me to cope with the stress of the outside world.
   I didn't start "writing" in any real capacity until I was about 10-11, when I got consistent access to a word processing program. My handwriting when I was in elementary school was terrible, and I didn't like writing for very long periods of time. With a computer I could write stories, though I never finished them, which is still a problem for me now.
   The strange thing is that when I was really young I was convinced that I would become an artist when I got older. Not because I liked art or was any good at it, but because the images I got in my head were so vivid, to me anyways, that I thought I would have to draw them out. What made me realize that I could write instead was when I read in a book (I think it was Lily's Crossing) that daydreamers make good writers. I was really excited when I found out because I enjoyed coming up with stories far more than I liked drawing or creating other forms of art.
    I still enjoy writing from time to time, both on paper and on one of the dozens of art programs I have downloaded from the internet for free over the years. I don't know if it's normal for people, even artists, to download art programs just for the purpose of seeing what the different brushes will do. My favorite free program is Krita, the only one's I own that cost money are Corel home and student suite and ArtRage for my Kindle fires.
   I think that's enough writing for the day. What'll happen tomorrow? Maybe something better. Let's hope I learn how to write next time.

Anxiety, part 2

I don't really have anything to talk about today. Actually I do, I'm just really scared to talk about it. I'm an intensely private person, I don't even really talk about my likes and interests to family members. The only person who I talk to about myself is my therapist, which I'm sure he thoroughly enjoys. I have a lot I think about, and a lot of opinions. I wouldn't really consider myself an expert on anything, but I've read a lot, watched a lot, and thought a lot, and I'd like to think that my voice counts for something. I might just be pretending that's true, like I pretend that I'm secretly the one controlling the world with my imagination, and everything that ever happens is my own secret will. But fantasy is all I have, and the only power I have on anyone who isn't me.
    I'd like to think we all have a place in this world, a place that we choose and make for ourselves. I want my place to be one where when I talk, people listen to me, but not because I'm an amazing leader. It's because what I say is true enough to make sense to them, and because I'm telling them things they always knew, but didn't quite have the words to articulate. I want to be a person who can tell other people what the problems they face actually are, and give them ideas on how to fix them. In my own way, I want to remake the world. I want to show people that things aren't set in stone, we can change them and maybe make it so that things are a little better. Maybe someday I'll move mountains without having to lift a finger, simply by showing people a way of doing it they never thought of.
    For now, I'm just some loser living in her mother's home with no job. I have thoughts and feelings, nothing more. I write a lot, but it's nothing if no one sees it before it's too late. That's part of why I'm writing this blog post, even though it doesn't say anything. I'm practicing, so that someday I can say something that's just a little smart.

Anxiety, part 1

    I started this blog two years ago, if the dates on my posts are correct, and posted exactly four times since I did. I have, at least, twenty blank notebooks on my bookshelves and in shoe boxes on my floor, and god knows how many blank and half blank sheets of paper in binders in my closet. Somewhere between ten and fifteen tote bags are crammed in with them, among other assorted knickknacks I've collected and have nowhere else to put. My bedroom floor is covered with blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals that I have no need for and nowhere to put, but can't bring myself to give away. I also have puzzles, art supplies, regular books, a large collection of pens and pencils, various electronics and a large amount of clothes considering I avoid shopping whenever possible.
   I call myself a collector, but the truth is I'm more of a hoarder, just collecting whatever catches my eye regardless of whether or not I have the space for it. I also didn't buy any of it with money I earned, since despite the fact that I'm twenty-four I still haven't held a paying job. I've done volunteer work, but not for longer than a few months. My mom lets me stay with her and pays for my living expenses, and it leads to exactly the amount of resentment you would think it would lead to. I could argue my case and say I have an excuse for living the way I do, but the truth is, save for the fact that I'm a women, I fit the stereotype of a jobless nerd in her mother's basement perfectly.
   It's not that I can't work. There are jobs that, if I could bring myself to apply for them, I could probably get, even if I only have an AA degree despite being in college for six years. I could move out, get my own place, eat all the garbage I want, and die at thirty from untreated diabetes. It's not that I don't want to be independent, though I'm not going to pretend that living with mom isn't without it's perks. It's that I'm scared.
    Everyone has that one subject in school that, no matter how hard they tried, they just couldn't understand. For some it's sports, for other's math or language arts, for me, it was people. People just don't make sense to me. How do they know that the person sitting next to them wants to be friends? How do they know that it's OK to sit with that person and not someone else? How do they know which kids will want to make friends with them? I've been told that it's not instinctive, that everyone struggles with socializing and screws up sometimes. But the six year old who watched everyone else playing and wondered why she could never find anyone of her friends to play with is still convinced that socializing is a magical skill that she was born without. And unfortunately, no matter who you are or what kind of job you have, you have to be able to socialize with other people to a certain degree.
    Again, I could probably do it. I've dealt with people enough over the years to be able to grasp the basics of socializing, though I do find it really stressful and exhausting. It's just convincing myself that I can do it and that it won't end in total disaster. Life with an anxiety disorder is all about convincing the scared little kid in you that yes, you can do this, and even if something goes wrong, you can fix it. Honestly, my biggest enemy is myself, most of the world doesn't care about me one way or the other, but I'm convinced that everyone who so much as looks at me thinks I'm repulsive and stupid, an idiot who can't even keep a job for more than a day before she quits. I'm not saying that for sympathy, because I'm not the type of person who needs sympathy. Save the sympathy for people who are so overwhelmed by their anxiety they need your help to take care of them. I'm not one of them, at least not yet, but I've seen them on the bus or at my family reunions. I guess what I'm saying is, I'm lucky enough to be unworthy because of laziness and lack of effort, so help those who didn't have a say in the matter.

Life of a writer, part 1

Well here I sit, wanting to write in one of the three notebooks I brought with me but being unable to because I forgot about bringing a pen to write with. I don't have anyone to blame but myself, I wanted to go to the farmers market but didn't leave until it was almost certain to be closed by the time I got there. Fortunately I'm the sort of person who will warp time if it means I'll get something I want, so I made it by the skin of my teeth.
    It's not like I couldn't get another pen if I really wanted to write something down, but I've already got at least a hundred (conservatively) at home, so I'd rather wait until I'm back there. Plus this means that I will remember to check my purse before I next leave home, and not to wait until 5:30 to leave for a market that closes at 6.

Hi, all six people viewing. I've started tweeting about The Lost Universe. I know, it isn't real, but the stories surrounding have fascinated me for, well, years. I really think more people should know about them, even if they aren't true. Follow my twitter @keliker95 for more updates.