That thing I don't want to think about anymore

The thing that's on my mind constantly right now, which I guess nobody really wants to have to dwell on but which we all have to at some point. I'm sick of talking about it, and I think everyone around me is sick of me talking about it, but when something is affecting you so much it's kind of inevitable.

I was recently employed into a job I hate. Literally everyone goes through this at some point in their lives; some people never get past the stage of hate-jobs and have them forever. This is a future I'm struggling to get away from, kicking and screaming while it pulls me under with its giant, sticky tentacles. A hospitality job which pays minimum wage, and requires maximum effort. A job where your boss stares over your shoulder the whole time, shouts at you if you make a mistake, and doesn't respect how many hours you've requested or which days. Or pay you for your trial.

I keep seeing this Einstein quote, which is just so relevant at all times: "Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid."

I just feel like a fish right now, ok? So many people are told they have to do these jobs, and they aren't good at them, but they are good at other things. I mean, I know my skills. They just aren't skills that are applicable in cafes. Or, to be honest, probably a lot of other meaningless jobs. Then again, I should be grateful for what I can get, right?

I'm turning twenty-four this year. It depresses me beyond measure that I am stuck doing this pointless shit, reading on blogs about people with glamorous lives and wondering desperately how they managed to get to that stage. People younger than me. How many people feel like this? When I read interviews where people talk about how they got their jobs, it inevitably ends with, "Oh, it just kind of happened." There is no guidebook for the socially inept or the people with less than exceptional looks. Not at all to discredit the hard work they've done, but there is an element of luck that I feel is disproportionate with everything else.

And then, after that stage, comes the disgust with my own constant complaining. So where is the end to this void? I feel like it's an abyss I've already slipped too far in to, and i need to escape but there's no clear way. Write a book? I am in the first stages, but books are not a way to make money. I can do it for the love of it, but I need to pay rent at the same time. And I can't go on in these jobs which suck my time and energy, and give back almost nothing in return.

On to less depressing things.

I went to the art gallery opening/gig for Celeste Potter and Ben Ely of Ouch My Face on Saturday. Ever since seeing them in a warehouse party a couple of years ago, I was an instant fan. Celeste has the most punk attitude I've ever seen, which is thankfully backed up by awesome music. Her paintings were of monsters and things made of slime, and she painted them in her own blood. Hardcore. Ben's paintings were a great mixture of humour and bright colours and weirdness, which I believe is the same attitude of his more famous band, Regurgitator. Supporting Ouch My Face were Bat Piss, who get better and better each time I see them, and Dead, who are always amazing. I fangirled out and bought a tshirt, badge and patch from them so I can look awesome all the time. Here is a picture of me wearing the tshirt, and also these amazing boots I just bought from the Salvos today. They were only twenty bucks and I am supremely happy with them. Fritz the cat decided he'd like to lounge casually in the photo.

Tights: American Apparel, Smiley face shoelaces: ebay