Not really. Not even remotely close to an accurate statement. But that doesn't stop nimrods, morons, and troglodytes from speculating and being asinine.
Being jobless isn't a chosen fucking profession. I'm not coasting along on mass amounts (or any size amounts) of government funding. (Or any other sort of secretive benefactor-provided aid.)
My days are not spent popping bon-bons and watching soap operas. I don't sleep in, stay in my bath robe, or keep the shades drawn.
Tell me where the job that will hire me is located and I will pack and leave tonight. I will live out of my vehicle, assuming the road-weary bitch lasts to this mythic destination, until my first check clears.
As someone who doesn't bullshit or 'play games' well, I don't have an extensive network of people known to me. There is no hookup in the offing. There are no nepotistic dream desk jobs in my future.
You hang on to the hope of the possibility of the illusion of a potential maybe. You just keep plugging away, in spite of inane comments, unreturned phone calls, disappearing friends, and broken faith. You just keep plugging along.
But the 'Little Engine That Could' gets old when there seems to be no end in sight. Perseverance is do-able when there is a designated time or place for a finish line. When the status quo becomes "no end in sight," dignity and integrity become harder to maintain.
And as the deficit column continues to rapidly magnify, at the expense of the dwindling surpluses, what's a person to do?
People give advice like "Do the next right thing." "Tie a knot in the rope and hand on."
"This, too, shall pass."
The trick is breaking free of the despair which is cemented into your heart. This may not be the inevitable outcome. This may not be the final tally. But believing that gets increasingly difficult when one loses sight of any positives, any prospects, any hope.
A life lacking options is a horrifying place to be.
So I think about my heroes. People--men and women--who endured far greater than this and kept their sense of self. Survivors of poverty like my grandmother. Survivors of hardship like James Baldwin. People who suffered unimaginable living, like Solomon Radasky. People of courage and conviction like Harper Lee.
I remember that it is possible to come through torment, no matter the type or level, and remain intact. To endure. To survive. To thrive. To prosper.
Despite handicaps, heartaches, hassles, or homelessness. It may not be the most eloquent of hope-filled notions, but I know I am broken, not beaten. I know that this is temporary, and the momentary darkness needs my permission in order to take me down. I don't give it.
I am reclaiming my fighting spirit. I have everything I need within me, no matter what losses I have suffered or continue to face. I remember that others have not caved in under these same circumstance, or worse. I draw inspiration from them. Perhaps someone else can draw it from me.
Being jobless isn't a chosen fucking profession. I'm not coasting along on mass amounts (or any size amounts) of government funding. (Or any other sort of secretive benefactor-provided aid.)
My days are not spent popping bon-bons and watching soap operas. I don't sleep in, stay in my bath robe, or keep the shades drawn.
Tell me where the job that will hire me is located and I will pack and leave tonight. I will live out of my vehicle, assuming the road-weary bitch lasts to this mythic destination, until my first check clears.
As someone who doesn't bullshit or 'play games' well, I don't have an extensive network of people known to me. There is no hookup in the offing. There are no nepotistic dream desk jobs in my future.
You hang on to the hope of the possibility of the illusion of a potential maybe. You just keep plugging away, in spite of inane comments, unreturned phone calls, disappearing friends, and broken faith. You just keep plugging along.
But the 'Little Engine That Could' gets old when there seems to be no end in sight. Perseverance is do-able when there is a designated time or place for a finish line. When the status quo becomes "no end in sight," dignity and integrity become harder to maintain.
And as the deficit column continues to rapidly magnify, at the expense of the dwindling surpluses, what's a person to do?
People give advice like "Do the next right thing." "Tie a knot in the rope and hand on."
"This, too, shall pass."
The trick is breaking free of the despair which is cemented into your heart. This may not be the inevitable outcome. This may not be the final tally. But believing that gets increasingly difficult when one loses sight of any positives, any prospects, any hope.
A life lacking options is a horrifying place to be.
So I think about my heroes. People--men and women--who endured far greater than this and kept their sense of self. Survivors of poverty like my grandmother. Survivors of hardship like James Baldwin. People who suffered unimaginable living, like Solomon Radasky. People of courage and conviction like Harper Lee.
I remember that it is possible to come through torment, no matter the type or level, and remain intact. To endure. To survive. To thrive. To prosper.
Despite handicaps, heartaches, hassles, or homelessness. It may not be the most eloquent of hope-filled notions, but I know I am broken, not beaten. I know that this is temporary, and the momentary darkness needs my permission in order to take me down. I don't give it.
I am reclaiming my fighting spirit. I have everything I need within me, no matter what losses I have suffered or continue to face. I remember that others have not caved in under these same circumstance, or worse. I draw inspiration from them. Perhaps someone else can draw it from me.
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