Well, there is one other job. I'm thinking of applying for it. But I just don't know if I'd have the courage to go for a job at the deli counter in the Piggly Wiggly. I feel horrible and stuck-up and elitest, but it's like...I didn't go to college so I could sling meat for minimum wage. I in no way think less of the people who do work as cashiers and deli people and maintenance workers...in fact, I may respect them a bit more than people with jobs like I'd like to have. I know I respect them more than myself. At least they have jobs. I don't know. I hate feeling worthless.
I used to think I knew what I wanted to do, what I wanted to be. Every time I try something, it turns out to not be what I wanted. I would like to be an illustrator, but I would need to take classes, so I would need money, so I would need a job. I would like to be a proofreader or copyeditor, but I don't know even where to begin with that. I'm planning on moving back to Valdez next summer, and I have no idea what I'm going to do there. Not working at the hotel again. If I decide to go for this Piggly Wiggly job here, maybe I'll see if I can get a job at Eagle Quality Center back home. Maybe I'll try for a 'cushy' clothing store job at Sugar&Spice. I wouldn't mind working at the museum.
But hell, I don't even know what I'm going to do in regards to getting a job here, let alone at home a year from now. I don't know how to go about getting real jobs, besides walking from business to business, asking if they need my services. I did a little of that when I first moved here and it didn't work (obviously).
I just wish I was one of those people who were born knowing what they wanted or needed to do with their lives. I don't draw as much as I should, but even if I was an awesome artist instead of merely a passable one, even if I had a great portfolio, I'm not sure where I would go with it.
This rare fit of melancholy has been brought to you by The Moods of Nelli: If You Don't Like the Weather, Wait Around a Bit and It'll Change.