Monday, July 21, 2014

Jealous Monk

I'm having a hard time convincing myself that returning to Calgary was the right decision. I mean, yeah, practically anything will be a step down from New York depending on how you look at it. But I thought Calgary was the right place to be, with some friends and family in the place where I put on a lot of maturity. Seemed like it was more home to me than in BC where I grew up. Felt like the natural thing to do. Like I mentioned in the last post, pulling into the city made me feel a bit uncomfortable.

I'm trying to stay positive. Things kinda suck right now, but I'm trying to believe that I made the right choice to come back. It's hard to maintain that view, though, when two of my closer-ist friends from ACAD keep telling me how much the city sucks and how they wish they were elsewhere. A classmate from ACAD and SVA thought I was crazy for wanting to return (for the record, he ended up landing an awesome job in NY). When I dropped in at my old workplace last week just to see people (and maybe check out the possibility of part time work), even my boss asked me why I bothered to come back to the city. Seems like I don't have many people on my side in the matter.


The other night I went to dinner with my sister and brother-in-law. He asked if I was set on finding design work or if I was looking for whatever I could get. After telling him I was aiming for the former, he remarked how maybe it'd just be best to go with whatever work I can find and not be too set on design. As someone who just spent the last five years going to school for design, that was a bit of a kick to the gut. Mind you, the guy hasn't really done any significant schooling and doesn't tend to stick to any one job for too long. I appreciate his input, but in this case I think we're coming at things from fairly different angles. Still, it was a brutal thing to hear. Essentially, "don't bother with your passion and selected profession. Your training isn't that important. Just go with whatever."

It doesn't help, either, that being unemployed slowly saps your soul away. Drop by drop, until you're staring at an empty cup. It's absolutely brutal. It's hard to foster hope and entertain the notion of success. You start wondering what's wrong with you. Why everyone else has gotten work except you. What are you doing wrong. Are you that bad. It certainly makes it difficult to write an honest cover letter; how can I tell an employer that I'm exactly the person their company needs, when I struggle to find any reason that I'm worth hiring. I know I'm not that terrible, but being rejected so thoroughly while seeing your classmates succeed really eats away at you. I know I'm not thinking straight. I guess I do believe some of that doubt, though, if my brother-in-law's comments stuck out to me so much. He must've struck a nerve.

Lately I've been starting a lot of sentences with "When I get a job..." I'll get a car, learn to cook, eat out, get a mandolin (and lessons), chip in with a friend for a cheap car challenge league, get a new computer, etc, etc. I'm close. So close. And yet I feel so far. I've been saying those things for so long, that it almost feels like they're supposed to stay hypothetical goals. Absurd, I know.

Those same two close friends/classmates from ACAD are in pretty similar boats to me right now. Graduated, lonely, unemployed, having a hard time finding work. I swear, this would be the perfect situation for us to band together and start our own kickass studio. Problem is... Clients. Or the lack thereof, rather. Maybe someday. It's an amusing notion, though.

In the mean time, as that classmate that scored a job in New York said, I just gotta "keep those knuckles up."
-Cril

Yes, I received your letter yesterday
About the time the door knob broke
When you asked me how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can't read too good
Don't send me no more letters no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row

Bob Dylan - Desolation Row

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