So yesterday after our epic phone chat (luvd it!) my day took a nose dive. I was getting my shit together to head to a lovely girls night of munchin korean raw salad, sippin wine, and generally shooting the shit with 3 of my awesome girl friends when the ole landlord stopped by my room, and more or less informed me that the last year of my life was 'wasted on my social life' and that when I look at the fact that I've gone 1 year, 8 months with-out a paying gig or "career job" and think 'AWESOME AS FUCK' they think 'our daughter is a failure who will never be able to get a job in 'the real world' because Big Brother Corp, Inc. won't hire anyone who's just sat around for 2 years since school doing nothing.' Uhhh. Thanks for the support 'rents.
Anyhow. Sooo. Now I feel like shit for just living. Somehow my worthless brother just usurped me as the non-fuck up child because he has a mindless cubicle job that just happens to be at a semi-cool advertising agency (read: still evil just with hip glasses on) and took out a loan for a downtown condo he'll be paying off for the rest of his straight-pathed life.
I tried to reason that in a 'creative field' these things don't matter, but they've 'been around for over 50 years'. My comeback of "Exactly. You can't even turn on a computer" didn't go over so well.
What's a semi-creative, renaissance girl wannabee, product of the 80s to do?
(apparently go out anyway and get laid.)
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