Waa

My job is pretty easy, the pay is okay, the company is iffy at best, the flexibility is great, and there’s maybe even room to grow. So I’ve come to the conclusion that I want a new job, timing never was a strength for me. I know how good I have it, I don’t have to work hard and all things considered, I decent coin. So I don’t love what I do, of all the people I know, I could count those who love their work on one hand and still have enough fingers to flip off the guy driving the pick-up on steroids that screams “over-compensation.”

But I don’t feel challenged, I often feel lost, completely un-inspired, and I feel this new stress from with-in to provide for my new family. But the grass isn’t always greener, and I know that. I have friends with what appear to be great careers, and make a very nice chunk of cash, but they don’t get to spend nearly as much time at home as I do. They deal with work around the clock, where as I pretty much leave it in my cube 30 minutes before I leave. I grew up with a father who traveled probably 40% of the time, and as much I would have loved to travel just 18 months ago, I can’t stand the thought of being gone for one night a month.

It doesn’t help that I’m not really sure what I want to do, only that there are a lot of things I don’t want to do. The thought of interacting with people I don’t know, well, is a less than pleasant thought. I’m good with joining a team, and working with those people, but having to sell myself to new people on a regular basis sounds as appealing as sitting next to a crying baby on an overseas flight.

A few people have suggested I get into writing, which I’d love. But shit, how? I don’t have a degree, and I’m pretty sure the stuff I wrote for the high school paper are as helpful as a note from my mom. So I’ve toiled with writing a screen play, which hit a bump after the first page. I started a book under the urging of my pops, and that hasn’t gone too well either. I can’t even update my blog as often as I used to. But I swear if someone is willing to give me 45 grand a year to write whatever comes to mind, I’ll wear out my keyboard. With both hands, not like college.

I search the job sites, and the one in 83 jobs that doesn’t sound like a work from home scam, seems to put too much emphasis on having a college degree. I get it, I should have one. But come on, the only people who really need one, are doctors. I really believe anything else can be learned. So then it comes down to my work experience, which doesn’t really make me all that attractive to someone hiring for a marketing position. I made glasses and did glorified data entry. By the way, I’m pretty sure this little ditty won’t be used as a cover letter. Although, maybe it should. Someone out there would have to appreciate the honesty right? I applied for a couple of writing related jobs earlier this week, and I tried to be a little different with my cover letter. I haven’t heard anything back yet either.

What kills me is everywhere you look, there’s something that made someone rich. The chair I’m sitting on, the mouse pad, my keyboard, the paperclips on my desk, the plastic cups, the friggin papers I haven’t looked at, the walls of the cube itself. Every single item, and all I can come up with is words for a blog that someone else is making money off of. Well, I’m going to take some time to slam my head on my desk now.