I am a bit peeved today - I wanted this job as a researcher at the Greenpeace and I did not even get called for an interview! It is just most perfect time to write a letter to my 15 year old self to explain that whatever she was doing, well, doesn't quite work out as well as I would have liked it.
The grief of the moment is that my job does not do anything to help me express the purpose of my existence - if there is any such thing as the purpose of my existence! My job and my apartment feel less like space to be the best I can be and more like thoughtless obstructions and gosh I cannot wait to get rid of them!
It is incredibly sad, because I work with some very admirable people and it makes me feel very guilty for not doing as well as I would like to; my city is beautiful and my apartment is in a nice spot gets a fair bit of sun and would be perfection itself if only it had this teeny-tiny bit more room (really, I don't think anyone should have to think so deep and hard about an extra sweater! let alone finding space to be able paint and play) and I could have a pet! Rationally it seems like a disproportionate response to things falling short by such a small margin but I am imploding where I am and, now, I can't seem to escape!
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