Jobs and Ass

You walk into a bar and there’s a guy with a cute little curl thing going on, and he’s ordering a drink. It looks like an expensive one, but you don’t want to look too hard or it’ll look like you’re confused by it. Nice. You eye him up, saucy. Do you give him the look, or do you eye-sex the blonde number who just walked in? He’s standing over by the mirrors so the room has him eightfold. Jealous. Your attention is suddenly torn. It’s not over though because a spicy ginger is slouching by the piano. You imagine he sings you Elton John’s Our Song and you start to tremble.

Now you know you could make it work with any one of these hotties. Lets be honest. If they have the similar, basic criteria for their values and their interests and their humour, how do you pick?

Jobs are like Men. Or women. (What ver you’re into) You can probably make it work with many, but how do you pick? Sometimes it’s hard when you know the field you want to get into, but not the specific job type.

There is no set, perfect job- just like there is no set, perfect partner. Right now I’m considering polyamory as a pretty fun route to go down, in the same way being contracted to multiple jobs in publishing, playwriting and journalism would be awesome. It’s not as sexy though. Probably quite stressful.

But see here- I don’t know what I want to do other than I know I definitely want to be a screenwriter and a playwright. Unfortunately you can’t get internships under screenwriters- at least not where I’ve been looking. If I’m wrong PLEASE set me straight. For some reason the path to becoming  a screenwriter seems elusive and magical, but the longer I work at the craft and the more hours I put in the more I realise that it isn’t magic- it’s just hard work. Just like every other job. So why does it always seem so fantastical? I was on the train the other day and someone saw I was reading a book on writing movies and they started going “oooh making movies” as if I was reading a book on making potions out of cat’s heads. IT’S A VIABLE CAREER.

So bringing back the analogy, until I can reach that ‘magical’ place, or that perfect marriage, there are other partners I know I could be equally happy with- if not more so! Journalism seems awesome. Journalism is like that brunette with the sexy fringe that doesn’t say much- instead he just looks at you from above his notepad with a chewed up biro.

But then Publishing looks over from across the room, with his cute round framed glasses and the blonde mop. He’s gorgeous, as well as sufficiently nerdy to never hold a basic bitch conversation.

They’d all probably be equally satisfactory at delivering…job satisfaction.

So why not dabble for a few years in each, and see which one floats my boat the most? Whore myself out to the job industry, as I remain elusively picky in the dating world. That seems like a plan.

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