I'm baaa-ack!

And don't say I didn't warn ya!



You are the Low-Fidelity All-Star. You were born
with your cool, and it's totally natural. You
run the gamut from Hipster Supreme (only they
can ingest as much coffee as you) to the geeky
hipster (Mario Kart, anyone?).


What Kind of Hipster Are You?
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Now, on to more serious things.

Or not.

To be "serious" would be melodramatic at a time like this. I really don't have any cause for complaint at the moment. Maybe a little cause for self-berating, but that's warranted this time. Really.

I had a job. I quit. Three weeks of ineffective, call-centre training. One day--one of my most unpleasant experiences in recent memory--on the phones. And that was it.

Maybe I didn't give the whole thing a fair chance. And maybe the whole "When I attach my name to something, I want to make sure I'm doing the job well. And they didn't train me well enough for me to do that"/"I'm too conscientious" thing I've been doing is just an excuse to avoid the loathed, but necessary. Maybe I am running away.

Maybe.

But maybe I jumped out of the fire and into the frying pan this time? I have some leads, good leads, on potentially less-loathsome jobs. And though I hate job hunting, this process isn't quite as bad as I have traditionally imagined it. It--and any resulting jobs, loathsome or likeable--is impermanent. Not in the "this, too, shall pass" way, but in the "grad school/exchange savings shall accumulate soon enough" way. I have to keep that in mind.

I will keep that in mind.

I will also keep in mind that perhaps high school in its miserable, class-ist incarnation was all in my head. Maybe my ghettoization was self-imagined, self-imposed? For if there's one non-academic thing that I took away from university it's that I am more than just a likeable person. And if there's one thing that I took away from my recent job--a job which saw me not simply fraternizing with but mutually enjoying the company of kids I considered beyond my social sphere in high school--it's the reiteration that social categories are not innate, but imposed.

I feel so--gasp!--adult! More importantly, though, I feel freed.