Love this picture so much, decided to put it up again, because I enjoy looking at it so much. It’s full of innocence and love – unlike the downward trajectory most take after that. Just full of Love. How refreshing in these times of Trumpism and other crazy global leaders? So I’m just gonna keep looking at this picture until I get tired of looking at it, to remind me what many of us were once like.
(Make sure you find the end)
So I turned to my trusted companion and said:
“We gotta get the fuck out of here.”
I should’ve known. I should’ve known once I graduated college, with a degree in English Literature and a minor in Classics, the world of today had nothing to offer me – in terms of employment.
Not that there weren’t jobs that I could do that held my interest, but I never got hired. Instead, these people would tell me to keep doing what I was doing. “And what is that?” I asked. “Keep following your dreams.” Hardly a practical approach to that job, I thought. “Sure. And when will they ripen? In the meantime, I do need some money.” But they seldom provided a satisfactory response to that question.
Frustrated, I posed the question to an employment agency, and received this most honest response to my question. But even though I posed the question, I had no idea how to assimilate the response into my life in any beneficial way.
Instead, I simply continued doing the things I loved – Dance, Writing and Painting – and skirted the edge of society, with a total indifference to money, and a gross inability (or perhaps a secret desire) to sell myself in any practical manner. (I think it is the latter. I am merely appeasing and flattering myself, to think otherwise, or that it was some unconscious desire.)
I managed to survive. But I also struggled. However, I would not relinquish my passions to the subservience of routine and boredom. I had my limits. I needed room to breathe, so I worked as little as possible.
The agency is non-existent today. It was called Manpower. I sent an email to them, and I got a swift response from a man there.
“What jobs are there for Idealists?”
“None,” he said.