My grandma doesn't get it . . .

She thinks that I've not found a job because:

•  I'm lazy
•  I think every job is shit
•  I don't want a job

This would all be well and good, if any of these were the case. But they aren't. I've applied at every place I can think of. I've taken suggestions, I've done follow-ups, I call back, I go in, I drive here, I drive there. And still no fucking job. She thinks that I'm showboating, applying places with no intention of keeping or doing my best at a job. Really, it's assholish of her to think so little of me and for the life of me, I can't think of a reason why her opinion even fucking matters to me at all. She's old. She's bitter. And now, she thinks it's okay to be caustic, crass, and mean. If I were lazy, I would have quit looking for a job ages ago. I would have fucking quit the Loop for that matter. I don't think every job is shit, I just don't think that some jobs advertise themselves for what they are; nor do the bosses/owners/swindlers tell you up front that they plan to Jew you out of money and essentially break your back, so that you can make them more money and they can compensate you for as little as possible. Maybe I'm idealistic, for wanting a job where I can work for 15-30 hours a week and not be paid in lint and buttons; but I believe that I'm a friendly person. I don't back-talk my superiors. I show up on time. I do everything in my power to make sure that I learn whatever the fuck it is that I'm supposed to learn, so I can do my job competently and I work hard. Sure, I like to socialize; I like to talk, but I don't think that's that bad of a thing, considering the amount of effort I normally put in to getting shit done.

But I suppose my opinion is moot at this point. Because really, I don't have a job. I haven't made any lead way anywhere. I'm sure Megan is on the verge of leaving me. Literally, the only reason she hasn't is because she loves me, terribly; and apparently I fuck like a Greek God. But the notion of me not getting a job is hard on us. She has to pay for everything. Everything. And even when I get a job, she doesn't want me to pay for anything. Which is fine. I guess.

I feel like . . . how does the saying go, "lower than whale shit on the bottom of the ocean"; yeah, something like that. Like I feel like such a worthless sack of shit, that I want to break up with Megan to save her the trouble. Whenever I feel like this, I want to sever ties completely with everyone . . . and just pick up, pack up, and vanish. I don't have the heart or constitution for suicide. I've never had that. I tried as a child as realized I can't override my self-preservation instinct; and as a teen when I tried to take sixteen aspirins . . . well, I obviously lived didn't I? Point being, even in self-mutilation, the one thing I should be good at, I fail.

I don't want to quit though, surprisingly. My main motivation being Megan. I want her to extremely that my desire to say fuck it all, is completely negated and then overwhelmed by a need to show her that I can, and that I will.

So, I guess all I can do is continue applying, continue calling, continue going in, continue praying, hoping, wishing, begging for a new job that at least allows me to return to school.