don’t cry for me, argentina

Dinner tonight.. potato chips, a slice of toast, home-made tomato soup, and conchiglie with pesto.. not bad at all.

I’m taking it easy. Yesterday was a tough day. I received one email from a bank I had interviewed saying they had put recruitment on hold. I received another rejection email from a guy’s secretary. I know it’s a recession but that’s no reason to lose all semblance of decency. I hope he burns in hell.

I cried a lot, I cried to mom, I cried to grandma, I cried to booboo, I cried to Brendan. I cried. Honestly, not finding a job after such an expensive and reputed MBA has got to suck donkeys’ correction ELEPHANT’S balls. And it hurts to be told on bi-daily basis that your qualifications while impressive don’t match up to some douchebag company’s “exacting” standards. I felt tired, exhausted for hours and hours of work I’d put in to my CV, my letters and everything in between.

I wish it were different. Failure makes you regret things you wouldn’t normally regret. I should know better, but failure makes you feel so weak and worthless. I can’t say I haven’t been there before and believe you me, I have worked so hard to make good of my past, to get to this MBA…all in the hope after one year, I’d be in a better place. But I’m not. I don’t have a job. I have no job, no money and 3 loans where there used to be two.

I took yesterday off to cry myself out of my doldrums. My parents comforted me, my father’s introducing me to his banker friends in the hope someone might know someone who needs a bright girl like me. I mean come on, at least give me a chance. Where is the love?

At around 4 pm, after exhausting myself and embarassing myself by crying for hours on end, I finally took Brendan’s advice and took a hot shower. I thought of all the things I said… about how worthless I feel, how I wanna kill myself because being unemployed wasn’t worth it, how I was a loser…and I decided to just … relax. I decided that I was gonna enjoy my shower and moreso, my two months in France. I don’t mean I’m get drunk, do drugs and shop like a maniac (I can’t afford it). But really, just a deep breath, go to Paris maybe, go to Amsterdam maybe. I wasn’t gonna neglect my job hunt, of course not, but I figured it wasn’t the end of the world either.

In the words of Baldrick from BlackAdder, I have a cunning plan. Well I hope it’s cunning and if not anything, I hope it at least buys me time. I have also been making “Well, If I don’t find a job, Ill just be a housewife” jokes to Brendan. It’s a joke of course, I wouldn’t last a week at home. Housewife or not, it is highly likely that I will spend a few months unemployed searching for a job.. sigh.

C’est la vie. I’m gonna sip my hot chocolate and hope that the calories don’t go to my ass and that somewhere out there, my job is waiting for me…

p.s. Somewhere along the way, Juice turned 3 years old. Isn’t that something?
p.p.s. isn’t this song just beautiful? just painfully, exhilaratingly beautiful? Honestly, it’s probably one of Madonna’s best songs.


2 thoughts on “don’t cry for me, argentina

  1. hey babe – it sucks balls i know but don’t despair – take the time for yourself in the beautiful sity that you are in and relax for a bit…things will get better :)or come to australia – that’s my advice 😛

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