Can I get paid for this? (the continuing saga of my life and job hunt)
I was happy for three-quarters of an hour on Tuesday: between the arrival of Shadow Hand by Anne Elisabeth Stengl and a letter in the mail and leaving for my brother’s last at-home basketball game of the season.
I’d spent the morning scrubbing the kitchen cabinets, but that wasn’t a matter of happiness—more like satisfaction and accomplishment. And even the basketball game wasn’t necessarily a gamebreaker; it was only a five-minute drive in, instead of the fifty or seventy-minute drives to the last four games over the past two weeks.
First off, I don’t like to drive. I didn’t even get my license until a year and a half ago. But because “I’m going to get a job eventually,” I’ve been told to drive at every opportunity. After so much concentrated behind-the-wheel time, I’ve reached a level of apathy. I got a few comments on the way in, which didn’t improve my mood in the least.
Nor did someone’s comment that I should be watching the game instead of reading or playing on my Kindle. The icing on the cake was that my mom agreed with her.
Okay, more background. I am a compliant introverted firstborn. Which means that in any argument, I am completely aware that she has my best interests in mind yet incapable of stating my own position without excessive cavorts. And she agreed that I am not an extrovert and should not be forced to be one, but should still be “social” at games.
But my main point was as follows (having conceded the value of athletics):
Athletics are valuable. Drama is valuable. Scholastics are valuable. But you set up a poetry reading, you’ll get only English majors. You set up a play, you’ll get a broad audience, especially because people have friends in the drama. But we only have one play a year here, albeit a very good one. And poetry readings—forget it! Instead we have multiple (high school) athletic events a week, and people keep coming even when they’re not doing well.
And then it was followed up with a talk about jobs, which is just something that makes me uncomfortable all around and deserves its own post.