I have a cheque that I don't want to cash, which ought to seem unusual considering I call myself "functionally unemployed" (much like how I'm a functional vegetarian, or a person that doesn't eat meat because of practical -- not moral or nutritional -- reasons). It's still sitting in my wallet, folded three times neatly, and perfectly innocuous despite the weight of cultural precedent that it represents.
The past week and a half was spent cursing at my poor 3-year-old laptop for not being an Apple G4 underneath its bland, black IBM exterior. My aunt commissioned me to put together a professional website for her, sticking to the old adage (is there any other kind?) to "keep it in the family"; I personally thought she just didn't want to pay some anonymous hack at the Real Estate Board to do it for a sizable sum, especially when she could give her niece the same sizeable sum, stir up a bit of family tension to keep things interesting, and shanghai herself some company for lunches and dinners, besides. So, I got to live the hectic life of a realtor for a few days (which reminded me a lot like job shadowing in Grade 12), and went a little cross-eyed while I taught myself a little bit of html.
Having the work was, admittedly, a relief. "Unemployed", whether functionally so or not, isn't a label I generally like wearing -- and three weeks of only the most scanty kind of work (by way of tutoring and more studying) makes for one depressive me. I feel wrong taking any money for this job just for that reason alone; if she hadn't asked me, I'd likely be locked up in the looney bin right now. Feeling guilty about taking money seems to be a trend with me, but having family ties on top of this doesn't make it easier. I wish she would've been content with taking me out for food every now and then.
Speaking of food, I tried these "Stresspill" vitamins a few days ago, and I'm surprised the government doesn't release it into the city water; I never believed tranquility could be bottled and sold in pill form, but I've been proven wrong again! That makes for another bout of self-confidence crisis, but I have the B-vitamin complex I need at this point to rectify that chemically, once and for all.
The past week and a half was spent cursing at my poor 3-year-old laptop for not being an Apple G4 underneath its bland, black IBM exterior. My aunt commissioned me to put together a professional website for her, sticking to the old adage (is there any other kind?) to "keep it in the family"; I personally thought she just didn't want to pay some anonymous hack at the Real Estate Board to do it for a sizable sum, especially when she could give her niece the same sizeable sum, stir up a bit of family tension to keep things interesting, and shanghai herself some company for lunches and dinners, besides. So, I got to live the hectic life of a realtor for a few days (which reminded me a lot like job shadowing in Grade 12), and went a little cross-eyed while I taught myself a little bit of html.
Having the work was, admittedly, a relief. "Unemployed", whether functionally so or not, isn't a label I generally like wearing -- and three weeks of only the most scanty kind of work (by way of tutoring and more studying) makes for one depressive me. I feel wrong taking any money for this job just for that reason alone; if she hadn't asked me, I'd likely be locked up in the looney bin right now. Feeling guilty about taking money seems to be a trend with me, but having family ties on top of this doesn't make it easier. I wish she would've been content with taking me out for food every now and then.
Speaking of food, I tried these "Stresspill" vitamins a few days ago, and I'm surprised the government doesn't release it into the city water; I never believed tranquility could be bottled and sold in pill form, but I've been proven wrong again! That makes for another bout of self-confidence crisis, but I have the B-vitamin complex I need at this point to rectify that chemically, once and for all.
