A nightmare from which I am trying to awake.*
Today is even more crap than yesterday.
Went to interview-for-internship at Group and it was shite. It was the most discouraging, humiliating, "I am so worthless" experience since that time I had an interview with a professor before he wrote me a recommendation letter. (Bastard.) In both cases I barely held in the giant whooping tears.
I had nothing to offer Group - I am not fluent in Italian, I am not certain how long I will stay here in Rome, I have not studied anything related to social studies. He talked about tasks I could conceivably do, like scanning or listing indices or arranging the library, but he didn't seem to convinced. In short, the man could find no reason to bring me on.
Not that this came as any sort of shock, because this only happened because my dad had gotten it into his head to call the man and ask if there was anything and dad had no idea what sort of work ("Oh, office work, I guess.") and doesn't understand that, hey, just because a monkey can press a scanner button doesn't mean they're going to want me around. The word "charity" was used, but I don't know if he meant that taking me on would have been charity, or that what I was offing to do was charity, or that they were a charity, but either way it was a hurtful word.
So when I left I walked and walked and walked and leaked tears liked a broken faucent and tried to not all-out bawl. An hour later I was home and I hadn't even closed the door when Mom said, "Wow, what, it's not nice outside?" which basically means, "Wtf are you doing home this early?" or something. Maybe my "perception" of what she says is fucked, or at least so she says. Whatever. She'd probably say she meant, "Oh darling, why didn't you spend the morning enjoying yourself in the city?"
Her perception was utter shite at seeing that I was very, very upset. After defending my choice to return home an hour and a half after my interview, I asked her if she wasn't going to ask me about the interview and she was all, "I don't know if I should, now, with you like that." At this point any stranger on the street would've seen I was up-fucking-set. Anyway, I told her the interview went like shite, not that she particularly cared.
Dad also called and I lay it on him especially after he said, "But you have to know how to sell yourself," because for fuck's sake there was nothing to sell, I had nothing to offer besides "Monkey can do thing" and you can't just show up someplace that has nothing to do with anything you've ever done and say, "Oh yes! I'm perfect for this! Please, pick me!"
Against all logic and evidence, though, the interviewer called and said, "Hey, I talked to the other people here and they're on board, they liked your CV, and tomorrow the administrator will come in do write up the contract - we have to have some sort of contract even if I'm not paying you - and would you like to work full- or part-time?" and I'm a bit "Blurgh what?" and "Part-time!" because hey, I still need to find a fucking job, right? What I wasn't was smart enough to say, "But when do you want me in? What time? Do I need to go tomorrow for the contract thing? What's going on? No, please don't hang up!"
Although I overheard mom talking about the part-time thing with dad later on the phone and the tone was very, "This girl is an utter fucking moron who can't do anything, I mean honestly, part time? What a lazy fuck," so that's probably another thing I did wrong.
Like not signing up for another Italian class with the teacher who was shite at the school which was shite and did nothing but take my money and teach me over and over again how to say "a table, the tables" even though at the time mom fucking agreed that it was pointless and I shouldn't take another course there, that it'd be better to study Italian at home, except now she's all, "And that ridiculous girl didn't sign up for Italian class! Even though I told her to! Instead she'd rather stay in her room and study by herself!"
So anyway, I go tell mom about the good - quote, unquote - news and add, "It's still a good thing to do this, right?" because it's fucking charity that I'm getting here and the man had to pull out something to do and never wanted me there anyway. And so mom starts off on the whole lecture of how any experience is good experience and I have to do something and let me not remind you that you finished your thesis in December and it's June and people are on holiday and you're fucking fucked if you're going to find a job now. Which is lovely and wonderful and perfectly encouraging and made me feel so absolutely great. Any of that sarcasm coming through?
Anyway, that ended well, if by well you mean shouts and derisive tones of voice and then me sitting in a corner in my room resolutely not bashing my brains out on the wall except that once - okay, twice - and can I please have a brain haemorrhage and die now? And anyway the balcony isn't (probably) high enough to outright do me in and there's nothing in my room to break because I don't want anything broken. Except me, because I'm breakable, but I'm trying very hard to not do that, although maybe if I pulled a Pachycephalosaurus someone would notice and, oh, I don't know, care. Except no-one does - and by no-one I mean people with whom I am cohabiting.
Is it so fucking hard to go up to your daughter and say - say, not judge or criticise or shout or lecture or other verbs of fail - "Oh, daughter, you seem to be upset and sad and frustrated and angry and scared and trying very hard to get a job - yes, I can see that you're trying and no, it isn't your fault you still don't have a job, how could anyone think that, you're trying so hard and doing the best you can but things are just hard now and you need to keep on going and don't worry, I'm rooting for you and think you're brilliant. What's that? Oh, please, talk to me, I'll listen."
Living here is a fucking nightmare and is going to end up screwing me over and can I please, please, please just leave now?
Quote of the Day: apiphile, here
Mood is currently somewhere between "UNDER A BUS RIGHT NOW" and "meh".
Links of the Day:
Supernatural:
tracy_loo_who's Rising Con Report
annundriel's Fic Better Late (Dean/Castiel)
bofish's Castiel Banner
dechanter's Icons, Headers and Friends-Only Banners - Includes Stonehedge Apocalypse
tracys_dream's dean_sam-flocked Icons
Doctor Who:
banevan's Meta Asexuality from the Perspective of a Young Asexual
a1cmustangpilot's Picspam Doctor Who Toys
Random:
qthewetsprocket's embedded Top Deer
thedailyshow's Bonus World Cup Reports
The Guardian's EM Forster's work tailed off once he finally had sex. Better that than a life of despair
MSNBC's Australian 'angel' saves lives at suicide spot
Dinosaur Comics' Merchandise
IMDB's Never Let Me Go (Trailer) - OMGSQUEE!
Coming Soon's EXCL: Keira Knightley Balances on The Edge of Love - I am two years older than her and have accomplished nothing whereas she has a career and talent and fuckitall.
Commonly Misspelled Words
Webcomic: Hark! A Vagrant!
* James Joyce
Went to interview-for-internship at Group and it was shite. It was the most discouraging, humiliating, "I am so worthless" experience since that time I had an interview with a professor before he wrote me a recommendation letter. (Bastard.) In both cases I barely held in the giant whooping tears.
I had nothing to offer Group - I am not fluent in Italian, I am not certain how long I will stay here in Rome, I have not studied anything related to social studies. He talked about tasks I could conceivably do, like scanning or listing indices or arranging the library, but he didn't seem to convinced. In short, the man could find no reason to bring me on.
Not that this came as any sort of shock, because this only happened because my dad had gotten it into his head to call the man and ask if there was anything and dad had no idea what sort of work ("Oh, office work, I guess.") and doesn't understand that, hey, just because a monkey can press a scanner button doesn't mean they're going to want me around. The word "charity" was used, but I don't know if he meant that taking me on would have been charity, or that what I was offing to do was charity, or that they were a charity, but either way it was a hurtful word.
So when I left I walked and walked and walked and leaked tears liked a broken faucent and tried to not all-out bawl. An hour later I was home and I hadn't even closed the door when Mom said, "Wow, what, it's not nice outside?" which basically means, "Wtf are you doing home this early?" or something. Maybe my "perception" of what she says is fucked, or at least so she says. Whatever. She'd probably say she meant, "Oh darling, why didn't you spend the morning enjoying yourself in the city?"
Her perception was utter shite at seeing that I was very, very upset. After defending my choice to return home an hour and a half after my interview, I asked her if she wasn't going to ask me about the interview and she was all, "I don't know if I should, now, with you like that." At this point any stranger on the street would've seen I was up-fucking-set. Anyway, I told her the interview went like shite, not that she particularly cared.
Dad also called and I lay it on him especially after he said, "But you have to know how to sell yourself," because for fuck's sake there was nothing to sell, I had nothing to offer besides "Monkey can do thing" and you can't just show up someplace that has nothing to do with anything you've ever done and say, "Oh yes! I'm perfect for this! Please, pick me!"
Against all logic and evidence, though, the interviewer called and said, "Hey, I talked to the other people here and they're on board, they liked your CV, and tomorrow the administrator will come in do write up the contract - we have to have some sort of contract even if I'm not paying you - and would you like to work full- or part-time?" and I'm a bit "Blurgh what?" and "Part-time!" because hey, I still need to find a fucking job, right? What I wasn't was smart enough to say, "But when do you want me in? What time? Do I need to go tomorrow for the contract thing? What's going on? No, please don't hang up!"
Although I overheard mom talking about the part-time thing with dad later on the phone and the tone was very, "This girl is an utter fucking moron who can't do anything, I mean honestly, part time? What a lazy fuck," so that's probably another thing I did wrong.
Like not signing up for another Italian class with the teacher who was shite at the school which was shite and did nothing but take my money and teach me over and over again how to say "a table, the tables" even though at the time mom fucking agreed that it was pointless and I shouldn't take another course there, that it'd be better to study Italian at home, except now she's all, "And that ridiculous girl didn't sign up for Italian class! Even though I told her to! Instead she'd rather stay in her room and study by herself!"
So anyway, I go tell mom about the good - quote, unquote - news and add, "It's still a good thing to do this, right?" because it's fucking charity that I'm getting here and the man had to pull out something to do and never wanted me there anyway. And so mom starts off on the whole lecture of how any experience is good experience and I have to do something and let me not remind you that you finished your thesis in December and it's June and people are on holiday and you're fucking fucked if you're going to find a job now. Which is lovely and wonderful and perfectly encouraging and made me feel so absolutely great. Any of that sarcasm coming through?
Anyway, that ended well, if by well you mean shouts and derisive tones of voice and then me sitting in a corner in my room resolutely not bashing my brains out on the wall except that once - okay, twice - and can I please have a brain haemorrhage and die now? And anyway the balcony isn't (probably) high enough to outright do me in and there's nothing in my room to break because I don't want anything broken. Except me, because I'm breakable, but I'm trying very hard to not do that, although maybe if I pulled a Pachycephalosaurus someone would notice and, oh, I don't know, care. Except no-one does - and by no-one I mean people with whom I am cohabiting.
Is it so fucking hard to go up to your daughter and say - say, not judge or criticise or shout or lecture or other verbs of fail - "Oh, daughter, you seem to be upset and sad and frustrated and angry and scared and trying very hard to get a job - yes, I can see that you're trying and no, it isn't your fault you still don't have a job, how could anyone think that, you're trying so hard and doing the best you can but things are just hard now and you need to keep on going and don't worry, I'm rooting for you and think you're brilliant. What's that? Oh, please, talk to me, I'll listen."
Living here is a fucking nightmare and is going to end up screwing me over and can I please, please, please just leave now?
Quote of the Day: apiphile, here
Mood is currently somewhere between "UNDER A BUS RIGHT NOW" and "meh".
Links of the Day:
Supernatural:
tracy_loo_who's Rising Con Report
annundriel's Fic Better Late (Dean/Castiel)
bofish's Castiel Banner
dechanter's Icons, Headers and Friends-Only Banners - Includes Stonehedge Apocalypse
tracys_dream's dean_sam-flocked Icons
Doctor Who:
banevan's Meta Asexuality from the Perspective of a Young Asexual
a1cmustangpilot's Picspam Doctor Who Toys
Random:
qthewetsprocket's embedded Top Deer
thedailyshow's Bonus World Cup Reports
The Guardian's EM Forster's work tailed off once he finally had sex. Better that than a life of despair
MSNBC's Australian 'angel' saves lives at suicide spot
Dinosaur Comics' Merchandise
IMDB's Never Let Me Go (Trailer) - OMGSQUEE!
Coming Soon's EXCL: Keira Knightley Balances on The Edge of Love - I am two years older than her and have accomplished nothing whereas she has a career and talent and fuckitall.
Commonly Misspelled Words
Webcomic: Hark! A Vagrant!
* James Joyce