the general sort of mess, and some brigher things
i went for an interview at gothic renaissance this afternoon which went pretty well. besides the fact that i know the right people in the right places, i have always handled meeting people well. they gave me the ok and will probably call me in two weeks when things start getting crazy. working in a goth store was on the bottom of my to do list for a normal life, but i give up on trying to be "NORMAL".
a few days ago, my interview for the career training program didn't go so well. i was completely professional and enjoyed talking with the lady who ran the gig. she said my image was a little rough around the edges and i "just needed a polishing". she was referring to my tattoos and the trip pants i happened to be wearing. when she asked me why i got so many tattoos all i could say was "my mother was right, and i was sorry, ok?"
it doesn't look good, and she said she would let me know in a few weeks.
i don't know what else to do but just keep going, keep working where ever there's work. it seems easier to play off on my rough image to find a job than to fight against it. if i were a killer, a pedophile even, it would be easier to find work. but because i have tattoos and stretched ears most people wont even give me a fucking chance.
lately, i have been keeping to myself and staying out of clubs with the exception of cybertron, junction, and whatever else is unavoidable. i missed being able to fall asleep by 11 and be up earlier than 9 in the morning. i missed sitting at my painting station with a cup of coffee watching every day people walk off to work. i missed being part of the world, and i'm getting fed up with feeling hung over every day.
a few days ago, my interview for the career training program didn't go so well. i was completely professional and enjoyed talking with the lady who ran the gig. she said my image was a little rough around the edges and i "just needed a polishing". she was referring to my tattoos and the trip pants i happened to be wearing. when she asked me why i got so many tattoos all i could say was "my mother was right, and i was sorry, ok?"
it doesn't look good, and she said she would let me know in a few weeks.
i don't know what else to do but just keep going, keep working where ever there's work. it seems easier to play off on my rough image to find a job than to fight against it. if i were a killer, a pedophile even, it would be easier to find work. but because i have tattoos and stretched ears most people wont even give me a fucking chance.
lately, i have been keeping to myself and staying out of clubs with the exception of cybertron, junction, and whatever else is unavoidable. i missed being able to fall asleep by 11 and be up earlier than 9 in the morning. i missed sitting at my painting station with a cup of coffee watching every day people walk off to work. i missed being part of the world, and i'm getting fed up with feeling hung over every day.