Note: I wrote this while watching the staff show of Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle, which has Dougie Howser's Neil Patrick-Harris in a very funny role as a drugged up version of himself.
I have, I suppose, been guilty of not using this blog to discuss personal topics. It chronicals the events of my life, without examing the meaning. If that makes sense.
It's a movie review that describes the plot but doesn't tell you if the film is any good.
For anyone who knows me in person, as opposed to the cyber shadow of myself which I cast here, knows that I don't date much. I was on one date during the past school year, and it was fairly uneventful.
"Ah, I see," you say, "this is about girls. Nothing more meaningful or spiritual than that."
It's true, my interests are fairly shallow. But adding to the typical "no girlfriend" woes is "shit I've got a job that pisses me off" and the "I have no career path".
I have, however, a end date to my epic career as an undergrad. That date is in December. December of 2004.
So I've started checking out the Vancouver job market to see what sort of jobs were open. There were a few editorial, copy editor type jobs. All of which probably pay less than either my current post or what I could make pushing cell phones in Vancouver. Being paid less would be a trade off from not having my soul crushed little by little.
Ah so there is the potential for employment beyond being yelled at. "But what," the audiance survey asks, "about the women. You opened with that, plotline aren't you going to pay it off?"
I am interested in someone but like the pre-Pavel Bure Vancouver I have no finish. It is beyond me how one moves from being 'friends' to being something else.
There should be an instruction manual for that sort of thing. Something that explains how after taking a wine tour together and having a nice dinner one does... I don't know... something.
And so here we are, at the end of the rambling pointless state of the co-op address.