So… by the end of the month, I am yet again unemployed.  This isn’t something new to me.  I think I’ve been in that position too many times, it feels like I’m just putting on underwear.  I don’t know.  I pity my parents.  I’m sure they’re itching to lecture me about company loyalty, professional stability and the capability to have a steady, regular flow of income to supply for my ever-growing list of wants and needs.  Plus of course, that itsy bitsy factor that I help a lot with the house bills.

I don’t know.  I resigned again.  Every single time I do that, I feel defeated.  I feel like I gave up on myself again.  I feel like I’ve wasted another opportunity for me.  And I can sense that the people I know feel it too.

That’s the thing that I am most thankful for.  Being educated enough to know what I want to pursue.  But it’s also something that I’m itching to get out of.  Being educated enough to know the responsibilities that come every month.  Most of the time, they mean completely different things.  And for me, there’s always some kind of desperation there.  Not only does it make choosing more difficult, but it incorporates the word “wisely” much deeper than you wish it to be.

The type of job/career/work that I want to have is the one where I can move freely.  I know that’s pretty vague, but that’s the closest I can get to describing the perfect task for me.  But I do know though, that that task requires a lot of money to put up and not so much to get in return.  For anyone, that’s not a fair bargain.  Especially for first-born only-girl people whose overachieving self never failed to be perceived as the perfect girl for every situation.

I am soooo bitter.  I bet you can tell.  Oh well.

It’s not like this is my first time to be here.

Roll with the punches.  There’s no time to be sissy now.  Next bill comes in 15 days.  I can’t afford to miss paying for that one.