Riiiiiiiight. Look, let us be honest here. It could have gone better. It could have gone a lot bloody better.
This week I have:
- locked myself out of the house
- for 10 hours
- without proper clothing
- Nothing inappropriate. Just some old ripped jeans and the pinkest, fluffiest house-jumper you can imagine.
- without coffee
- without 5c to rub together
- on a cold day
- caught a nasty bugger of a cold that’s had me in bed, asleep, for about 72 hours
- made bread from scratch (you know, because)
- discovered that ginger tea is amaaaaaazing
- updated my health coverage details. $5 cheaper a month because I’m in Melbourne, not Canberra, woot!
- cleaned out five drawers in the kitchen. How many amusing lego-shaped ice-cube molds does one woman need? The answer is 7.
You know what I haven’t done? Applied for any jobs.
I’ve updated my linkedin profile, fiddled around with my resume, set up electronic folders and started three or four cover letters. I’ve searched job sites, and even found jobs I should be applying for. I’ve got a list, too, of closing dates, to make sure I get things in on time. I’ve just been so addled I haven’t done that single defining feature of looking for work – bloody applying for it.
I’d like to cut myself some slack but really, a job isn’t going to jump out at me from behind a bush. Next week, right? I mean at this stage, just ONE application would count as a win.
But there’s something that feels pretty scary about sending off that first one, and I reckon I’ve figured out what it is. See, if I don’t apply, then I’m not being rejected from jobs. So long as I don’t apply, then I can live in a fabulous fantasy that a job is just around the corner. As soon as I start applying, I’ve started welcoming in crushing rejection on a near-constant basis. This week has been kind of fun, spent as it has been making sure I’ve got the right stationary and linkedin d0-dads. There’s not much that’s going to be fun about actually searching.
So I guess I’m a bit of a coward.
Damn personal insights.