Light at the end of the Tunnel

As stated in a previous post, I’ll start posting my really dark secrets once I’ve configured a pseudonym. Yeah, I know that should consist of a few clicks and keyboard strokes on the profile edit page- but that is a lot steps for the Prince of Procrastination to endure. For now, I’ll do what I’m mediocre at, and that is being vague. I learned it from watching my wife, she’s a professional vaguery dispenser. You know what I’m talking about? Like the kind of vague that’s so vague, it’s creeps on the thin border of being passive-agressive. Now she’s a fucking wizard when it comes to the art of passive aggressive techniques. I think I’m rambling at this point, so let’s see if we can pull this ship around, and put her back on track.

So I have a job interview today, which I am sure is something I’m overqualified for, thus this interview should be cake walk. It is for a lead service desk analyst position. Which, is most definitely the direction I don’t want to go in for my career, but I’m drowning in bills so I’ll take what I can get.

*** 24 hours later ***

So I did pretty well on the interview- at least for interview numero uno. There ended up being two interviews because they had me as applying for the level one service desk position. I know you are probably literally at the edge of your seat, nearly at the brink of climax with all these exciting details, but hang tight- just like a long-winded fortune cookie, this blurb has some takeaways which might just make a difference in someone’s life. I know personally that there are forks in the road which the outcomes lead to drastically different circumstances. Although, unlike a choose your own adventure book, you can’t hold your thumb on the choice page while you check ahead to see if on page 53 you perish or prosper. But I digress…

Since this blog is a knowledge dump(ish), I should probably start dumping some kind of relevant life experience out there, lest this page drift furthder into the tides of obscurity. So I can honestly detach myself from what little ego I have left and give myself a fair assessment of how I did during the interview(s). This is partially because I asked point blank, how did I do during this interview? Honestly I don’t think I phrased it quite like that, but one of the first things I said when asked if I had any questions was something along those lines. Often the people that conduct these interviews are doing so because it’s a part of their routine in their organization. If nothing else, if I’ve bombed an interview- yeah, shocking but true- I take that queue to pick their brains on the interview process. Who better to get tips on what you should and shouldn’t do than the people who drive the fucking process, am I right, people!? For fuck’s sake, don’t tell them you don’t have any questions when you are asked what are your questions! There’s a reason they say that- they want to be sure you’re paying attention, and have a genuine interest in the organization, and aren’t being coerced into this interview to avoid getting kicked out of your parents’ basement, a la Step Brothers.

***

Time to abruptly end this post, it’s now over two days since that interview, and if more relevant topics emerge from the nether regions of my mind, I’ll be sure to regurgitate it onto this page.

Redo

So yeah, my last post was perhaps a bit on the dark side, and that just seems like a lazy way to start a blog. I mean, who hasn’t had the occassional impulse to swerve into oncoming traffic during rush hour? That doesn’t mean everyone needs to hop on their computer and express their “feelings”- I’m pretty sure they have pills for that. I’m willing to suppress my crippling depression long enough to turn this ship around, so buckle down, folks, the waves are looking a little choppy!

The dilemna I find myself in now is my lack of employment. It wasn’t until I stopped working that I realized how much of my identity is tied to my job. Which is really stupid, since I was essentially working my ass off for a below industry standard salary only to line the pockets of the company executives and their board of fucking villians. The moment a company gets big enough to have stocks, shareholders, and a board of directors, that is the kiss of death for the worker drones. You’re no longer a person when that happens; you’re a resource. A commodity- even worse yet a liability. If you step out of alignment, you’d better fucking get with the program, because this paycheck? This paycheck right here? This is gonna go to the next person who can do your job better and cheaper than you, so stick your nose up the board’s ass and be greatful for breathing their shit-air, because you have a mortgage, and kids, and a wife with expensive tastes. Hooray for corporate slavery!

So yeah, I’ve been dealing with not having a job through the holidays, and therefore have been a bit salty as of late. I see the horizon though, and let me tell you, it’s looking like it’s gonna be a bright, bright sunshiny day. (it’s not)

There we go, that was a much more constructive string of thoughts than my last post.

Outlook Bleak, Feeling Hopeless

So not that I want to start this blog thing out on the wrong foot, but I’m just tossing this out there. I am suffering from a severe episode of depression right about now. For those who have been fortunate enough to not slip and fall into this deadly mire, steer clear of this and return on a more productive day.

So until I devise a pseudonym, I’m going to be very vague and say that when life hits, it hits hard. Sometimes it hits really hard. This is universal, so don’t let Instagram fool you into thinking that there are millions of people living the sweet life without a care in the world, all fucking giggles and sunshine. Instagram was designed that way on purpose to make you feel inadequate. When you feel inadequate, you feel empty inside. When you feel empty, you seek to fill that emptiness. You’ll fill it with stuff- clothes, gadgets, trinkets, shoes, food, gambling, alcohol, pills, dope- but at the end of the day, you’re still empty. However, this emptiness was born of inadequacy; an inadequacy that was manufactured by an app that comes standard on almost every Android device. You see where I’m going with this? You can fill in the rest.

As much as I’d like to just let myself sink into the depths of this quicksand known as depression and never emerge, I have people who are dependent on me and need me to perform as a functioning member of society. So alas, I trudge on and face the day, willing myself to persevere. That sounds absolutely stupid when I read that aloud, but it really is that difficult sometimes. Why do some people end up with a noose around their neck, a needle in their arm, or with brains splattered across the bathroom tiles, while some not only find happiness, but thrive in this misery?

Please don’t go

I have no idea what you did to end up here on my corner of the web, but for the love of [insert spiritual bargaining chip here] hang out for one second, comment on this post, and let’s get a thread going! I need to generate some kind of traffic here, before I find myself on the street. This page doesn’t really have a theme yet, but I’m into music production, artwork, gardening, home improvement… Shit, I’m into Brazilian fart porn, if that’s what you’re into. Just standby and comment on this post, and share with me how you came to find this page, while I come up with some content that will generate some kind of traction here. I would love to hear something.

Lucky You

So here you are, this is the end of road when it comes to relevant content that could possibly be of any use to you. I know that because this is my very first blog post, and I have yet to push this site into any one unifying direction. I still have not figured out what “my thing” is going to be. If anyone else has figured out how to live out the modern cliché of living life to the fullest, pass the knowledge, por favor, because I am in the dire midst of crisis that is about to consume me, and take my family down against their wills.

The enterprise organization which I had foolishly envisioned myself completing most of my years as a Telecom Analyst- a position which I struggled, but continuously improved- rewarded my hard work, loyalty, and dedication with reprimand, and what would eventually be termination, paperwork. Foolish endeavor number two was born of pride; I resigned with short notice before those assholes could so much as call me in for the “talk”- you know, the “it’s not you, it’s us” talk. I was not gonna give anyone the satisfaction of firing me. David Emerson doesn’t get fired, David Emerson fires himself!

Some of you (if anyone’s actually reading this) may be thinking, Dave, quitting is a good thing, right? That will look better on your resume. Wrong. People know, okay? Nobody quits their job without having another lined up unless they were getting canned anyway.

So, my first post on Breakaway is going to reveal my theme- keep a veteran from going homeless. That’s right I’m pulling that card. I don’t have any choice at this point; I am not talented  or gifted enough to become a model or make porn, and I am definitely no Walter White. Sure I could go pan handle like any other self-respecting bum, but what fun would that be if I just had the money handed to me? It is so much more exciting to remove any hint of humility I could pretend to have, and metaphorically grovel to the masses.

I have a wife, a kid, a mortgage, and a number of expensive vices the details of which I won’t bore you with. If not for me, a random blogger you just met, do it for my daughter! She’s so brave, I just don’t have the strength or courage to tell her we’re going to be homeless soon. She’s ten years old, has yet to even hold hands with a boy- are you going to stand by and watch her dreams get crushed as well?

I am now taking donations to keep this family sheltered, and keep this vaguely-themed blog going strong to fulfill another post, and another…. and another! etc. etc.