scraping [insert appropriate preposition here]

on the metaphorical streets again, which is to what searching for a job always amounts. with a bit of grace, this might be the last time i'll be in the position in this humiliating context. which is to say: looking for something that pays decently enough while commanding neither my full time time nor full time attention.

it certainly didn't have to take this many years for me to be able to prove that i could do the Pretty Much Anything that i have always maintained—even before (i did not receive) my Humanities BA. that i could have stopped with the very first (last) element in the resume set means that, now, i can't exactly cut it out. for that reason, the idiotic we-shall-now-praise-stupid-and-self-congratulatory-acts
document stretches for 14 pages in 4.3 Times New Roman with 0.000000000058 inch margins. when i try to print it off, i can never tell which aspect the printer is most decrying and, for fear that it is probably correct in all of them, hastily churn the pages out in Special Every Other Pixel Crappiest Draft mode. or, ahem, whip off the email-cum-attachment in 1/16 that amount of time.

as much as i hope that this will be among the last times i look for some way to support myself that is separated by a rift of many colours from those activities i do (in both a narrower and broader sense), i will, in some way, mourn the loss of a rather fantastic narrative (even in 2-bullet max VBS, where VBS is a complicated and multivariably analysed equation involving task, year, inverse of duration, country, skill, contrast between energy expended and boss lovage, and ductility). starting to scratch out the CV means that those other 13 pages will have to go, the fonts and margins restored and, in short, i'll need to conduct myself in an interview without slipping in some freaky anecdote about that one woman who came into the ER with flesh-eating spiders burrowed and multiplying inside her hand.

but before i do, a glitter from the wreckage:

• Gopher (Christian Academy in Japan, Tokyo, Japan, August-September, 2000):
Assisted teachers with tasks ranging from classroom instruction to soldering 600 locks in a single morning.

and now, back to another gleeful task: selling off for exorbitant prices things i acquired for free (and schlepped away with bike o' many talents, here seen carrying all of its fellow cast members in Hello, Dolly). if only someone would give me something worth more than $1, so when i sell it for five times its earthly value, it would come to an enormous amount. ($5 is not enormous enough, no.) i just pawned a set of worthless plastic storage drawers off on an unsuspecting South Asian B-school fellow. i think my suggestion that i meet him at the bus station with it, in tow, provoked him to the conclusion (neatly without asking me for dimensions, so i neither lied nor was asked to do so) that the thing was small enough to fit into the tiny plastic bag he had taken along for the purpose of getting the newly-obtained object back to his domicile. but, once we were both there, and after i had carted it over to said bus station, what was he to do? not hand over the money? force me (in my best Weakling Pitiful garb) to remove the offensively huge object back from whence it came? no, of course not. i scampered off down the road, leaving him waiting for the bus heading the opposite direction, not realising (because i had not mentioned anything like it) that its flimsy plastic top could fall off the drawer unit at any time and wholly without any warning whatsoever.

if my roommate doesn't return by tomorrow, i'm going to start in on the bed she offered to let me sleep on, completely before and without imagining that i might...sell it...from beneath...me.