17 Weeks

I’m in that period where things go by fast. The work week goes by fast but so does my weekend. That’s the last thing I want. To become comfortable with this miserable situation. 17 weeks. I’m 1/3 of the way done. Please please please tell me I’m at least 1/3 of the way done. I’ve gotten a handful of interviews for jobs. I think they went ok-ish. Not amazing, but ok. I’ve felt better about other interviews for jobs I didn’t end up getting so it’s hard to be excited for it. I’ve also hit that wall where I’ve run out of jobs I’m qualified/interested in applying for. I’ve avoided the American south so there are opportunities I’m missing out there. I’ve decided once I hear that my shot at WPI is absolutely over I’ll suck it up and start applying to fucking Missouri and Kentucky. So I’ve slowed down on applying for now. Even though I really shouldn’t, but like I’ve said I hit a wall. Taking a break for that month replenished the job pool. I hope that slowing down a little will fill it up a little.

The more I stew on this the angrier and bitterer I become. My future was stolen from me by that fat orange fuck. I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere getting up at 3 in the morning to go to a job I despise when I could be in Worcester. I know I’m not good at research, but it was my right to try and fail at it. And it was taken from me. That’s all I think of now when I talk to my parents who voted for that prick. Or when I go into work. Or when I apply for jobs. I was cheated from my one and only shot.

I only have listened to the popular Wu Tang songs. Can’t say I’m a super fan, but I do like the ones I’ve listened to.