I read an article the other day that came out with some cracking theories. According to this magazine, which I bought as part of my "make myself a wiser and more employable individual" drive, we tend to equate happiness with freedom. Freedom being the ability to lead a limitless lifestyle.
But, it said,
without obstacles to our desires it's harder to know what we want, or where we're heading.
It elaborated on the benefits of facing difficulties, and argued that our lives are better as a result of them.
It is this thought that I've clung to as I've faced the demoralising and confidence crushing exercise of trying to get a job in London. I am not merely a Tentative Graduate anymore, I'm now planning to add Listless Housewife as a byline to this blog. I spend my days pottering around our house in Fulham, cleaning, hanging up Jessie's laundry, waving at our Polish builders, making tea, and writing increasingly crazed covering letters.
I've written an entire covering letter in film quotes - ending on the line "so go ahead....make my day (and give me a job)." I applied to another job with a Power Point presentation, trying to match my skills with the prerequisite ones. It got tenuous when I tried to say that Helen means "bright" in Greek and surely that was more than just a coincidence. I even tried to write convincingly that my skills and experience made me the ideal candidate to stand on the door of a club in Lederhosen and stamp wrists.
I'm already nostalgic for the bright eyed and bushy tailed lass that stepped off the train in Kings Cross one month ago. But its something I always knew would happen. Infact, my entire sojourn in Australia could almost be seen as a tactic to avoid this Herculean task for a wee bit longer.
Soon my friends. Soon. And when it happens I'll be damned grateful!
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