I am procrastinating

I am required to send off a current resume to this certain company. Apparently the shameless self promotion I supplied, in response to their request for a personal summation of me and my life, has either put me a step further up the ladder or they need it to clarify exactly why they chose to turn me down when I ask (and I will). They have an old resume from last year but I have a suspicion that my format is no longer fashionable and so I am trawelling the net in search of current examples, so I can rewrite it.

This is all very time consuming. I won’t begrudge it at all, if I get the job but, otherwise, I am sure of feeling a little resentment after the turn down. They approached me, not vice versa, and so far I have spent about fourteen hours trying to make my paperwork superlative.

Right now I am rewriting the resume and it is really long and hard and I am really tired.

I fought with BF this morning, as I dropped him off at the airport for a fifo (fly in, fly out) three day job. Actually, I should have fought last night when he turned up hours late on our agreed meeting time, using the excuse that he had to pack for the trip away. Really? Five hours worth of packing for three days? Even drug smuggling doesn’t require that level of committment from its mules.

These days I am feeling like a service for him. He gets food prepared for him; a comfy bed; a (reasonably hygienic and cleaned ) nice household; and an incredibly intense sexual interaction. No, he doesn’t live with me. Only four to five days a week. The rest of the time he wants some alone time. I am not welcome to drop in without advance warning at his place. I suppose getting rid of the dead hookers is a tedious, messy business, requiring disposal time. Casual drop in for a chat and a coffee (and please don’t mention the corpse behind the couch) visitors are not welcomed.

In an awful lot of ways, I can clearly see it from his perspective. “I have this gorgeous girl, who puts out for me. Who has a clean place. Who usually prepares breakfast, lunch and dinner for me. Who has an unlimited supply of chocolate. Who lets me drive her car when we go out. Who is mostly happy and understanding about circumstances.”

“Why the hell would I want to change the status quo here?!!!”

Yeah, why would he want to? He doesn’t want to. This situation is ideal for him as it stands. We could remain in this status quo forever. I feel used. That I am not good enough to commit to. That the only reason he stays around is because I make him comfortable at this point and place in time.

I am not scared of being by myself for the term of my natural life.

I do want to be in a relationship but I won’t settle for what I can get. And I definitely won’t be manipulated by any damn man again.


UPDATE: I wrote this last night. I was tired and cranky and awake way too long, trying to finetune my self promotion so that I could fit into the employment position. The employment position that isn’t actually advertised so that I have no criteria to go upon. I just have to convey a wordshaped portrait of myself, in 3D, that will fit the hole they want to plug; I finished it but I could hit the bullseye first time or I could totally fire outside the ranges.


It is fairly obvious that there is not much I can further do that will get me the job. If it was on paper qualifications, then yes. Hands down. But it isn’t and now I have a bad feeling about all of it.


About quirkycharm

I like to think that I have a certain quirky charm but I am probably being optimistic. Acquired taste, perhaps, which many don't acquire. This is about my fifth blog out there. My hosting companies kept going out of business or my IT exhusband kept hacking into them and I would move again. I don't do twitter, I barely do facebook, I don't try and 'monetize' my blog. I love my husband, my grown children and my job and this particular incarnation of oversharing my life comes at a time when I am the most content that I have ever been. I write always, sporadically during the good stuff and exhaustingly during the bad.
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