Schadenfreude, anyone?

So here I come again, after the umpteenth day of wandering around in search of an open library. Who would have guessed that May 2nd was Bank Holiday? Good for you, vacationers; my Easter holidays terminated today.

Wait: did I say holidays? Actually, during the last two weeks I have been more busy than I have in the previous two...months. And I utterly, definitely, completely, absolutely loved it.

As I said when I started this off, most of my happiness is all about keeping my brain busy. Because I'm a heavy thinker with an unpleasant tendency to pessimism, yes; but also because I 'm more brawn than brain, I love doing things and I hate the eternal, optimistic wait of the day when I will finally be able to achieve them.
Surprise surprise, that's not at all how life happens. Not mine, anyway. I know people who are constantly overwhelmed with opportunities, cues and  chances; I call them lucky, but perhaps there's a little envy, here, and they're just more competent and bold than I am. More, how'd you say it? Entitled: to do what they do, to be who they are, to get what they want.
Yes, I'd so much like to learn how to become the right person at the right time; unfortunately, as Jonathan Coe writes in one of my all-time favourite books, "it is my destiny always to be offstage whenever the main action occurs, always to wander away at the most important moment, drifting into the kitchen to make a cup of tea just as the denouement unfolds".

See, when I say that thinking too much is my doom you can definitely believe me. And yet I've been born, bred and raised to be a thinker; you'd laugh to tears if you saw the reaction my mother has every time I mention to her that I'm definitely not going to study for the rest of my life, as she'd like me to.
"But sweetheart, why don't you apply for that other Master, you know, just to have one more chance to..."
Sure. I'm twenty-four (right, almost), living away from home since when I was nineteen, and all I have been doing is taking one dead-end road after another, rushing to reach the end of one-way streets I entered from the wrong side, and thinking, and thinking, and thinking to escape the count of the hours remaining before the day when I finally would stick my hands in the batter and build a life of my own. And that's how you advise me? Another Master? Thank you, Ma, that was helpful.

It's not that I'm not already trying; probably, one more time, I'm simply doing it wrong.
Again, that's one of those things that would make you roll on the floor laughing if it wasn't happening to you.
In the last six months, I applied for almost any job I thought I could do - any one, from ice-cream seller to press officer, from part-time biscuit cutter to receptionist to editorial unpaid intern -; have a guess on my percentage of success?
Zero, yes.
I can hardly believe it - and careful, not because a disproportionate self-esteem keeps me from realizing that I'm unsuitable for anything but reading academic manuals and losing my sight typing essays I will never pass. What I mean is...come on, do you really  need proof of two years' experience to hire someone who'll sell ice-cream behind a counter? Do you truly ask for relevant experience for an internship...which is supposed to train me? If you're so keen on talking nonsense, sit down, let's have a chat about the green dragon standing right behind the staircase. Sure as hell, it's as real as my chances to find a job before I reach the pensionable age.

At least you've got creativity, says my mother each time I mention a new improbable job I applied for.
Oh, true, I never lacked creativity. That's the one thing I'm proud of, if there really has to be one.
Still, the amount of application received was very high and the quality level outstanding, we're sorry to tell you that we rejected your application for the Creative Writer position. Sincerely yours, the Big Chief Editor of Whatever Serious Publishing House You Just Contacted.

No, please, no more constructive lectures about the utility of dedicating seventeen years of my life to studying. Just give me a good excuse to close my coursework files and have a walk in the sun, and I'll be ok, I swear.

(on air: Arcade Fire - Suburban War)