A flower cried and the flower is me. By crying I don’t mean tears running down my cheeks. It’s more about crying internally for things that are wrong with your life and why not others too. It’s nothing to cry about because life is what you make it. My life is mostly in my head. Things could be better but I still cry about how boring it is. I just don’t have the guts to be anything I really want to be. I try to have something to do to fill my days. Cleaning is not one of them even if I would have time to do it. OK, the secret is out, I’m messy and frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn. Quoting a certain movie quote, wink. When people say work hard. For me, it’s working hard mentally. It’s not easy being me and I’m the only person who knows that.
I applied for a job yesterday. It’s nothing in my field though. To make a story short, it contains packaging. I have some experience of that but I don’t think that’s enough. They probably chose someone younger. I didn’t even send a resume. At least I applied to something. The point was, I could have started something long ago. Like in web or graphic design but now I still have to apply for jobs. They say you should apply to any job but isn’t that taking away a job for someone who has studied the subject? The one I applied for wasn’t that hard or how would I know. I imagine things a lot and the reality is something else. My job applications fail because I never know how to write things. It takes a lot of energy out of me when I have to think about it so I don’t do it very often. I’ve never liked difficult things. Like Math or coding. I especially have a problem with telling about myself.
I also cry about how people have no respect for silence. Do people really love their voices so much they have to keep talking? Not quietly but loudly. Maybe they’re hard of hearing. You hear loud talking in your own flat. On the streets and in public transport. You would think at least in your own home you could be without hearing the neighbours loud voices. It doesn’t need to be all the time but even one raised voice is disturbing. It sounds like they’re skinning a cat. I suppose living in a city and in a high-rise you just have to live with it. Sometimes I wish I could live on an island where no one would disturb the peace. At least people should take other people into consideration and not think no one else is there. These loud people are the ones who should move to the country. The easiest would be to have respect for other people and not this self-importance behaviour. Maybe that’s just too much to ask.
There are more important things to think about then other peoples behaviours. One of them is what to do with my life job-wise. I’m a flower that cries but I don’t always want to be like that. I just need to get the life I have in my head out in the open. Then I probably would only cry happy tears, internally.
It feels like I’m already blogged about the same subjects on this blog several times. I’ve noticed posts about job search hasn’t interest people that much. Well, recently at least. It’s OK. It’s mostly blabber anyway. Most of the time I don’t even remember what I posted in the past. But who does? Unless they have a very good memory. Human brains can’t handle that much information. It doesn’t matter really if I wrote things before because new followers have found this blog just recently. No one has that much time to go back in the past anyway. I do have 951 posts after all. Sorry for boring you with details like that.
What I was about to say is, I’m a lot of things but bold I’m not. Unless it’s in writing. In real I’m really not. I never say my opinion to people I don’t know. I just can’t do it because I don’t want to hurt their feelings. When I was a child people thought I’m also quiet at home. But I was definitely not. Just ask my father. At home, I’m a totally different person. There I can say what I think. When you’re in public you need to show some manners. You can always show them rude gestures when they’re not looking. But I wouldn’t say bad things in people’s faces. But if they are rude to me, I won’t hesitate to defend myself. Treat other people the way they treat you. Or walk away if they look threatening.
If I had been bolder in the past I could have been something more but I was too much of a coward. It wasn’t lack of encouragement. My parent was really supportive. Maybe boldness skipped a generation. My mother went to Sweden when she was young. Relatives live there. My dad started his business during Finland’s depression and still works even if he’s retired. Of course, their life was different from mine and they’re a different generation. I’m always been stubborn and did things my way. I even learned to walk when I felt like it and not because my parents expected me to. I could have been more flexible when it came to decisions. Like with summer jobs as a teen. I took part in a summer job lottery once but I didn’t get a job so I didn’t try again. I just wanted to relax in the summer after all the school work I did. The idiom, look before you leap, is almost my motto. Except all I do is look and see all the things that could go wrong. I’m not totally afraid of doing things. I did travel alone the first time when I was 17. Studying in a different city or town is one kind of boldness. Luckily I lived in a dorm so I didn’t need to find an apartment. I did get home at the weekends but still, I did live in another city. I have never travelled abroad alone though. Except if you count school trips but those were hell anyway so they don’t matter.
Starting a blog is bold. There are people who are afraid to start one but for me, it’s been a natural thing. It’s easier to write than talk. You don’t need to follow the crowd. Blogging can also be just a hobby. It shouldn’t only about profit or being like any other blogger out there. Boldness can also come from not being afraid to share a piece of your inner world to others. You don’t need to write about your personal life if you don’t want to. Blogging should be fun and not something you have to do. Maybe I’m a little bit bold after all.