a gratuitous post in which I feel extremely sorry for myself

You know, I try not to wallow in self-pity all that much. I try to keep my chin-up, head screwed on straight, and put on a happy face. Though this is proving to be a really difficult task…especially when I have no job, no woman, no prospects, and I seem to be getting snubbed by the city that I live in. I’m actually a pretty nice guy, and why Pittsburgh has decided that it simply won’t be my friend is completely beyond me.

So on occasion, I enjoy reducing myself to the ‘look at poor old me’ state of mind. It’s about damn time that I get some pity, and if not from other people then I’ll accept it from myself. And now that I’ve entered into a period where I’m getting no call backs, no job interviews, and the companies that I’ve applied to can’t even be bothered to send me a rejection letter but choose to ignore my existence completely instead, I feel that now is the perfect time to feel sorry for myself.

And perhaps, if I had some sort of support group to console with, this would all be easier. But rather, I’m surrounded by people who usually find luck just falling into their lap. Luck has never, ever fallen into my lap. Nor has it ever fallen anywhere near my lap. Actually, I don’t recall luck ever falling within a 50 mile radius of my lap. My lap has remained luckless for many years.

Take my brother, who is one such lucky person. Here’s a kid who majored in Fine Arts in college. He chose this major, not because of a love for the arts, but because this was the one major he could find that required no math or science courses in order to get a degree. He graduates, gets a job working for eight bucks an hour, and then quits after a month or two.

So he decides that he’s going to get one of those Microsoft Certifications…because one of our cousins is involved in the whole I.T. biz and makes a killing. My cousin provided him with all the old computer parts, discs, and books that he needed, and for the next year he lived in my parents’ basement, bumming money off of mom and dad to go out every night with his friends, sleeping until about four every afternoon, and eventually gets this certification.

Not even a month after this, he lucks into a job that pays him almost fifty grand a year. He marries a girl that he’s known since high school, and now lives with her in a brand new $200,000 house that they just built.

Take my younger cousin, the brother of my I.T. guru cousin. He decides that he’s going to drop out of college after his sophomore year. And, with no degree, my older cousin finds him a job working in the information technology department at an insurance agency. He’s now making close to a hundred grand a year, recently built a $300,000 house…all without a college education, mind you…and is only in his mid twenties.

And it’s bad enough that I’m related to all these people whom are on a first name basis with luck, but even the people from my past make appearances in my life, simply to point out the fact that I am one of the scorned who luck has no desire to befriend.

I recently ran into this girl named Chrissy, who I used to wait tables with at T.G.I.Friday’s while I was in college. Chrissy dropped out of college and committed to waiting tables full-time. I eventually dropped out of Friday’s and committed to college full-time. I am now unemployed, with several degrees that aren’t earning what I put into them. Chrissy, however, is now a Corporate Trainer for Friday’s and travels up and down the East coast opening new restaurants…all without a college degree. And all I can do is simply scratch my head and wonder what the fuck I was thinking quitting the table waiting business to focus on college.

I realize that life isn’t fair and that nobody ever said it would be. I can accept this. I just wish that life had a complaint department. Because I have quite a few complaints that I’d like to get on record! And now that this is out of my system, I’ll put back on my ‘happy face’ and just hope that the smile plastered there doesn’t start looking too much like a sneer.