Blood and a fight with mom

2005-01-04 - 3:47 p.m.

Oh, another reason why it's a good thing it wasn't an interview today is because it would have been my first job interview where I was BLEEDING!

Because, while getting my resume out of my backpack, I pulled too hard on the clipboard and whacked myself in the lip. If it was not before a job thingy, everything would have been fine and no blood would have come out, but because my physiology sensed that there might be a job hinging on my appearance, I suddenly had a bleeding lip.

I don't think anyone noticed, but with my stubbly hair and stubbly face and a bleeding lip I'm sure I looked like a model employee and not some homeless drunk looking for a quick buck.

Also, last night on the phone, mom and I got into a fight because (I guess) she thinks I'm making all of the wrong choices in everything. Her words: "Do you know how many geniuses there are out there who don't do anything important?" Because I, her first-born son and former member of MENSA and her pride and joy, will not have fulfilled my divinely-ordained destiny unless I have changed the world in some earth-shattering way, preferably through neuroscience. And dealing with the aging population.

To which I brilliantly responded: "But I don't want to be successful!" Which, to anyone who speaks the english language the way it's meant to be spoken (ie, the way mom's first born, MENSA-joining, divinely fingered son speaks it), actually means: "All I want is a job that puts a roof over my head and affords me the chance to raise a family and buy books when I need them." If I can make 40-60 grand a year doing something I have at least a passing interest in and have a little bit of leisure time to read, write, and romance my way into familial bliss, I'll consider myself a success.

Cheers,

The Magus

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