I finally made some progress on the job front today. Well okay, I haven't exactly been trying very hard or anything, but I paid a visit to the place my uncle guaranteed would take me, but boy was it awkward. I should probably also mention that the "interview" was hardly that. I just introduced myself and smiled non-stop for the next 5 minutes. In the end the guy just said, "Can I call you on Monday?" (to my uncle) but it sounded to me like, "Dude you can't just show up here and expect me to give her a job considering I don't even know this chick. Let me sleep on it and if nobody pisses me off then I'll think about it and let you know."
But maybe that's just me.
I think I've managed to get enough Raya cash this year to finally get myself a bike. But then I'm not sure I'll ever get to ride it properly. This neighbourhood is like a death trap, with all its blind turns and always-in-a-rush drivers who have probably killed more than their fare share of birds or something. There is, however, a neighbourhood that's about 5 minutes away that has long straight roads that go round in circles. Perfect. Except I need someone to drive me there. Yea, so...that kinda sucks.
That's what sucks the most about living here. I feel so useless coz I'm not allowed to do anything on my own, even if I want to. On one hand they want us to be independent and able to take care of ourselves, and on the other hand they want us to be conservative enough to want to stay at home all day and like it.
If I had a quarter for every time I've heard the age-old question, "Why don't you learn how to cook?" I think I'd be able to afford a few bikes by now. And generally I try my very best to avoid getting into a position where I have to have that conversation, but when a lump of fat plants itself in front of you and insists you answer or suffer the consequences of being rude, it doesn't leave you much choice. Because the consequences would involve you going back and striking a conversation with them. Not a very appealing thought.
So for now I've resorted to answering with, "Cooking? Nope. Not for me. Too boring." And then of course they've to ask, "How will you cook for your husband?" To which I say, "He's gonna cook for me. Or starve, coz I can survive on cereal. It's his choice." Then usually there's a bit of disbelieving laughter and I take that opportunity to run. But what they fail to realize is that I'm not kidding. Hey if the guy can have criteria, why can't I, right? So that's it then; besides the usual superficial stuff like he has to be tall, etc, he has to be a good cook; that's not too much to ask, is it? If he does it for a living, then all the better, although that's probably hoping for too much. Might as well milk this horrible situation for all its worth.
Anyway that's about it for now. Not a very arresting post, I know, but my life at this point lacks any and all reason for excitement, so this will have to do until one day, when I'm sitting on the toilet bowl, I get a philosophical epiphany I feel I should share with the world.
Watch this space. Take care y'all.
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