A digression into my moods...
Last year when i was looking for part-time work i could do from home, i looked into freelance writing. I know it doesn't always seem like it from my rants on LiveJournal, but i can actually string a decent sentence together when i need to. I thought it might be fun and an avenue into more creative writing in the future. Wow was my bubble burst after i did a bit of research on the topic. I always thought that freelance writers lived exciting lives traveling the world and writing about their experiences - and perhaps that's the way it once was - but these days it's more of a suburban pursuit where average people read up on topics online and then regurgitate that information in a different fashion. What a shock to find most articles are written by people who have no particular experience - and maybe not even an interest - in the topic. It's almost like writing academic papers, something i find equally pointless.
All this culminates in the pinnacle of soul-crushing writing jobs that is putting together articles for search engine optimization. That is, rewriting the same article 10+ times, each with a reference to the client's product, so that the client can stack the search engine results and have as many redundant "how to" websites on the internet pointing to their product as possible. Aside from facing the tediousness of the rewrites, there's also the knowledge that you're contributing to the increasing uselessness of the internet for solving real problems. And then they pay so little it makes me cry inside.
So i kinda lost my interest in that whole thing and scratched yet another career that sounded good on paper off my list. My sister is just the opposite of me, however. She tends to go on tangents where she actually starts each career that sounds good on paper. I can't count the number of jobs she's had in the last 10 years, the number of schools she's been to. She's never settled into a career she likes and seems to be the eternal student. Her latest thing is freelance writing. And as usual she loves it (for now). She just did a Facebook status update where she described being so thrilled at getting her first gig and writing SEO articles for some garden tool she has never used and probably never will never use. She's actually excited about the challenge of coming up with different ways to write the same thing. How can two people look at the exact same task and one person sees such joy where the other doesn't even get off the ground?
This is my problem, i think. I don't ever see any joy in anything. I look at something and just think what the fuck is the point, it's only going to be as boring and depressing as the rest of my life. In theory i could do things to get myself out of the rut, but i don't see how they could improve my life so i don't bother. I wish i could have some of my sister's blind optimism where she will rush into one project after the next, always with great expectations and grand plans. Even if they never pan out, at least she enjoys that moment of positivity. Instead my life seems to be a virtually endless landscape of rolling depression punctuated by occasional influxes of uncontrollable chaos. And while i can take meds to combat the chaos, nothing seems to work for the depression.
Though i am still feeling flatly "content" right now. I don't know if i can really call it happy.