Gripe.

Some days I am well aware I am too hard on my mother. She wants me to be happy after all, even if it means me living in another country forever.

I had a job interview earlier in the week. It could turn out to be a glorified secretary but, at least I know I could do the job. It would be a two year contract. Later in the week Mum called to say she’d spoken to my lawyer Uncle and he said he’d found me a job. She didn’t ask for details and he’s now away for a week. She thinks this is my way in into law, and after three years I would be able to start my own practice. Oh please. She has no faith in my ability to run my own business, in three years she would suggest I make it five and so on and so forth. Also, I don’t want to be a lawyer and it seems I can’t in this country. I don’t want to be stuck as a paralegal for the rest of my life.

This morning she rang me at 8.30. It’s saturday, my insomnia meant I slept after 2am. She of course was spritely, no doubt prancing around since 5am. ‘You must try to sleep earlier’ she said solemnly, now that you will be starting work soon.

I couldn’t help but roll me eyes so hard they almost hurt. I hate when she says things like that. Oh gee Ma, hadn’t thought of that at all. I haven’t gone to bed at 8 or 9 at all ever in an effort to get some sleep. It doesn’t turn out to be 3am anyway with me wide awake, nope.  I need PILLS. Actually I had just stopped stressing about insomnia because I remembered – I don’t have anywhere to be so what if I end up sleeping all morning?

For my interview, she asked if I had dressed smartly or some shit. So did her sister, to be fair. I answered her sister sarcastically, to which she laughed saying she shouldn’t ask huh.

Because salaries are not advertised here, I have no idea which employer to chase, in which role. People tell me, just get a job to start, but I know this can be a death sentence if you are in the wrong stream. You can be stuck in shittyville forever and ever.