Aya

So it’s that time of the year when people behave as though December 31st will be the end of their miserable, weasel-like existence. Time to make resolutions without so much as a plan of achievement. I made one just a few weeks ago and here I am thinking: what the fuck, fuck it, it ain’t even worth a damn.

Instead of that lame tradition, I am going to list all the things I feel guilty about. This is not a comprehensive list. Despite my usual acidic temperament, I tend to feel perpetually guilty about anything, all things. I feel guilty about breathing people’s air in a lift. After panicking about the disgusting air-borne infections that the unwashed lice are spewing. Here goes:

1. I feel guilty about not caring about politics anymore. I did once. Organized demos, made flyers, sent angry letters, formed youth groups, yada yada yada blah blah blah. Now I barely understand who’s who in Somali politics. It is all German to me. I don’t give a damn if the Palestinians ever get a country. I can’t get myself to worry about Darfur. Images of emaciated fellow Africans have inundated my senses and rubbed off what empathy I had. The hundreds of thousands of political and tortured prisoners don’t keep me up at night anymore. Haven’t given a penny to Amnesty International in 5 years. They’ve seen my last penny.

2. I don’t exercise as much as I should. I am getting lumpy, depressed, sedentary and lazy. Blogging is not a sport. I hate stinky gyms and skinny cadaan people sweating like monkeys on the treadmill. Get the fuck off the machine so someone else can walk for fuck’s sake! We are moving creatures and yet I am sitting, lying or crouched 24/7.

3. I don’t eat as well as I should. I started having organic food and it is different. It actually has colour, flavour and texture but travelling so much ruins any disciplined eating. Instead, I’m shoving growth hormones, antibiotics and animal by-products masquerading as food down my throat. I can’t even ask God for continued good health anymore, why should he help me if I can’t help myself?

4. Speaking of good health, I’m due for a physical. I feel guilty about not getting a physical every year. I hate doctors. I hate their nurses, their cold offices, their stupid gowns that don’t cover my ass. I hate needles. I hate how nosy and grabby doctors are. Ufff.

5. I hate how much of a social hermit I’ve become. Dating? Please! I don’t even speak that language anymore. I feel guilty about how I avoid calling family lest I hear about their problems. I care. Well, maybe not as much as I used to. But I couldn’t be bothered. I’ve read the research. People with lots of social support do better than hermits in most aspects of life. So why oh why is the laptop my best friend, my DVR my boyfriend, and my car my loving grandma.

What do you feel guilty about?

I struggled somewhat with this post. I wanted to write about my distress over Somalia. About the death and disruption, and the stupidity of the waste. Politics is nijaas and it disgusts me. I may come back to it another time.

I have a pile of resumes sitting on my desk. In about 3 days, I must submit a short interview list in a project I’ve been leading for the past months. My initial assessment of people (or perhaps I should say, preferred assessment) is to simply speak to them.

We talk about anything (never the weather), their work/study past, mine, world issues. We speak about future plans, past frustrations, and just what they expect from the present. Always, why this job.

I’m perfectly happy with:

I have bills to pay

I’m also quite content with:

I will work for the next 5-7 years till I can open my own company/studio/shop/hotdog stand

I don’t mind hearing:

I hated what I studied in university but I enjoy completing account ledgers

How competent the person sitting with me I cannot gauge from a conversation alone. But I think it is a far better gauge than a professionally decorated resume and a perfunctory recommendation letter.

Early on in my career, I could not catch a break. Most of my jobs I left without having the rapport (or shall I say the ass-kissing) to secure glorius letters, ooohhhs and aaahhhs about how I was the first to arrive and the last to leave. How I juggled multiple tasks while chairing the fundraising campaign or the volunteer appreciation party.

Mind you, I always did something. But my personality is one that finds more pleasure in the task than the networking and schmoozing benefits.

Knowing how as an earnest and fairly intelligent employee, I was overlooked for the greasy, ass kissers of the group, I am critical of people who come armed with recommendation, awards, and all the bells and whistles of the successful track.

I’m looking at a couple of CVs now of people (probably in their late 20s from the date of graduation) that have their middle/junior secondary school awards listed here. What in the world am I to think of this? Should I simply count those with the most awards/mentions/references and offer them the interviews?

What do I do with the people who have a 1 page CV detailing work and schooling? Should I penalize them for not having a CV since their 10th birthday.

My instincts and experience tell me to interview everyone. Simply talk to them. I would if I could. When did the job process become an exercise in humiliating people and weighing their worth in CV entries? Who am I to judge who is worth the honour of working for a living wage?

I’m making an early new year’s resolution. No resolution has ever worked for me but that is no reason to stop. I don’t know if it’s because I am on the road a great deal more, working with people from all walks of life, or just age-related crankiness, but I am a little surprised at how crass I have become. So I am holding you, cyberfriends, as witnesses to a blog that has fewer 4- or 5-letter words.

Speaking of swearing, this stupid, piece of shit, dumbfuck of a redneck tailgate me till I missed my highway entrance. Hey, it’s not January 1st yet, dammit.

I was stuck on the highway last night and just had to rubberneck. I can’t stand xmas lights. Ugghh.

I don’t know what it is about December that teases my melancholy. I find xmas depressing. How did a faith become so twisted that buying CDs is what passes for observance? I’m not really one to judge and I could care less about retail religion but why do the lights and ads begin so early in the fall?

Fall used to be my season. I can’t even shut it off if I could. Coworkers are annoyed at my frozen face at holiday lunches. I just don’t care.