Because I’m unemployed, for Christ’s sake! I applied for this job and dozens of others! I need the money! I am capable of managing the bloody tasks you’re offering! I have the God damn hard and soft skills! I am clean and look good! I have the freaking initiative and the all sunshine smile on my face! I’m a badass! I am fast, competent, rigorous, eclectic and whatever the trending skills are! I am sincere and don’t kiss ass! I am the king of both competition and cooperation, choose the one that suits you best for each occasion! I am a moderately radical traditional innovative modern conservative liberal!
I did not choose. Behind propaganda, the choice is all yours.
I like writing. Fiction, essays, opinion articles, you name it. I’ve learned the trade of putting words together and I love it. I am particularly fond of my language, as it happens with anyone who loves words. One gazes at melody, harmony, rhythm and meaning, taken on a twister of sensation and images that gives a whole new value to life and humanity.
Among my job prospections is writing opinion articles and chronicles to newspapers. One more brick to my castles in the air. I would also like to illustrate articles in newspapers and magazines. Keeping fake modesties aside, I could do a pretty effective work on both areas, writing and illustration.
So here is the question. How do I get in?
The only thing I’m asking in return is enough income to my surviving expenses. We live in a dog world, I know. Employment is becoming a luxury. To the most basic tasks employers ask for one year of previous experience, minimum. Some “offer” professional internships, which is the modern word for slavery. I am aware of all that. I am aware that no matter how competent I am or might be, I have no chance. Other variables are at stake which go beyond my control.
Nevertheless, I’m in the mood to feed this illusion for a while. I want to be paid for typing my words on a newspaper.