Denis, when passing or just sad sad times, speaks of the "blues." Well, that's what I feel at this time. A slow blues, poignant, that takes me when I'm alone with myself.
View pictures of old classmates went abroad into the fray, as perhaps I would do myself but as I could, if not unconscious.
sad I read job advertisements, which show that the only profession not to suffer the crisis of these times the call center operator, the store clerk, the waitress, the seller, the realtor, the representative takes -to-door. And I consider myself lucky because I can work as a hostess and I have remedied an interview as a secretary. See baby, it gets worse.
look desperate people jostle to get noticed and even though, deep down, I understand.
I'm afraid. Fear of not succeeding, of not being fit enough: to work, married life, the reality that surrounds me. I feel like I regressed a year when I graduated almost a year ago and after six days I found the easy landing a good job in good standing in the field that interested me. € eight hundred and fifty dancers, not a bad salary for my first real job. Then boredom, routine tasks with less and less interesting and instructive.
After six months, that phase is over. With all the optimism and the desire to find a viable and more challenging alternative.
's been three months. Where I tidied the house, feeling at times a desperate housewife Whether good housewife, I disposed of the boxes for a move out of time, I cooked, I cried, I laughed, I tried to rearrange my life with dignity, sending dozens of resumes, photos, e-mail, letters of recommendation.
had sown as ever, but it did not do much.
I say be patient, and they are right. Should I fill my life: not only work, but what I love. Deceit loneliness by shopping, getting lost among the colorful shelves of supermarkets, but this is not enough.
Alarm, Giulia.
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