Daydreaming

 

A red lucky moving hand Japanese cat

Looks insistently at a Westerner with a hat

The street barbecue floats in fat

The teachers gave a talk to a random Matt

A handsome Korean on an Alvar Aalto chair sat

Another daydreaming session in a café

With my pet the rainbow bat

The letters of a faded, burnt postcard

Rotate with fervor in a mental hospital ward

Imaginary friends eat a bowlful of lard

The emperor’s castle collapsed and killed the bard

The foundations of this fantasy story are hard

Covered in milk the lamp seems a tart

I am stuck in a corner; I am Alice in love with a leopard

At the counter full of cakes there is a clown

The odd collection of teaspoons fell down

The construction worker, the nurse, the guard are all sound

But the sofas, the fluorescent walls, the plants are bound

Are chained to my notebook while they drown

In the room there is a single crown

The queen lost, the plot was written by my hound.

Childhood

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In the middle of the green fields

I was alone,

I was in reverie

Thinking, dancing, mumbling

Existence was soft

Was as easy as picking scented flowers

Nectar filled plants

Listening to bees

Tasting the grass

Hearing the wind whispering

My dreams of growing up

Got caught up in spider’s webs

And playing games

Was not for wining, was not for losing

Running around

Stealing fruits

The value of goods

Was in sharing

Children on the streets

Jumping in the rain

Building bridges in the mud

The sweet taste of childhood

Lies in its simplicity.

Christmas is coming. Still unemployed!

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Random thoughts have been going through my head for a month already. So here it goes. Finally I have the time and courage to write down what has been bothering me. I gave up my three or four part-time jobs as an English teacher and my Chinese language course will end soon. That means my visa will expire soon…how soon? The end of January…and I’ve got nothing sorted out….I am stressed, I might be kicked out of this country and I am not even sure I have enough money to buy a plane ticket to go back to my home country. I am basically stranded. And my home is in Shanghai already. I feel the Christmas spirit here, my lovely dog is here with me…what am I gonna do with him if I have to leave? He is my responsability and I love him so much. I could leave him with my boyfriend, but I would miss him too much.

Meanwhile, I am constantly looking for jobs in my domain (anthropology > NGO, social entrepreneurs’ companies,  cultural advisor, exchange semester coordinator or study advisor…abstract and idealistic type of jobs).  Yeah, this is what stimulates my imagination and my dream is to get involved in projects that could alleviate poverty, help discriminated people, come up with ideas and ways to help migrants integrate better and receive real chances to start over in their new countries. To be honest, ever since I was a child empathy was one of my biggest qualities. I remember seeing beggars, wounded animals or poor children and starting to cry. My whole day became miserable and I didn’t care about my happy circumstances anymore. Well, I don’t know if you can classify empathy as a quality. Sometimes it makes life impossibly hard. I am way too sensitive and I sometimes end up crying in a corner by how fucked up the world is and by how insensitive and selfish people are. I am one of those people who cannot imagine living life only for herself. I can’t die thinking that all I have done during my short, meaningless life was to build a future only for myself and my family. So no, I want to help the world, thus I want to become a social activist. Unfortunately, so do many other people…millions of other people…why? because nowadays it is trendy to do that…it is fashionable…basically it goes like this…some people think the world is divided into the following categories:

  •  Rich individuals, big corporations, corrupt politicians > aka business minded, mainly interested in money people
  • The other side > the good guys, the ‘do good’, save the world, talk big and put some positive shit on your CV

But out there people are more than that, more than 2 narrow categories. Black, white and grey zones mingle. What frustrates me the most are people who are nowadays social activists or work in domains that are obviously related to anthropology and sociology, but have nothing to do with these areas. They use language and terms that are unrelated to social and cultural issues and even augment problems by spreading wrong messages and using general terms (such as: let’s educate people > how abstract is that? ). And the main problem with this is that they have no theoretical knowledge and no background in how to deal with different communities. All the data they have on certain communities comes from superficial dialogues they had with a few individuals. There is no ethnography involved, no significant sample group, no extended period of time interviewing and participating in the community’ s life. Hence, everything is just completely biased and presented from the perspective of the person who wants to help. However, this help can sometimes do more wrong than good for certain communities if we are not analytical enough. That also involves a lot of self-criticism and challenging yourself at every step. So here’s my issue…do some people want to help because they would like to see problems solved? Are they really in it to genuinely offer other people chances to improve their lives? Or do they want to help because it is trendy and weighs a lot on their resume? I think there are a lot of posers out there who occupy jobs that I might be suitable for.

And here’s the paradox…..

I, with a background in anthropology and I, who really want to delve into nowadays’ societal and cultural issues, am standing on the bench of unemployment while individuals who have no idea how to approach cultural and social issues or who have no theoretical background in this are shouting out loud: ‘Help people with special needs’! . Gosh, that was a talk I listened to at PIC (Pyramid Impact Collective) Shanghai. So let’s discriminate people and place them into a special and separate group from ours by calling them : people with special needs. It is ridiculous: us (normal) versus them (special needs). I am not gonna go deeper into this, but it does seem like we are regressing to previous issues of us (white, intelligent) versus them (non-white, colonized). Except now we have different categories of us (full physical and mental abilities individuals) and them (individuals who mentally and physically relate to the world in a different way). I thought we were over that.

But getting back to the job problem.  As I was saying, I find this battle of mine to find an entry-level job as a young graduate paradoxical. Why? Because, on one side, people without experience and proper backgrounds in anthropology and sociology are working in domains that require both practical and theoretical knowledge. On the other side, the more I struggle to swim through nowadays competitive market the more I feel like I am worthless. Most of the jobs out there are for people with 2+ years experience. On top of that, the more certificates you have, the more languages you speak, the more freaking additional skills you have the better it is. And I feel left out, I am not a superhuman. I wonder who is? Then how do young people find jobs? And how do all these individuals without sociological and anthropological backgrounds end up in NGOs?

You would say, well, they start with an internship….and that’s fine…for those who want to do that…but I can’t and I am really against that…why? Because for more than 7 years of my life (bachelor and master) my parents have been supporting me financially and I feel ashamed to ask them to keep supporting me for one more year while I work for free. Because that’s how I see it. Big companies want interns that slave for them…no? Aren’t interns a kind of modern slaves? No offence to those who do internships…I’m sure you gain a lot of valuable skills and knowledge…but at the same time why don’t companies pay at least a minimum wage so graduates can sustain themselves and become independent? I mean, I will be 27 years old on the 13th of December and I want to be independent and to start my career in an NGO or a social  entrepreneurship group. Because my studies are related to that and afterall, this is my passion. Why don’t I get the chance to do that? I mean, what’s the point of studying at all if all I get to do is an internship or getting a job in something that completely bores me and drains all my energy just to be able to put food on the table and pay the rent?

I agree that we live in a very competitive society and we have to fight for what is ours, but isn’t this pushed to an extreme? I am not the type of individual who can multitask to the extent that I can juggle a full-time internship and many part-time jobs to pay the rent and at the same time save some personal time for myself to stay sane. I feel like internships are for rich kids. My parents can’t support me any longer. And when I think about it, my parents were financially independent when they were about 24. So how can I ask them for money and work for free or for a meagre amount of money just to gain experience?  If you ask me…internships are just a cheap and dirty way to cut down on costs and make poor susceptible young graduates slave and do jobs that otherwise employees would do for a real salary. So no, I am not going to do an internship…I am going to keep looking for that one workplace that will give me the chance to get a visa, earn a fair salary and be able to survive in this city and in this country by paying my own bills and buying my own food and by giving me the chance to develop and use my energy, my creativity, my skills in their company.

P.S: One last thing, I was given a free piece of ‘smart advice’. I was told by some people (who supposedly are great, intelligent and working in social change) that I victimize myself and that I create a negative image for myself by complaining or by revealing that I am unemployed and looking for a job and for a chance to start my career. I was advised to pump up my image and to advertise myself,  to present myself as what I want to be instead of what I am. And that, to me, seems to be faking it…’smart advice’ from self-image and goal setting coaches. What is wrong with admitting the truth, with recognizing that I am vulnerable and  that I am going through a situation that many other people faced at some point in their lives? And btw, the PR department uses negative publicity once in a while as a positive thing. ‘Bad publicity is better than no publicity at all!’

Leaving all jokes aside: I am fed up with this : ‘Everything works fine and I am a great individual with no problems’ and with ‘I will never show my weak spots and I will not admit to needing help’. I am going to make a parallel here. It is like asking racially discriminated people to stop complaining about it and stop showing it to others because they would become vulnerable and everyone will perceive them as victims. But hell, they have been mistreated and the problem comes from the others, not from them. What a load of crap: we should be talking about it, we should be revealing it…because part of the problem is that society, people, companies, the environment and everything that belongs to it is treating us like that. We, young people, want more chances to work and to show what we are capable of! And people who have been racially discriminated want society to own up to it. We should make those responsible realize that they are unfair…and that we want a change!

Anger. Another word 

Look down at my hands

And see they are cracked 

Look closer, my cuticles are bleeding

My nails so short, wounds and raw skin 

My toes are the same.

Look at my skin, is wrinkled and dry 

If only my body could talk 

If only my soul could reveal 

That it is torn, ripped, confused, drowning 

Staying afloat just because it has to.

If only my body could talk 

My mind would share its burden with a companion 

But anxiety is like:

 a snake on my body 

It comes, it bites, it poisons 

Then it suddenly disappears,

Leaving behind 

A figure so serene, so peaceful

An exclamation: What a relief! 

Nights and days, cycles of seasons 

All has become timelessness

Thoughts of overwhelming sadness 

Possess my body. 

Without reason, without asking for permission 

And I don’t understand 

Why me? Why now? Why forever?

Sometimess I feel empty 

Like a programmed machine without emotions 

They say pills might kill the love hormone

I don’t even remember the last time 

I felt alive, excited, in love, high with passion. 

I forgot when I screamed of pleasure 

My body is numb

I am jaded, in desperate need of attention.

I am lonely, I just want to sleep. 

I want to detach from everything. 

I want comfort, I want to feel again

Like I am alive.

All these contradictory thoughts 

Are fighting a war.

-To the death, they say! 

The stimuli in my brain 

Have taken up swords 

Against each other. 

And all I feel is pain, physical pain 

My body is agitated,

My heart is running down the street

I am hot and cold and fearful 

A poision like liquid travels fast 

From my hands to my head. 

I feel it in my veins, 

Like red chilli mixed with arsenic and hot alcohol. 

I feel I am gonna lose it, 

Become unconscious soon

Die without even saluting death. 

But still, 

When anxiety comes I shake off and tell myself: 

Oh, another one…it will pass. 

Then anger comes..an uncontrollable force 

Anger at the world, I feel murderous

I could plant a bomb and end humanity

In that very instant without any guilt 

Then I hate myself, for being so weak 

For succumbing to this rush of negative feelings and thoughts 

For the way I am wired, for my unbalanced hormones 

Look at me now and tell me that: 

‘Positive thinking helps a lot’

‘Other people have it hard too’

‘You will get over this’

‘We all get bad days’

‘Try to watch cartoons’

Or ‘smoke weed’ 

And I get it, people say generic things when you have a problem. 

They give advice and want to help. 

It is called empathy or so they say.

But how can you?

When I am in a constant torment, 

Because of the endless stream of ideas,

That I would rather close my eyes 

And live in my dreams 

But it doesn’t help!

They are nightmares 

So how can you? 

Serve me this bullshit on a golden plate? 

From the outside it seems like a fantasmagoric illness, a made-up ailment 

For people who complain a lot, who want to blame their unhappiness on something

And even I ask myself 

Why am I not strong enough?

Isn’t happiness my own responsability?

They say it is to be found inside?

Then why does an endless fresh stream of exhaustion and suffering 

Flood my every cell?

When I only look for my share 

Of satisfaction.

But then I realize, fuck…

Something’s wrong.

People are serving me self-help advice 

They say they feel me, 

they are here for me 

Words are empty,  

Silence more meaningful. 

A hug, a kiss, a stroke of hair 

And delving deep into my pain.

People think: (my friends, my mother, my partner, the rest of the world) 

That I should close the door to raw anger 

To disconcerting anxiety, to the subtle depression

That I should not think too much 

That I should change the topic of discussion.

This exhausts me, leaves me empty 

A body without a soul. 

Someone who sometimes thinks:

Can I just get intravenous nutrition in bed today? 

Adult diapers and from time to time 

Some human touch. 

I want to be reassured I am still breathing. 

So I decide not to barricade myself inside 

A fabricated postive energy, happy thoughts bubble 

I let my pain inundate me 

And tell myself the world is fucked up 

So if you want to help 

Please suffer with me 

Complain and swear,

Ask questions about the purpose of it all 

Be confused, cry, struggle 

Open up just one eye when the alarm rings

Decide to linger in bed today 

To be nostalgic, 

To experience movies vicariously 

To not go out into the world 

To not fulfill your role as an adult 

To not take seriously your attributions

Your responsabilities 

To still be a kid

Without depression.