I decided to write thank you notes to the various objects that are helping me get through unemployment. This edition is dedicated to Photo Frame.
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Dear Photo Frame,
In a fit of rage, I ate seven candy bars. Actually, I suppose that was a fit of gluttony. But when I realized I had gained 12 pounds from eating seven candy bars (bad metabolism), I went into a fit of rage, and decided to throw away half of the things I owned. Then I realized that would require leaving the building, so I ate another five candy bars while deciding what to do. Finally, I settled on the closet. After I gathered my sketchbooks, diplomas, thesis, and awards, I dumped them into a box labeled “WTF” and put them in the far corner of the closet. That’s when I found you, Photo Frame.
A long long time ago (the 90s), you, Photo Frame, were once used to showcase pictures of boring people doing boring things. 1999 was a very boring year for me, indeed. I thus have one of you showing pictures of me eating ice cream, standing by a car, hugging a friend whose name I can’t remember, standing at a tourist attraction, and waving. Call it inspiration, call it unemployment’s influence over my brain, but I decided that you, Photo Frame, could provide my ticket to unfulfilling job freedom!
After being under the influence of unemployment for a few months, one’s brain synapses produce fewer reactions. In other words, your brain turns to poo. As such, I decided that instead of writing cover letters to jobs I want, I would use you, Photo Frame, to chronicle my journey through the depths of no-job land. Four hours later, you contained pictures of me cooking my CV in Microwave, walking on to the 6 train with Gavel, rapping French song lyrics with Hoodie, and waving. Surely, this would convince any HR rep that by hiring me, they were not only acquiring a qualified candidate, but saving the psych ward thousands of dollars on treatment. So, I marched down the street to the Post Office, and sent you, Photo Frame, to my dream job!
Sadly, Photo Frame, I found you in my mailbox yesterday with the following message, “Dear Ms. Kumar, We kindly acknowledge your application, but regret to inform you that we are pursuing candidates who more closely fit our requirements of sanity. Please stop sending us pictures of yourself. And have a shower.”
Eight candy bars and three episodes of “Lost” later, and I figured out my next plan for you, Photo Frame! My inspiration came from that Indian guy who plays an Iraqi who mysteriously can’t speak Arabic, and spends all of his time making radios that don’t work. I could make a radio that doesn’t work! But that would be completely worthless. So I settled on sticking my camera in you, Photo Frame, and sending you instead of a cover letter to HR rep. They told me to stop sending pictures of myself. They never said don’t spy on us!
This posed a bit of a problem, Photo Frame. Much like the Indian Iraqi guy, I possess no acting talent, nor the ability to successfully rewire electronics. Instead, I turned the camera on video, pressed play, and glued the camera into your middle top eye. Unfortunately, when I bought the camera, I decided that a 52 MB card would be enough, and the memory ran out before I finished eating my candy bar. I know you were really excited to help me get out of the influence of unemployment, but there is really only one place left for you to go. I hope you like your new home in “WTF” box, Photo Frame.
It smells like this sucks and candy,
Mala
