I feel like dying.

Not that it’s that easy to die just because one’s mind is in perpetual turmoil over all matters financial and the impending (now seemingly doom-and-gloom laden) future. I swear, I have an inner Virgo (or Capricorn, or Cancer) in here somewhere, one would think I am graduating tomorrow and have been asleep under a coconut shell for the past three years.

But I haven’t been, yet, I am freaking out of my mind. The reason behind my premature and possibly completely blown-out-of-proportion reactions?

I have just discovered (yes, maybe I have been under said coconut shell in hibernation for too long) that fresh graduates in my field (and perhaps, many others) is a measly RM1,500.

That’s probably the equivalent of what a toilet cleaner earns in a developed country, and better still, the amount my boyfriend earns in a week. Upon conversion, of course. And speaking of currency conversion, what is up with the skyrocketing Ringgit-Australian Dollar exchange rates?! It used to be around 2.7, now it’s 3.04!

Madness.

My forehead has been creased with worry lines for the past two hours, and I feel the beginnings of a splitting migrane forming around my grey matter, compressing it and cutting off my air supply.

I am also seriously considering selling my soul to the Dark Side–-PR, Advertising and Marketing. *cue grating Psycho-esque slasher music* Or, if I am really desperate, banking and finance.

OK, shaddap ya. I happen to have the relevant (albeit uber-basic) qualifications, and can count with the invaluable assistance of a calculator. What I do not have, however, is the passion.

I want to travel. Write. Live. Love. I want to teach, to touch lives, to bring smiles to faces, to inspire others. Problem is, I cannot do any of this without money.

Work overseas? Of course, it is naturally something I have considered, especially with Tim being in Australia. However, does anyone realise how expensive work visas are? They run into the thousands of dollars, and honey, I just don’t have that kinda cash.

Thus, I need cash to make cash, and while I desperately and totally want to work in the media, specifically, writing, I am almost fevered enough by the pursuit of money to huff, ‘fuck it!’ and schlep over into some dull, terrible, stifling, contained work environment that would probably seriously dampen my spirits and kill whatever passion I had left in life.

I cannot work 9-5 jobs. I cannot. I’d die, seriously. I am a very restless person, I get bored so easily and I need constant change and challenges, and I need to meet people. I need my random inane conversations, and to be able to express myself and to do interesting stuff, not process papers and have the highlight of my day being a congregation at the office water cooler.

I’d sooner go into PR. Heh.

Why is it so terrible, the conditions of fresh graduates in this country? I mean I understand some are not up to par la, those ones deserve to work hard. But fuck me sideways, I’ve studied my ass off in uni (I have a 77% average over 5 semesters! Gaaaaaah! That’s not easy OK let me tell you!), researched and typed and edited till I was on my deathbed, sat through classes that literally bored me to tears…I DESERVE THE MONEY.

*stalks around with mad crazed look in eyes*

Oh God, I’ve lost it. I’ve succumbed to the evil influence of the Money Monster. Listen to me, ranting and raving like a looney tune.

But seriously though, no wonder so many people are upping and leaving for greener pastures. It’s almost stupid to stay, if you look at purely monetary reasons. Reasons of sentimentality, family, patriotism and that are a little more ambiguous, and I shall decline to comment on those areas. Simply because my brain is worn out from fretting and fussing over visas and job applications and the mounting frustration that NOBODY. IN. MY. INDUSTRY. IS. HIRING.

At least not online. I know for many media companies vacancies are applied for at random. (and paying v.poorly). SIGH!

Any big media moguls out there, hire me.

*lifts arms plaintively and looks up with big, moist, pleading eyes*

***

Good God I need comfort food in the worst possible way right now.