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Sometimes, if yer lucky, your resume just writes itself......

"My Resume"
by Wendy N. Clark
fictional account of pragmatic humanist trying to revise a resume and getting angry....
"From now on we are all responsible. And accomplices."
Elsie WieselWendy N. Clark
wch@denied.hmpf

Objective:
My objective to obtain the position at the company for which I am sending you my resume. My intent is to give you – in objective terms (keywords) why I match your criteria and likely want to be an employee (i.e., contract, temp, permanent, temp-to-hire, freelance, etc.) for the position at your organization which I am sending you my resume as you requested.

As I have been researching in my four-ish month quest for a good job, the search starts here (unless you have already determined that I am not the one… based on our ratio of “k2k”© : keywords to keywords search mentality. It’s like a dating service DMBMS and a QTFU match? Any reason to read on? K2k is my latest soon to be famous acronym in yet another bad investment of time. My other objective …
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Writing Exercise #117

Mas o Menos by w. clark

I had made an important decision that drizzly December lunch our, a choice that might have been a major turning point, or one that made me realize I couldn’t trust myself, control molecular mutations that were implanted in my DNA, but were fertilized by the irony of life and made me older, smarter, and a riddle unto my own psyche.
I left the office promptly at 11:45 am and it took the usual 3 minutes to get from my desk to the elevator to the front door and down the dozen stairs to the front green and I swiftly broke right up Maroon Hill two blocks west, slushing hurriedly up to the garden gates, and then made haste past the goat petting zoo.
Temporary images whirled past me as I lost more seconds of my hour and tore down to the Landing, the hillside slanted toward sea level and my spine started to burn as my speed increased, the spring humidity filling my lungs with heavy water and my terror elevated to a state of shocking horror for that which broke so many on…
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Existential Laundry Evening

Now that I have decided not to participate in the mischief which bounces beneath me and breathes down my back, the lucky day bursts its bountiful fountains of the purest, warmest light within and around me; my love of life and the depth of my own fragile yet enormous temple of true faith is surrounded in that song of the magnificence of being; the most transcendent revolution of self becomes real.
Now that I have decided to burn the barriers of self-conscious self-doubt and self-betrayal, I decide to run into the living room wall as fast as I can and with full knowledge of the eight feet I have to build momentum. And although the pain is quite a bit more intolerable than I would have expected, not only because I thought a small jaunt of machosim might just fix or trick my mischeivious mind redirect the synapses to bigger and better ailments, my expectations are always higher than I could ever reach, and if there was a beanstalk and I caught sight of it, hell yes, I would be stacking ph…
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