Compromise

Much to the frustration of my family, I've never been big on compromise. My father particularly, was often extremely frustrated by my inability to meet him, or anybody else half-way. Then again, I can't say that he was ever big on it himself. In fact, now that I think about it- no one in my family is particularly good at compromising, except maybe Travis (the baby of the family). Tyler was the worst. If he didn't feel like doing something, there was nothing in the world that could convince him. I remember being furious with him in high school because we had planned to go see a movie together, but when the day finally came, Tyler was content sitting in front of the TV and decided not to go. I was so angry with him, but try as I might, nothing would coax him from his place on the couch.

Lately I've been contemplating my inability to comprimise myself and whether or not it's really just another way of shooting myself in the foot. I've been back in Montreal dangerously close to two months now and still find myself frustratingly unemployed. Fred is urging me to cave and find myself a shitty call center job. I've considered it- for the time being, but the thought of returning to that environment literally brings tears to my eyes. I don't know how anyone does it. The eight or so months I spent working at Affina were the most miserable of my working life. I just can't do that again. I've begun sending out résumés for receptionist positions, which I'm hoping might hold me over until the new school year starts and I can be assured a teaching position. Despite the fact that both my boyfriend and my bank account are threatening (in not so many words) to stop speaking to me, I really don't feel I can bend on this issue. I'd sooner go back to Korea. Unfortunately, the question of Asia is complicated by Fred's imminent kidney/pancreas transplant. Obviously I want to be here when it happens, and though I would like to say I'll be on the first plane home, reality is that it still may take a few days to get everything organized. The transplant could happen tomorrow or a year from now. We have no idea. So my mother's looming Calgary question is still demanding answers. Not that I'd have necessarily better prospects there, just that the crappy job I'm forced to take will pay much better there than it will here. Or perhaps I can learn to hold a hammer and call myself a construction worker. I'm sure they're doing well in Calgary at the moment. Anyone with jobs to offer-- you know where to find me.