How to get a job like mine

Writer Kurt Vonnegut used to have this speech entitled, “How to Get a Job Like Mine.” In it, he told you nothing of the sort. Instead with his worn-down, rustic voice that sounded like a radiator, he pursued topics with the consistency of a schizophrenic police dog. Everything he discussed could give a high if spoken correctly and one could laugh about it in the end.

A typical talk went like this: Nuclear holocaust. Squirrels. Art. LGBTQ concerns. Farts.

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I’m in quite an opposite situation, however. I have the opportunity to write anything I like here as the Opinions Editor, and instead of a tangential concerns or weighing the seriousness of daily flatulence, I feel like telling you exactly how it is.

Looky here. You want to be an Opinions Editor? Well, it isn’t too hard as this article, and all else written, serves as evidence. You simply have to understand the products of ozonolysis and react them with chlorofluorocarbons.

Then you need to pee your pants in grade five. If not, or if you’re too embarassed of the squishy-squish sound from your polyester pants, no business.

From there, you must have a birthday party at Lazermania. You have to take it way too seriously. It’s the environment, you tell everyone. It makes you competitive.

Things happen. Other things happen too. And you grow and change and write and change that writing too. It grows all the same.

This is what Opinions Editors do. They talk about one thing or another, and they tell you that this is lack of specificity is intentional. For when getting a job like mine, you must first understand what it means to be you. Otherwise, there will be no mine. Everything may read like this – a little bit nonsense and a little bit sense all the same.

What I’m getting at is that if you’re tangential, be tangential. If you make no sense, make no sense. At no point should you dress up and waltz around in a ballroom if you want to tap dance.

I don’t know how to tap dance. In fact, I barely know how to dance at all. I took four years of ballet. It didn’t help me much. I jut around like a Tetris piece trying to fit into a tight spot. Most of the times, the blocks just pile up around me.

But that’s okay. Why? Because I know this, and I’m happy with it. I hope that the next Opinions Editor, whomever they may be and whomever they may think they are, is just as happy.

For after writing some 30 plus articles this term, I realize this is the only opinion that is worth a damn.