I’m supposed to be soul searching but I can’t find my soul.

 

In my clichéd 20-something “finding myself” phase, I’ve found that I’m poorly suited to most activities one typically engages in in order to find myself.

 

I’ve found that I’m far too poor for overseas travel. I’m also not willing to commit to a new course of study. I’m also still a little bit too selfish to donate my time to volunteer organisations. My attention span has been rotted by memes to a point where I can’t sit and read a pretentiously-long book. I’m not really keen on smoking a bunch of weed because I feel like I have the mental predisposition to experience some drug-induced life-fucking effects – I’m already so paranoid that if I do something that sounds like a fart, I make the noise again when I’m by myself because I can never be too sure if someone’s watching me.

 

The only way I conform to the stereotype is by my unhygienically-long hair, shaky job prospects and the unfounded notion that I will one day be some spectacular person who makes bank, has a country house with multiple porch swings and is casually friends with the likes of that squinty-eyed guy who was in that movie with Zac Effron and had a re-occurring guest role on Modern Family.

 

I know exactly what I’d do with my down time after reaching the nervous-fart-inducing heights of my career, but not the faintest idea of what I’d do when I went to work. I’ve spoken about this before, and no doubt I’ll rehash this idea again and again to make it seem like new content, but I really don’t know what activity I should be doing in order to generate personal profits. But I know that I want a desk made out of upcycled wood, a steady supply of fresh flowers and a decorative way to store my snack carrots at my fancy, fancy office.

 

So with no goals and a lack of the will/means to engage in traditional methods of “finding myself”, I’ve decided to take on the poor man’s route: online quizzes.

 

This particular quiz was done in order to tell me whether I was a Type A or a Type B personality. But all it did was waste about ten minutes of my time and prompt me to pay for a detailed analysis of myself based on my questionnaire. Unfortunately for this survey company’s business model, the intensity of my self-obsession is only outshone by my stinginess.

 

There were a lot of questions. Some of them got me like the one that asked how I felt after not being able to complete everything on my to-do list. A alluded to feelings of immense failure and a general stink-eye towards both myself and life. B was some wishy-washy bullshit about feeling good about focusing on the stuff I HAD achieved on the to-do list. C was straight up blasphemy – “I never keep to-do lists”. Obviously I answered A.

 

Other questions were less inline with my thinking. There was one about sports which I could tell what they were getting at, but the question-writers clearly underestimated the powers of vanity and laziness. It asked me that, when playing sport, if I A) make sure I’m the star player B) try to be the best C) may try to win, but my goal is simply to have fun or D) just have fun. I didn’t know what to answer here. Because I’m not playing sport to be a winner or to enjoy myself. If I’m getting my arse up off the couch it’s for one thing and one thing only – to have a ripped rig. I mean, the secondary affects on my mental health and physical health are important (I do turn into a real arse-pimple grumble-bum if I haven’t been for a run in a week). The question didn’t even have my other reasons for playing sport such as: desperate need for social inclusion, fear of missing out, getting free merch and the possibility of winning a metre of pizza (once my social touch team managed this feat, and I did absolutely nothing to contribute).

 

The questionnaire was full of predictable questions which you could already tell were geared towards confirming or denying your Type A personality. They were all the kind of personality traits the female lead character typically personifies in a romantic comedy before they find love/realise they don’t want to die alone and settle for some schmuck by changing who they are. And I have to be honest, I did answer “strongly agree” or “somewhat agree” with most of the uptight, bull-busting statements on the test. But there were a few glaring anomalies: namely the one about eating on the run.

 

Focused, goal-driven people typically don’t have time to eat proper meals because they’re too busy yelling into their headsets and pressing buttons on their Blackberries. But I sure as shit am not. Because breakfast is important. And you know what? Those breakfast poppers taste like whiteout. And those people who would rather get 15 minutes of sleep than eat are fuckwits. Breakfast isn’t just a timeslot for radio shows. It’s breaking the fast to endured while sleeping. It’s fuelling your brain and body for the day ahead. You don’t ignore that. And these idiots who brag about not having breakfast in the morning before work because they are so busy/tired/time poor/just can’t eat in the morning are wankers. You think you’re cool because you keep oversleeping, can’t get out of bed on time and have to eat a piece of white toast with jam in the car on the way to work? Well you’re not. You’re a dingbat. Maybe you should just stop trying to live like a meme, quit watching Netflix until the early hours and stop drinking wine alone and you’d sleep alight. You don’t disrespect breakfast. You sit down, pick up a knife and fork and eat your freaking eggs.

 

It’s about here when I realised that perhaps I’m a special type of person. I’m a Type A personality with a tendency to rant and alienate people with my unnecessarily strong opinions about trivial matters.

 

Perhaps this is why I’m currently looking for a job…