It had dawned on me the other day that my life has been a lie. Well, not so much a lie as it is an egregiously detailed and complicated paper-thin construct of sheer pretentiousness and imagined depth and dimensions. It's as if I found out that I was actually a robot all along, and all my emotions, memories, and experiences were simply programmed into me. This, my friends, is what they call, the moment of truth.
People like to think that they're sophisticated, deep, and unique but the truth of the matter is, we're closer to being cardboard cutouts than we are to such great literary characters like Blondie or Jules Winnfield. We have to shed our masks and see ourselves as we really are. Nobodies. You have to ask yourself, why does your existence matter? Why should we care about you? This is the fundamental question that most people fail to ask themselves. The number of cagey, antsy, and clueless people out there is staggering, there's no shortage of dummies in this world. Even if we're paper thin constructions, at the very least, we can be useful paper thin constructions. Is a robot still not valued by his contribution to society, regardless of whatever prattling memories were inserted into his memory banks?
The basic goal of every college student after graduating is either to a: get a job or b: get into school. I tend to think of it as a: start your life or b: stay in school. There's something oddly comfortable about being sheltered by the educational system. Classes are orderly, and it gives clear objectives to be completed, but getting a job? Being expected to be an active contributing member of society? That's scary! This is where most people flounder. What separates your wafer thin ass from the hundreds of thousands of other similarly vanilla colored thin wafers? At first glance, you all look thin, fragile, and simply put, the same.
College graduates have been deluded into thinking that more is better. As if increasing the thickness of your wafer can actually make you stand out among the throngs. It's not about doing more than the other guy, it's about being different. Nobody cares if you got substance if they don't give you a glance to begin with. The key to solving this problem? Coloring. You have to make yourself a different color. Everybody packs their resume in beige. Don't be a follower and commit that cardinal sin of conforming to standards. Screw the standard resume format, put the things you find valuable about yourself on that piece of paper, not what you think employers might find valuable. The difference between graduate a and graduate b is all a difference in perception and branding. A resume is not the be-all end-all summary of your available skills and capabilities, take the initiative to brand yourself as something more than your accomplishments. I want to know your ambition, I want to know how you're going to change the people around you, how you can fucking change the world boy-o.
This world has got enough automatons. We need real robots. The rogue kind, the kind that gets shit done. I'm talking terminator, not weaksauce i-robots. You have to ask yourself: what do I offer? If you can find that answer, and emphasize it in every meeting, and in every interview that you do, then you're well on your way to killing John Connor.
