Job Hunt

So, i decided to finally start a job hunt today.
I've kinda been looking into jobs for a couple months now, but didn't really put any effort into it.
I'm currently typing up my resume, and i realized i have practically NO marketable skills.
I'm gonna need to fudge this resume hard.

Other than that, there's really nothing new and exciting going on in my life.  I figure i need a little more "beefy" content to put here.

Does anyone have any suggestions as to what you'd like to see me blog about?  Or something you'd like to see?

Maybe i'll just document my search for a job.
Anywho, comments and suggestions are, as always greatly appreciated.

School

First day of the victory lap.

Kinda starting to regret not going to college or uni.

Ugh.

Also, technimeow.

Dogscape part the second

free-ranging dogs are becoming rarer and rarer to see now, and those i do see seem as lost, as passive as i am. they too
 graze on the dogplants, step carefully over the undulating, bleeding dogfloor, dimly acknowledge myself and one another.
 in the distant sky, and on the far horizon, i sometimes see massive forms sail or crawl or undulate, and i wonder if in
this new world normal, singular, ambulatory dogs have become as obsolete as i am

i dug down once. down beneath the dogs. beneath the hair and the ears and the barking. it was hard, and took a lot of
planning - i had to destroy one of the dogtrees with my hands, rip out the twisted, yards-long communal spines that served
them as branches and lash them together with tendons and skin. but soon i had tools - pitchforks, spears, shovels. i picked
a spot where the dogfloor seemed shallower and set to work.

the blood started spurting when my spear first broke the surface, and didn't stop for hours and hours and hours. i was
drenched in gore and viscera, covered in flecks of bone and meat and brain. but i learned to ignore the sickening
squelching sounds, ward off the smell, and just kept going deeper and deeper, spearing and levering out dogs of stranger
 and stranger size and build, dogs with two heads, dogs with human hands, dogs with writhing tentacles where their back
legs should be

eventually i came to the end of the dogs. or perhaps the beginning of whatever lies beyond dogs. an expanse of
multicolored, patchwork fur that extended as far as i could dig in any direction. i could pierce it with great difficulty
 but it barely bled, and try as i might i could only barely peel the skin away, revealing a layer of striated greyish
 muscle beneath. it started to tremble as i watched it, shaking the very dogmatter around me, and i realized that the
dogscape was beginning to regenerate itself, close in over me, seal me in - so i fled, climbing back up into the light

Dogscape

This is my first blog post on my new blog.
I'll basically use this to talk about whatever it is i feel like.

Today i'm gonna share a short story with you all, titled "Dogscape".

i awaken. i don't know it at the moment, but this day marks my fourth straight year of existing in the dogscape.
i push myself up from the carpet of writhing, twitching dogflesh beneath me and rise to my feet,
stretching in the morning sun. it took me a while to learn to balance on the layer of solid dogs that now blankets every
inch of solid ground, but nowadays i can walk and run as easily and as fast as i ever did on soil or concrete.
perhaps faster.

this was a city once, i think, though which one i can't remember. i only owe my guess to the massive pillars of dog
s jutting into the sky, perhaps ancient buildings now completely filled and overgrown by canine biomatter. i climbed one
once, sinking my fingers and toes deep into the dogwall to gain purchase, and after hours and hours of climbing was
 rewarded with an incredible vista - fur and eyes, panting tongues and wagging tails, hugging the contours of the
once-barren land and stretching in a single aeomebic mass farther than the eye can see.


now i don't do that, though. now i merely go about my day. i hike to the Gardens, where the dogplants sprout up in
bizarre shapes from the floor of the dogscape, and reach up to pluck the fetal puppyfruits right off the wagging,
energetic branches. i bite into the succulent flesh, the juices dribbling down my chin and dripping down to be reabsorbed
by the groundflesh, and revel in the savory taste. i'm thirsty, so i range until i find one of the Mothermounds, and there
i suckle at a teatpatch until i've had my fill of milk. sometimes i see other humans around me, as well-adapted to the
dogscape as i am, but i barely acknowledge them, say nothing. what, after all, is there to say? the world is different
now - what meaning would our old words have?


Thats the first half.
I'll post the rest on a later date.