Alarm goes off at 8am. Hand to snooze button. Alarm goes off again at 8:10. Reach for phone. Turn off alarm. Call office and apologetically cancel interview. Sleep.
After waking up and drinking day old water and flipping on Venture Brothers, I decide to call back the office and check on the status of my application and interview. "Well, we have some people who are ready for second interviews, so if none of those work out, we'll call you."
I flipped Venture Brothers back on and yawned. This wasn't the job I wanted. The two good things about this job were (a) the organizations status as a non-profit and (b) the proximity to the gym, which would hopefully get me there more often. I didn't really want the job. I wouldn't want to stay at the job. I even know someone else who told me she'd probably be getting the job and she probably needs it and deserves it more than I do. So, oh well.
I still haven't heard from the "grown up" job. What I learned last time was that no news is bad news. I haven't bothered calling yet to ask about it.
It's all sort of a relief in some way. Fickle me, commitment-phobic me, I fear taking a job that means that I'm sticking around.
I also hate the idea of working a job that doesn't look likely to provide upward mobility. I also hate the idea of working in an office with someone whose opinion of me is questionable. I also hate the idea of working a job that seems utterly uninteresting.
That's what politics has. Excitement. Things are always dynamic. Law has more an element of this too. There are always problems to solve. Challenges to face. It's a huge frustration that my degree seems to leave me with such disappointing options. Someone out there has got to take a chance on me.
While I may not be wallowing in success in the professional world, I have done pretty well in the world of drink mixing and beer pouring. Between the Moustache Party and St. Patrick's Day, I doubled the amount of money in my bank account (which is still not all that much) and left some cash in my pocket. Looks like I get to pay some bills this month! Lucky me?
Speaking of bill paying, I think I mentioned how happy I was to leave Planned Parenthood with my wallet no lighter. Did I also mention that my gynecologist refused to say the word VAGINA? Even as she poked and prodded around my vagina, she insisted on calling it my "bottom." It's enough to make a girl uneasy. Don't you want your doctor using the proper scientific terminology? It's like going under the knife and having your doctor talking about your brain as your noodle. "Now, I'm just going to make an incision right here on yer' noodle - don't wiggle!" Oh dear. Luckily it was just a routine checkup and there was nothing difficult to deal with. Just your regular old, "congratulations, you are just fine!"
Well, I guess I'm off to pay some bills and then to grab my tablet PC to post some comics! Excited?