The best you can is good enough...

...but not really.

I've just gotten my rejection call for the Student Enrichment Coordinator position and I'm feeling more confused about my future than ever.

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Eye of the Tiger

In less than an hour, I'm headed to Wilmington, DE for a mandatory work sample for a job that I applied for. I'm terrified and stoked all at the same time.

As I age, I feel like I understand the weight of situations more than I used to. I've felt like my life was at a stand still for several months now. This is my shot. I have already received a rejection letter for the first job I applied for, but this one suits me better and pays better. I. Want. This. Job. I would melee for this job.

I've got the Eye of the Tiger. No  one cares about disadvantaged and multicultural students than I do today. I'm going to rock their fucking socks off. Watch out, bitches.

I got my feet on the ground and I don't go to sleep to dream...

...but I do anyway. The dreams I remember are almost always confusing, scary, or extremely odd, but what I dreamt the night before last is so unusual, I'm pretty sure I'm never forget it.

The details are so hazy now (I waited too long to recount the dream to someone), but what I remember is this:

There was a man in a pastel shirt and striped tie. He looked to be mid 50's. I knew instantly that he was supposed to be my Uncle Bert, who, by the way, has been dead for a few years now. The strange part is that he didn't look like Bert. He looked more like my other Uncle, Chris, who has been dead since 1991. Had they not died, they would be 56 and 52, respectively. I approached the man and said, "I thought you were dead." He replied something like, "I am, but I'm just going to hang around for a while," and then we spent some time walking... I don't know where we were, but there was grass and sun and it was all very comforting. I don't remember what was said or what else was done.

I can't say that I think I can communicate with the dead, but I can say that this dream was comforting during a time when I really need it. Freaky dream, huh?

Mish/Mash

This post will be fragmented and all over the place. I'm just giving fair warning.

I turned in my application for the new job I wanted today, and on my way into the HR office, I saw a new posting for an even better one that pays even more and is more suited to my skills! When it rains, it pours, I guess. Back to the app!

Jimmy and I spent $60 on Lego yesterday. I'll have my eye on the mail until they arrive. I regret nothing.

I have never seen The Godfather.

Today was the first day that I felt the change in seasons really take hold. Instead of exiting the main building of Delaware Tech to find groups of lingerers and loiterers, loud music blasting from open windows, and the occasional outdoor study group, I went outside on my lunch break today and found near silence. The trees rustled lazily every now and then and a few cars glided past (windows up), but otherwise there was nothing. All the life has gone underground in Dover, Delaware.

For months, I have been thinking more and more often that the office I work in is haunted. I kept catching glimpses of something out of the corner of my eye. There were noises. Today, I found out that the office is, in fact haunted... by little beige mice.

Halloween approaches and for the first time in several years, I don't need a costume... what a relief!

I've been thinking of Emily Schorr a lot lately... and I think it's made me a kinder, more patient individual. And I'm thankful for that.

Poor Girl, Sell Thyself

I'd like to start off by noting that I have no plans to enter the seedy underworld of prostitution. I'm just applying for a job.

I want to be the Coordinator of Instructional Support Services at another campus of the college I work for now. Well, at least I think I do. The pay is significantly better. I would get to keep my awesome benefits. I'd be moving out of the finance sector and into instruction. I'd be working much closer to the University of Delaware, where I'd like to pursue graduate studies. I'd be in charge of the Dean of Instruction's support staff. All of that sounds pretty good (except that I'd be commuting an hour each way).

But as I sit down to complete my first job application in two years, the task of selling myself seems daunting. Having spent the last two years as a working adult (ha!), I feel like I have a better understanding than ever before of what an employer desires. My understanding of how to present myself as what an employer wants is another story all together. How do I sell myself?

I can think of a million reasons that I'm awesome(ly humble): I'm super good at Chinese checkers, my fingernails grow really fast, I make killer fondue, and I have excellent taste in music. But I have a hunch that Suzie in HR is not interested in any of those things. She wants to know what kind of software I can use, how many years I've worked in an office environment, and where I went to college. And those things are not a problem. My problem is how to answer those questions in such a way that if Bizarro World Amy applied for the very same job, I would still look like a better candidate.

I'm not alone in this adventure. My parents have given me some good guidance and one coworker in particular has been very encouraging, but I still can't shake the feeling that I'm just like everyone else. In the working world, I'm just an inexperienced 20-something with high hopes and cheap business attire. I have to find a way to synthesize my actual self with my work self.

I'm not all doom and gloom about this or anything--I'm excited about the opportunity to get into something new. I guess I'm just worried about getting my hopes up. Failure and disappointment have always been huge struggles for me. I guess I should take this chance to face each head on, but the thought of not being good enough or smart enough makes my stomach churn. Suggestions not solicited, but welcome. I have until Monday, October 12 to complete the application.

Sucks to my assmar.

Have you ever thought there might be a chance that you were about to die? Like immediately?

Unfortunately, I have. Probably about a hundred times. Most recently, today.

I had very severe asthma when I was a child. It was a nightmare that I had all but forgotten. This week, though, I was reminded what it's like to be suffocated by my own body.

I apparently have bronchitis that has acted as a trigger for my asthma. I've been dealing with it since Monday, using my inhaler way too often and drinking caffeine laden products like it's my job (caffeine helps to dilate swollen bronchial tubes), while still gasping through the work day. Today, though, I reached the breaking point. There's this moment you get where you start to think that if relief doesn't come immediately, you may just not have enough air to survive. It's terrifying. It often makes me cry, which only makes things worse. Luckily, Jimmy and I both had the day off, so he whisked me off to the high class ER, where I was treated to steroids, antibiotics, and a brand new nebulizer! I'm feeling better now, although all of the drugs have made me antsy and jittery. But this is not the point.

The point is that these moments are the closest I've ever had to dying. And it scares me to think that (depending on my mode of demise) my last moments as a living being could be filled with such discomfort and terror, when ideally, they'd be characterized by clarity and a profound appreciation of the beauty of this world. I've never been the type of person to be really afraid of dying, but sweet baby Jesus, when I think of all of the painful ways to go, why wouldn't you be? I was too young to remember any of my legitimate near death experiences, but even diet dying makes me hope that what I do with my life will soothe the pain and panic when the time comes. I feel motivated to start now.

 

Playing House

In light of my recent experience as a bridesmaid, my wedding fever has had more of a grip on me than ever. And I feel the tension created by the 'fever's' call to regimented, responsible adulthood and the constant feeling that I'm still a child.

I have grown in so many ways in the last several years. I have begun to do so many new things that are indicators that I'm a grown up now. I pay my bills. I am in two committed relationships-one with my full-time job-and the other with a man who feels the same way I do about everything except the stuff it's okay to argue about. I scrub the tub, but not as often as I'd like. I complain about the price of a gallon of milk. I stand up straight and I disapprove when students wear their sunglasses and hats inside the building. I wonder how my IRA is doing. I keep dilligent track of the sick and annual leave I have earned from work. I wear my glasses more to preserve my eye health. You would think that I have this adult thing under control.

But there are so many parts of the less mature me that linger. I am reminded so often that I am not quite there yet. I'm still only an adult-in-training. I do laundry at my parents' house and sometimes raid their refrigerator when I do. I never get out of bed on time. Fart jokes are still hilarious. All of my underwear are outrageous colors. People ask me everyday if I'm a student at the community college. I don't like to wear panty hose to work. When I'm sick, I call my Mommy. I would consider most of my coworkers "old". I only check the mail once per week. And mostly just for the circular ads. I watch cartoons. My grandmother sends me little cards with animals on them and sometimes they have checks inside. I leave the ironing board out because I'm too lazy to put it away. Sometimes I'm very, very selfish.

So how do you know? How do you know if you're an adult? How do you know that you're ready to take a big, adult step like getting married? Or moving away on your own? How do you know you're not just playing house?