Brick Wall

I have hit a wall.

And not a good wall. Not one where I’ve made progress, but now feel blocked. I would have a good attitude about that because at least some progress had been made.

Nope. I hit the wall that was about three feet from the starting line.

This metaphorical wall has to do with working out.

I don’t know what’s going on.

I had been making some progress with the C25K program during the semester, but then the last month happened and I nearly had a meltdown so any and all forms of exercise went out the window.

Hard to get to the gym when you are spending 12-18 hours a day in your office.

Yeah…we are going to hope that never happens again.

So I wanted to get started again this summer. I would have free time and could get into a schedule.

But then these every. single. day. headaches started and I was miserable.

Eventually, I made myself go anyways. I was hoping exercise would help.

And maybe it would have, except I can’t seem to do a damn thing.

Running for a minute feels like the hardest thing on the planet. Lifting weights isn’t very productive because I don’t know how to do much other than a couple arm things and the people that work in our weight room are either super bitchy girls that are just there to flirt or guys who think there’s no point helping me since I’m not trying to bench 100+ pounds.

The personal training sessions are OUTRAGEOUS and they are will students. While I understand this is the field they are going into, most of them are body builders that can eat 3 large pizzas and not gain an ounce. Maybe that’s not how they act, but they intimidate the shit out of me. I’ve also seen a few of them working with other people, and I’ve seen them make fun of their client to their friends when the client isn’t looking.

Sorry, not paying the money to feel even worse about myself.

I’m just frustrated. I’m not in a good place with it all.

I’m mad because I got myself to this point, and I’m mad because I can’t seem to do a damn thing about it.

I;m trying to seriously watch what I eat,but Mr. A (unknowingly) is sabotaging me.

See, Mr. A has gotten into power lifting/body building. (I know. How the HELL did the two of us end up together?! I ask this all the time…)

The boy HAS to eat 5000 calories a day in order to continue making gains. And he’s so serious about all of this that he is in the gym every day, counting out how much protein to make sure het gets enough.

But he can eat whatever he wants as long as he gets enough protein.

Also, he eats like 6 meals a day.

And not small meals. Normal people sized meals, 6 times a day.

Please tell me how that’s supposed to help me who is cutting down on stuff and can’t eat two Big Macs at 10pm? (And yes. He did that the other week. And I of course wanted something too. )

I love food. I do. I love carbs. They are glorious. I have shitty eating habits. I’m fully aware of this.

So while he says he will try to eat better with me, it doesn’t happen. It just doesn’t.

I’m about to tell him he can’t eat his extra meals or unhealthy things in the house because I can’t handle it. But that’s not fair to him and it’s his home too, so here I am.

I’m trying some new things today. Going to see how I feel about a cycle yoga class. I’ve never done yoga so this might go horribly. Who knows.

Also doesn’t help that the classes offered are few and at bizarre times.

Can I just have lipo now??

Game Plan

So you remember when I wrote this post? (The same misspelling rules will apply for this post. Sorry in advance.)

Yeah. It’s happening.

Tomorrow.

I just want to scream.

It’s never-ending. People are angry on both sides. The e-mails keep coming. Overt threats from superiors keep happening. It’s a nightmare.

Of course, I’m on the side of the quieter group. We’re not going on strik. But we don’t personally dislike anyone that is. It’s fine. Whatever. I will still be more than happy to work with you and talk with you and I will still say hello to you in the halls. Basically, nothing changes about the person in my mind.

HOWEVER, the other side seems to have no such consideration. AT ALL.

We keep getting e-mails basically saying that if we aren’t on strik, then they want nothing to do with us.

It has gone so far as to threaten our grades, degrees, and jobs. Yes. I actually got an e-mail saying this. Shit is exploding all over the place here.

Luckily, I’ve had a couple conversations with f@culty and 98% understand that as TAs, we’re in a weird position and will in no way evaluate us differently or affect our grades based on what we do when tomorrow comes.

But really??!?

For one, it’s illegal. Illegal on so many levels.

Also, they refuse to see our side.

Our side that needs our paycheck. That can’t afford to get our pay docked. The fact that I signed a contract and I agreed to work. I KNEW WHAT I WAS GETTING. Why are you complaining AFTER your signed the contract? You can read. You knew. This just baffles me to no end.

Also, WE ARE TEMPORARY an PART-TIME. We, in no way, deserve the same benefits that full-time f@culty receive. We’re transient. And no, the school should NOT be paying for he@lthc@re for our familes. WE ARE PART TIME.

Basically, I do not agree with what the TA uni@n wants. I don’t.

And I will reiterate- I am not anti-uni@n. I FULLY support the f@culty and their complaints and they should strik since the administration seems to ignore them.

But as a TA, I have a job to do. And I’m not going to strik for things that I am opposed to.

And f@ir sh@re?!

The uni@n goes on and on about how much fees are and how unfair the administration is, but then they take stipend increases off the table and ADD f@ir sh@re to our fees?! They are just hurting the people they “represent”.

And if I get told that I’m only complaining now since the strik is tomorrow, they are wrong. I, and others, have sent numerous e-mails and attended meetings to tell the uni@n how we feel and we are shot down, belittled, told we are wrong and dumb and have no morals.

Oh yeah. The administration has offered pretty good deals. The uni@n has never once brought it to the members to vote on. They aren’t looking out for anyone. They are just as money grubbing as the rest, only the administration isn’t telling me that I have no right to talk and that if I even have a question about something that I am “espousing anti-uni@n rhetoric”.

Sure has been all sunshine and rainbows around these parts I tell ya.

So that’s where we are.

My husband will be walking me and my friends to class on Friday. We’re a little nervous because of the combative and hostile environment that has been created. We don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m sure I’ll be called all sorts of things. Too bad they don’t have a dictionary, because I am NOT a sc@b. I am not covering anyone else’s classes. I am just doing my job and what I believe in.

So we shall see.

I’m fairly anxious and edgy. I can handle being screamed at when I’m doing what I know is right for me. My professors know that I support them. My friends know my heart and know why I’m doing what I’m doing. I can only hope this ends well. And without Mr. A punching someone. He gets a little defensive.

I’ll keep ya posted. Too bad all my anonymity is about to be thrown out the window… Le sigh.

 

**Again, apologies for the spelling goofiness. Trying not to end up on the uni@ns radar. They already keep calling and showing up in my office to harrass me. I would like for my blog to be left alone.

Hindsight

Naive is never a word I would normally use to describe myself. I may seem like a goofy girl sometimes, but I’m always watching, always paying attention, always checking my surroundings.

I spook easily and it doesn’t take much for me to have that gut feeling that something isn’t right, even when there is no real reason for me to think that. I’m just jumpy and I have way too much of an imagination for my own good. I also read too many murder mysteries growing up.

But after last night, I’m just….uneasy.

My undergrad was in a small, safe town. I would run the loop at 10pm without a second thought. You see people walking across campus at night and I have never heard of an incident. If I wanted to leave the fraternity house before my friends were ready, I would just walk back to my dorm alone. It never even crossed my mind that anything would happen. When the ice storm hit and half the state was without power, it was as organized as an event like that can be. The school made sure the students would be warm and safe and taken care of. No problems.

But last night, for some reason that I still have not heard why, the power went out to most of this city, including the university.

2 friends and I were in the library when it happened. Being in a huge building like that and then having it go pitch black is a little creepy. But the generators kicked in and the emergency lights came on, which in the library, made it still bright enough to work and read. We stayed for a while and then decided to call it a night.

Our campus is surrounded by woods, and even has woods in the middle of campus. As we left the library, the full impact of being on a campus without power hit us. We were going to go up to our offices and drop stuff off, but one look at the massive building with dark hallways and we decided we would just go to our cars.

After the hours of 4pm, students with certain car tags can park where the faculty do. It had been raining, so we all parked in the covered parking garage. I assumed the university had generators and had some sort of emergency lighting.

Nope.

That parking garage was absolutely pitch black. You could not see a foot in front of you.

As we were walking up to it and realized it wasn’t lit, we started making jokes, but I think we were all trying to act tougher than we actually felt. It didn’t help that we could hear other students talking, but could not see anyone.

We all safely made it to our cars and we all drove home slowly, despite the fact that I almost hit a kid because he figured he was a pedestrian and the fact that there were no street lights and that he was wearing all black didn’t matter.

But as I drove past the largest dorms, which are a block from my apartment, I saw no less than 30 police cars with lights on and a couple ambulances. I called my friend who had to drive home the same way and we just wondered if a student was hit or if because of the power outage the police came to the dorms since it looked like the ONLY light was in the stairwells.

I heard sirens through most of the night,  but again, assumed it was college kids not willing to take turns at the intersections without power.

However, it turns out there was a small scale riot last night.

Well, the school’s official word is that it was an impromptu party that got out of hand, but that is just bs.

When over 1,000 students are breaking out in fights, shooting off fireworks, (some insist gunshots went off as well), breaking into cars and just destroying things, it’s not a party. 3 kids were taken to the hospital in ambulances. One girl was driving and stopped at an intersection and some guys broke into her car. (She was able to drive off, but with a shattered window and pretty shaken up.)

It has been a bit of an eye opener today. I guess I am naive. I never imagined that the power going out would cause problems like this. Even worse? That walk through the parking garage could have landed us on the front page of the news. Last night, I was creeped out, but the thought of any actual real danger just never occurred to me. I’m used to college campuses being a safe place.

Not so much anymore.

Next time, I’ll be calling campus police to escort me to my car. And I guess I really do need to buy some mace since I tend to work better at night and at school than during the day or at home.

Maybe this just makes me a little less naive. Just sad that “school” is no longer a safe haven.

Making “New” Friends

While I’m writing this before my trip, by the time you read this, I will be in Other State and trying to find my way around one of the 5 largest metro areas. (Let’s see how many times I get lost or drive the wrong way on a one way street.)

Not only will I finally be seeing my husband after 3 and a half long weeks apart and getting to experience new restaurants and a new city and a new state and enjoy a little vacation away, but I will also be meeting some blog and twitter friends. 3 internet friends, to be precise.

EEEEEKKKK.

I am so very excited to meet these lovely ladies. I have been reading their blogs since I started this blog of my own. It feels like I have known them for a long time, but at the same time, I don’t know them.

Like me, they keep some things off the blogs and off of twitter. We all do. We all like to keep some things private. And even if I attempted to tell you all everything, it would be impossible.

So here I am, willingly going to meet 3 different women who I have never met before.

Sounds like the start of a horror film, doesn’t it?

Luckily, I have e-mailed and talked to them and I have decided that they are not serial killers or crazy people.

At least I don’t think so…

(Hi ladies. You know who you are. So excited!)

On Monday, I will be meeting up with one and her husband and some of their friends at a baseball game. Hubs and I both love baseball, so I figure it will be some common ground and will be fun. I think I’m less nervous than Mr. A. Poor guy is afraid he will embarrass me or something since these are people I have a connection to, and not him. He will be just fine. He’s good at talking to people. I’m not worried about him.

The other two ladies, we don’t have official plans, but one gets back from out of town on Monday and the other will be busy for the first few days, so once they get back and done with work stuff, we will figure it out.

I feel like I’m in grade school and trying to make new friends on the first day of class. What to wear. What to do. What to say. How to not look like an idiot. That might be the hard one.

Have any of you met up with internet friends? Any tips? Was it as awkward as I’m afraid it’s going to be?

(Girls, I swear I’m normal, I just get nervous meeting new people. Sorry!)

Flying Drama

When Mr. A went to Other State, he drove since he obviously would need his car and he had too much stuff to bring on a flight without baggage costing an arm and a leg.

But I have no desire to spend 11 hours in a car by myself. There’s no need to have two cars there, so obviously, I’m flying.

But here’s a secret:

I’m not a great flier.

I don’t like to fly. Not to the point where I won’t fly, but I don’t like it. I get incredibly antsy and nervous. I have an overactive imagination and it seems to kick into high gear as soon as I settle into my seat.

And takeoff is the worst part. I can’t listen to my ipod to zone out. I can’t read my Kindle. I just have to sit there. Add in the fact that I get headaches pretty easily and my ears pop like crazy, and it’s just not an enjoyable experience.

I usually have about 2 or 3 pieces of gum and I chew like a mad woman to keep the pressure from building up in my ears. I’ll take a couple Advil before the flight and hope that it keeps any potential headache away.

But even better, I usually have my husband with me. Or someone else to talk to. Last year, when we had to get on two different flights both ways to and from Mexico, Mr. A was great and would just hold my hand and make jokes.

But this time?

I’m alone.

No one to hold my hand. No one to tell me that it will all be okay. No one to make stupid jokes and point out the other goofy looking passengers.

I have flown alone before.

I was 10 and I flew back from Salt Lake City while my dad and his girlfriend went on to San Francisco. But this was pre 9/11 and my dad was actually allowed to walk on the plan with me and get me settled in my seat.

But I am a big girl now.

And I can do this.

It;s not like I’m having a panic attack or anything, just…anxious.

My plan is to get to the airport early, allowing me plenty of time to get through security and to find my terminal and gate and all that. I am then planning on going to one of the restaurants and having myself a drink in order to calm my nerves, maybe even take a short nap on the plane.

I’m planning on buying a magazine so I have something to occupy my mind. Luckily, I got into the first boarding group, so I get to pick my seat, which will be an aisle seat, hopefully in the exit row so I have a little more space.

This time tomorrow I will be sweating my butt off and exploring a new city. Now to not panic on the plane.

Surreal

As I sit here in my apartment, everything is very slowly sinking in.

Tonight, I wrote up a moving week list. It’s two freaking pages long.

And no, I didn’t just list everything to pack. Packing is probably one of the things listed on there the least.

I have about a million errands to run tomorrow so that things go as smoothly as possible.

Deal with getting water turned on at new place, off at old place. Get mail forwarded. Maybe go get driver’s license changed. Start packing kitchen stuff. Reserve our Uhaul for Friday. (Speaking of which, is renting a Uhaul like renting a car where you have to be 25?)

And that’s just Monday.

I keep telling everyone that I’m fine with packing and moving by myself, but today, it seems overwhelming. I look around and holy crap do we have a lot of crap. Our apartment isn’t even that big. Geeze.

And I think it’s just weird to be moving into OUR new apartment by MYSELF. I’m picking up keys alone. Working on furniture arrangements alone. Packing and deciding what to keep and what to toss, alone. I think it’s just a lot to process right now.

I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if moving was all I was doing. But I just quit my job as well. No, no, no. Not questioning that decision in the least, but it’s still a little surreal and hasn’t sunk in. I keep thinking, “When is my next shift?” Or about what sale is going on or discounts. And when I drive by it hasn’t sunk in that I will only ever walk into that building as a consumer and I won’t be the one required to talk to customers. Again, very happy about this, just hasn’t all hit.

Also, I start grad school in just over a month. It’s all very weird. I’ve been out of school for so long that it is strange to look at the books I will be reading and studying and writing about and fretting over grades. But being a student isn’t the hard part. I will also be a teacher at the same time. And not to bratty 8th graders or know it all high school sophomores.

To college students. Students not much younger than me, and some possibly older than me. And my professors? They will be my colleagues. I will attend faculty meetings and hear office gossip. Being on both sides of the fence might be a bit of an adjustment for me.

And then there’s the fact that I’m currently a married woman living alone.

Mr. A and I have done long distance when we were dating, but that’s exactly it. We were dating. Now, we’re married with a joint bank account and shared responsibilities and shared items.

But I’ve been feeling like I just have an occasional weekend houseguest that already knows where the towels are and how I like my wine.

And I’m kind of afraid that since I’m moving us into the new apartment and that I will be the one setting it up and decorating and making decisions about where things will go and how the flow of the apartment will flow, that I’m going to feel some sense of claim to it. It won’t feel like ours, but instead, mine and when he comes home in August, I will get perturbed if he tries to move things or messes up my routine or schedule.

The worst part is just going to be not seeing him for weeks at a time. Luckily, I get to visit him and the second half will be spent in graduate assistantship training, so I should be kept busy and won’t be too lonely, but I know the first two weeks will be rough.

So for now, as I watch Sex and the City the show for the first time, and pack boxes and plan out my move, I will live in my surreal state and just try to enjoy it. I mean when else could I watch hours of this show, drink wine, take bubble baths, read books, and lounge around in yoga pants?

3 Steps Back

Wasn’t going to blog today.

But today I was trying to be positive. Today I was trying my hardest to not be in a funk. Today I was working on faking it.

I had lunch with my dad. I ran a couple errands. I wandered Walmart just for something to do. (During that time I realized I’ve developed the new anxious habit of ringing my hands or constantly turning my necklace. My hands are as anxious as I am.)

I took a shower and washed my hair even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. Mr. A and I are going out to dinner just to get out of the house. Do we need to spend the money? Not really. But we need to do something, and since I work all weekend (and the closing shifts) I figured what the hell. Tomorrow’s pay day and we won’t go overboard.

I was even in kind of a good mood. At least not a crying in the shower mood. So I decided to repaint my toenails. They were a dark color and I wanted something fun and bright.

So I start taking the polish off my toes thinking if I wanted to do the new pink or tangerine color.

AND THEN I REMEMBERED THAT MIL AND I GOT NEW MANICURES YESTERDAY AND I WAS USING MY HANDS TO TAKE THE POLISH OFF.

Yepp. Screwed up my brand new manicure that made me smile everytime I looked at the summery color and it wasn’t messed up. It didn’t even last 24 hours before I managed to eff it up. This shouldn’t be life shattering, but of course it put me into tears and ready to punch someone in the face.

That’s my mental space right now. I can’t think about anything other than what is upsetting me and I am a complete space case.

And I don’t even want to paint my toes anymore. Or go out to dinner. I want to sit in my pjs, eat crap food, and not talk to anyone.

Just when I thought I was doing (marginally) better.

That doctor’s appointment seems inevitable.

Digging in Deeper

I don’t want to write this. I’ve said it about other things, but I just feel like I have to. Not have to, but need to get this just out of my head and onto “paper”. I’m turning comments off because I cannot handle anyone telling me to get over it. To cheer up. To get some perspective. To quit bitching.

I can’t. And while this is a public blog, I won’t listen to it.

That’s the thing about being honest. I try to explain everything. I try to tell you guys all the aspects of the story. But it’s not possible for me to explain every minute detail. Everything that has led to this. Therefore, I can’t take the judgment.

Maybe after some of this resolves itself, I will be able to handle it. I’m usually pretty good at taking advice I know I need to hear.

But today?

I can’t see the light.

I don’t see the top of the hole that I’m in.

I don’t see how this is going to turn around.

Melodramatic? Yes.

How I feel? Yes.

I know I’m in a waiting game. Grad school has to tell me one way or another. They will either accept me, or reject me. I will hear something.

Lucky for me, they have to at the very least send a rejection letter.

Now the schools I applied to for teaching jobs?

Who the hell knows.

They don’t have to call for an interview. They don’t have to contact me at all. And I know my high school had to fire 37 teachers. Guess what? That means they will probably be applying for the two schools I found that had openings* as well. Guess what? Who thinks these schools are going to feel bad for these teachers being laid off just because of budget cuts? I do. Guess who I think they will hire since they already have experience and since they are being laid off, probably won’t mind if it’s a pay cut (which isn’t even true because the places I applied are good distrcits)? They will hire them.

NOT the girl who hasn’t been in a classroom in a year.

NOT the girl who was unemployed for 5 months.

And certainly NOT the girl who could only find a job working part time at a department store.

The worst part is that this isn’t even me.

I feel like I haven’t been me for a very long time.

Things don’t make me happy. Things don’t cheer me up. I’ve always been a crier but this is absurd. I don’t have the strength anymore to put on a happy face for my husband after a long and stressful day and I’ve always been able to do that for him. He has a huge interview tomorrow and all I can do is be short and snippy and not appreciate that he made dinner for me. I suggested he go to the gym. I said it was because it’s a good stress reliever for him, which is true, but really I just wanted an hour in the apartment by myself. An hour where I didn’t have to pretend or try to be in a better mood.

And I haven’t been reading blogs because I can’t handle it right now. I love the puppy pictures and stories about whatever you did on the weekend and the giveaways and the pregnancy updates and all of it. But all I feel is jealousy.

How sick is that?

And yes. I know what this probably means. I’m not dumb. I took several psychology classes and all of that. I know. I logically know.

But I also know that  my husband was diagnosed with it at the age of 16, and is fine now, but because of that, the only reason he has health insurance is because of the healthcare bill and he can be on his mom’s insurance.

Guess what? I’m not going to have that on some record that is going to screw me later on- later on when I’m fine and over this and happy.

I’m not. I refuse.

Would medicine help? Probably. Can we afford it? Not really. Am I even going to go to a doctor about it? Not a chance in hell. Yes, I have insurance (my mom’s, again because of the healthcare bill. And that year I was on my own, I had an easier time because I didn’t have that diagnosis. Mr. A could ONLY get Cobra, which costs more than I even want to think about. And then only covered emergencies. Have I mentioned he has Crohns which sometimes requires procedures and medication?! Yep. Healthcare bill is the greatest thing to happen for us.) But I’m not going to go and have a doctor write this on some obscure chart and I will be reliving it for the next 20 years.

So why am I writing? Because I feel like I have no other option. I may not be able to put on the happiest of faces for my husband right now, but I sure as hell am not going to drop this on him. 4 weeks till finals. He’s stressing about this interview and the summer and classes and the fact that we have no money because we’re here and he’s in law school and I work for less than I did when i was in high school.

Nope. I’m smarter than that.

If I want us to move and that means he gets into the schools he is going to apply to transfer to, I’m not dumping this on him. Not now. This all means too much to both of us and I can’t do it.

So I dump here. On my corner of the internet. And I’m so far beyond caring if anyone thinks I’m whining or being a baby or needs to grow up.

I know all of those things are true. That’s the problem. The logical part of my brain knows this is ridiculous. I need to pull myself up and just get over it, wait for what will happen, and move. But the other part of me can’t see past tomorrow. When this second part of me assumes that I will, yet again, not hear anything.

I’m just done.

* Openings south of Chicago. If I was willing to move there, there are a hundred openings. And before someone says, “Yeah but they’re inner city schools and blablahblah” Chicago keeps all the money in our state basically for itself. I love you Chicago people, but do not tell me that it’s the same. It’s not. i’d take a scary inner city school job over nothing thank you very much.

** If you want to email, you can and I love talking to you all, but I can’t do the comments tonight because if I get a bad one I will lose it. And I don’t want that.

Frozen

Well, you guys win.

Overwhelmingly, you want honest and true and what’s actually happening. If that’s me in a total breakdown over my super underemployment or talking about my irrational fears or writing about the weightloss challenges I’m facing-it’s what you want.

And I’m so glad.

I have always been one that kind of wears my emotions on my sleeves. Mystery isn’t really my game. I’d probably spill a whole lot more about myself if I wasn’t in a career field where I could get into some big trouble if I said too much or some ridiculous parent didn’t like my stories about margaritas and wine. (Really? Teachers are people too. We like beerz. Get over it.)

Also, I like that I got comments about me being “real”. One problem I have at times is that some of the blogs I read make it seem like their life is the picture of perfection. And maybe it is. I don’t know. But it makes me feel inadequate when all I read is about how peachy everyone is. I want someone to have a meltdown every once in a while. Show some grit. Some real emotion.

I completely understand not putting it all out there. I don’t blog about everytime Mr. A and I get into an argument or the nights that I wish I had my own apartment so I could just be in my own space for a few hours. Yes, sometimes we fight. Sometimes I do bitchy things. Sometimes he’s a butthead. But that’s life. I love him more than anything and he is my soulmate. My very clean and neat soulmate.

So I’m glad you want real because it’s what you’re going to get.

Like this:

I don’t really hide the fact that I hate my job in retail. It blows. Crappy hours. Rude customers. Coworkers who think this is the most important job on the planet. And I have a good degree and I make less than my BIL who was kicked out of college twice bc of failing grades and he now works at a factory making WAY MORE THAN I DO. I must have done something terrible because karma hates me right now.

So, you would think I would be all about applying for teaching jobs. Right?

Wrong.

I applied for grad school and a teaching assitantship position, but I won’t find anything out for about another month. That was stressful and I had to write a 10 page paper after a year out of the classroom and whatever. But, it’s over. I will find out via a letter telling me one way or another.

But teaching positions? So much more stressful.

For one, the applications are insane. I know they don’t want serial killers and such in their schools, but why do you need to know my exact high school gpa and class rank? Really? You want to judge me based on who I was in high school? I went to college and learned more about myself and the world and grew up. High school shouldn’t have anything to do with you hiring me. Just knowing who I dated in high school and no one would want to hire me. Sheesh.

Also, in my state, education jobs are incredibly competitive since the budget got slashed. Not as many positions and still lots of people applying.

And then there’s the interviews. I went through two teaching interviews in the past. One went really well and they didn’t hire me because they wanted someone with experience since they would be coming in half way through the year and it was for juniors who have HUGE portfolios to do. So I got it. I was bummed, but no big deal.

The other, didn’t go so great. I felt off and I usually interview well. It was with the school I student taught at, so I thought I was a bit of a shoo-in since I had glowing recommendations and the principal knew and liked me and the English department liked me. But I was interviewing against a “friend”. We were friends bc of proximity, not because I actually liked her. I didn’t.

Welp, she got the job. There are some other factors like the fact that I would have had to commute 1.5 hours where as she had a 15 minute drive. Also, she plans on living there for the rest of her life where I would have, at most, only been there 3 years.

But that was crushing. Add that she enjoyed rubbing it in my face and I’m a little scared of the whole process.

I feel stuck. Frozen. Locked in place.

I don’t even want to apply to places for fear of rejection. How ridiculous is that?

I logically know I will never get out of this shithole of a job without applying and looking for other work (if grad school doesn’t accept me (yet another stressor!!)). I just hate everything about job searching.

Add in how depressed I became during my 5 month unemployment stint after not even getting called for an interview for jobs I either would have been good at or was overqualified for.

So I’m trying to push through. A school close to my home city, that get both state funding and federal funding because of military students, and pays EXTREMLY well, has TWO English openings. HELLO! Two chances is better than one, right?

I’m trying to stay optimistic and somehow hoping a lot of people don’t know how well they pay and since it’s sort of in the middle of no where, don’t apply. Hoping.

But it would mean I would be moving home for a bit, and if Mr. A isn’t able to transfer to the other law school in my home city, then we would be living apart, which I wouldn’t be excited about.

So it’s all in the air.

I guess I need some good luck and prayers. Prayers that the RIGHT thing comes along. The thing that I will finally be happy with, whether that be grad school or a teaching position, I don’t know. But I need something because if I have to fit one more old lady for a bra and she insists on a push up bra to make “her girls look awesome”, I might vomit.

The Cut Heard Round the World

We’ve been living in Ctown for about 7 months now. We’ve figured out the city pretty much. Which restaurants we like. Where the best Mexican food is. Our favorite bar. Which gas stations are less creepy. One way streets make driving difficult. All the things you slowly figure out about your surroundings.

One of the things I hadn’t yet figured out was where to get my hair cut.

I mean, I have gotten my haircut in 7 months, but I went to my stylist back in Mville because she cuts my MIL’s hair and has known Mr. A forever, so she is more willing to squeeze me in.

But that’s a two hour drive and we haven’t been back there for a while and the thought of having to drive two hours for a haircut seems ridiculous.

I mean, Mville is small town USA, and I found a person there, so why not here?

Mr. A asked a couple of his female classmates for me, and they suggested different places. However, one of the girls, I think her hair is obnoxious, and I’m sure it’s what she asked for, but I have a hard time going to the same place that someone with stupid hair suggested. Not trying to be mean, just honest.

But Mr. A had been to this one salon and really liked it. It was kind of cool, in a sort of hipster way. (Not really hipster. I wouldn’t do that. 🙂 ) Even funnier, the guy’s name who cut his hair was the same as my name. Mr. A had a good cut, said the people were nice, so I decided to give it a try.

I called and they were able to fit me in on Thursday. I was a little nervous because finding a new hair person always stresses me out. Took me forever to pick the girl in Mville and it was only after I was there with Mr. A and saw her do a fantastic job on another girl that I trusted her enough.

So I show up. I instantly liked the salon. It wasn’t too stuffy and uptight. One day, I want to fit in in places like that, but for now, I don’t, so I liked the calm and laid back atmosphere. The person who was going to do my hair introduces himself and he has the same name as Mr. A. Hilarious because I had Mr. A and Mr. A had me.

The guy was nice. We talked about music and the Grammy’s. And various things. And it was all going well. He asked me about my bangs and I said they had gotten long, but I wanted them cut and to the side. I usually so the side-swept bang look, they had just grown out a lot.

And then, it happened.

He cut my bangs short. And straight across. Ummmmm……NOT SIDE SWEPT AT ALL!!!

And I mean super straight across. To add to the problem, I have super thick hair, so the trendy bangs that girls do that looks good, doesn’t look good with my super thick hair. It just looks awful.

But, I tried to stay calm, so I asked him to kind of fade the sides to it was less drastic. This apparently meant make me have sideburns. WTF?!?!

Yes. I have man sideburns. But only on one side. I don’t even know how to explain it. And no, I won’t be posting a picture because, while I’m okay posting embarrassing stories about myself, pictures-not so much. And the fact that Mr. A couldn’t help but burst out laughing when I showed him means no one else gets to make fun of me.

I look like this guy:

(source)

I have more hair on the sides, thank goodness, this it’s really bad.

And yes, I know it will grow out. I went and bought some biotin to help speed along the process. And I will be going home to have my guys there fix it after it grows to a point that it can be fixed.

But there is something about having terrible hair that just makes me more self conscious. I know it’s just hair, but I feel like it pulls together a whole look and bad hair just ruins it.

But I went and bought a headband, and I might need to add a couple, so if you see me within the next month, my hair will either be in a headband or my bangs will be pinned back.

And next time, I won’t be going back to the same salon. Never again.