Tuesday, August 31, 2004

You are invited. No. Really.

We agreed to go to the "Jack & Jill". A couple of great friends were hosting it and it was supposed to be a nice, casual event. Beer, burgers, and good conversation.

The bride and groom are friends of the host and hostess. They're all part of a larger group, through which I met the love of my life. Cheers to that. While we don't know the bride and groom very well, and quite obviously aren't invited to the wedding for that very reason, we were invited to celebrate their "last blast". If you can call potato chips and lawnchairs a last blast.

We arrived early. We were the second couple in attendance, getting there just ahead of the bride and groom. When they arrived, the bride entered, saw us, whispered with the hostess, then made a beeline for us.

Bride: Did you get your invitation?
Me: Nooooo...?
Bride: Oh NO.
Me: Oh, well, really, I didn't expect to be invited since we don't know you all that well...
Bride: Oh, but I really wanted to extend the invitation to you... but J. just told me that you moved, that's probably why you didn't get it!
Me: No, really, that's fine...

A couple of people who were obvious invites apparently didn't receive their invitations. Some foul-up with Canada Post. But I don't honestly think ours "got lost". I don't think there was one to begin with.

That is truly no skin off my back. I've been to four weddings already this summer and I'm tapped out. You can only buy gifts for so many showers, stagettes, weddings and other wedding-related gatherings, before you have to start wrapping up food from your cupboard in wedding paper, as there's no money to buy ANYTHING else. Congratulations on your marriage. I hope you enjoy these cans of tomato soup and ramen noodles, as you begin your life together.

You see, I did move -- one month ago. But my mail has been forwarded to my current address for the past two months. Clearly this invite was a guilt-invite. *I* feel bad that she felt badly enough to come up with an excuse to invite us. Really, we just came for the hamburgers.

I SHOULD have gracefully bowed out.

Unfortunately, I don't think quickly on my feet. Faced with a tricky situation, I often become a caveman. Uh.. duh... grunt. Instead of gracefully declining, I somehow accepted the invitation.

So, what do you get for a couple that you barely know... as a gift that you can't afford... for a wedding that you were glad you weren't invited to in the first place... that you're now expected to be attending?

On the bright side, it's an open bar. Praise be to red wine and free beer.
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Monday, August 30, 2004

Something else, for a change...

I figured it might be a good idea to stop whining about the job situation, and talk about something else for at least one post.

I'm really enjoying this new blog. Finally, I feel like I have a voice -- my voice on the old blog was muted. I was stifled by the possibility of being found-out.

Even though I have really only approached one topic in the past week, I feel so free to type whatever I want, whatever I need. I've hit my stride.

And while I also suddenly have the freedom to type about how damn difficult it is for two adults to find a place to have sex when they're temporarily taking up residence at their respective parents' homes while they look for a house of their own... I'll refrain for now.

(Though, I will say: thank goodness one set went out of town for the weekend. Thank. Goodness.)
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Can you take one more update?

We met. We chatted. We slurped our Starbucks.

There is still no progress, and I'm actually feeling really bad for my friend -- my own situation here, totally notwithstanding.

What I didn't know until yesterday was: They first made contact with him about this job in late May. He didn't apply, they called him. (It's the organization that is in charge of his company... in esssence, it would be like a move to "Head Office", although not really.) It has been a series of delays, delays and more delays. The Big Boss wanted the position to be filled exactly 11 weeks ago. The guy filling it simply isn't making it his first priority. This, despite the fact that my friend isn't simply waiting for the decision on the job, he's waiting to find out if he's moving his life half-way across the country, into a very big, very different city than he's living in now.

While none of it makes sense, one thing is clear: my friend is going insane with all of the waiting. I feel a bad for jumping to conclusions and feeling so sorry for myself last week. I apologize to the world for that -- how selfish can one be? Really. (Well... sort of. The issue remains the same, I'm beyond unhappy in my current job and if this doesn't materialize, something else will have to or I'll lose my mind).

So, he waits, I wait, we all wait. More to come. Let's pray it's soon.
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Sunday, August 29, 2004

Drag it out a little longer...

Still no word. Why? Because the friend who would be vacating this job, still hasn't heard from the new employer on whether they'll close the gap between what they're offering salary-wise, and what he's willing to take. If they match it, or come close, he's gone. If they say no, he's staying.

I seriously though he would have heard by Friday. Alas, no.

He and I were going to meet on Friday night but will get together this evening instead.

I hope for some semblance of an update tonight, and hopefully some definitive news tomorrow. After all, they told him that they want him there in two weeks -- this, in response to the fact that his boss wants him to stay for a month, to train the new person coming in to take his job.

Hurry the hell up, I say. His life hangs in the balance right now... as does my sanity, but nobody needs to know that.

Actually, no, I exaggerate... I've actually had a fairly good handle on my emotions over this situation since my conversation with my pal on IM. But that doesn't make for good reading. Ha.

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Friday, August 27, 2004

Still no word...

After a lengthy heart-to-heart via IM with my lovely friend S. yesterday (I'm going to avoid linking to people for a little while -- I'm sure you understand, my dear girl), I started to gain some perspective on this job thing. When I say some, I mean the least amount possible. But that's more than I had.

After S. logged off, I threw out a bunch of prayers to the Big Guy, and tried to get on with my day. I think it worked -- I ended up having a nice night with the BF at the football game after an impromptu dinner in the car (rotisserie chicken and potato salad from the Garden Market) and the obligatory Second Trip of the Day to Starbucks.

Circumstances being what they were, I rationalized that Friday (today) might really be the first chance to hear from my friend or his employer -- writing it off on Wednesday was pretty impetuous of me, and not the most level-headed move, as I brought on a whole set of emotions that weren't yet warranted. I'm a glutton for drama, sue me. (Though, it's 10:3oam already, and I haven't heard word-one from the friend or his employer. In my experience, if you're going to hear something on a job, you'll hear it first thing in the morning or not at all.) (WHAT, I'm just saying...)

Instead of bemoaning the fact that I may not even get a chance to apply for this job (which would SUCK), this great job that is perfect for me, I have to remember that if it doesn't happen, God has something else in the queue for me.

Have I mentioned that I'm a faithful person? No, I'm not a prude -- don't go surfing away from here just because I have admitted my faith in a Higher Power. I sin, just like everyone else. You may get to read about it on here. There's some good stories. Trust me. (I've repented, leave me alone.)

My point here is: I MUST have faith that, if this doesn't happen, there's a damn good reason for it. I've lost out on other "great" jobs before. And, every time, when I've looked back after the fact, I've been able to see why it was best that I didn't get it. I wouldn't be where I am now if I had gotten some of the jobs I thought I had to have to be happy -- and I kind of like where I am over all.

SO, I will continue to wait. I will check in with the friend later today (under the guise of getting together for a drink tonight, something I casually but strategically suggested earlier this week, in case I didn't hear from him...) and I should then have a definitive answer as to whether I'll get a chance to apply, or if they've just gone and given it to someone else.

Because then? At least I'll know. And I think everyone can understand why that's better than where I'm at right now.
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Thursday, August 26, 2004

I wish I had never found out.

I'm sitting at my desk, head tight with tension, on the verge of tears. (I lied. First tear just fell. Thank God my boss is out for the next two hours.)

I haven't heard a single thing about that job. It's been like the days following a first date. Every time the phone rings, I jump -- the deadly combination of expectation and hope, setting me up for big disappointment.

ring... ring... (frantic dumping of purse to find phone and scramble to answer before the voicemail gets it) HELLO?? Oh. Hey. Stace... yeah, I got your email. What? No, just expecting another call. Yeah, everything is fine. I think I'm just tired.

You see, at first, I thought I was stressed out about THAT job. About whether I'd even get to apply for it. I wrote about that yesterday.

But it just occured to me now, that's not the problem. It's something else.

I'm very afraid that I am not going to be able to find another job that I have passion for, the way I had passion for my career in journalism. I used to be blissfully happy -- I was one of those very lucky people who loved going to work every day. Even when management made my life so bad that I had to quit in order to preserve my sanity (twice, actually), all the way through, I loved the WORK.

That said, I don't want to go back to that business. There are too many reasons why it won't work for me anymore. Quality of life, security, blah blah blah and blah. And I'm okay with that.

But I'm not okay doing a job that I hate. The previously-mentioned job is one that I know I would love, one that I would have passion for simply because of who I'd be working for.

The thing is, in the past, if a great job came up -- one that I really wanted -- and I didn't get it, I was able to tell myself that, you know what? There will be something else. And I was able to live with the fact that the immediate opportunity wasn't meant to be, and I was really okay with that. It worked out time and time and time again. I have been exceedingly lucky in my career. Beyond lucky. Opportunities have fallen into my lap in a way that I can hardly understand, let alone explain. God has worked in my life in a way that I have never felt I deserved.

But this time, I'm starting to wonder if I've used up all of my points with God -- my alloted number of "breaks" are gone. And, as such, nothing else might come along. I can't reconcile that, if this job doesn't come my way, there is something else in God's books that will make me happy. What if there isn't?

I don't think I'm making much sense -- I'm certainly not to myself.

What I'm trying to say here is that I wish I had never found out about this "perfect" other job. At least then I would have been unhappy but not dreaming about a possibility that's just outside of my grasp. At first, I thought I'd have been furious if I hadn't found out about the position coming open. In fact, that may have been for the best.

Now, I wish I had never poked my head around the corner, happening to see an old friend who would go on to tell me that he may be leaving his job... my perfect job. I just really wish I never knew.
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Wednesday, August 25, 2004

Just give me a chance...

This wasn't meant to be a blog where I could just moan and complain in anonymity. Not every single post, anyway. Unfortunately that seems to be my state of mind the last few days, what with the unexpected activity...

I am highly unhappy in my job. Bored, unchallenged, and so on. My discontent is no secret among those close to me. I didn't write about it because it may have been too easy to find on the web. The last thing I need is to lose my job because I publicly complain about it. No, I'm not happy but I also can't afford to be unemployed. I'll take boredom over jobless any day.

I've been making inquiries about other possibilities lately, looking at what else I want to do with my life. I'm always thinking about "what else" is out there because you never know when the next day will be your last day at a particular place of employment. It happens all the time for no good reason at all.

Just as I started mulling it all over in my mind, thinking about how much I needed to make a change to avoid certain insanity... boom. I bump into an old friend in an unexpected location, and, gak!, he's leaving his job.

His job is my DREAM job.

Well, this puts a new spin on EVERYTHING, doesn't it.

This week has been beyond stressful. Waiting to find out if he'll accept the new job. Knowing that, while he says he'll recommend my name as one of the people to consider as his replacement, he's a very, very, very flaky person and would likely forget to call me to tell me to get my resume in. I've been worrying about nagging if I call to check in. (Which I did yesterday, and found out that he doesn't have my phone number... so how he was going to have them get in touch with me? Or get in touch with me himself? GAK.)

I fully admit that I have a total and complete lack of patience. I also have a currently-in-remission anxiety disorder, which tends to break into its little song and dance in times like this. In other words, I worry. I worry and stress and think about it WAY too much, going over and over in my mind all of the reasons that I'm just not lucky enough for this to work out.

The thing is? I just want a shot at this job. Just a shot. Let me have the chance to get my resume to the right people. I understand if my credentials aren't what they're looking for. That would be too bad, but I can't change the past to make my experience fit their needs. It is what it is, I can accept that.

What I can't accept is the idea of not getting a chance to be in the running. I can go in there and have a killer interview -- interviews are one of those things I'm not scared of. But if I don't even get a chance... if they don't even get to see my resume... I'll be crushed.

I'm hoping for some anonymous prayers on this one. Just let me make my case to the muckety-mucks, and the chips will fall where they may. Like I said: THAT I can accept. Not getting a chance to show them my stuff... that just wouldn't be okay.


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Monday, August 23, 2004

Intensely disgusted

It's amazing how a single word can evoke a gutteral response. Today's word is "intense".

I was typing that word as part of a description of some training offered at my workplace, when it sent me hurdling back to a time a couple of years ago. That's when I was with D.

D. came into my life when I was in the final stages of healing from the biggest heartbreak I had been through. (I will get to writing an entry about that soon, I swear.) Very pretty and seemingly quite complex, I was intrigued immediately. Who was this man? Why were his teeth so white?

As it turns out, D. wasn't complex at all. That was an illusion. He was actually just cranky and shallow. By the time I had figured that out, I was in too deep to just high-tail it outta there.

He never was very good to me. Though I suppose it's hard to be good to someone else when your sole concern in life revolves around the size of your own cock. (I mean that figuratively. And a bit literally too.) (Incidentally, he had no skill in that area though he fancied himself quite the Don Juan. I never had the heart to tell him how bad he was. I would pay a lot of money to do it now.)

Don't get me wrong -- we had fun. Sometimes. When he wasn't in a bad mood. Or mad at me for speaking to another guy. Or pissed off about his job. Or angry that someone else got an opportunity that he hadn't actually worked for but thought he deserved. Or, that his Mom hadn't folded his laundry the way he liked it before she drove across town to deliver it to him and and to pick up a new load of dirty clothes.

Did I mention he was a real winner? At 29 years old?

Can I mention that I now feel like a complete and total tool for having dated him for a year and a half?

Anyway. One day, he wrote me a card. I actually had to tell him to buy a card and write something nice to me, as it was the day after our one-year anniversary which had lacked the expected romance and joy one would expect on such an occasion.

In this card, he wrote some useless, insincere drivel. He also thanked me for an "intence" (sic.) night.

I don't remember that night being intense. I do remember it being horrible. I remember twisting his arm to go out to dinner. I remember silence during dinner because he was in a bad mood and didn't want to talk to me. I remember crying myself to sleep because he sent me home after dinner, not wanting to spend any more time with me that night -- on our anniversary. I remember not wanting to acknowledge to myself that this was clearly a very bad relationship that I needed to get out of immediately.

I clearly had a distinct lack of self-respect at that time.

I probably haven't used that word since he wrote it in that card. Now I know why. Because it gives me an intensely disgusted feeling.
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Sunday, August 22, 2004

Slightly snug

Tried on my "interview pants".

Just incase. No, there's no interview imminent. There isn't even a job yet.

But they do fit. For the most part.

Just incase.

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Saturday, August 21, 2004

Venture Cautiously into Section "G"

Opening the "Social Notices" section in the Saturday paper, his face jumped out immediately.

C.C. was married to N.B. in a beautiful evening ceremony on July 24, 2004...

I don't quite know how to categorize C. in my past, other than to call our relationship tumultuous. Conflicting passions, you might say.

I was young. 19. He was a few years older, completely sophisticated, and way more than I could handle. I was a dreamy kid, he was a very smart man. He was originally from here but working on his doctorate in Chicago, quite likely never to return for good.

The idea of him was magical and I was smitten from the first moment he paid me any attention. I was also smitten despite the fact there would be no future for us, a fact he clearly stated from the get-go. He wanted a fling when I wanted way, way, way more.

We had a whirlwind week, then he left and broke my heart. In reality, I suppose I broke my own heart, knowing very well what I was getting into.

The years passed and we ran into one-another at a few functions in the years when he returned home for Christmas. He always told me how he wished it could have been different, that we could have met at a different point in our lives. I always acted like a bratty teenager, having had my pride bruised when he did exactly what he said he would do, which was go back there without me. How dare he not love me for ever and ever! Ha!

The second last time we talked, I was down in Indiana recovering from the devastating breakup with the first person who ever said he would marry me. (There have been a couple.) I contacted C., thinking we might have a coffee like mature adults when I passed back through Chicago on my way home. I wanted to apologize for how ridiculous I had acted over the years. I wanted to show him that I had, indeed, become a mature adult.

But, he turned the tables and played the bratty teenager -- un-inviting me when I told him that, no, I didn't want to spend the night with him. I just wanted to get a coffee.

The last time we talked was at a wedding, a few months after the above situation. I was licking some new wounds as the First One Who Said He Would Marry Me had recently re-appeared and played some cruel games with my heart. As such, I took advantage of the open bar at the reception and got firmly and squarely liquored. I gave C. flack over the Chicago un-invite but the alcohol prevented me from having any resolve in being cold towards him. My face still flushes with embarassment at what I might have suggested to him when we danced. Probably good that I don't remember. (At least... I THINK I don't remember. But we don't need details, do we?) He said he would call but of course he did not.

That was the last time I saw him, until today.

Seeing his picture in the paper didn't make me feel bad about the romance that never really was. It just made me feel embarassed. I am simply the snotty, immature, drunken girl in this married man's very distant past.
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Friday, August 20, 2004

My seatmate at my former job just IM'd me from the Domincan. Which, according to him, is hot as hell and smells like motorcycle exhaust and garbage. At least it's hot.

FSM: Do you want something from here? Crap, or stuff disguised not to be crap, but then when you examine it, it's crap?
FSM: Or, how about some crappy crap?
FSM: Your choice.
PS: Ooooh. Which of those things sounds best.
PS: Something pretty. Pretty crappy, obviously, but crappy disguised as pretty.
FSM: Crappy disguised as pretty? That's all of your ex-boyfriends.
PS: Couldn't have said it better myself.

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Wednesday, August 18, 2004

In the beginning...

In the beginning, there was another blog.

It was a blog read by a few real-life folks, and a number of new blogging friends.

But having those people read me, and having many indications as to my indentity on the blog, made it a very limiting exercise.

So? A new blog. And my identity will be as tightly guarded as Area 51.

I hope you enjoy it. I have a hell of a lot to say.
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