Hello. Is it me you're looking for?

Long time, no blog. And I mean looooooong time. After a few weeks had turned into a few months it became harder and harder to explain my absence from this great community and return. Isn't that how it is with everything? Getting back on the wagon can be hard even for the most un-chore-like activities, like keeping connected with all of you!

There are lots of updates to be updating, and I'll get to all that in due time. Now that I'm back, there will be a facelift to this project, so expect some new and exciting things as well as a new look to the blog. As Little Miss Can't Be Wrong from HIMYF recently told me, I'm not in a holding pattern any longer! We have thrown ourselves fully into our new city, Washington, DC.

I can't wait to say hello to old friends and meet some new ones as well!

Migration Woes

As I posted recently, I've been hired! Such a weight has been lifted and for a bit I felt free and celebratory. Now I'm overwhelmed again, but instead of self-loathing and job-searching I'm filled with apartment anxiety. In just a few shorts (read: 2.5!) weeks we will be moving to....drum roll please.....

Washington, D.C.

Washington!

I've wanted to live here for many, many, many years and while a short internship a few years back was a great experience, it also taught me how much I want to live inside the beltway (as my commute at that time seemed even longer than now.) However, D.C. is expensive. VERY expensive when compared to the bill-free living of the cottage. Really, it's more expensive than anywhere I have ever lived before.

So now the apartment hunt begins. Any advice would be most welcome. It's proving difficult to find a two-bedroom place big enough for our pup and cats, not to mention our two U-Hauls (that's right) full of stuff.

While I can't wait to move, get on with my life, be ME again, ect... I'm also worried about starting a full time job (gulp) where I have to wear big-girl-pants and have vacation days and not jet off wherever I want to go whenever I want to go. What is that like?

So, expect some rantings concerning packing, moving, temporarily living with my Aunt who will undoubtedly have us do free labor for her, and the like.

Still Waiting

No news is good news. That common expression can’t really be applied to the job search. On one hand if you have not yet been told anything, there is still hope that the answer will be yes. On the other hand, if you have not been told anything, realistically, the job was most likely offered to someone else who is now weighing their options and deciding to take it or not. You might be able to get the offer, the sloppy seconds, if they turn it down.

So in my mind, no news is definitely bad news. And I am still waiting, no news in hand, no way of knowing to head north or south. No reason to put down roots anywhere. The waiting game has been, by far, with each new opportunity the worst aspect of this holding pattern.

Back to the quest. After my horrible interview in D.C. we enjoyed a fantastic birthday dinner, where I allowed myself to eat many calories, before jumping in the car and heading north once more to the city of brotherly love. Little Miss Dirty Martini (as named by Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong) met us outside her very college-like residence (one large room, small kitchen, futon) and I loved every square inch of it. It was real life. I miss that. I would trade this entire cottage for her slice of real life any day.

We enjoyed late-night birthday spring rolls (made by her own hands!) and had our usual conversations, and by that I mean we talked about everything and deeply. I’ve missed these talks, which face to face are so much better. I realized I miss all my friends and see how isolated I’ve been, surrounded by The Professor’s family and friends, but never my own.

In the morning we head out to Reading Terminal Market, by far one of my favorite places of all time. Then it is GPS time as we needed to head into New Jersey and find the last interview, which went really well (too bad it’s not for an open position, just for networking.)

That night Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong burst through the door and we were all reunited again. These past few years I’ve felt like the silent idiot girl in all their adventures. I’ve always been out of the picture. School, fellowships, and The Professor have guided where I end up, how much free time I have, and what I do. Now, finally, when it is up to me to decide, and I want nothing more than to live close to what I call “my people” I can’t. What’s holding me back now is the job market and the utter desolation to my prospects.

Staying positive and chipper, we all go out to the best restaurant I’ve been to in ages. That’s the thing about living in the middle of nowhere and having little to no money, a huge lack of good food. Being a foodie I’ve missed that life so much. We went to Amada, Jose Garcia’s tapas place, and I fell in love. It became a mini-birthday gathering and I tried to soak up as much of the moment as possible. I was in Philadelphia. I was with my friends. I had The Professor by the side. All was well.

Up, Up in the Air

I start this entry not even sure, in so much of a holding pattern am I, of my fate or life plans that may be in place by the end of this post. I have been waiting, and waiting, and waiting for something to come of my quest. My sister always says, though it never calms my nerves, that the second best answer to yes is no. Meaning, at least they told you no and did not let you sit around unknowing.

Well here I sit, at work, unable to do work, uncertain. My best prospect, and really last hope, is a position in D.C. for which I interviewed during my quest. I was told they would contact me either Friday (which did not happen) or today (which has yet to happen.) Every time my phone rings (stop calling me people!) I jump. But alas, no news. So I continue to wait.

In the meanwhile, since I'm ruined for work anyway, I'll attempt to recount some of my life over the last month of the holding pattern. By far the most exciting of the last six months, due to the final push for employment. When I left you last I was deeply emerged in my nostalgia series, recounting a holiday to Scotland. During this time I had what I supposed could be called a meltdown and decided we had to do something about our life. We could no longer go on in this constant stream of applications and rejections, driving 3 hours a day during extreme hikes in gas prices in order to get to part time jobs. This was it. We decided to head north, visiting cities where my most promising prospects were. Charlotte. Washington, D.C. Philadelphia. We called it the "Grab Destiny by the Balls Tour, 2011."

I called all my prospective employers and let them know I'd be "in the area" on such and such days and could I "drop in" and meet with them. I call this forced interviews, but it worked. Three agreed to see me. I won't go into our morning in Charlotte, as I've since learned that I did not receive that position, news that broke my heart just a little as the job was perfect perfect perfect and exactly what I wanted. After a beautiful day in Charlotte we drove to Washington, stayed overnight with my Aunt, and I interviewed for the position which has since become my most hopeful.

About that interview, let's be diplomatic and just say it was hard. OK, let's be serious and say it was the hardest interview ever. I've had difficult interviews. Panel interviews. Dissertation defenses for goodness sakes. This was brutal. After three interviews, which included a panel, I met with the head boss who put me through the ringer. Asked me questions I could never answer. And I didn't answer them. I smiled and joked and hoped that the purpose of all this was to see if I would cry or not and not entirely dependent on my actual answers. Then he pointed out a typo. A typo I made on my resume. A typo I noticed before leaving on the quest and corrected, printing out new resumes, one of which I handed him at the start of the interview. He said he noticed I had changed the typo. How, then, can I be detail-oriented if I make typos. The shit has hit the fan.

Once again I laugh it off, tell him how cleaver he is to have noticed, and try to make jokes. I basically dance for my supper. Let's hope, once again, that this was a test of my ability to stay calm and cool and not what it seemed, a meany bully pants.

And, it was my birthday.

Scotland Nostalga Week: March 20 and 21st

I was bad and made promises I did not keep. I promised to post a photo from Scotland in my Nostalgia series each day and have already missed a day. The first day. Therefore I present two photos for the price of one.

March 20, 2010.

We left this day for Scotland. As the train had trouble (vandalism we were told) we were diverted and took three trains to slowly make our way from Northern England to Inverness. The trip was beautiful (until it got dark and all I had to look at was the balding man seated directly across me.) After arriving sleepy, hungry, and getting used to our heavy packs, we promptly found our amazing hostel (it had a cat!) and went in search of food. Did we eat haggis? Oatcakes? Stews and porridge and tatties? No. We found a Turkish restaurant that was very hospitable as it was almost 11pm and gorged ourselves on our favorite foods.

March 21, 2010.

It was next to impossible to chose one photo from this day. This was a full day. We roamed around Inverness, toured Loch Ness by boat, visited Urquhart Castle, went on the river walk in Inverness, looked about in the cathedral, and visited the statue of Flora MacDonald (from whom The Professor happens to be descended.) We also found the most adorable and authentic pub, very close to our hostel, and discussed whiskey with the locals.

However, I decided to be predictable and post a photo of a castle. While in Scotland, go see castles. Urquhart is situated nicely on Loch Ness, is beautifully in ruins, and very picturesque.

The Great Matter

My great matter seems to be these days, the job search. The dreaded and soul crushing job search. The never ending, year-long, 100 jobs deep, job search.

Tuesday I thought I'd had it. I was done. This was ridiculous. I was fully prepared to take my two masters degrees and my double major and shove them, shove them hard down the throat of life (that sounds really melodramatic, but I wanted to say it anyway.) Thoughts raced through my head. We need to get out of the cottage. We need to move back into civilization. We are deteriorating mentally and physically. We have no health insurance. Student loans are due in three weeks. We need to get out of here. Thus I resolved myself to work a job, any job, that would move us into university city and stop our dependence on our families. I also cried a lot.

Then yesterday two little, tiny, almost invisible baby steps towards employment occurred. One of the hundred jobs offered me an interview. It's not the most perfect position, but it's in my field. And it's somewhere new and interesting. And it's a permanent job, giving us cause to relocate and get health insurance. So basically I get all ahead of myself planning what life could be if only this works out. Which is dangerous and I must stop it. It's basically the equivalent of feeding stale bread to starving people. They devour it and think it's the greatest thing ever.

Because the truth is it is very likely that I won't get this position. And we can't move. And I get more rejections. Yesterday alone I received four rejections. Today I opened my email at work to receive one more, first thing in the morning.

Staying positive and upbeat has usually been my thing in an almost inhuman way. Now it's proving difficult. Challenging. Next to freaking impossible.

So cross your fingers, and your toes, and whatever else you are able to cross, that my interview goes well tomorrow. Because I'm starving and would love some stale bread now please.

Click Your Stylish Heels Together…

…because we’re not in Kansas anymore, and by Kansas I mean anywhere, we are off the map. I am a city girl. Every cell in my body screams out for a large chai latte, a fresh magazine from my favorite kiosk, and texting friends last minute to meet you at that thing you heard about by reading that poster board at your favorite café/mid-afternoon bar/hot lunch spot de jour. I love walking, up streets, down streets, across town, through the shopping district; not over the river and through the woods.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m also an avid hiker and love to camp. I spent two weeks backpacking through Scotland with The Professor, two days of which were spent in the Highlands donning my 40lbs pack in the rain. I can do the outdoors. That doesn’t mean I want to live in the middle of it. Not that the cottage is refined camping, a term I’ve used in the past for actual residences of mine. It’s a nice house, on a nice piece of land, on a beautiful lake. But it’s in nowhere, literally. The address of the cottage is made up. A few years ago it had no address and when county governments down here needed to start cataloging addresses for maps and gps systems, they asked The Professor’s family to make one up. We don’t even get our mail sent here.

The closest “town” is about 25 minutes away by car, not so much the downtown lifestyle to which I’d grown accustomed. After trying out three grocery stores I’ve found one only 30 minutes away, but it is a poor man’s version of the one 45 minutes away. Besides food, which is  basic necessity, I’ve taken to acquiring all my worldly needs over the internet, including by not limited to crafting supplies, photo printing services, and birthday gifts. I yearn for the days when all I need to was pop out of my row-house door and grab anything within two to seven blocks. I actually miss the city bus, something I thought I never would, and even the scary, publicly drunken man who basically lived at my stop. I miss Sunday breakfasts with The Professor at the place we had made our place, trying out new restaurants, deciding last minute to see a film at the indie theatre, and of course having access to all the public transportation one could desire. I’m getting used to driving an hour to go to a plaza, that connects to another plaza, that has an exit off the highway.

Also, where is the good Eastern food in the South? I’ve found some Chinese food, which was not a pleasant experience. But where is the Pho, the Thai, the Indian, the Japanese (and not that awful Japanese buffet recommended to us by the man with the baby-eating cats.) Cross your fingers that my job search will deliver me urban bound once more. If only for the pad thai and wonton soup.