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.

Break Out That Landing Gear

One Sentence.

I've been hired!

 

The Defunct Curator Myself!

That is all. More information to follow.

Serenity

Serenity. For two weeks anyway. This is the amount of time I'm told I must wait further. Another two weeks of this holding pattern. Another two weeks without a full breath, time wasted, uncertainty.

I know I sound dire. I also know this outlet for my frustrations has become just that, no longer talking about the joys in my life, for which there are many, but instead focusing on this gnawing, this constant itch to be settled and the journey I've been on in my attempts to do so, mainly through acquiring a full time job. It's all coming to a boiling point for a number of reasons, reasons that make it all so much more dire. First, I no longer have health care and have been denied when trying to apply for individual health care due to a pre-existing condition. Apparently all the health reforms we've fought so hard to achieve do not go into effect for a few more years, during which time it seems, unless I am employed full time, I will not be able to get health coverage.

Additionally my student loans are due. On top of that The Professor seems to be having an even worse time than me in our eternal waiting. I was told, by the same people I've been interviewing with since March, that I would know their decision Friday of last week. Friday before Good Friday. I heard nothing until Wednesday and was on edge with each passing day. I then learned that I was a finalist, something I had already figured on my own. I continued to wait throughout Easter weekend during which time I was told that I would be interviewed again, for the 7th time, through video conferencing. I figured surely this was the meeting where we'd discuss salary, start dates, and any final questions. But it was another interview. The same questions. Similar answers. And I was told they would decide in two weeks. Two. Friggin'. Weeks.

I used to get sick a lot as a child (let's just say I'm not the most 'robust' of humans) and my mom would tell me the serenity prayer, because I could not control that I was sick, but I could control how I dealt with being sick. Since then I have had this outlook on almost anything, always attempting to react best to bad situations. This resourcefulness has protected me and gotten me through some bad times. But now, in the 11th hour, I'm just not sure I can handle this any more. I've gone through worse things, it's true, but never for 12 straight months. An entire year of being told no. It's hard not to take it personal. It's hard to remember my serenity prayer.

God, Grant to me the serenity of mind to accept that which cannot be changed; courage to change that which can be changed, and wisdom to know the one from the other, through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.

Last night I told The Professor that I no longer have any hope. That each time I get my hopes up I am told no, or to wait longer. Thus I think my hope has dried up and now I am jaded, constantly expecting the next no, and accepting the idea that I will never be back in my field and we may waste away depending on others to get by financially.

I know this is all depressing, and not what you might want to read on this Tuesday morning. But it's overcome my thoughts. It's become my entire world. I have so many other blogs in my mind that I'd like to share. About our trips. About Easter weekend. About the snakes and other critters which have come out of the woodwork at the cottage, terrifying this city girl. About cooking a whole chicken. About my first ham dinner and how well it went. But all these stories would seem fake to me if I didn't first express my current state of mind and being. At least for today anyway. Hopefully tomorrow I will have a more cheerful story for you. For now, I repeat:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference.

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.

For Love of the Weekend: Total Win; Total Fail.

This weekend was a curious little creature. It was long, as The Professor and I both took off on Friday. It was sunny and warm, with temperatures reaching 78 sizzling degrees (for us Northern girls, them's beach temperatures.) There was also a mix of ups and downs, making this past weekend a true example of convergence.

First, my job search claimed another fatality (besides that of my soul.) My baby toe was crushed in a door as I ran to answer my interviewer's phone call, which was twenty minutes early, thus my failure at being prepared (total fail). Although I screamed obscenities and writhed in severe pain, I rallied to answer the phone with a cheerful "Good morning!" After my hour spent in preparation, my nervous twitching, and my balmy palms, the call actually informed me that due to extreme business, my interview would have to be pushed back six hours (fail.)*

Rearranging my day, I did my weekly weigh-in and discovered I had lost 5% of my body weight, an initial goal (total win!) Which was followed by me leaving the house commenting, "I'm sure I can get around the grocery store, how bad can this pinky toe thing be anyway. It's just a pinky toe!" Total fail. My sad, pathetic self wallowed around in the local grocery, limping here, throwing my body there. Apparently the pinky toe is quite important in functioning, and balancing, and, you know, standing upright. People looked worried for me, like I had escaped some sort of caretaker.

Saturday I have deemed hide-away-day due to The Professor and I lying to anyone who asked and saying we had busy, busy and important plans for Saturday and could not attend any number of social engagements. This is because we are tired. We've been gone almost every weekend. And we drive three hours on the week days. Every day. So we spent a lazy day around the house (total win!) Well, I mostly limped around and ever so slowly cleaned (total fail) while I made sad, puppy faces, whining too much which resulted in The Professor enjoying taking care of me a bit (total win!)

When one lives in the middle of nowhere, one prepares for a day of errands like a soldier might prepare for battle. You need to rev yourself up. Play loud music. Pretend the car ride is actually fun. The hour long car ride. The hour it takes to get from your personless plot of land to the oh-so-over-populated 10 mile long stretch of horrifying plazas. After church and lunch we had only two tasks at hand. Get The Professor's car washed as we had a free coupon and go to Pet Smart. But first we had to get gas. Being adorably anal, The Professor demanded I hand over any trash from under my seat of the car (where's a girl supposed to shove her granola bar wrappers?) and he threw them away.

After what seemed like an entire lifetime we made all the necessary u-turns and plaza short cuts to come to the car wash but, EPIC FAIL NUMBER 1: The Professor accidentally threw away the coupon with my garbage. The decision: to trash dive or to not trash dive? I am not proud of us for this. But this was an exterior AND interior car wash, with buff and shine! Who can pass up a free buff and shine just because in the twenty minutes it took you to cross the highway someone could have thrown God-knows-what on top of your beloved coupon? We spent another twenty minutes returning. The Professor braved the public rubbish bin and produced the slightly dampened coupon (which I refused to touch.)

After the car wash (total win!) we completed our PetSmart run, with me pushing a shopping cart just to keep up appearances and not unseemly limp around, thus scaring all the small children. The task at hand: pick out a new collar for our beloved dog. EPIC FAIL NUMBER 2: After returning home (another entire hour in the car, during which we had to stop and get iced tea because that's how long the drive was) and painstakingly removing all pup's tags and putting them on the new collar, we discover the collar is much too large for our petite pup. Oh the horror. The Professor's face goes into melt-down mode. We must return next weekend and repeat the entire experience (except, I hope, for the bin diving.) During a slight (sort of massive) hissy-fit, The Professor rolled his ankle and is at this point also limping like a pathetic broken toy.

How could I possibly rescue such a failure of a weekend? The answer: BRINNER! Apparently not wanting anything our kitchen had to offer, I produced (using all of The Professor's gram's cottage pantry) pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fortune cookies. Our spirits brightening, we limp-danced around the kitchen to some favorite music, remembering how blessed we are and how beautiful the love of the weekend can be.

*I know jinxes are not real, but I'd rather not test it out. Thus I probably won't discuss my job interview until I hear something. Better safe than unemployed.

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.