I Blog, Therefore I Am

Yeah, yeah.  Cliche title.  But I don't care.  There's nothing new under the sun, right?  Anything to settle for mediocrity at this trying time in my life.  There I go feeling sorry for myself again.  Isn't self-pity ugly?  

I feel like a split personality - on one hand, life is SWELL GREAT WONDERFUL.  I have a supportive, unconditionally loving husband and a beautiful bouncing baby boy who makes me laugh whenever I am with him.  But on the other hand, life is so hard right now cause I have a jumble of emotions concerning how I spend my day.  I'm not talking about making dinner or cleaning the house - I gave up on those a long time ago.  I'm talking about not having a job.  It's such a fight to have your lack of employment define you.  And I'm learning to accept that It's So Hard To Look For A Job!  You get called and go for an interview, and your emotions soar (even though you are trying with all your heart to just be level-headed) cause it feels like someone likes you!!  And even though you know that's not what it means in your head, that's what it feels like it means in your heart!!!   It's times like these that I wish I was a boy - men are able to separate emotions from logic easier, it seems to lil ole me, than women.  Then you get rejected via phone or the dreaded letter* (more in a moment about that).  And you say, ok, it's not me, it just wasn't a good fit.  God has a bigger plan for me than the small one I have for myself that was confined to that job I obviously was not supposed to have.  (yeah, if you're me, you're not only long-winded with other people, but to yourself as well)  *

The last thing I'll say about this topic is that the letter REALLY isn't necessary, people.  If you call the person and tell them they don't have the job, you really don't need to send a letter.  I think we get the point.  I guess everything has to be put in writing, but this, really?  It's not like I'm going to go down to the school and pretend like they offered me the job.  Although I admit that on a recent nameless interview, I parked in the Teacher of the Year spot because there were no other visitor spots available, I swear.  I felt like a criminal ducking away from my car as quickly as I could before anyone could associate me with the slacker car who took the Precious Spot.

So I blog, something that makes me feel human again.  I turn on Bob Marley, dance with Reilly, and I'm ready to wipe the slate clean and try job searching again tomorrow.