My Ice Prison

Location: Gresham

Mood: amused

I woke up this morning only to see that my front porch has been completely hidden. Yup, it’s totally and completely hidden.

How can that be?
Snow.

There is so much snow on the ground that it is completely covering our front porch. That’s gotta be like 2 feet right?

Even more impressive. My brother’s car is out in front of our house...or at least I thought it was. It was there last night. This morning, his car has vanished! Yes people, the magic has happened. Someone has made an entire vehicle disappear!

Okay, his car isn’t completely invisible, but it’s hard to make out underneath the snow.
I’m impressed, and slightly scared.

I’ve never seen this much snow in Gresham. Has there ever been this much snow in Gresham?
This sucks. There are actually people to play with because it’s winter break. My friends are home, but I can’t hangout with them because there’s an ice fortress forming outside our homes. We are trapped inside.

Things like this happen in my life. I’m bored all the time, but there’s no one to hang with. Then, when there’s people to hangout with, there’s no way of doing it. I can’t help but laugh.

Also, I may have broken my wrist. That’s the funniest part about this whole situation. The day before this ridiculous downpour of nature’s prison, I was hanging out with some long lost friends. They discovered a patch of ice, and, naturally, we were compelled to slide around on it. Well, I’m a goofus, but I thought I was cool. I was attempting to master the greatest ice-trick known to mankind. Convinced that I would impress people I call out: “Hey guys look at me I’m a graceful ballerina!”

BIG MISTAKE.

I should have known better. Calling attention to my grace can lead to nothing but an epic demonstration of my ineptitude.

The intention was a legendary pirouette. -- That’s a one legged spin for those of you who don’t know. In my mind, the pirouette was going to be pulled off impressively, and the two guys I was with were going to think I was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

I must say at this point, I realize that even if I had pulled of the monumental masterpiece of movement, the reaction probably would have been lackluster. I don’t know why I think I’m such hot shit. Because, in reality the reaction would have probably been something along the lines of “oh...uh...yeah...that was...*special* Mindy.”

Well, no worries, because there was no way I was going to successfully spin after my omen-ing outburst. I got up the oomph, lifted my leg, and next thing I know I’m on all fours in the middle of the road.

I thought that the biggest injury was my ego, because I felt like I’d just scraped up my wrist and knee. However, the next morning I started to become increasingly aware of the pain in my wrist. It still functions like a normal wrist, but it’s hard to carry things, and it hurts to bend it.

I had my dad look at it. He said I should probably get X-rays, and I planned to do so the next day (yesterday). Well, that wasn’t happening. I have been thwarted by the weather once again! Now, today, we’re almost literally snowed in.

Such is my life. I’m nothing if not entertaining.

I’m bored too. I really want to be 10 years old again. I want to organize a huge snowball fight, but no one can come out and play.

The Things That Hapen to Me

Location: Home
Mood: giggly
 

Delete Entry?

Are you sure you want to delete it?

I seem to be a magnet for a certain type of experience. I can’t complain too much...Well, that’s a lie. I can complain all I want, but these things do make my life more interesting.

I had a job-interview-type thingy on Monday. It had just snowed, but I need a job so bad that I figured I’d brave it. So, I get in my base-line, no frills, Toyota Corolla, and attempt to climb my way out of our inclined cul de sac. I manage to turn around and begin the incline, but as I hit the top I reach a patch of ice. It was almost like a lip that sealed our cul de sac off from the intersecting street.

I revved my engine to manage my way over the lip… nothing. I try again. Nothing. Directly across from me is a man scraping the windows on his car. He’s watching his young son play in the road. I noticed that he suddenly becomes very aware of me.

I try to overcome my barrier once again. The man calls to his son, and he runs out of the street. Then the two of them just stand there and watch as I attempt over, and over, and over, and over, to get out of the evil circle that keeps me from my future.

It was not as if they didn’t notice me. I had revved my engine so much that a burning smell was beginning to rise from below me.

Now, I’m starting to think that my neighbors are just rude. Is chivalry really dead? Wouldn’t the polite thing be to come over and offer some help? I guess not.

Frustrated, I laugh to myself. Then I called my brother to save the day. He came out, and pushed me to freedom. Yay for big brothers!

I contemplated giving the man and his son the finger...but I think I’m a better person than that.

Later on I found out that my brother didn’t actually do anything, he just stood behind me and gave the illusion of pushing.

Today is Symbolic of My Life

That's a car under there!

Location: Home
Mood: comically frustrated
 

Delete Entry?

Are you sure you want to delete it?

I’m angry at the world, but in a completely humorous way.

     Last night I went to a friend’s birthday dinner at The Old Spaghetti Factory. I got a pomegranate Limoncello (to which my brother points out PART of the drink was 12% alcohol). I ate a spinach and cheese ravioli, and had a big dessert, and still managed to end the evening with a nice little buzz.
     When I got home I was expecting my parents to be gone, but there in the living room sat my Dad. So, I went about business as usual, but felt silly. Then I went to my room to prepare for bed. I blogged, and then got excited to read the book I’ve been reading. --; It’s this book that I fully recognize as stupid, but I LOVE it anyway.
     I finished the book...which makes me angry. Lately, each time I finish a book, unless it sucks, I get really angry because that means I have to find another one. Why do books have to end? It’s just rude! I used to be a slow reader, but my new life has made that part of me disappear as well. I hated being a slow reader. NOW, I hate being a quick reader. Can a book just freaking last?!
     When I finished the book it was 2:30am, and I was not tired at ALL. Sometimes alcohol just makes me antsy instead of sleepy. Damn you limoncello!
     So, I toss, turn, and think about my life. The last one is something that I avoid doing, because it just pisses me off. I get angry with myself mostly though. Then I start trying to think of something I can do about it.
    Anyway, I decide that I guess I’ll apply to grad school. It’s not really want I want to do right now, but it’s something. It’ll get me out of the house, and possibly help me with my whole “I’m qualified but have no experience” shtick.
     When I finish that, I decide that after I sleep-in (which I’m going to finally get to do because my dad won’t be there to judge me as lazy when I wake up after 9am) I’m going to get all cute, and spend the day at the book store. Get a coffee, find a new book, and try to speak to my imaginary boyfriend.
     I slept till 11am… Considering I didn’t fall asleep till after 5am, I expected to sleep longer, but that’s okay. I come downstairs and look out the window to find 2-3 inches of snow on the ground...well shit.
    There goes my plan for the day. I can’t drive my Corolla in the snow! Then I look into grad school applications, and turns out I need three academic references and I have...let me count...zero!
     Today is like a micro-version of my life right now. I’m TRAPPED in my house! I have no job, and can’t seem to get one, and there’s NOTHING I can do about it!!! I just want to scream, but I realize that it’s actually kind of funny.

I should probably calm down now because I just got a bloody nose...is that a sign?

The Two Trees

UPDATE: February2010

Upon review, I've realized that it's necessary to site my source on this one. This was a writing exercise I did after viewing the movie Wrist Cutters: A Love Story. This story was told during one of the scenes. I liked it so much that I was afraid I might some day forget it. This was my attempt to remember it the next day.
Location: Home
Mood: mellow

Delete Entry?

Are you sure you want to delete it?

     There’s this forest somewhere, and in this forest there are two trees. Actually, there are many trees, because it’s a forest, but these two stand out. They have an interesting relationship.
     One tree is tall, strong, and grows perfectly straight. The other tree is crooked, and very aware of it. The crooked tree envies the straight tree. Often it thinks to itself, “that straight tree is so beautiful. I wish I could grow straight like that tree.”
     The straight tree knows about this. It taunts the crooked one.

It says, “look at me, I’m so straight, and strong. I’m perfect. I bet you wish you could be straight like me.  Too bad you’re crooked”

     Then one day a bunch of loggers came traipsing into the forest. They looked around at all the trees around them. The boss looked at the perfectly straight tree, and finally he spoke. He said “cut down all the straight ones and we’ll take them back. They’re perfect.” And so the loggers did just that.
     They left only a few trees, including the crooked one, and it stands there to this day. Crooked as the day is long, but tall, thick, and strong. The tree just smiles to itself because it knows that its imperfections saved its life.

My New Boyfriend

Location: Borders
Mood: amused

So, I met a guy today....Kinda. I’m definitely weird. First I’ll tell you the whole story, and then we’ll delve into why I’m weird.

Today is my older sister’s birthday, and the Civil War (Go Beavs!). As a gift to my sister, my Mom and I decided to take her to see Bolt, a movie she’s been dying to see. When I get up I put on all of my OSU-attire, for good luck. Even though I’m not into sports at all I still feel a sense of loyalty that tells me I need to support my alma mater.

After the movie is over, I sense that my sister needs a break from my parents. They can be a bit over-whelming for her at times. On my mom’s suggestion, I take Sis to Borders to pick up a a new planner. I was also seeking out the next book for me to read. This is a difficult task for me because I have no one specific genre or author that I adhere to. In fact I love and hate books within each category. So, picking a book out can be an entire day long process for me.

We walk into the bookstore, and are immediately drawn to a table labeled “Borders Suggests.” As I am pursuing the books, a young man in a Sony shirt approaches us and asks if we have a few minutes to spare. Hesitantly, and without looking up, I say “yes.” He then asks if I go to college.

At this point I think to myself “that’s a weird way to start your sales pitch.” Then I realize my attire and say, in a teasing manner, “No, I just graduated...did my shirt tip you off?” This is when I looked up at him for the first time and realized how attractive he was. I was really confused because the look on his face was one of surprise that I was wearing a shirt at all. He then flashed a look down at my chest, and I flushed. I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I had just MADE this cute guy look at my boobs. He then chatted with me briefly about whether or not I was planning on watching the game. It was then that it occurred to me that he originally had not noticed my shirt, and it became increasingly strange to me that he had asked me about school. I quickly explained that I am not into sports, but that I just felt a need to support OSU today. To which he responded “oh I understand, I still have a bunch of my Indiana stuff at home that I still wear.”

Smile. Laugh. Awkward pause.
Then he asks, again, if we have a minute to spare for his pitch.

Didn’t he already ask me that? I looked up at him, and suddenly realized that I was very attracted to him. He handed me the item that I just noticed he’d been holding the entire time. It was a Sony Digital Reader, but I was too embarrassed by his cuteness to really take in anything after that. I held the thing, it was actually pretty cool, and stared at it as if my life depended on it. The only time I moved at all was when he instructed me to press a button.

This is when I realized that I had frozen under the power of his attractiveness. I quickly thought to myself, “say something! Do something so he knows you’re still there.” So I muttered some quick “oh cools” and “wows.” This wasn’t cutting it, so I said “it’s really light weight, you feel it,” and passed it to my sister. Shortly after that the conversation ended, and he handed me a card with a promotional offer on it. I ended the interaction with a silent “I love you” muttered only within my own head.

So, I try to de-blush. I follow my sister around, but am clouded by the fluster that this man has just immersed me in. I wanted to mention my mental state to my sister, but every time I looked up he was within earshot.
I excused myself to the restroom, and when I came out my sister was all alone. I walked up to her and explained that he was my new imaginary boyfriend, and that we’re secretly in love...he just hasn’t been informed yet.

At this point we’ve found my sister the world’s coolest day-planner, and have now begun the search for the perfect book for Mindy. I seem to be magnetically drawn to my new boyfriend though. My whole search for a book is based upon a 5-10 foot radius of this man. Each time I look up, he’s there...and I like it. In the back of my mind I pay attention to his sales pitch each time he delivers it, and I smile. However, I’m looking for a book and so I keep reading the backs of books I have no interest in.

At one point, my sister approaches me with a smile and giggles “are you even reading that?” This is when I realized that it looked as though I  silently following this man! I was actually reading these book covers...but now I’m not, and my sister has called attention to it. She ran away giggling. I have become increasingly aware of the fact that if I put this book down and go after her it will look as if I was just stalking him. So I stare at it for a minute. Then I pick up another book and stare at it. Finally, I find the courage to walk away from my new love.

I find my sister in the science fiction (of all places) section, giggling at me. I blush, and attempt to rise above it. All the while, I’m silently hoping that this guy will approach me and ask me to marry him, or at least to have some coffee. Sadly, it doesn’t happen.

As we get in the car home, my sister and I discuss our return to the mental state of a 13 year old girl with a crush. Turns out, he was totally into me to. I was too scared to look at him, but (and this is according to my sister who has a bias) apparently he kept looking at me throughout his pitches. All of his other pitches lasted about a minute (ours was over 5 minutes). There was no small talk with anyone else. His voice cracked when he talked to me. She also says there was "a palpable tension", and she felt like she had to give us a minute alone.

So, my friends, here is why I am weird. Well, actually there are several reasons, but I’m just going to walk you through this one. I had NO IDEA that he was hitting on me. I’m TOTALLY oblivious. I was completely confused by the fact that he would ask me about school without having noticed my shirt. I was unaware of his voice cracking (in retrospect, I noticed but didn’t think anything of it). I had thought his other pitches seemed more put-together, but figured I threw him off with my demeanor (I was friendly, and then I was frozen). And, why would he be interested in me. I’m in holey jeans, a sweatshirt, greasy hair, and wearing my glasses!

I’m also weird because of the way I behaved once I noticed he was beautiful. I was totally chatty and friendly, until I recognized his appeal. Then it was as though I shouldn’t talk to him. I had to ignore it or something. I suddenly had to stare elsewhere. Shouldn’t that be the other way around. Should I be cold and unfriendly when I don’t notice his attractiveness, and chatty and friendly once I sense his allure? It’s not how I work. I just blush, and stare away. God forbid he realize that I’m into him! That might actually spike some kind of romance in my otherwise lonely world!

A LARGE part of me wants to go back there. I want to find him and ask him to get a coffee with me, or give him my phone number, or anything. But I won’t, because I’m aware of my weirdness. I know that it wouldn’t go like that. In reality, I would approach him, smile, make some strange comment, and silently hope he confesses his secret love for me.

I may be in love with this guy. He may be my one and only. However, I will never know, because I’m a chicken. I wish there was a love fairy who would help me out here. So, if anyone reads this, and they want to. Please go find the guy and give him my number. Tell him that I love him, and that we’re meant to be together...well that might be a bit creepy. In my fantasy world, that would work.

Here’s hoping he calls me (on the phone number he doesn’t have) or shows up on my porch (to which he doesn’t know the address). I’d just like to hear him call my name (which he doesn’t know.)
I love you Borders Sony Reader Man.
;)

Living for Hope

Image found here

Location: Home
Mood: hopeful
 
I experienced something truly great last night.

In my lifetime, Americans have seen a lot of things happen. Some of them horrible, and some of them good. But last night was the first truly awesome thing that I have ever taken part in.

I am, of course, talking about the election of Illinois Senator Barack Obama to the highest office in the land.

There was no doubt in my mind that he would win the popular vote. However, having witnessed the 2000 elections, I’d be lying if I didn’t mention that I was nervous for the potential of dangling chads, Governor relatives, and conspiracy at the polls.

In the beginning, with only two states, McCain was ahead, and I was nervous. Then Obama seized a lead, and I began to feel the excitement. Shortly after that, McCain picked up a few more states, and the nervousness snuck-up on me again.

Then, around 8pm (Pacific Time) ABC news announced the closing of the western pools, and the Nomination of Barack Obama. Part of me didn’t entirely believe it.  And then John McCain appeared on my screen. He delivered one of the greatest speeches. No doubt, it was one of the greatest speeches that I have ever heard, probably second only to Obama’s acceptance speech later that evening. As he ventured onto the stage, and began to speak I was enveloped by the enormity of his words. My father wisely pointed out “if his entire election had been anything like this speech he might not have lost so hugely.”

For the past week, I have actually been temping with Multnomah County Elections, and I was scheduled to go in to count ballots at 10pm. I was delaying my departure because I did not want to miss Obama’s acceptance speech. There was something in the air, and I just knew that it was going to be great.

Of course, the news cut to Obama walking on stage at the exact moment that I was putting my coat on. I quickly ran outside and tuned my radio to NPR, a station that I normally try to avoid (Talk Radio makes me car sick). As I drove into Portland, I was completely moved by the words of President Elect Obama. On a few occasions I welled up just at the significance of his words and his election.

When the speech ended, I continued to listen to NPR. This is entirely out of character for me (as I mentioned, NPR makes me car sick). I think that this was mostly because I just did not want the moment to end. Over the chatter of the news, I heard a bang and looked up to see fireworks light up the Portland Sky.

Suddenly, I realized that there was some honking and yelling. I quickly turned off my radio and learned that all the commotion was a celebration on the streets of Southwest Portland. Cars were honking their horns and people were cheering and hugging on the streets. At this moment, it really sunk in for me. I was living through one of the greatest moments in American history. I was experiencing something that people all over the nation were experiencing. The entire country was elated at the selection of the first African American president.
I reached the elections facility, and parked my car. As I walked the block and a half to the building, I passed people cheering and singing. I stood across the street from the building, and watched as people knocked on the windows giving thumbs up to the the staff inside. I crossed the street, as cars were honking and celebration filled the air. After I began to work, a band set up in the middle of Morrison blvd (the street Multnomah County Elections is located on) and began to play. It was as if all Portlanders lost their calendars and thought it was New Years Eve.

It was truly bizarre to be a part of the election at such an historic moment in time. It was especially bizarre spending the entire night/morning counting ballots when the country had clearly already come to a decision.
In any event, I have never been more proud of my fellow man. When I arrived home, at 9am, I fell fast asleep. My mind was at ease. Sure, I am anxious and hopeful, but after a night like last night I am confident that the American people have made the first step in a good direction. I am so filled with pride, and excited for what is to come.

Way to Go America, and congratulations President Barack Obama!

The World's Most Hilariously Awful Interview

Mood: distressed

I had an interview today in Salem at the Oregon State Hospital....It didn’t go so great.

I showed up 45 minutes early, and was going to hangout in my car preparing for it. However, I'd had three glasses of water and a soda. I had to pee, and badly. I debated going in that early, but finally settled on driving around to find somewhere else to go.

When I had killed enough time, I decided to go in. The parking lot was behind the building so I had to walk around an entire building. Then I had to ring a doorbell to get let in. After ringing the doorbell, the receptionist just hollered “Come In!” When I signed in she called the woman I needed to meet with. She didn’t answer.

The receptionist than told me, “Maureen is in the middle of something, she’ll be about ten minutes. Feel free to have a seat and wait.” So, I parked it. I pulled out my note pad, and was going to brainstorm some intelligent questions to ask. However, Maureen was there within ten seconds. She took me to a room, and handed me the questions that the panel would be asking me. This is how social services interviews are run. They ask you to show up 15 minutes early, and give you the questions. You can then think about them and develop thoughtful responses. Maureen told me that if I needed her she would be in the room next door.

I know what you’re thinking. This isn’t so hilarious, or awful, just yet. Well, hold on.

I’m reviewing the questions, and the first one is to describe my experience in the mental health field. I have none. So, I’m thinking, “this will be fine.” What they normally do is ask you the questions verbatim. So, I was thinking that they’d ask me and I’d be able to relate to them more personally. Then there were a few questions that involved inside terms. This is terminology that means nothing to me because I don’t work here. I have no idea what “person center plans” or “evidence-based structure as it relates to peer support” are. But I’m thinking, “this is fine, we’ll come to that question, they’ll ask it and I’ll play off their response. I will tell them I’m not sure what they mean, and it’ll be okay.”

While I’m working on these questions, and attempting to calm myself. Something really awkward happened. The woman in the room next door, Maureen, got a phone call. Apparently, the walls there are paper thin. Her conversation seemed fine. She was perfectly polite, and perky. Then the call ended. She hung up the phone, and said (to herself presumably) “fucking stuck up bitch!” Afterward she continued to grumble to herself. There were no other voices. She was definitely talking to herself, and some of the stuff she was saying was not quite right. Along the same lines as the post-call conversation. Needless to say, I was uncomfortable.

A short while later a weirdly dressed woman came in to get me for my interview. She was dressed in a colorful outfit that can only be described as something a high school drama or middle school art teacher might wear (excessively flowy, and with  ample color and decals). She walked me across the hall to an office that looked like the inside of a Native American teepee. Standing at the table were two old men. One looked like he might be a college professor, and the other one was...a cowboy.

THERE WAS AN HONEST TO GOD, OLD MAN, COWBOY THERE!! He had the whole cowboy hat and tight jeans deal get-up. He was wearing a vest with a bunch of pockets all over it. This dude had a bushy beard, and all kinds of things going on. I was completely confused.

I shook all of their hands, but was really confused (by the cowboy) and uncomfortable (because of the woman with tourettes across the hall). When the men shook my hand they said their “Hi Melinda, I’m ___” to which I responded, both times, “Hi, I’m Melinda” as if they didn’t already know my name.
They pulled out my chair for me. When I stood in front of the chair to sit down, they pushed it in, and my foot got hooked around it. So, I got stuck, and went through the interview in an uncomfortable position.
I knew nothing about Oregon State Hospital. When they asked, I requested a brief explanation. They gave it to me. Apparently, at the Salem location, the VAST majority of their patients are either those who “have been deemed not competent to stand trial” or those who have successfully plead the insanity defense. Needless to say, I began the interview completely off guard.

Then they told me that they would like me to run the whole interview myself. I could read the questions out loud, or not, as long as I just let them know which question I was on. Um...what??! I was counting on them reading the questions. This threw me off.

So, I stumbled through it. I asked them what some of the terminology meant, but these people skated around the questions and never really told me what they meant. Also, anytime I showed any humanity, I got NO RESPONSE! I would joke a little, and not get even the slightest smirk. They were entirely stone faced!

To make matters worse, in the middle of my interview, the cowboy’s phone went off. It was set on vibrate, but that did not make it any less noticeable. It was one of those LOUD vibrating things. It was really distracting, especially because he seemed to have forgotten which vest pocket he put it in. He fidgeted around in it for nearly two minutes! I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Originally, I smiled at him in an “oh haha” kind of way, but (as was their style) I got no reaction from him.

At the end of the interview they asked if I had any questions. I have learned that you don’t want to leave without asking some well thought out questions. So, I asked about how they would go about training a person with little to no experience. The old man gave me a very vague and uninformative answer, and then the woman chimed in. She told me about a program at another branch, where you can get experience, and they pay for you to get your Certified Nursing Assistant License. My CNA?! When did I ever express an interest in going in that direction? And, doesn’t it seem like a step back from my bachelor’s degree? Especially when you consider that I don’t want to go into the medical field.

Throughout this whole interview I was screaming inside my own head. I really just wanted to politely excuse myself, and run screaming down the hall! When we were finally done they said “well thank you for coming in and interviewing with us.” Then, they all just sat there at the table. So, I stood up, and asked “should I just walk out the same way I came in.” They then asked me if I came in through the front door...There was only one way in! I had to ring the doorbell.

Finally, I got out of there, and made it out to my car. On my way out of the parking lot I noticed a truck. I thought it was waiting for my spot, but then I saw the truck again as I exited the parking lot. THE COWBOY WAS DRIVING THE TRUCK!! He was behind me all the way out to the freeway!

It wasn't just awkward and uncomfortable! It was a train wreck!
So, can I ask just one question?:
Why the hell was there a Cowboy?!
Okay, two questions actually:
At this place, is it a normal thing to have a coworker mutter obscenities as they work alone?

Working

Mood: mellow

I started a new job yesterday. Yes, ladies and gents, I am now a temp. It’s gloriously boring. I’m working for US Bank. I show up at 5:30am (soooo early). When I get there, they give me some stacks of bills. I then sort through the bills, and organize them into several smaller stacks. Then I bind them with rubber bands, and ask for another stack. It seems that monotony will be my life for the next 5 weeks.
I’m not really sure exactly why the temps need to show up so early. I am actually not really sure why anyone needs to show up that early. Obviously someone somewhere had this idea, but it doesn’t make much sense. I mean, at the LATEST we’ll be done by 4pm. Yesterday I was done at 1pm, and today I was done just after 11am.
I got a letter from Lane County Child Welfare in Eugene yesterday. I called them today, and I have an interview on Friday 10/31. It’s a group interview, and that’s a bit unfortunate. I am not a fan of group interviews.
Well, that’s all for now. I’m gunna go work out.

Mindy the Maladroit

Mood: embarrassed

I looked up a new word. I feel that this one describes me perfectly right now. I’m sort of a bumbling fool at points in my life.

My interview was not the greatest. It wasn’t awful. It definitely could have been worse. But, it was not the best interview that anyone ever had.

They tell you to arrive twenty minutes early so that you can fill out a criminal history form, view the position description, and review the questions. At interviews for Social Services with the DHS they give you the questions ahead of time. You are then given some time to read through them and prepare your answers for the actual interview. It’s rather nice actually. You get to prepare, and you are ready for what they throw at you.

Well, I am chronically early to important things. It’s almost embarrassing how early I am to things like interviews. Normally, I would have shown up about twenty minutes early, but because they told me to be twenty minutes early I showed up about a half hour early.

What’s weird is that they called me in almost right away. I had MAYBE fifteen minutes to prepare. It was actually more like ten minutes. The criminal history form was filled out, but I never got to review the questions. The job description was like 5 pages long. It doesn’t help that I am a slow reader. The interview questions were at the very bottom of the stack, and I never got around to reading them. I was actually on page three of the job description when they called me in.

It was a panel interview, so it was me versus two DHS staff. The room was set up rather awkwardly. It was a round-ish table, and the two women interviewing me were sitting opposite one another. They asked me to have a seat, so I chose the seat between them. It was more like an octagon table, but it was still rather strangely set up.

The two women introduced themselves to me, and then asked me if I would like to just begin answering the questions. This was nerve racking because I hadn’t even seen them yet. But, I took a deep breath and told them that I hadn’t had a chance to review them, and asked if we could go through them together.  They seemed fine with that. So, they began asking the questions, taking turns. I did my best to answer each question honestly and thoroughly.

About five minutes into the interview I realized that we were almost on the last question...What’s that all about? Honestly, the brevity of the interview began to make me nervous. In my experience good interviews last longer than 10 minutes. Usually, if it’s going well it will last about 30 minutes.

It was at this point, nearly half way through the interview that I began to realize that neither woman was really reacting to anything that I had to say. They both fervently took notes, but it seemed as though neither one of them was actually hearing me.

So, about 10 minutes into the interview they asked me if I had any questions for them. I had a few, but I stretched them out to make the interview last longer. When I had asked all of my questions, the interview ended.

As I got up and started to leave the room the woman (who would be my supervisor) said, “So, Go Beavers. I went there too.” Then she indicated my pin and said, “And you were a Chi Omega? I was a tri-delt, all four years.” To which I responded...“Well, that’s okay,” and left the room.

"Well, that’s okay"? REALLY?! I crack myself up, because sometimes shit just comes out of my mouth. It’s almost like I have verbal diarrhea. I just say things, and I have no control over it.

I know that what I meant was something like, “well, we can still be friends.” However, it definitely came out sounded like, “I won’t hold it against you that you were not cool enough to be a Chi Omega like me.” And that’s how I ended the interview.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad interview, but it did not go the way that I had wanted it to. My plan was to walk out of that interview feeling great. Instead, I walked out of that interview feeling like a goob.

I think that they should make a sitcom about me. At times it feels like I am a cross between Elaine Bennis (from Seinfield) and Pheobe Buffet (from friends). I’m relatively successful in life, but sometimes I just do some things that seem ridiculous.

Let’s just hope that what I said left an impression. Hopefully, it made me memorable, but not in a bad way.
Oh gosh. What am I going to do with myself.

Just Thinking

Location: Home
Mood: contemplative

I drove down to Corvallis for the day.

I was in a sorority. Well, I am in a sorority. I guess once you’re in one you’re in it for life. Anyway, in a sorority you get a whole “family” complete with a big sister and a little sister, sometimes more if you’re lucky enough. Normally, you get your Big sister shortly after joining. This is during your freshman (in the house) year. Then, if all goes accordingly you get your Little sister your sophomore year. Nothing about how I joined my sorority was normal. I joined my sophomore year. So in terms of the sorority, I was a freshman, but I was a sophomore...it’s all very confusing. I got a Big my first year in the house, but she (unfortunately) had to dis-affiliate...that means she left the sorority. However, before that happened, I got a Little during my second year in the house. It was late winter term when they both DA’d...not planned, and independently of one another.

So my third year in the house (my junior year in the sorority, but my senior year in school) I was “adopted” by another Big. She is amazing, and I was welcomed into a big family, because she already had 2 Littles. So I was a triplet. Then I got another Little. She’s fabulous, and I could not be happier with my sorority family. Especially my Little.

Anyway, I told you all of that so that I could tell you this. Today is my Little’s birthday. She’s a sophomore now. In both the house and in school. She joined the house the conventional way, so all of her years add up and are easy to follow. She just moved into the house for the first time a few weeks ago, and I want her to have the best time possible. I feel really bad because I can’t be there. Normally, you would live with your Big the first term you live in the house, but because I joined abnormally, I graduated before we could live together. So, I am forced to be the best Big that I can be...from afar. I don’t want her to feel like she’s missed out on having a Big. So, I wanted to do something special for her birthday.

I had these big plans to surprise her. I wasn’t going to tell her that I was coming into town, and surprise her. However, I found out that she has class until 5pm, and that didn’t really fit into my plans. So, I told her I was coming into town. It would have been cool to do it the original way, but it just wasn’t practical with such a small window.

I have a job interview in Gresham at 10am, so I had to turn around and drive right back after I took her to dinner. So, it really was just a day trip.

There’s something about driving all alone, at night. It really makes you think. I got really deep into my thoughts. It might just be the endless stretch of road. It could also be the fact that you’re passing by towns that seem to be so peaceful, but you feel all alone there in your car.

Sometimes I really feel alone. Being in my car tonight just reaffirmed that. It’s hard to go from undergrad and living with 50 girls, to solo in your car. I was literally driving between two worlds. My undergraduate sorority life which I still feel a part of, and my grown-up, jobless, alone, without a friend world. That’s a tough thing to do, driving down that dark headlight strewn road just made me wonder how I am going to make this transition.

It’s not like I haven’t been trying to make this transition. It would really be nice if once you graduated they just handed you a list of jobs, and said “here you go pick one.” Then once you picked it they gave you that job. I’m not asking for some career Eden right out of school, but something to get my feet wet would be nice. I sort of feel like OSU gave me all of this education, but didn’t provide any help for me to figure out what to do with it.

Now I think I know what I want to do, but that doesn’t help me figure out how to do it. Also, it feels like Gresham is so far from everything and everyone that I’ve grown to know and love in the past few years. It’s hard not to notice that I have no friends. I feel fine most of the time, but it would just be so nice to have someone I could call up and talk to. I would just like a friend that I felt was genuinely concerned with what I was thinking about, and wanted to hear from me. I know that there are girls that I can talk to, and they are genuinely concerned with me. The problem is that they all have their own things going on, and I feel like they forget about me.

That’s hard to take. Every now and then I go through a whole day without actually speaking to anyone, except for my parents. That just reminds me that I don’t have really close friends. I have friends that I can call, but there is no one person that I feel like I can lean on right now. Thank god I’m doing alright, but sometimes it would be nice to know that person was there.