I didn’t get the job. 

I didn’t even get an interview. Ouch. That one stung a bit. Okay, it hurt a lot more than I thought it would. I saw the email from the place I applied, and it was just a form letter. Aaaaand, they are still accepting applications. If I had balls, I’d be down on my knees cupping them.

I was really excited about it, you know? I’ve hit a wall with work that requires ACTION GIRL! to jump in and get shit rolling. That’s what Misty calls me when I’m getting shit done. It makes me feel invincible. 

Right now I just feel supremely lame. Embarrassed. 

The worst part is I have to pick myself up and keep looking. That job was like, the dream job. With dream pay. It would have been winning the lottery. Now I look at what’s out there and just it all looks tarnished. And impossible. I don’t feel very good. Insecure. Like a faker. Like I don’t have chops at what I do. It’s a very demoralizing feeling. I’ve got that mean girl voice in my head telling to forget about it and just accept the glass ceiling. Even just typing this makes my face hot and my eyes prickle with tears. 

I’m taking deep breathes. I’d rather have a stiff drink. Or Misty’s arms (attached to the rest of her of course… my mind just did a weird morbid thing, as I read that back to myself).

Life is fucking hard people.

I’m broke. 

My amazing cousin and his wife got me a ticket home to a family reunion for next week. I’m looking forward to seeing everyone, but I am feeling sick about missing work. And then there is the pressure to find other work.

Reno update – my laundry floor is still a bloody disaster. But I’ve got some more tile coming to fix it. It will be done, and then I need to get the bathtub upstairs sorted out/purchased/plumbed before I can close up the walls and then learn how to dry wall. 

I’m cold and there are wolves after me… *said in my best Grampa Simpson voice*

My house is a mess. I have laundry everywhere. 

No one currently has lice (thank you to every single god there is).

My friend lost his job and I think it’s so fucking unfair. He didn’t deserve the absolute shitty way he was let go. I’m sending positive thoughts into the universe for him.

Misty emailed me a picture of a minecraft creeper (if you have kids you know what I’m talking about) and just titled it “Pink Bow?” Thoughts went through my mind, rapid fire, as I processed the request. I knew it wasn’t because *s/he* wanted me to. Through a whole series of synapses, I deduced that this request was from his wife. Which I won’t lie, put a funny look on my face. I’m not worthy of acknowledgement , like saying “thank you”, but you can ask me to do something for you. Interesting. I quickly did it up and sent in back. 

When I later asked Misty about it, s/he laughed and said/confirmed it was indeed for his wife. I guess s/he sort of talked her into letting me do it. Saying that I care about her happiness factor. 

This is both true and not true. I don’t enjoy not being liked. I don’t like being treated like I am a bad person. It sucks. It doesn’t at jive with how I feel about myself, and I tend to flush that kind of crap as soon as it hits the bowl. She wants me to not be here. I get that. And there isn’t anything to be done about it. I don’t want to make her unhappy. Do no harm right? But am I going to go out of my way to kiss her ass? Beg her to like me? No. Call me a giant biatch. Since that text message that she didn’t respond to, the warm fuzzies of being good friends is feeling less fuzzy. Call it a shot in the face of reality. 

What I do care about a whole lot is his/her happiness! And you know what makes him happy? A happy wife. 

The irony of the above statement is not lost on me. It feels like an impossible logic sometimes, that ultimately feels like I have to exit stage left. 

Fuck it. I’m going to go eat a cookie.