I am groggy from too much Benadryll and also, really cold. Since I am always hot this means either my office is really freezing or I’m getting sick. I suspect it is the latter, because I am the Baroness of Bad Timing.

I was glancing through an article today about the DNC distributing major money for the mid-terms in Ohio and Florida. I think the mid-terms will be interesting, but I don’t have any strong predictions. Yes, I am the girl who has been saying for almost a year now that I don’t think Obama will win re-election, (this guy disagrees!) but the mid-terms are a different game.  Incumbancy matters more.

Plus, even though I think a lot of people are not happy with Obama (the whole “he let us down” phenomenon, which just makes me sad. Both because it was easy to buy into the idea that Obama wouldn’t let “us” down, and because I believe that when you’re elected president, your first full day in office, after all the inaugural balls are over, they pull you into a room, and say “Ok. You said a lot of nice things during the campaign. But here’s what you’re actually allowed to do. And if you try to do more, we’ll see have you assasinated.” C’mon guys, Let Obama be Obama!)

Anyway, I don’t think this is going to be anywhere near the 1994 midterms, especially since 1994 was unique circumstances.  Newt Gingrich and the Contract With America was (I think) overstated by the media (even now, that’s the reason you hear for the reversal), but still, there’s no Newt equivalent.

1994 saw a larger number of seats open than usual, because a lot of members of Congress retired due to the new pension rules. Plus, a lot of people were deserting the Democratic Party; an ideological realignment, if you will. Combine that with the failure of Clinton’s healthcare plan, and it’s not surprising that people were shifting towards GOP. I guess you could say that the 1992 election also had the Perot effect, and that the 1994 midterms just reflect people coming back to the party after voting indepedent, but I’m not sure that’s valid, because midterms are much more local.

Here is a list of voter shifts, which is kind of interesting.

I don’t want to write! Why did I extend this to 100 days anyway? (The answer to the meaning of life, the universe, and everything is 42. That’s about the only thing I know about Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and I only know this because I was friends with a lot of nerds in middle school. Well, I’m still friends with nerds (some of the same ones!) but this was possibly at the peak of their nerdiness. They all played Magic the Gathering, and I would go to their Magic touraments, because a couple of the guys had a crush on me. The ones that didn’t probably just found me really, really annoying, and in retrospect, I don’t know how they didn’t punch me in the face.

My abs are killing me, which is theoretically a good thing, but I keep thinking I have a stomach ache. I’m brilliant. 

It is definitely one of those days where I’m like “How many hours until I can go home?” I had McDonalds french fries for lunch, out of nostalgia. They are not as good as they used to be.  And probably cancelled out any good I did for my abs this weekend.

I am addicted to reading Above the Law, which is pure trash and very entertaining. I wish they had an equivalent for grad school.

I went for an aimless drive with Brent earlier, probably for the first time in at least 3.5 years. Now I’m killing time and also, I don’t care about the World Cup.

I am exhausted, and all I want to do is go to bed and sleep for three days. I don’t want to do job applications, I don’t want to go on my date tomorrow night, and I don’t want to go to DC.

Yes. I’m cranky.

I couldn’t sleep last night. At 27, I am still on the “school year” calendar, and thus my brain thinks it can stay up late for no reason during the summer. I remember this happening last year; I was pretty useless come late August.

The thing about forcing yourself to write every day, is that there are some days (like today) where you leave the WordPress window open for hours, hoping that something articulate and semi-interesting will come together, and writing and erasing paragraphs because they’re just too god damn boring.

(Brent would describe many of the tales I tell as “cool stories.” This is not a compliment.)

So now it’s 5:30, and all I’ve really done today is make a half-hearted attempt at the gym and sent a couple emails. Oh, and watched 90210. The original 90210, not the remake. It was from late in the shows run, after Brandon has already permanently departed to points East and Dylan (the prodigal Dylan McKay!) has returned, and almost immediately, he starts doing coke again, and almost accidentally kills Tori Spelling. It’s pretty awesome.

Does this count as a blog post? I sure hope so.

I’ve been at my current job for almost two years, and there are still days when I think exactly like this. Even more than two years since being summarily dismissed from the Job-That-Wasn’t, I still, as I confessed earlier this week have nightmares about it. I still have my moments when I forget that my bosses and co-workers are NOT like the people at the job-that-wasn’t. 

And this morning, my boss inadvertently gave me another reminder of that. I am so grateful for that. I know I’ve talked about it 1000 times in this space (but it’s my space, and I’ll repeat myself if I want to) but I still don’t know that I will be able to properly convey how much this job has truly been among the things that saved my life since I came back to Jersey in shame two years ago. July 17, 2008, actually. That was the date I knew I was coming back, and that I was coming back for awhile.  Six weeks later I was very lucky to start this job. This job made me feel capable of something again, even when it was just putting together a bunch of meeting materials. My boss’s awesomeness is why March 18, 2009 and everything after were not nearly as horrible as they could have been. This job saved my life.

Joe’s been in California, apartment hunting, so I haven’t been harassing him with my usual rounds of cover letters and questions. He emailed last night to agree to feed my cat next week (even though the cat is a racist) and I can’t wait to tell him about My Plan. I would not even be capable of thinking about making this plan if it were not for Joe being my sounding board and support system. He said recently, that he never would have imagined the weird friendship we’ve developed, where we hang out and talk endlessly about careers and existential crises (mostly mine) and dating. I’m sure there’s a sector of the population who would call it fate that I ran into him one morning at the bus stop in O-town, almost three years ago now. That, and several other bus rides, is how he came to be the person who drove me to work the week I was stuck and who reads constant drafts of my schizo cover letters. Joe has saved my life.

Joe is also the reason that Brent and I talk now, constantly exchange emails. We’ll never be the same as we used to, but we shouldn’t. He was still there at my one year in March, because he understood why it was such a big deal. They all did. My old friends have saved my life.

I had actual work to do this morning; a change of pace, as summer here has been dead. Last summer, I exchanged countless emails and was distracted by dozens of gchats with people from Message-Board-of-Note. David, I hardly think of as being from there anymore, such a good friend he was to me when I really needed it. I still have the text message he sent me after that awful, awful seven days that started with the ride to Chicago and ended with my in the hospital: “You have yourself to get better for you jackass. What else would you need?” David has saved my life.

The rest, some who I’ve met, some who I haven’t, made me feel as if I was part of something other than just my head. From these internet strangers, I’ve gotten career advice, CDs in the mail, and, with Ellie, countless hours of ridiculous conversation about Hugh Laurie, kittens, and petty-judgmental-thoughts. They made me laugh, they agreed that O-L-B was a jerk, they looked after me via text message, and once, at thirteen days, when I fretted how little time that was, Timothy replied “No, do you know how many HOURS that is? Right now, 13 days is awesome.”  The Message-Board-of-Note saved my life.

And then there’s me, who bemoaned the fact that 2010 is half over, and that I’ve gotten nowhere. That, on a Friday afternoon, I am sitting barefooted and cross-legged in front of my computer at the same job that saved my life, unmotivated to finished the three job applications that are 3/4^th done, and also, already ready to give up on dating because it isn’t that much fun, and the distraction it provides isn’t worth the opportunity cost. I am twenty seven years old, very much single, and still answering phones, among my many other responsibilities. (“Would you stop that. You’re not,” my boss insisted this morning when I referred to myself as “one of the little people” ((because it’s always “the little people” that bring down big companies)))

But I am 190 or so days into 2010, whereas two years ago, I didn’t even know 190 hours. I’m pretty pragmatic (some days, pessimistic), still filled with regrets for the could haves, would haves, and should haves, and still could afford to lose at least another five pounds.

But there are days that I hope. There are days that I am able imagine that I will one day have a life that is not this. I still can’t picture myself with someone else, and I can’t imagine a successful career, and really, there’s nothing tangible in my vision of My Plan. But there’s just this vague sense that I can do something else, and that one day, I will have a life again, that things will get better, because they already are. I am quite far away from the depths of Depression and darkness and utter stupidity that made my life a living hell for most of 2007 and 2008.

And I got myself here. I proved my worth and I got myself this job. And then, after many false starts, I rallied the troops and I finally got myself the help I needed, that came in ways I never expected it could. And that’s why, on an ordinary Friday afternoon, I’m sitting here writing this sappy, over the top, melodramatic entry, because I didn’t really realize what happened.

Because somehow, when I wasn’t paying attention, I managed something I didn’t know I was attempting.

I saved my life.  

I have had various windows open all day, started this blog entry at least three separate times, and now it’s already past 1:30 and I haven’t touched my requisite to job applications for the day, and by the time I complete this entry, I’m betting it will be 2:30. And I haven’t eaten anything, and I didn’t fall asleep until 4:30 am and I’m drinking one of those Monster Energy Drinks and it is scarily effective.  Oh, and I’m talking to a boy on gchat which always significantly drains my productivity.

And I am freaking out over logistics for next week.

Oh my god. And I was already planning on taking Monday off, but now maybe I shouldn’t since I’ll be taking Thursday off, and will be inclined to slip out early on Wednesday, probably.

I am not wired for this. I am built only to handle the mundane. Or at least, that’s what these two years have gifted me; an inordinate ability to do the same thing day in and day out and not shoot myself in the head, and not really seek out anything other than what is right in front of me. (Other than, you know, my obsessive job applicationing.)

I have no idea where I am going, either with this entry, or any of these sentences.

I restrained from posting earlier, when I was at the beginning of a panic attack, over something which certainly did not warrant panic, and babblig about it would have made it worse.  (Every is ok now. Not that it wasn’t in the first place)

My co-worker was teasing me about it, to which I shrugged and said “Residuals from my last job. It still gives me nightmares.” (Because more than two years later, it still does)

It seems I have not yet let go of NaBloPoMo, so I was thinking of extending it. How long, I don’t know. 100 days is a nice even number, but there’s the challenge of my vacation in mid-August.

Speaking of mid-August. There’s a gathering in St. Louis in August of people from Message Board of Note. The last time we had one of these was the much mentioned, disasterous Chicago trip. The weekend where everything that went wrong, did go wrong. (Through copicious fault on my own, and also because O-L-B was/is a total jackass).

So I don’t know if I should go to St. Louis. There’s going to be lots of drinking, probably, and I don’t know if I should be around that temptation. O-L-B isn’t going to be there (if he was, I would be 100% not going. The thought of being in his presence makes my skin crawl) and neither will Ohio, so the potential for drama factor is low. But I still don’t know if it’s a good idea. Plus, it falls right at the end of my already planned family-friends vacation. In order to go, I’d have to leave Rhode Island a couple days ealier than intended. And while it’s not prohibitively expensive, I really should throw that money at paying off my car, if I’m going to enact A Plan by next February.

That’s a lot in the “con” column, lets talk about pros. Pro is that I would get to see Ellie, who I have not seen in way too long. Pro is that I would get to meet a few people in person who I have not already met. (Con: Minus Ellie, none of my most favorite people will be there.) Pro is that I would probably have fun once I got there, despite the seeming dread, and lord knows I could use  a little fun in my life.

I don’t know, so I’ m putting off the decision.

I really need to go back to the philosophy of One Day At A Time. When you immerse yourself in it, it is surprisingly effective. I didn’t know that before March 2009, but now I am a reluctant (if also forgetful) believer.

I have had “Half of my Heart” (John Mayer) stuck in my head for about a week now. And I only know the chorus.

I fear my blog is going to become (even more) boring as I delve into the details of trying to make and/or execute A Plan. (Note: it is unclear yet whether this is The Plan.)

I have succeeded in making a dentist appointment for later in the month and I actually go it will be a true miracle.

Now, regardless of the fact that I am leaning towards actually executing this Plan, there are still several issues. One is that it is summer, and I do not intend to go anywhere at the moment, because summer is a terrible time to look for work anyway. The second is that I would like to reapply for the Libertarian Fellowship. I am unsure at this point whether I will apply for the early deadline (so maybe I can know that I am rejected by XMas again, and not pin any additional hopes on it) or if I should wait until one of the later application deadlines. Also, it may affect when I want to leave my job (if I leave my job) because I want recommendations from both my bosses. Third is that I still prefer NYC to DC, and even though the MAJORITY of jobs are in DC, there are still a few good ones in NYC, and maybe I could wind up with one of those, however unlikely.

Did I mention Polite Boy started asking me legal questions (I’m in employment law, and I can at least answer preliminary questions on many subjects) on his own behalf, and then started ARGUING with me over my answers. And these weren’t wavering opinions, they were STATEMENTS OF FACT. And yes, I know the law is up for interpretation and what have you, but he was trying to go into all this technicalities that were irrelevant, because his overall premise was wrong.

He was also suggesting that it would be okay to lie and claim that he never signed a piece of paper, because it wasn’t notarized and therefore they can’t really prove he signed it. There are a number reasons why this is a stupid idea, the first being, of course, “committing perjury is a bad idea.”

God, I am a magnet for tools.

I should really make some updates for my website. I’ve had my little .com for almost a year now . There’s a reason why I didn’t make the Blog the front page; this was going to be a Real Website (I have no idea what that means). If this summer continues to drag by at work perhaps I’ll actually get around to it.

I told Brent about my now Therapist Approved idea of quitting and moving to DC and how I have no idea of the timeline/cost/whatever involved. “Sounds like you need spreadsheets.” (I don’t LOVE spreadsheets, but they can be awesome in some capacities. I tried to keep a spreadsheet tracking my job applications, but it became too depressing, so as a result I have no idea exactly how many jobs I’ve applied to in the past 7 months.

I’m also considering sucking it up and paying to get a Federal Resume written. I have one, but clearly it sucks, and I hate KSAs more to the point where I just stopped applying for Federal jobs. And while I don’t really “want” a federal job there are dozens of high paying pseduo-admin positions. Now, I know that that’s exactly what I’m trying to escape, but it would get me to DC, and it would pay me well while I was trying to find something else. Federal resume writing is really, really expensive, so if anyone has any ideas about that, please let me know. The advice I’ve gotten thus far has been less than helpful.

It’s about 1000 degrees outside, so instead of using my day off productively (going to the gym, or going to purchase a new copy of Atlas Shrugged ((don’t ask)) or getting some plastic storage containers from Target in anticipation of moving sometime within the next year) I will probably just watch TV and maybe do some laundry. Again, I live an exciting life.

July 4th: Clearly the most Libertarian holiday on the planet. (Or something) I feel obligated to say, we fought for freedom from the British and now we have to fight for freedom from our own government. Please don’t get me started on talking about the history of the Revolution. I’m very nerdy and will never shut up about Enlightenment ideals and how so much of it was a lucky accident of history and timing.

Also, James Madison is my favorite founder.

The means of defense against foreign danger historically have become the instruments of tyranny at home

Gee James, did you look ahead to the foreign policy plans of the Bush Administration? (The Bush Administration: Now in it’s 10th year)

Since the general civilization of mankind, I believe there are more instances of the abridgment of the freedom of the people by gradual and silent encroachments than by violent and sudden usurpation

The FCC, Joe Lieberman & the Internet Kill Switch. The fact that I have to show my license and sign a book in order to buy Sudafed. THE FUCKING PATRIOT ACT. Yes, Mr. Madison, I believe you were on to something.

Now, I have my issues with Thomas Jefferson. I think he’s a bit overrated. But Jefferson did speak (perhaps flippantly) about the need for a revolution every few decades.

I’m not suggesting we start another Whisky Rebellion. But Jefferson was probably on to something as well.

*Madison was really short. Also, really young when he wrote his Federalist Papers. It’s a good way to feel even more unaccomplished.

I didn’t fall asleep until after 3AM and then I had to be up early for my appointment with the Crazy People Doctor, where I babbled about my realization that I am eventually (probably) going to have to just make the leap, quit my job, and move to DC.

Next summer, I plan to be one of three places: DC, NYC, or Europe. That’s about as far as I’ve gotten with The Plan.

Ok, that’s not quite true. Three things that need to happen before I go anywhere.

1) Pay off my car. It’s a 3 year loan, through March 2012. I know that if I wind up in NYC I won’t need a car (and maybe not for DC either, depending on whether I live in DC proper or N. Virginia) but paying it off before I try anything big is a psychological neccessity. I’ll worry what to do with the actual car when the time comes.

2) Save up $5000 strictly for COBRA. There is the “go without health insurance” option but since I’m trying to responsible/smart about the potential leap, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Based on what COBRA cost me during my brief stint of unemployment in 2008, that will keep me for 6 months.

3) See a dentist. I must, must, must get over this fear and get my teeth taken care of. And I need to do it while I have dental insurance.

My college housemate Diane is in Florence right now and I am so jealous. I saw Florence for the first time on a high school trip in 2000. It was not love at first sight (I preferred Venice). I returned in the summer of 2003 for a study abroad program and fell head over heels.

I told Diane that she has to go check out the street we lived in, and also see if “La Habitacion” is still there. (Is it evidence of globalization that a bunch of American college students studying in Florence spent many of their evenings down the street from their apartment in a Spanish tapas bar?) “Already planning on it,” she replied, and promised to send pictures.

As if I weren’t already jealous enough.

I don’t consider myself to have wanderlust. In fact, part of the reason I am pushing so hard on this job search is because I long to be able to put down roots somewhere. I wouldn’t even say I like to travel — I’m far too neurotic, and that can remove a lot of the enjoyment.

But lately, the urge to see Florence has been gnawing at me. I like the general idea of running away to Europe for some meandering travels — who doesn’t — but I would settle to just drop into Florence and stay. I mean, who wouldn’t want that too? Especially after the movie Under the Tuscon sun.

I’m too practical for vacations. The longest vacation I’ve taken since I started working was 5 days in Rhode Island with my family. I have this emergency fund sitting in the bank, squirreled away for all the just in cases. Just in case I lose my job. Just in case I have to dip into it because my next job doesn’t pay as well. Just in case.

And  while all those dollars sitting there for just in cases, provide a sense of security, am I being TOO conservative? Too cautious? I could take that money and live off of it for a year if I quit my job and went on a fulltime job hunt in DC. (attend every single networking event in town, and the like). Or, if I could somehow, some way wait it out here, I could wait for them to lay us all off and then run away to Europe for a few months, and then hit restart.

The trouble with the latter is that waiting it out keeps getting longer and longer. We weren’t even supposed to be here past December 2009. And I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I don’t know how much longer I can keep my life on hold.

I turned on my car leaving work yesterday, and the Jimmy Eat World song “The Middle” was just starting on the radio.

This song reminds me of driving out of the parking lot of Bergen Community College. This song was always playing when I got out of the Italian class I was taking there the Summer of 2002. 95.5 doesn’t have a very creative rotation, so if you listen to it regularly, you start to notice they play the same songs at the same time everyday. I always thought it was oh-so-appropriate; I had just finished my first (hellish, awful, miserable) year of college at Hampshire, and would be starting at Skidmore in the fall. So I was quite literally, in the middle. So I always thought of that song as my “transferring song.” Years later, I found out that Xina did too.

Anyway, as more proof that my hope dies last, I hear that song, and there is still a tiny part of me that considers it a sign from the universe that I should keep my chin up and keep pushing through, because it will get better. And yes, I’m taking the words of a pop song from 2002 as a message

Today is also July 1st. Half way through 2010. The middle.

I wish I could be the type of blogger that writes, without a trace of irony that “if that isn’t a sign from the universe, I don’t know what is,” (actually, it’s a good thing I’m not that type of blogger, because then Charlotte probably wouldn’t like me, and I wouldn’t have nearly as much of an excuse to go to London next year) but I will try to appreciate the coincidence. I’m trying hard not the think about the 182 days that have already passed, and the waste they have been. So many cliches have been floating through my brain on the subject (“Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans”) and trying not to obsess about the way I see the months and years of my life slip away as I attempt to put myself on track. I’m trying to think it’s okay that I don’t have a precise answer on what I want to do (because there are multiple paths that I’m trying to go, and I won’t know if any of them make me happy until I try them).

Yesterday, I quoted Thomas Hobbes, and to balance of the vapidness of quoting Jimmy Eat World, I will quote Churchill (via Charlotte) “If you are going through hell, keep going.”

So I have two job applications to submit today. I appear to be categorically incapable of not hoping.

This NaBloPoMo has been far easier than the exercise was in November.

Sure this little foray into dating has given me plenty of material, as has the whining about the job search. The sad thing is, that I have attempted to be mature, to show restraint, and to acknowledge that things are Not That Bad and Could Be Worse.

Yes, I could whine more if I tried.

Another month approaches, and July 1 means 2010 is half over. I won’t even go into the many reasons why this is depressing. In some ways, it surprises me that I fight so hard to not be pessimistic and doom-and-gloom. I used to be famous for my pessimism. 

David (brilliant, as usual) summed it up that he and I are both optimists who have been shown the proof of pessimism. Appetite, with an opinion of attaining, is called hope; the same, without such opinion, despair. – Thomas Hobbes

Oh Thomas Hobbes, how you slay me.

I still often have this (delusional) belief that things will get better, because they have to. Because that is total fucking bullshit. Things don’t have to do anything. The universe is completely random. Sure things could get better. But they could also get worse.

That is where I am supposed to pause, and express gratitude, that things are not as bad as they could be. It is something that I have trained myself to do, having been in rock bottom situations far, far worse than the existential angst of not having the career track I want or the vague self-doubt of not knowing what I did to make a boy reject me. Yes, I am grateful it is no worse than that. But after months upon months of just getting by on “it could be worse” my passion for that brand of gratitude wanes, and I couldn’t care less about the ways in which things could be worse, because things not being worse hasn’t really gotten me anywhere. I am still in the exact same place I was when things were worse. Maybe my head is a bit more together but the raw statistics are the same.

I wish that I had a more eloquent way to sum up what I’m thinking and to emphasis the muted despair I feel. Because I want no mistake about the fact that my despair is in perspective – my problems are white, middle-class luxury problems, the type I am afforded the privilege of fixating on. Unfortunately, I’m still human and all the rational thought in the world can’t turn me into a robot that remains emotionless on these issues.

George: I don’t want hope. Hope is killing me. My dream is to become hopeless. When you’re hopeless you don’t care. And when you don’t care, that indifference makes you attractive. 
Jerry: So hopelessness is the key?
George: It’s my only hope!

This is how I feel about now. My hope dies last in every sense of the word, and it may kill me first. Sorry Andy Duphrane, but right now it’s not fear that’s keeping me prisoner. It’s hope.

Rejection sucks as much at 27 as it did at 16. Of course, what did I know of rejection when I was 16? I was totally cute at 16. I was not the popular girl, nor was I was the girl next door, but man, was I am expert at Niche Marketing myself. I was the smart, sarcastic girl who didn’t care what people thought (pauses to allow self to die laughing at the notion that I didn’t care what people thought. I really think that I believed that I didn’t care) and knew just how to inject the proper amount of that attitude into interactions with boys. There was a short period when I was a bit of a heartbreaker.

A very short period. That, sadly, was clearly the pinnacle of any “Game” I may possess.

Shy-Boy did not respond to my e-mail. So he’s clearly Not Interested. I’m not crushed, but I am definitely disappointed. I’m sure I will be over this sooner, rather than later, but it is one more disappointment.

And not to get all emo and over-dramatic (but clearly I will anyway) but it would be nice if one thing could go right. Just one. Of course, I’m sure if one thing were to go right, I’d want two, and then three, and so forth. But right now I’d settle for one. Right now, I wish that he would just write back and say “Sorry, not interested” because then I could stop wondering about it, but I’m sure that if I were to recieve that email, I’d be upset. Not so much because of WHO is rejecting me, but just because feeling rejected sucks.

I could just really use some good news. I’m sure that the zen like answer to this is that there is good news and good things to be found in everything. Which is a lovely little thought. But not, at the moment, a particularly effective, or useful one.