The thematic title is blatantly stolen from Charlotte, who is awesome and even responds to my whiny emails.

In the past week I have started several posts bemoaning my laziness but I never finished them. A parable. Sort of. Like that episode of the West Wing, when Donna whines to Josh about the budget surplus not meaning a tax refund, because Democrats know how to spend your money better than you do, and then she refuses to give him change from buying lunch, because she knows how to spend the change better than he does. Or something. Clearly my West Wing obsession is out of control. But I have nothing better to do in suburbia. I could temper the obsession by starting to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which I’ve seen bits and pieces of over the years, but never chronologically.

Or I could, you know, read a book. I recently read “Reproduction is the Flaw of Love” (or something like that. And I don’t remember the author, but I’m not going to google that at work.) The book itself was ok, but the premise made me so antsy that I had to skip to the end before I could concentrate on the middle. I do this sometimes.

A bunch of new, interesting positions (for which I am highly qualified) came up on today’s job search.  One is at Much-Coveted-Organization. They no doubt recieve thousands of resumes for every job posting. On some level, I feel that if I don’t get my application in seconds after the posting goes live, I’m screwed. But then maybe waiting a few days, until the announcement “cools down” so to speak is a viable strategy, given that it’s going to take me at least until tomorrow afternoon to put together an application, properly. And no one reads mail on Friday. So maybe it should wait until Monday. These are the things I’ve been thinking about lately. You’ll forgive me for not posting, right?  You should thank me for not posting them, actually. 

Oh and my resume has an NJ address and I’m applying for jobs in DC, and it has occured to me that maybe I should use a local address (of one of my friends) but won’t that just make things more complicated? I’m still at my current job, in NJ. And I’d need a little notice for an interview. Sigh. I fear that I may end of staying here until I go more insane than I am already going, and then quitting my job (which will no doubt be a bad move. I have never quit a job before. Well that’s not true. I worked for a headhunter for 2.5 weeks.) and moving to DC and sleeping on Keith’s couch forever, and I won’t find a job and I’ll run through all my savings and it will be another failed experiment and I will have to go back to answering phones, and I will do that for the rest of my life.

I enjoy writing long, run-on sentences with fatalistic predictions.

Oh, and I just got an email informing me that my car is being recalled. Awesome!

I like Thanksgiving time, because it has generally good memories surrounding it. And also, good Thanksgiving episodes of TV – including an episode of House. I did not think it was possible for me to love Hugh-Laurie-as-House more than I already do, and yet he continues to impress.

Tomorrow is going to suck. Next topic.

I’m anxiety-ridden about Tuesday. Next topic.

I just want to get through these few days and get to Thanksgiving Break. Because I’ll be able to get back to normal. And my schedule will be my own again. I can stay late at work again – I think part of my anxiety is born from the guilt of having to be out the door at 5:30 sharp every day. It wasn’t a big deal this summer, but things are busy, and even the extra 10 minutes to finish things up would make a difference.

For months, I have not let myself by impatient, because this Tuesday was so far away, that to let myself wait for it would be torture. Now that it’s 48 hours away, I’m a wreck.

It’s been a rough week. Work has been crazy busy (in a somewhat good way). I had a stressful week regarding ride arrangement and some massive Fail. Oh and then I screwed something up at work and nearly gave my boss a heart attack and have spent the last 12 hours obsessing about it. Of course, this screw up happened about 30 minutes after I told my boss of my plans to apply for Libertarian-esque Fellowship and asked if he would serve as a reference. My timing is impeccable.

I basically spent last night fretting over aforementioned work mistake and babbling about my work mistake to a couple friends. Diagnosis: “You’re just being Rachel.”

I admit, it makes me smile a little that there are people who know me well enough that “Being Rachel” is a catch-all for my delightful neuroses.  I am actually far better than I used to be. I was able to watch Flash Forward and L&O SVU last night when in the past I would deny myself anything enjoyable until I knew for 100% certainty that whatever I was fretting about was resolved.

And now it’s Friday. I would really like to do something productive this weekend. Or, just to be novel, something fun. I am so sick of suburban New Jersey and general isolation. I miss NYC. And while this Libertarian-esque fellowship I’m applying for would be the best thing in the world for me, professionally, if I got it, it would mean NYC is at least that much further away.