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.)

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.  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 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.

E-mail sent. Let the obsessing over whether he will reply commence. Actually, it began 12 hours ago.

The Smoker that I went out with over a week ago sent me a barrage of text messages on Saturday night, in which he did not identify himself, but I knew it was him based on what he said, and the fact that the number he was texting from has the same first 6 digits as his phone number. (So probably another phone on a family plan, or something). They were a little bit creepy and definitely, I thought, over dramatic.

And now, I’m hiding out on “invisible” mode on gchat, because Polite Boy has been irritating me, even though I get the impression that he does not like me. As I mentioned, he has never been on a job interview (gotten jobs via nepotism) yet he feels that he is qualified to offer lots of advice, and question my methods. He also told me that he is “not used to girls who have political opinions.”  This partially supports my arrogant suspicion that he was intimidated by me. Whatever.

And, speaking of job interview, (or job hunting) David is currently lamenting his rejection from a Perfect Job, and his description of the pain and uncomfortableness of this particular rejection hits way too close to home. I know it well. Both of us are, on paper, completely fucking useless. It’s a hard thing to be reminded of, time and time again, because even when you get over the initial sting of the rejection, it isn’t something you have the ability to change much. It isn’t possible to go back in time, and mold ourselves into something different on paper.

And, so it is Monday. Time to go compose more cover letters for jobs I don’t have a chance from hearing from. I don’t mean to be all gloomy and pessimistic, but it’s fairly easy to be this morning.

Sadly, my long standing, unhealthy attraction to aloof, emotionally unavailable (yet incredibly arrogant) men has made me unable to know what exactly to make of a boy who is very shy.

He is very, very cute. And the emails we exchanged definitely expressed an interest. (Yes, yes, I know, the internet, emails are not indicative of future success, etc) But he was (seemingly) painfully shy. Like there were some long-ish, mildly awkward silences. Is that normal? Aren’t you supposed to just “click” if it’s going to work out? I have no idea if he liked me or not. And due to lack of comfortable interaction from him, I’m not sure, if I “like-like” him either.

But he seems really shy, and from what little information I have on him, perhaps his awkward social interaction is understandable.

Or he could just not like me at all. Like, he didn’t so much as try to give me a hug at the end of the night.

And now I have no idea where to proceed. Forget him? Wait and see? Or write an email saying that we managed to do pretty well for two ridiculously shy people and ask if he wants to do it again?

I guess there’s not much to say about the Polite Italian Boy. Again, not really my type, but again, not enough that that should eliminate him from consideration.

It was fine. He was polite and held the door for me (I don’t much care about chivalry one way or another, but for whatever reason, I appreciate the door thing) and conversation was ok. It was actually picking up towards the end of the pseudo-date, when he had to leave for some other thing. (Of course, he could have just made this up to have an easy out.)

I don’t know. If he asked me out again, I’d go and give it a chance. But if he didn’t, I wouldn’t care. Joe gave me the excellent advice to just go and pretend that it’s not awkward. This sounds dumb, but it actually worked. I was fine and I could tell he was kind of uncomfortable/nervous. I think my confidence may have freaked him out.

Now it’s already 3:00 and the day is sucking. I had my phone interview, but right before it, I got hit with 2 emergencies and a panicked phone call from my boss, so that definitely affected my tone and such I’m sure. Plus the conversation lasted all of ten minutes, and while I felt I gave decent answers, it was still just ten minutes. I felt like I didn’t learn anything about the job and that she didn’t learn anything about me. Blah.

You know what? Dating is, so far, about as much fun as job interviewing.

Yesterday, a series of things that Give Me Hope (like FML, but with hope), to put me under the spell of “Maybe this time.”

When I have hope, I love it (albeit cautiously). When I don’t have it, I hate it and want it in equal proportions.

I warn myself not to project, not to plan, and not to get my hopes up. But…they’re already up. And so maybe I should just enjoy it? Because I know by now that it won’t last. A job won’t come through. What is easy conversation via gchat will be stilted and awkward. My email box will sit empty.

But, I drove home from work last night, and swear to god I had not thought of this song in years, but I caught myself humming “You Gotta Have Heart” from Damn Yankees. Specifically I’m thinking of this part:

Totally lame, but in the moment, it sounded pretty good to me, for all the obvious reasons. Maybe being stuck as a glorified secretary whilst marooned at my parents house in Jersey is NOT the career/life/whatever death sentence I’ve been seeing it as. I don’t so much buy into “everything happens for a reason” – I believe it’s human nature to Monday morning quarterback things without even realizing it, to attribute significance to things after the fact – it isn’t so much that everything happens for a reason then it is that we reconstruct the now logical sequence of events once the conclusion has already been reached.

But I guess that right then, and maybe even right now, I have enough hope to think that I’m going to get to a place, or something’s going to happen, and it’s going to give me the ability to see what this was all for.

And so last night, I got myself to the gym, where I listend to Atlas Shrugged on tape. I got up to the part where Francisco has become something that Dagny can’t understand and for the first time in their lives she doesn’t understand his actions, and she’s terribly hurt, but has no choice but to go on, and to live with it, and to survive it. I, much younger, used to think that if Dagny could handle that, than I certainly should be able to handle whatever complication I was currently obsessing about.

Then there was an email; not one I was expecting/wanting, but a good email nonetheless, and a short g-chat conversation.  I went to bed feeling good for once.

And now it’s Wednesday, and there’s coffee tonight with a boy I’m not sure I want to have coffee with (bad signs: hard to pin down for a time for plans and has mentioned an Ex more than once. good signs: very polite. seems to think highly of me from what little he knows of me) but the fact that I’m going to have coffee with a boy is a big step. Actually, his mentions of his Ex are what made me realize I am ready to date: At no time in speaking to any of these guys have I thought to bring up any of my exes. It hasn’t been relevant, whereas in the past, it would have been relevant to everything. I knew I had baggage (and I still do) but I hadn’t realized how much I had to put away until I realized it wasn’t there anymore.

And I suppose, even if nothing comes of any of this, that was a great epiphany. And maybe that should be my proof that everything happens for a reason.

Spontaneous date was…ok. He was nice. A geek (not a nerd…there is a distinction. Geek can still be good.) But not intellectual. And…not really my type and I didn’t feel any attraction. This alone would not be enough to NOT give him a second chance, but he’s a smoker. I don’t think I can date a smoker. Actually, I KNOW I can’t date a smoker.

And I feel guilty, because I’m pretty sure he liked me a lot more than I liked him. He asked at the end of the “date” when he could see me again; if I wanted to have dinner one night next week. I felt put on the spot, and evaded a little about my schedule. So I ultimately made no firm plans, but I think I indicated dinner would be possible next week, without meaning to.

And I texted him to say “Thanks for lunch” (because I thought that was just being polite. Should i not have done that?) he replied with “I had a great time, and I”m really excited to see you again.” So now I don’t know what to do. Because I got home, and the niceness of the conversation was not enough to make up for the disappointment of not hearing from the boys for whom the ball is in their court. (I probably butchered that sentence)

So last night, it was all summery and it made me miss the city, and think about how if I were in the city, dating would be so much easier. Which is probably not at all true. But there is still this whole “live with my parents” factor. And while there were very good reasons for me moving in two years ago, the fact that I’m still here two years later IS stigmatizing. But I still can’t GO anywhere, because career things are still in limbo.

Blah. The parallels to five years ago are frightening. And that foray into dating just ended in frustration. Granted, I have learned a lot since then, and there is no boy I am trying to make jealous.  But I don’t know. I don’t know if its just my frustration over the job hunt creeping in — I was telling Keithers last night about how it is so incredibly disheartening to spend time crafting cover letters and putting applications together to hear absolutely NOTHING — and making me feel uncertain about other things.

Edit: A minute later, an email from one of the other boys appeared. “Sorry for not getting back to you. Want to have coffee next week?”

And so I’ll wait at least 24 hours. And then I’ll say “Sure.”

I am having lunch with a boy.  In 20 minutes.

The perils of working in an uber casual office, where I rarely see my boss: I am wearing jeans. The same jeans I’ve worn twice this week. And a plain-gray t-shirt from NY&Co that is kind of thin and may be unflattering if you look at it the wrong way. And flip-flops. And my hair is not the best today.

I swear I had all these brilliant things to write about. I was constructing paragraphs on my way to work again. Of course, now that I’m in front of a computer screen, they’re all gone.

(Boston lost the NBA finals. Yay!)

I got a fortune cookie last night that said “You will move to a new home within a year.” First of all, it’s impressive that there was an actual FORTUNE (most of the time you just get little sayings or slogans) and second, yes I know it’s a fortune cookie, but…

I can’t help thinking of the last time I got a fortune cookie and scoffed. It was the night before I went back to school for senior year of college. I was so Not Happy then (even though in retrospect, my angst was almost entirely unwarranted) and I really didn’t want to go back up to school, even though it was only for one more semester. I just wanted to be done and leave college as a bad memory.

And then I got the fortune “a refreshing life change is in your future” and two months later things started to go and feel right again.

I know that there’s no correlation between the two, but when I saw the fortune yesterday “You will move to a new home within a year” I could not help but immediately internalize it, to think “see, here’s proof! It WILL get better! It’s going to happen.” Because I am pretty much desperate to feel genuinely optimistic and I’m having a really difficult time lately believing that anything will ever change.

And while a year is an awful long time to wait (I really wanted to be out of here by this summer) it would at least be an endpoint and a light at the end of the tunnel.

So I find myself sitting here, annoyed that there are never any new job postings on Fridays (or really Mondays too. What’s with the three day weeks HR people?), impatient to see if I’ll hear from this boy I may be trying to have coffee with, and thinking about the fortune.

And thinking please let it be true. Please let it be true.

Fact: Obsessively checking your email is unhealthy whether you are waiting for responses from boys or from jobs. I know I said in the past that maybe boys could at least distract me from the fruitless job search, but I think at the end of the day I just wind up double insane.

I am going to actually LEAVE THE OFFICE during my lunch break, because I don’t know, fresh air, or some such nonsense. But it never fails: I go out (and while this is, in sum, likely healthier than sitting in front of the computer for that hour) and am so disappointed to return to an empty inbox.

(I really need to get a life) ((I KNOW THAT! THAT IS WHAT I AM TRYING TO DO)) (I am talking to myself via parentheticals. Clearly progress is stalled)

Fact: I will never get a new job or a boyfriend.

And yes, I know that is entirely too fatalistic, and that if I were the type of blogger who had many readers, I would likely get a dozen comments about how that is not true. However, I will never, nor to I aspire to, be the type of blogger with a lot of readers (probaby because I have a bad attitude) and so when I make this statement, I am not fishing for comments but merely admitting to myself that that is what I feel (and fear). Putting it in words means that it is real, so I am loathe to do so, but there is it.

I am not supposed to fear; in fact, fear is supposed to be the enemy, the underlying source of all misery (that is what I have been told, over and over again). But it is there. I haven’t had one in person interview (other than the Libertarian fellowship) and in the past 6 months I’ve generally managed to be waiting on one possibility at almost all times. (It helped that one company took two months of interviewing to reject me). Now I am not waiting on any possibilities, I just have applications out that will not get responses. I am out of places to look. My network is quiet. I am back down to no leads, no prospects, and no hope.

As for boys, I haven’t been on a date in more than two years, if you can even call O-L-B a date, which is likely even more pathetic.

I’m going to go for a drive now, and try to resurrect the decent mood I was clinging on to this morning. Self pity is not a pretty color on me.

Poll – Do I want to sign up for OKCupid?

My biggest insecurity about doing one of these online dating sites is that someone I know could see it. Theoretically, if they’re browsing an online dating site, they’re there for the same reason. Theoretically. But I can’t be the only one who signs up for sites with a junk email address and just browses around, right? Right?

Plus, I hate the lame questions that any matchmaking site wants you to fill out, and I cringe at the thought of anyone I know reading my answers. Actually, it’s just kind of cringeworthy, period. You either have to go sincere (and sound lame) or witty/sarcastic (and sound defensive).

But, anyway: should I sign up for OKCupid?

This post may disappear depending on how I feel about it 24 hours from now. I would tell you what I thought was a good idea 24 hours ago, but I no longer think it’s a good idea, so I’m not going to tell you.

If I sound particularly psychotic this morning, it’s because I am. Also, the site that I need to get on to apply for yet another job that I am perfect for keeps crashing. Theoretically, this could mean that no one can get on to apply, but it was working fine this morning, and I suspect it is just this crappy computer/browser. You can see how I feel about theoretical things. Clearly I am a shame to the UChicago name. (one of the t-shirts they sold in the bookstore read “I get how that works in practice, but can you tell me how it works in theory?”)

Other (way more) important question: Do I want to send the snarky cover letter directly to Important Guy? I’d do some tweaking, of course. My paranoia is that my resume has a typo or error in it somewhere and it will look especially foolish including it with that letter. Anyone want to proofread?

My gym attempt today was foiled by a dead iPod. This week I’ll go. I swear. It is humid and gross here.

It’s already almost dinner time and I can’t say I’ve been “awake” at any point today. I’m groggy from Benadryll, but without it I can’t stop sneezing.

I am reloading my email today for an entirely different reason than usual. I’m not sure if this is good or if it exceedingly stupid, but either way it is a distraction. Next week (or maybe this week. It would be good if it was this week, because that would get it out of the way, for good or for bad) there may be coffee involved. I sent a semi-panicked email to Joe inquiring as to what photos of me were actually decent. (It’s slim pickings) I would like to remain completely indifferent, but I’m a tiny bit flustered, and already playing a game where I’m deciding how long to wait before answering an email.

This is, for the record, most likely nothing. I mean, I’ll be surprised if coffee ever even happens. But it gives me something to occupy head space other than the fact that I’m never going to find a new job. Although, while that is theoretically healthy at this point, I’m not sure this is the best means to distraction.

I’m running on too much caffeine and not enough sleep, for no good reason. I could join the Facebook group “I’m Always Tired Because I Stay Up Too Late for No Reason.” I click mindlessly around the internet and have been known to hit “reload” on my email, even at 1:30 in the morning.

I drink a cup of coffee, and then pick up another on my way to a therapy appointment, even though that’s all I have to do today. Half of a large iced coffee remains on the table next to me. My hands are a little shaky from too much caffeine and not enough to eat. Pause to eat half a sandwich. Better now.

My neck and shoulders are cramped and sore from too many hours hunched over at a desk or laptop. I am grateful for the relief of the weekend (I spent nine hours on Friday formatting contracts) but impatient with the way it interrupts the job search – there are no new job postings on the weekend.

My therapist gently bridged the subject that eventually, I’m going to have to date again. I brushed that off, saying I’m not interested in dating now, and what’s the point of it, given that I’m trying to move to DC sooner rather than later.

His point, of course, was that I’m not going to meet any boys spending my time as I’ve been spending it. Abstractly, he’s right. Day to day, I’m not interested in doing that, not now. My desire to go on polite dates is in the range of zero to negative 10.

I have an application to craft, for THE organization I want to work for. The chances of me getting so much as an email rejection are practically non-existent. But, as with every application I submit, even to the less than perfect jobs, I can’t help the wishful thinking. I can’t help but start to do the mental financial planning on how I would survive in DC on about half of what I’m making right now.

So it’s been a really long time since I’ve been on a date (or even done some making out. There is a definite lack of making out in my life) and I don’t see that changing in the near future. And I’ve only been at the search for a career change for a few weeks, really. It’s far too early to get frustrated because I haven’t submitted enough applications to be a contender in the number games.

Besides, all my personal experience shows that job offers, like boys you want to make out with, come along when you are least expecting it, when you’re at the rock bottom of frustrations and shattered expectations, and when you can’t picture how things are ever going to go right.

That’s when you get the phone call. That’s when you realize he’s deliberately sitting closer to you than he needs to.

Last night, I was re-reading (okay, lets be honest, reading) some articles that I saved from my National Security Policy class from grad school. I was taking some notes, because my crazy brain has decided that if I brush up on International Relations, I’ll have a better shot at Libertarian Fellowship. Anyway, as I said to Keithers “I’m watching Degrassi and color coding my international relations notes. Now what man would not want a girl who color codes her international relation notes?”

This is why I haven’t had a date in about a year. And the “dates” I had were not really dates, properly speaking. On one hand, this means the disaster with O-L-B last Thanksgiving was almost a year ago, as was the mini-debacle with Peace. Apparently the mini-debacle with Peace was so cringeworthy I never wrote about it, but the CliffNotes is, I got drunk and made out with a (Libertarian) Muslim who had never kissed a girl before, because anything other than holding hands before marriage is against his religion. The fact that I’m Jewish probably made it even more of a sin against God.

It’s too bad you can spell “Disaster” without “B-O-Y-S.” Anyway, the point is, except for the one time I went out with The Writer in February, the last time I had anything resembling a date was…way too long ago.

If you were taking notes on the four main approaches to U.S. Foreign Policy (neo-isolationism, selective engagement, cooperative security, & primacy) wouldn’t you use four different colored pens too? For example, I used purple for primacy, because purple = royalty, and primacy is basically a desire to be king of the world.

It annoys me that the phrase “king of the world” still reminds me of that cringeworthy scene in Titanic where Leonardo DiCaprio shouts the phrase from the bow (stern?) of the ship. Yes, that movie made me cry (I was 14, but it had nothing to do with Leonardo DiCaprio, who I never found hot) but I always thought that scene was embarrassingly awful.

I’m sure I should do something like laundry today, or figure out how to prepare for my second phone interview, but the former probably won’t happen, and the latter, I really don’t know what I can do.

The Writer asked me to a poetry reading on Saturday. He emailed saying “it’s cool if you already have plans, but it’d be cool if you want to come along.”

I waited 12+ hours before writing back, saying I’d go, and included a little story about what happened at work the day before regarding an IT thing, since it related to what we had been talking about last time we got together.

He replied “Great! See you Saturday then. P.S. – Your IT guy probably thanks you for being so nice”

No, I don’t think it’s a date, by any means. But definitely not “professional” correct?

Better now.

Last week wasn’t all doom and gloom as one may have judged from Thursday’s entry. A Grylliade member was in town on Wednesday night, so the New York contingent took him out. Although that led to what I guess qualified as a fight with O-L-B. Which I think is ok now.

Saturday I scored Billy Joel tickets, which brings me way more joy than it possibly should, because there are few things on earth that make me more joyful than Billy Joel live.

Sunday was Xina’s engagement party (and I will write more on this later) and other good things.

So this is just the public version, in which I check in, and vow to have something more interesting to say soon.

Well, it was a completely unproductive week at work, because with Important Boss out things tend to fall to the wayside anyway, and because my entire department has been ridiculously sick. I had an ear infection and cold earlier in the week, and Thursday I’ve been diagnosed with the strep throat that’s been going around the department.

I am still being anti-social. I am okay with this except that it’s not a healthy anti-social, due to the amount of time I have spent lying on my bed/thinking too much/waiting for the phone to ring.

Which brings me the boy situation. Okay, I need a moniker. There was Nice-Libertarian-Boy. There was Hot-Libertarian-Boy. There was Unfortunately-Gay-Libertarian-Boy. So I dub this one Older-Libertarian-Boy. OLB for short, because when I dubbed HWSNBN originally, I used to write the whole thing out, and that just got tiresome. Anyway, Things are about the same. We saw a movie together last Saturday, but I was actually really irritated with the way planning with. we don’t talk on the phone, because neither of us are phone people, but for making plans one would think a 10 minute phone call would not be too much to ask. I basically threw my phone across the room in frustration when I got a text message Saturday afternoon.

But of course, I still went out with him, and of course, I still stayed over, and of course, we spent the morning being all couple-y. But we went out for breakfast and then for a walk before I had to take the subway home, and he’s just so quiet around me, and it makes me lapse into quiet, and while it isn’t awkward, it’s frustrating.

Jill told me very blatantly that I’m letting him have all the benefits of having a girlfriend type figure without him having to do any of the work, and how do I know he’s not seeing other people too, since there’s been no talk of exclusiveness, and JIll, as usual is probably right.

Bleh.

And my throat feels like I’m swallowing razorblades.

Something is going to give soon.

Meh.

So there’s nothing wrong with a summer fling, right?