Lord have mercy, this is what I have been waiting for for the last year. This opportunity feels like the right one, even if I'm going to be scared halfway out of my mind once the shock wears off.
Last month, I agreed to do a sample shoot for the catalog of a company in which my freelance employer invests. The product, a line of collegiate-branded women’s sleepwear, seemed right up my alley (seriously, who doesn’t love pajamas??), though it had been a while since I’d done a shoot. Although it was fun (my photographer, Tara Arseven, was just wonderful: personable, intelligent, and funny), the experience was a good reminder that I simply am not keen on attempting to use my appearance to make a living when I could (less stressfully, and with fewer creepers) use my talents to do the same. If nothing else, some of the attire was just skimpier than I am comfortable being photographed: about the least I’m okay with wearing tends to be a sports bra and spandex shorts for a sports-related shoot.
I don’t have anything particularly exciting or insightful to say today. For the first time since 2010, I slept through my (5:30) alarm when I was scheduled to work a promotion. Promos are a bit different than your average job in that if you are late, you frequently are not allowed to come in and work your shift because there is a back-up person on-site in the event someone on the roster has an emergency (or flakes). So, I ended up staying home today.
One thing that has really struck me about the process of moving on (or whatever it is that I'm doing) is that my emotions and energy can vary extremely widely from day to day. It seems that this often is dependent upon my sense of control over the situation and whether or not we have interacted (or interacted positively).
Today was a little hard. I got two hours of sleep, the address for my job interview ended up being in a field, and I’m missing you.
When bad things happen, I instinctively reach out for you; now, you’re not there. When good things happen, my impulse is to call you. You said you wanted to know about both…but I don’t need to depend on you for love, support, or encouragement if you won’t be there through thick and thin.
Perhaps it’s the head cold that has me a bit down; maybe it’s the breakup aftermath. Either way, I’m having trouble avoiding a fixation on my job woes today.
I know that breaking into a new field is hard, especially with a master’s degree in a different field (and simultaneous graduate assistantship experience *in* the relevant field, which doesn’t always count because it occurred while I was in school. ugh). Despite that, I’m pretty irritated about how the process has gone so far. Especially when the interviews go so well, even to the point of my receiving detailed employee benefits information (costs and everything, I mean)…only to receive an email a couple days later that they are “moving forward” with other candidates–except that it looks like it just went to a guy already in the company. Internal politics, I suppose.
We always talk about trouble coming in threes, and though this often seems to (randomly) match reality, I generally consider the phrase to be the equivalent of folklore. After the past week or so, however, I think I may need to reevaluate that stance.
One: Significant other broke up with me (on Valentine’s Day, though that was partly at my urging that we make a decision rather than let it hang over us any longer).
“Not to jinx it, but…”
With as frequently as I have heard not to count my “eggs” before they hatch, one would think I would have learned by this age not to get too excited before I know that a prospect is a sure thing. In keeping with my naturally obnoxious optimistic nature though, I just can’t help but to bounce around excitedly way before I have a certifiable, set-in-stone reason. Maybe that isn’t wise, per se, but I think I’d rather let myself experience the sort of elation that truly makes me feel alive rather than carefully curate my feelings out of some fear of disappointment.
Just thinking about my finances today, I am overwhelmed. From loans for graduate school to the car note (my car was totaled last November when I got rear-ended) to surgery bills to regular old “life” bills, it feels like I don’t even know where to start. After graduate school, I moved back home to help my parents with a lot of much-needed, much-overdue work on their house and yard. I felt they more than deserved that help, and after how miserable I was during my time in Missouri, I just needed to be able to work with my hands and be near people who love me. We’ve made wonderful progress on that on renovations and organization, but it has been a real challenge to my identity. I hadn’t lived at home since high school, and my tendency toward financial independence at a young age and working ridiculous hours had been big parts of who I was.