Month: July 2010

During the past two weeks…

I have gotten a job as a receptionist at a hair salon, had an interview at a college, and been chased by a dog. To put it simply, it’s been crazy.

So first things first the receptionist job:

I need to pay my rent and I was hired the same day I interviewed, I conveniently left off the fact that I have freakin’ Masters degree. When I started about two weeks ago, every one of the stylists kept telling me how I was such a fast learner.  While that is so sweet of them to notice that I’m pretty good at answering the phone and counting cash, all day I sit at the front desk and read and at night when I wait for the salon to close I paint my finger nails. I’m looking forward to tomorrow when I switch out the polish. I would do writing at the front desk but I’m constantly being distracted by customers…How dare they!

While I’m not stoked about working at a job a high schooler– nay a monkey–could handle, it’s a job and having one is better than not having one and I love all things involving beauty so I’ll do this until a salaried job comes along. I learned early on that I am also meeting a plethora of characters that will be the stars of my next few short stories. I will of course tell you all about them in posts to follow. I feel like with this receptionist job I am like many educated Americans, over qualified but needing to pay the bills. I pray to St. Joseph regularly to guide me to find a job that I can be proud of; a job that is stimulating and rewarding. I’ll wait as long as I have to to get it.

Okay so the interview:

I received an e-mail about a week and a half ago that read something along the lines of “I’d like to meet with you about teaching opportunities at Blahbadiblahblah College.” I literally ran around my couch screaming, jumped on a kitchen chair still screaming, raised my hands in the air, put on “I’m So Excited” and danced around in my ugly pjs. After that, while out of breath I called my mother, who also started screaming with excitement.

I arrived totally dressed up, heals and all. I even wore this great dress–I looked good. The department chair had on a cheesy Hawaiian shirt and a ridiculous beard. He didn’t ask me interview questions–you know the “tell me a little bit about yourself.” Instead he told me about the classes that I would be teaching and that he was waiting for a section to open up so I could have it. He then handed me a packet of papers that I needed to bring to HR and sent me on my merry way. He didn’t promise me any sections, just told me if and when one opened up he’d let me know because it was mine.

Well while I was writing this I received that email. I have a meeting on Thursday about it and can’t wait! I will be so happy to be back in the classroom. While I’m so aware that adjuncting is not ideal it’s better than nothing. It’s also better than high school, even though the pay isn’t as good as high school.

My grad school professors will be disappointed that I am adjuncting since it is at the bottom of the world of academia totem pole, but hey the rent isn’t going to pay itself. I’m hoping to get enough sections at schools all over the place so I can live a relatively normal life and buy some new clothes and maybe take a trip somewhere in November.

So the dog…

I am training for a race. It’s on Saturday. It’s my first race. It’s also four miles.

Yesterday when I went running–there were no dogs thank God– it hit me that I’m going to do so badly and will be lucky to finish. I will sign up for another race as having a deadline/goal is the only way that can function.

Training for this race has been nothing but a bunch of signs from the higher powers that be warning me that this Saturday is going to miserable. First, I needed new sneakers. The first few runs that I was training I would go home with shin splints and want to die. Then I bought new sneakers and twisted my freakin’ ankle–again! Then there was the dog.

I was running behind my apartment complex. There is a nature trail that is maintained by the city I live in and there are about twelve miles of trail that you can explore. It’s lovely and there are butterflies everywhere, oh and a creek! It’s great. Okay, so I was getting into the grove, my iPod was jamming and I saw him. The dog was just resting. At first I couldn’t tell if he had a collar, but my instinct told me it wasn’t good that there was no human in sight. I kept jogging and as I approached him he started running towards me. He tried to jump up at me but I pushed him away.

“Sit!”

Nothing happened. He kept jumping. He wasn’t being aggressive, but he was white and there was redness around his eyes, nose, and mouth that made me nervous. He kept jumping.

“Please sit.”

I was getting scared. He ran back to the spot where he originally was and I tried to run past him, but he wouldn’t let me past so I turned around. He started to chase me, so I slowed down. I was crying like a child abandoned at Six Flags. I started walked towards where I came, a cyclist pasted the dog and I and I hoped he would follow him, instead he walked next me. Like I owned him or something.

“What if this dog follows me to my apartment?” I thought, “What do I do?”

I was crying, tears streaming down my already sweaty sticky face. I tried to breathe to calm down, worried that if I got to riled up the dog might attack. I imagined myself trying to get into my apartment with this dog at my side. I pictured myself trying to open the door and angle my body in such a way that he couldn’t get in and I would avoid being malled. I also figured that once I got in my apartment and out of harms way this dog would scratch at my door, howling and then I’d never be able to leave and I’d be forced to live on frozen strawberries.

I kept walking and noticed another runner. A girl, she didn’t have headphones on. By then the dog had plopped down in the grass, but was eyeing me.

“Hey be careful there is a big dog back behind me.”

“Oh, that’s my boyfriend’s dog.”

I just shook. What the hell kind of asshole doesn’t keep their damn rottweiler on a leash?

I kept walking. I noticed that the girl was petting the dog.

The boyfriend saw me and asked me if I was walking his dog.

“No, but he gave me scare.” I burst into the tears shaking my arms.

“Oh, he’s in big trouble,” the boyfriend said laughing.

“You know you should keep your dog on leash. I thought he was going to attack me.”

The boyfriend said nothing. I then heard him call the dog’s name.

Dick.

So that’s been my week. I was telling my mom about this stuff, and she says, “You know, even though you’d think your life would be boring because you’re not in the classroom, you sure know how to find adventure.”

Boy, you don’t have to tell me twice.

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Thesis Update

So, all I have to do with my thesis is print it out and I’m procrastinating like whoa. I keep feeling so paranoid that I’m going to print it on the expensive paper and have a screw up which prevents me from graduating. I want to have it mailed by Friday so I can stop thinking about it. It’s weird how sometimes when you’re so close to getting something huge done the smallest hiccup can have you in the fetal position.

Fireworks With a Side of Ignorance: Delish

Without getting too personal I’d like to tell you about my Forth of July. The boyfriend and I went to a party that was hosted by one of his “co-workers.” I say “co-workers” because the boyfriend works in a sport and they are more like teammates than co-workers I guess. Any way, we arrived and it was really laid back and the setup for the party was great. The boyfriend’s teammate had tents set up to provide shade and even rented a port-a-potty to prevent his likely intoxicated guests from making a mess in his house. Dude was prepared.

The host was really into The Forth and had purchased about $2000 in fireworks and even rigged them together so that all he had to do was light one fuse and then enjoy the fireworks. It was great to watch he and friends set it up. Luckily he lives in a cul-de-sac so he set up three huge pieces of plywood, which later caught fire. , in the center of the cul-de-sac so everyone on his street could see the show. The boyfriend and I watched as the host drank from a beer bong, then played beer pong, and then set up fireworks. As we left the party the boyfriend and I kept saying to each other it was a miracle no one was injured. The fireworks, though probably the very illegal kind, were great. I’m sure people in the neighborhood thought they were the city fireworks.

While the drinking games were going on the boyfriend and I sat with some of his friends and shot the breeze. Because everyone and their mother seems to be engaged or married, including a recently engaged couple we were sitting with, marriage was an obvious topic of conversation. Frankly, I’m so over hearing about marriage because I’m obsessed with getting married and can’t wait for the boyfriend to propose. We’ve been dating for five years in October and I’m ready. I’m overly anxious about it, and when I hear commercials on the radio for diamonds or see commercials with couples getting engaged I find myself eagerly changing the channel. I’m so tired of thinking about it, I know the boyfriend will ask me when he’s ready, but I’m ready!  So when we sat down and the first thing we started talking about was marriage I found myself closing off and not saying much.

I have very strong feelings about marriage, but I don’t go spouting them off at parties. Just like I keep my political and social beliefs to myself. Anyway the anti-Catholic spouting and the beliefs that this group of people felt about marriage was really making me itch and I watched as my boyfriend was smirking at me when I was using all the muscles in my body to keep my mouth shut. 

Don’t get me wrong, everyone I’ve met that is part of this sport’s culture is super friendly and great, it’s just plain ole ignorance that is my issue. I was grateful that the sun was setting and the fireworks were underway before I was forced to school a party of people about Catholicism.

I did have a great time, aside from that thirty minutes of torture.

The thing is when I talked to my mom about it–I should note my mother is what Jim Gaffigan would describe her as a “Shiite Catholic”–she seemed disappointed that I kept my mouth shut. I explained to my mother that schooling a party of people about the Catholic faith would have been completely inappropriate.

Anyway, the thing I took away from this was that fireworks really have a way of bringing people together and that social, religious and political discussions really should remain at the dinner table only during Thanksgiving.