How I think (and don't think) during an interview.

Interviews are crazy scary. People say they get easier with time, and I wonder if that is because we accrue more skills, or better ways to make ourselves look a whole lot better than the inner stability regarding our own judgment of self-worth. Wow. That sentence is dense, and I mean that in two meanings:  being heavy and filled with implications, and being dumb. I'm not even sure it made sense with all the scribing of saturated fetid matter. Sigh. This is exactly the kind of scramble that happens in my mind when they ask a question like:  "Can you provide an example of when you overcame a difficulty?"
In my mind I quickly generate:  "Oh yes! One time I talked to-- errr mimed to a man-- who indicated (yes that indication took some time), that he was both deaf and mute. Instead of smiling and waving him away, I showed him images of how to properly clean his boat (I was an inspector you see), and although I jabbered in vain-- but perhaps he could read lips?-- I got through everything and waved goodbye. I smiled and he smiled too."
Now, instead of saying this, this informal poorly chosen example that for some annoying reason aways pops in my head for pretty much every response to any question, I come up with (read with a British accent because I'd like to believe the dumb wishfully sophisticated asshole that is talking has a nasaly accent):
"Well there was one instance when I came across a fellow who was but both deaf and mute. I approached the fine gentleman only to discover his ailment and the controversy it posed. But alas, I had a task, a responsibility to talk to all boaters, and strongly following suit. I began a hybrid conversation based on mutual respect and patience. He left with more knowledge regarding aquatic invasive species laws, and I left knowing that if a challenge forms before me, I can triumph with a smile on my face."

After this monologue is applied to every other word of my first response to create a laid-back and British dung-hole conversation, I usually just sit there and smile. I'll try to wipe the sweat off my palm before I shake my interviewers hand goodbye, but its never successful. Sometimes I go home and take notes on the interview. Its often good for a laugh that leaves me humiliated. Soooo, yeah. I'm sick of trying to sound better than I am because it makes it worse! The most successful people are legitimate. Legitimately stupid people have a realness that can be appreciated. The dumb people pretending to be smart are disliked. So come tomorrow, for I have an interview if you haven't guessed, I will be legitimately me (which is hopefully not stupid as my last statement has no doubt implied). I will increase my level of politeness. I will use eye contact I usually reserve for the bars, but my responses will be well thought out and spoken out of my mouth.

But still I'm nervous, but that means I'm doing something outside my comfort zone, which means I'm expanding my experiences--pushing myself, and that means I'm doing something right.

An insomniac's thoughts about summer

Laying up at night, having tempted an absent sleep with comfortable pajamas and a warm bed for the past two hours, I cant help but feel guilty about the passing of each day in winter. Yes, I intentionally specify "in winter." If I putz around searching the internet, watching the television or eating a snack in bed, I must clarify as to what season this occurs in so I can realize if I feel guilty or fulfilled.

You see the summer carries different expectations. The long days scream:  soak up too much sun since it is out so long, take it in and it will worship you and make you smile; entice a lover to share your happiness and laugh-- it is the responsible thing to do. "Putzing" around the house in summer is sexy. It often involves a stringy dress and the passing of air over an aloe-applied back. Its barefoot, sand sticking to feet is easily brushed off as you recall the day at the beach. Internet surfing consists of music playing off your laptop, the faint melody travelling down one story through the open window to your roommates chatting on the front porch. The snack you're eating in bed is an assortment of vegetables you got from the farmers market earlier that week. Instead of buying yourself a bouquet with your extra change as you are always tempted, you take a trip to the store and buy a block of cheddar cheese, a black-eyed susan gold that contrasts with the red cherry tomatoes; they pop in your mouth. You haven't bought milk in about a month because you haven't really gotten up in time for breakfast. Unlike winter, a heavy bowl of cereal doesn't tempt you. Your hair is still dirty from the river. There is sand between your toes and when you rest your head on your arm it smells like sunscreen, coconut, sweat, wind and sun. You fall into a sleep that fills the inside of your eyelids with the muted photograph of the sunset you took with a blink of an eye during the evening run. You sleep with one leg under the sheet, one sprawled above.

There is a breeze coming through the window, and again I stress that the passing of each summer day is only sad in that its over-- never how it is spent.

A day never ends with you sitting up against the headboard, willing your eyes to get heavy, hoping for this day to pass so tomorrow can be better.

Posture

My back hurts. I look like a creature when I sit in class, in the waiting room, on the ground, wherever. How does one have good posture and still feel rested? My back is an impressive board right now and although I may look better with my shoulders up and out instead of shriveled in, I feel like I'm sticking my recently filled belly toward the desk. I also have to constantly remind myself to maintain this posture or I will surely and quickly return to my hunchback position out of habit.

So I ask:  how do you do it?

Just because my body is sitting doesnt mean my mind is

I'm not surprised I haven't written a blog in awhile. The only place I have internet access on my laptop is on the big couch in the living room. The Weather Channel is on all the time, the "local on the 8's" are ingrained in my mind. Its -8 degrees right now. My dad wanders by every once in awhile, no doubt believing I am lounging and watching t.v. (who watches the weather channel for more than a few minutes?), surfing the internet, and freeloading after graduation. So, you can see how it is difficult to feel creative, to write. I can't focus on the resume I'm trying to update, the graduate school writing sample I'm trying to edit when my parents are asking me every few minutes if I'm going to do this or that. I'm unhappy and change is coming. Even a change in scenery will do. Perhaps I will go to Caribou Coffee everyday and freeload off their wireless internet. I'll have to fight embarrassment though...since I applied there and remain jobless.

I've changed so much.

I've realized that I embrace the old me. What were once embarrassing characteristics are now something I shrug and smile about.

like, for example, my complete obsession with guinea pigs.

Growing up, I would try so hard to appear different from how I felt. I thought myself awkward and wanted to fit in (but really who doesn't at this age). I didn't have a close group of friends. I floated between sports groups and elementary buds, and well, it resulted in me not feeling sad to move on to college. Nothing was really here for me.

I know how creepy this looks (with the faces blackened), but I didn't want to post any pictures some people may not want up.

When I left for the university, I tried so hard to make friends because it was sort of like a two week alliance forming challenge. After that time was up you were on your own. People shut down and already had their chosen friends (after all, they too only knew high school rules). Oddly and wonderfully, I became friends with an old highschool aquaintance. We both changed together.

Moving off-campus, and introducing the bar scene, friends were made in new ways. Inhibitions were shed.

Now I've embraced being different because I've noticed how boring so many people are.

Anyways, there was a point to this post. It isn't to love yourself, because really you cant force any kind of love. Instead, it is to grow through travel and new experiences. Fight the definition of insanity, and try something different if you are unhappy. Or, imbrace a different definition of insanity, and refuse to care what other people think. The beginning of college was tough for me, but it was worth it. When my friends and I split up, I was sobbing like a freak (but remember that being a freak is good now). I've learned to trust and love and learn. I've learned to live with the mistakes I've made.

I wasn't aware of this growth until I've comeback to my old town. I can talk to anyone in my old life and realize just how wildly different I am from the last time I was here. I've learned that you don't have to try to be everybody's friend, because even having just one great one is a blessing.

Hello old enemy, suppressed memory...

As I transition out of college and into limbo (the time span after graduation and before occupation--or further schooling), I find myself facing the wall of crap in my old bedroom. I need to filter through and decide what to get rid of, what to store in memory boxes, and what to bring with me when I eventually move out. Its tough. I find my mood slowly sinking as I pick up objects that either remind me of my high school years that I wasn't a fan of, or, mistakes that I made in college that I refused to fully confront (so I threw them in an old bedroom). Now I see notes and diary entries of bad breakups and old loves and old pets and old friends and its a lot to take in. After I'm done I will be raw, but the wound will be clean. I need to decide what important to me. What I want to bring with me to my next chapter.

Old Words Remind Me

Scanning through my computer's files is a jump start to my memory. I have written things that I vaguely remember. I just sat and spilled my thoughts and saved with a time stamp. For that I am thankful because it is a capsule of past emotions. Here is a poem I wrote. I will try to include other treasures I find as well. I never came up with a clever title.

And today I shall float away, empty

Carved out by your fingernails, your words, sharp.

I will scramble for purchase, swallow lead,

Tears; As I inhale, exhale, sob, smile, act.

I will tie a string around my words so

You can knot my pleas to your wrist, tugging

Me, bumping against the jagged ceiling.

And tomorrow I will sink, implode, cave-in,

 

Shackled by the weight of the concealed.

My heart of mercury, poisoned, pretty,

Useless, and used I will descend to the

Bottom of the ocean to the bottom

Of the matter. I will create the new

Current through my nostrils: Trying to breathe.