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Wednesday, February 25, 2004

I'm tired. Not from the continuing plague of sleep deprivation (which doesn't help matters) but rather from the constant mental warfare of unemployment. Circumstances are not entirely bleak. I had a second interview today for a job answering phones and a staffing agency nipping at my heels, anxious to place my skills and experience and years of education in a position doing exactly the same. A week ago, despite the mundane and brainless tasks both positions would imply, I would have pounced on either. But then, completely out of the blue, I get a call and a preliminary interview for a REAL job, an important job, a job that would actually make use of the degree I worked so hard to earn. And I thought I nailed that interview. I thought I was witty and intelligent and absolutely on top of my game. I thought I was perfect for this position. But they haven't called me back. And now I'm crushed, defeated and puffy from hours spent giving into the misery.

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Sunday, February 15, 2004

Okay, so, now that the loveless and lonely angst of yesterday has past and to show you all that I have not given in to the bitter dark side of chronic singleness, I have compiled an impressive yet hardly exhaustive list of things that I love(or happen to like slightly more than most other things).

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Saturday, February 14, 2004

Anti-Valentine 

As I have no one special to smother with love today, I thought instead I would create a list of things that I hate. I hate politics, and roaches and rush hour traffic. I hate uber-feminists and sleezy men who tell me that I'm beyond high maintainence. I hate rodents, and parrots and things flavored blue razzberry. I hate when pregnant women curse and cheesy proposals on national tv. I hate it when people say, "What it is is...." I hate mothers who give their children mullets and anyone who wears cartoon characters on their jeans. I hate clutter, and bad poetry and soft-porn romance novels. I hate my alarm clock. But, most of all, I hate my mother's jeans. They're tight and old and taper to a sharp point.

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Thursday, February 12, 2004

Just when I was beginning to believe that true love really does last forever, this comes along to shatter that into tiny little pieces.

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Wednesday, February 11, 2004

Be Mine 

In honor of the upcoming "holiday," I would like to introduce you all to the man I have spent practically every moment of every day of the past week with. Role model, philosopher, poet, musician, and a dancer.

Honestly, what more could a girl ask for?

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Saturday, February 07, 2004

A small note to Mr. Brad Brothen, my twelfth grade creative writing teacher: You will be proud to know that I have completed the assignment you gave to me at the end of our last semester. I can now tell you, without Jeremy whispering the answer to me during passing periods, that Kevin Spacey is Keyser Soze. The movie was just as good as you predicted it would be. Thought you might like to know.

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Friday, February 06, 2004

I used to be terrible with rejection. Aftershocks always included crying, wailing, and gnashing of teeth followed by extreme amounts of chocolate and ice cream (they call it comfort food for a reason), vodka, and Manilow's "Mandy" on constant repeat. Now, in a time where rejection letters are the first contact I have with many employers, I'd like to think that I have learned to handle defeat in a much more mature, ladylike way. I'd like to announce that after many of months of practice I have practically eliminated the teary-eyed rants. This change was not without serious amounts of personal sacrifice and growth and I may have had to increase the intake of sugar and liquor, liquor injected chocolates and chocolate flavored liquor, but let us not fail to appreciate the steps I have taken towards a more adult, emotionally disabled me.

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