June 11th

Monday Night

I went to Memorial Hospital today to apply for the writer position in the planning and marketing department. Nick met me and showed me the Human Resources room. The man running the place was stressed beyond belief. I looked at him and thought of myself. I do that a lot now-- look at people with my old characteristics and think how they resembled me, and think what a dangerous path that can be. He seemed gay, definitely flamboyant, resorting to dramatic sighs and hand-on-hip gestures when particualry agitated. He even said, "I'm sorry. There's just too much going on right now." I felt like I was looking into a mirror. A few weeks ago, when I was getting better, I would find myself about to burst when there was too much activity going on around me at once. That was a panic attack. This man was having a panic attack but didn't know it.

I really want this job. I think this time I have a good chance with Nick, Mark and Samantha working there, plus the fact that I actually am qualified. My dad asked me on the ride home from the hospital today, "Does Nick have a college degree?" I shook my head. "Samantha?" he said. I shook my head again. "Neither does Mark," I added, feeling a guilty pride. I know it's petty and small, but I do feel a little *better* than my friends who don't have a degree to flaunt. Not that my degree's worth jack shit, but it's a nice thing to have just to have. There's a big difference between being a loser without a job who lives with their parents, and being a recently-graduated college graduate loser who lives with their parents.