Comfortable With Conformity

August 15th


I blew off an interview today. It's just way too far to even consider, off Copans Road, which is far, far north off I-95. It's no big deal, I'm sure I wouldn't have gotten the job anyway.

My mom and dad are starting to freak out about me being home so much. They don't think I'm trying hard enough to find a job, which is a fucking slap in the face. All I do is look for a job. I sit at my desk day after day, plowing through, SunSentinel and HotJobs listings, faxing and e-mailing resumes, making follow-up calls and going on interviews. I joined a job agency that hasn't yet called me. I try. I've been trying. No one wants me to get a job more than I do.

I really, really, really want the job I interviewed for yesterday. I just have this *feeling* about it. The job is for an office assistant-- nothing to get too excited about, I know, but I find it exciting nonetheless. I can't wait to leave the house early, wearing business clothes, jetting off to work. I have so many fucking suits. I'm ready, dammit. I'm so ready.

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